#world if i could show rose what happened before

[junnieverse]

LUCKY GIRL SYNDROME ➳ ENHYPEN

➙ the different ways the enhypen members show/give you princess treatment and girlfriend privileges

pairing: non idol!enhypen x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: lowercase intended, may contain typos (lightly proofread)

a/n: i am finally done with exams and my first semester of the academic year, finally!! i hope you all enjoy my angels, xx (reblogs highly appreciated!!)

🖇️ — 양정원 ; JUNGWON !

↳ buys you flowers

you had once mentioned your love for flowers in passing on one occasion

jungwon had taken note of that and made a promise to himself to always make you smile, even through something as small as surprising you with flowers since that's what you loved

finding a new bouquet of flowers decorating your kitchen counter every other week was no new reoccurrence in your house

the only difference was that with each time you were gifted with a new bundle by your boyfriend, they were always different kinds of flowers

one week it could be white roses, the next you find pretty pink tulips, it was always a surprise

you had told him time and time again that he didn't have to keep doing this, but he had insisted

"Wonnie you really didn't have to get me more, occasionally is more than enough." you say with a small pout admiring the new bouquet of daffodils your lovely boyfriend was arranging in your vase

it was the small gifts like this from jungwon that truly made you feel like the most special girl in the world without him even realising

"I know, but I also know how much you love flowers and seeing your smile every time you see them displayed makes me happy. I would get you thousands each day if it meant seeing that pretty smile on your face." he responds coming up to wrap his arms around your waist and kissing your nose leaving you a blushing mess

🖇️ — 이희승 ; HEESEUNG !

↳ carries your bag for you

what started as a simple gesture carrying your grocery bags for you became what is you simply being bagless

according to your wonderful and thoughtful boyfriend, "God forbid you carry a bag when I can do that for you."

he could be carry ten bags all by himself and he would still somehow find a way to do it all on his own

all you were to do according to him is worry about what you wanted to buy next and he would carry it all, including your handbag

you thought holding your purse would 'bruise his masculinity' but heeseung was truly unbothered for as long as it meant you felt comfortable too and didn't mind and wanted his help

"Baby could you please just hold my bag for a sec, I wanna tie up my hair properly." he nods in agreement taking the small bag from your grasp as he patiently waits for you

upon finishing you reach your hand out and thank him expecting the bag, instead he places his hand in yours swaying them back and forth as you continue walking in confusion

"Don't worry, I'll carry it for you. You just keep being pretty right next to me." he lets you know throwing a wink at you before kissing the side of your head

🖇️ — 박종성 ; JAY !

↳ cooks for you

if anyone were to ask you when the last time you cooked yourself ever since moving in with your boyfriend, they would be stunned by the answer

in your defence cooking just happened to be one of jay's many beautiful love languages

and to make up for all the cooking, you offered to wash the dishes to which he told you not to worry about but you partially felt bad for not contributing even in the slightest and so you would atleast help to wipe and pack said dishes whilst he washed them

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" he asks as he ties his 'kiss the chef' apron you had gifted him for his birthday around his waist

"Mhm... how about that fettucine alfredo you made awhile back, that was really good." you suggest sitting across the counter on the island stool

sure jay did all the cooking but you (and he unadmittedly) didn't mind it in the slightest because it gave you time to quietly admire him looking dashingly handsome

what gets better than watching your boyfriend in his element, sleeves rolled up and focused on curating the perfect dish for his beloved

"How's the sauce darling?" he blows on the teaspoon before leaning in to feed you to taste test for him

nodding and clapping you proceed to give him a thumbs up, to which he only shakes his head as he chuckles at your silliness

"I think it's about time I make you my house-husband Mr. Park." you say wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his back as he continues cooking already used to this sort of affection, very much enjoying it

🖇️ — 심재윤 ; JAKE !

↳ spoils you through gifts

when you got gifts from jake, there was just no telling what was next

sometimes it could be something as simple as buying you lunch on his way back home after getting groceries to that one tiffany & co necklace that you called pretty in passing a few days while you were both out

he has mentioned to you on multiple instances that whatever it is that you want, he would get it for you in a heartbeat and he has proved that to you time and time again

"Jakey, what's in the bag..?" you ask hesitantly as your boyfriend walks in to join you on the couch, four bags in hand

"Okay I know we put a monthly limit on how many things and how much you want me to spend on you love but I just couldn't resist-" he says with a sheepish grin scratching the back of his neck nervously as you sigh giving him a comforting smile

nodding to give him the go ahead, jake pulls out all the new gifts he got you, excitement etched all over his face

you would swear he gets more excited about getting you gifts than you do when receiving them

"Next time I'll work even harder to buy you the moon." he tells you with his infamous smile as he hugs you nestling his head between your neck

all you could do was giggle at his words knowing it was a joke since he couldn't actually buy you the moon... right?

🖇️ — 박성훈 ; SUNGHOON !

↳ carries you and opens doors for you

"My lady," your boyfriend quaintly bows as he opens the door for you letting you out as he reaches his hand out for assistance to which you kindly accept

for as long as you had known sunghoon, you had not touched a single door again around him

and if you even so much as tried, he would look at you with the most offended and hurt face

along with that, the boy has gotten into the habit (for lack of better wording) of carrying you if the situation deemed fitting

you had both come back from a beautiful date night and the elevator in your building was unfortunately not working, meaning you both had to use the stairs and you were starting to regret your choice in wearing heels tonight

"My feet hurt so bad..." you mumbled softly not having expected sunghoon to catch that up until you felt him sweep you off your feet... quite literally, carrying you in his arms bridal style up to your apartment up on the next floor without a single hint of struggle

"W-wait Hoonie it's okay, I can still walk, we're almost home anyway." you argue still feeling flustered by how easily he scooped you up into his arms

although he was quick to reassure you that he was more than capable, those gym sessions not going to vain, "It's all good princess, I got you."

and even then he somehow managed to open the door to the house alone with you still in his arms

quite the man you have there

🖇️ — 김선우 ; SUNOO !

↳ takes care of you

when i say this man pampers you, i mean pampers you.

sunoo will do whatever he can to make sure you feel good and always comfortable

you had once sent him a text while you were at work complaining about some neck pains and the minute you arrived home he had the body oil ready and he made sure to give you a soothing massage to relax the tension in your shoulders and neck

if he ever notices or hear you complaining about any discomfort he always make sure to help you in any way he can

period cramps? he has the pain killers and heat pad ready. feeling sad? he is at your door with your favourite ice cream tub and ready to cuddle and listen to your venting.

after a night out with your girlfriends, you sluggishly drag yourself inside and find your boyfriend watching youtube on the couch seemingly waiting for your arrival

flopping on top of him on the couch you only huff as he asks how your night out went

"C'mon pretty girl, let's get ready for bed then." he softly says ushering you into the en-suite bathroom where he directs you to sit on the counter as he helps you get unready

from wiping off your makeup for you to getting your skincare out and prepped for you to moisturise as he watches you fondly

"Wanna do matching face masks and watch some powerpuff girls together?" he asks as your eyes brighten at the suggestion nodding as you hop off the counter to hug your boyfriend

🖇️ — 西村 力 ; NI-KI !

↳ lets you wear his clothes

"hey baby have you seen where my... black zip-up is..." riki walks into your shared bedroom before his words come to a halt having come across you

there you were in bed wearing the very black chrome hearts zip-up hoodie he was looking for (looking much larger and oversized on your smaller frame)

"Oh did you wanna wear it, I'm sorry I just grabbed the closest hoodie in the closet." you quickly apologise about to take it off to which your boyfriend stops you

unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend actually loved seeing you in his clothes because he thought you looked so tiny and cute in his stuff

what never registered was the fact that riki sharing clothes with you was simply a girlfriend privilege only you had thinking he also shared stuff with his friends up until jake claimed otherwise

"Is that Riki's cap? I asked to borrow it last week and he said no to me. Talk about girlfriend privileges." he says as his jaw drops but quietly mumbling the last part as you shrug in confusion adjusting the cap in question on your head

if anything you had free reign over anything and everything in his closet you wanted, to the point where you stopped asking (after he so kindly told you to stop)

sometimes he would even go out of his way picking clothes out of his closet to give you to wear and you would notice his shy smile growing at the corner of your eye when you turned around to go and change

[femmefaggot]

"you know what happens to little girls who can't play nice don't you? they get punished" okay well if this isnt me then why is it exactly the things said to me taunting rose with shit that is clearly personal now that im thinking about it a video mentioned that but i forgot

edit later: "poor rose she cant believe anyone" "no one loves you and when youre dead no one will care" okayy yeah well

"i came first" "why does she only want you" haha yeah

also the "look at you you're beyond worthless" "seriously what is your problem?" can i show you can i show you

"youre just so greedy" "

can we stop this actually hey. aware its me taunting rose but its also everything ever implanted in the brain cant ask for anything without it being selfish

anyway "i have been such a good girl" both trying to cope and what do you do being trained to kill and or take things over when you follow orders. thats being good. what suddenly when people that wanted autonomy are infected it matters? its bad when the people that try and keep you closest are kept even closer? youre contradictory.

crying on the ground "i cant believe how useless i am. no wonder no one loves me" derisive rose "what now" and then not being able to do anything but lash out. can we. come on.

[meticulousmaker]

another random thing that stands out to me rewatching Steven Universe as an adult:

throughout the show there's this clear Vibe that Steven has inherited some big magical destiny, right? and it makes sense narratively: he's the son of Rose Quartz, leader of the rebellion, now being raised by her friends who were the last remaining survivors of an interstellar war. he's like a human child in most ways, except he has magical powers that start to become more obvious as he's getting older. no one like him has ever existed before. it's a big deal. raising him and figuring out how he's going to grow is its own unique challenge, because nobody knows what to expect. so of course there's this magical destiny vibe, given all that.

What's interesting to me, though, is that this magical destiny is in no way literally, physically present in the story, it's just something everyone kinda feels. Like, there's not some ancient prophecy about a half-gem, half-human savior. He's not the Chosen One in any literal sense, he just happens to give off Chosen One vibes. And I say that's interesting because it means that the fact he was kinda raised with this Chosen One vibe is completely a decision everyone around him made, for better or for worse. And the show is aware of this, because the weight of Rose's legacy and everyone's expectations of him is a constant theme, and as Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl all grow and develop, they also realize the downsides of them putting those expectations on a child. Like, Steven spends his whole childhood being told about how great Rose was, and how because he's inherited her gem he will probably inherit her powers - and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Imagine how awful things could have been if Steven had no exposure to the Gems and no knowledge of what they were or how they worked, and then his powers started coming in? It was hard enough even when he was surrounded by the most qualified Gem Experts on Earth. But being primed for all of this "you're going to have your mother's magical powers" stuff put a heavy weight on his shoulders, and then the fact that nobody else quite knew how his abilities worked meant he was constantly faced with the adults in his life looking to him with concern because they didn't know what was happening with him. That's gotta leave an impression on a kid - and, well, throughout the show and especially in SU Future we definitely see that it does.

I like the way the show handles the pressure that's put on him, and the fact that everyone is just... trying their best in a completely unprecedented situation. Nobody knows what to do or how to raise this kid, and that inevitably causes problems but everyone is trying. And Steven can feel that everyone is trying without knowing what to do and he just wants to help and not be a burden and none of his caretakers have said that he's a burden but he can feel everyone's confusion and concern and the expectations he's not living up to and he cares so much, about everyone, about everything. He's in an extremely unique position that grants him opportunities to help that nobody else has, and he feels like he's failing everyone if he can't fulfill that, and in the end it never should have been his job to fix things but somebody had to try. Somebody had to try, and he was one of the only people with the ability to stop the Diamonds, stop the war, stop the lies, stop his world and everyone on it from being destroyed... and he was just a kid.

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri�� right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[mrchoppedslefthand]

Homicipher Random Headcanons/Scenarios [NSFW]

Edit:11/07/2024

I desperately needed to post the random head canons and scenarios of our husbands that my brain kept cooking up (+ some from discord friends), so the list is not organized. Also, since we shape shift, I'm going to assume we can choose whenever we have a cock or pussy (because I want to be fucked and do the fucking) Anyways...enjoy the food thought.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped Mr. Silvair, Mr. Hood, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Warnings: mentions of NSFW, mentions of some canon-typical violence, implications of dubcon, mentions of somnophilia, implied cuckold

Mr. Crawling

He can be submissive top. Constantly asking you if you love him during intimacy. He would ask if you enjoy playing with him as you pound yourself onto him. He would be a moaning mess and probably wouldn't know what to do about it as he clumsily places his hands around your waist.

He would definitely eat you out without you asking once intimacy had been initiated.

Afraid of hurting you, he wouldn't be too rough, instead he would be more tender and gentler when it comes to intimacy.

He definitely would love it when you play with his hair, allowing you to braid it or do whatever as long it doesn't involve cutting his precious hair.

He actually gets jealous easily, but he doesn't verbalize it, instead he shows it through his actions.

He is better with his hands, than his cock. So sometimes you prefer that over his cock. His cock is more on the average/smaller side and it's cute.

He definitely has a praise kink.

Mr. Chopped

He lacks a body, so to make up for it he is extremely expressive and open with his feelings. Which makes him a little fun to bully, to see all those cute expressions he could make.

He probably would be very good with his mouth and tongue, let him be your personal rose toy/fleshlight if you will. He can't fight back and have no choice but to whimper about it.

Imagine getting sick and fainting with him nearby, he can't move or do anything but helplessly cry for you to wake up and starts crying out help for Mr. Silvair to come help him and you.

Maybe one day, for a day of tricks and pranks. Mr. Stitch will allow Mr. Chopped a day in his body, so they swap places, stitching Mr. Chopped in place of Mr. Stitch's head. It had been a very long time since Mr. Chopped felt sensations beyond his head, so he happens to be very sensitive and clumsy with his hands. Everywhere you touch overwhelms him, he melts and becomes a moaning mess, but Mr. Chopped isn't the only one feeling all these sensations. Mr. Stitch can still feel it too. He is intrigued by today's type of play.

He definitely would be more on the whiny and needy side when it comes to pleasure, he lacks a body, but he can still feel lust. He can't do anything about it, which makes him extremely needy and extra pouty.

Mr. Silvair

Definitely would have had intimacy with other ghosts/humans before to research the body and performance during mid transformation if it differed.

Imagine one day he finds a mysterious liquid that fell from the 'other world' and feeds it to you, himself and the other ghosts in your crew. Only to find out it was an aphrodisiac. It was the first time he felt such a strong sensation of lust. At first, he mistakes this strong desire to be violence, so he starts to self-inflict wounds onto himself. You attempt to stop him, but soon find yourself to be underneath him as he bites into your neck, drawing blood. Surprised at seeing the often-composed man, turning into a ravage beast. You somehow manage to find something to tie him up and have your way with him.

He probably likes overstimulation on you...but also himself. He would love to research on how much his body can go and handle.

He would actually be a switch, for research purposes. To take and give he'd do anything for research. It had been long long ago since his body used to be human, and he often forgets about his own experiences if he doesn't write them down, but no worries, he has you by his side now to keep remembering.

Mr. Hood

He is quiet but speaks whenever he finds it suited for. But if you need him, he would be happy to talk with you.

He is a bit insecure about his body, he doesn't have arms or hands or even legs, he is an entity of nothing. The clothes are what shape his form, and well maybe he not entirely a entity of nothing. You had a glimpse before, a small glimpse and sensation of a squishy and somewhat slimy part that had belonged to him. You never mentioned though, but if it was you'd love him still anyways.

He realized that some words had been a bit harder for you to keep in mind and remember and so he thought of a special way to get you learning. Learning with what humans call pleasure. He fucks you and asks you what certain things are, and if you get it wrong, he denies you from coming. You have become determined to learn your words properly even more so now. Because if you remember you get rewarded with the most absolute fulfilling fuck of your life.

Since most of his body is invisible or nothing. If you mouth fucked him you would be able to see that real good, it is strangely erotic watching your cock move inside his mouth.

Mr. Gap

When you're sleeping, sometimes he might just cuddle against your leg or lower half. He loves the feeling of warmth, compared to his hollow darkness.

He definitely seems like the type of person to eat you out while you're asleep. Playing around and waiting for you to wake up to watch your reaction. Of course, he would only do this though if he knew you'd allow it. He values consent.

Imagine taking your backpack to school and you have to take out a pencil for a test. When you open your backpack, you realize it is just an empty void and hear a voice asking for your heart in exchange for the pencil. Yeah... you accepted your fate. You just failed your exam...

When you become a moaning mess under him, he can't understand but he knows that from your sweet voice, and moans, that it's a good thing. He knows to keep continuing.

One day Mr. Gap gathers his usual newspapers that fall from the rubble or somehow manages to grab one from the human realm. He notices a magazine that discusses about marriage and giving rings on the fourth finger. Intrigued about this idea, he asks you for your all four of your fingers, but you misunderstand and refuse to give him your fingers. He's sad but soon you later find out that he was asking for your hand in marriage, literally but also figuratively.

Mr. Machete

We would wonder aimlessly for an eternity together searching for his/your home. But eventually our subconscious would recognize each other as home instead.

He would definitely mock and laugh at how fast you would falter/melt under his touch. Calling you "weak" for coming so fast but would give kisses here and there after the mocking.

He'd probably be into throat fucking and laugh at you looking pathetic, he loves reactions that aren't boring, so seeing you choke on his cock seems like a great idea.

He definitely would come inside most of the time.

When he fucks you, his cock would probably bulge out a little from your stomach, fascinated by it he'd roughly press his hand down near that area.

He is our beefy dumb macho, perfect.

If you mouth/fucked him he would tell you he feels nothing, but his eyes would already be red and tearing. He's a pathetic coward.

Mr. Scarletella

He belongs to you, and you belong to him, together forever, in a hellish world. He loves the destruction you bring into his life and does the same for you.

Oh boy, he would absolutely devour you, his queen, in pleasure. Fuck you stupid to the point you're just a blabbering mess, hands on waist, and long fingers in your mouth, as he pounds deeply into you.

He seems like the type of guy to fuck you during your period.

Definitely gets jealous easily and he makes it know when he gets that way.

Imagine your fucked/fucking another ghost and you hear static within the distance, the sound slowly starts to come closer and closer until you hear the static in the room. Your crimson servant arrives and witnesses your fantastic display of intimacy. Jealous, he kills them and becomes extra possessive and quite terrifying, but you love it so much. How he seems so lost and pathetic without you.

You don't know his name, but neither does he know yours. Despite this disconnect, you still manage to give him some sort of other named to be called. It's connected to your name, but he knows it's not all of it, he can't fully whisk you away, but he's okay with that. You are still bound to him for an eternity anyway.

If Mr. Scarletella went back to the human world with you instead, he would appear to be the one most suited for fitting in. Just slack some foundation on his face, make him wear gloves and he would blend in quite well. Well...except for his odd habit of asking every stranger for their name and laughing and giggling crazily each time.

He would have a praise and degradation kink, he's not a whore. He's YOUR whore. He likes being YOURS.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Mission Mishap

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: A recon mission gone awry leads to Bucky having to protect his sunshine. As the snowstorm gets worse, he becomes her shelter from the storm, showing a tenderness that he rarely allows others to see.

Word Count: Roughly 1.8k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, fluff, injury-related pain, bruising, cold exposure, mild language (like two curse words)

Author’s Note: It was snowing, and I got ✨inspired✨

This felt a little choppy because I combined two drabbles, but I think it works :)

Navigation

What should have been a quick recon in the mountains became more complicated when a snowstorm hit faster and harder than previously anticipated. You could barely keep up with Bucky as he pushed ahead, his sharp eyes scanning the nearby. The cold penetrated through your layers; gnawing at your bones and intensifying the ache of your bruises, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

"Can you handle a few more yards?" he asked, his voice low, and despite the chaos, was comforting. "Map says there’s a hostel a quarter of a mile away."

"I’m fine," you mumbled. You knew your words were merely a weak attempt to reassure both yourself and him.

Bucky turned his head toward you, his gaze softening. 

"Don’t do that," he replied. "Stop pretending you’re fine when you’re so clearly not."

The harsh wind bit at your face, and you tried to keep up with him, you couldn't hide the way your teeth chattered.

"You need to stop," Bucky said, voice sharp and authoritative. "You’re shaking like a leaf. Let me help you."

Before you could argue, he moved without hesitation, shedding his jacket in one smooth motion and draping it over your shoulders. 

"Come here," Bucky said. "No arguments. You’re freezing, and I won’t let it get worse."

You tried to protest as you stammered, "I-I’m fine. Really, Bucky, I’m fine."

But Bucky wasn’t having it. 

His glared down and you and you looked away.

"No, you’re not," he said again, this time softer. "You’re going to listen to me now, okay?"

He didn’t wait for a response. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your arms around his neck and lifting you without much effort. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you gave up on protesting. His body heat radiated through his sweater and the warm jacket he wrapped you in helped in instantly melting away the cold that had settled into your bones.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell under you, steady and reassuring, grounding you as the world around you spun with snow, harsh winds making it difficult to see. He held you close, his grip never wavering as if to say he wasn’t letting go, not for anything.

"You listen to me," he said said softly. "If anything happens to you out here, I’m going to be fucking pissed. Understand?"

"Noted," you said softly, your voice muffled by his neck. You tightened your grip on him, clinging to him as your life depended on it because, in a way, it did. Not that you’d ever complain.

You could feel his steady heartbeat, the way his breath slowed as he focused on getting you both to safety. His steps were purposeful, unhurried, but determined as he carried you toward the small hostel.

When you finally reached the building, Bucky didn’t waste a second. Without a word, he guided you inside and he gently set you down on a chair. The warmth of the room feeling like a stark contrast to the biting cold that had gripped you just moments before. Pun intended.

"You stay here," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "I’ll get us a room and call the team."

You nodded. 

As he moved to make arrangements, you wrapped yourself tightly in his jacket, the faint scent of him still lingering on the fabric. 

You winced from the pain in your side, but you manged to stay still. You looked out the window, watching as the storm raged on.

When Bucky returned, he didn’t waste any time sitting next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. 

"Better?" he asked.

You leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence envelop you. 

"Yeah," you said softly. "Much better. Thanks, Bucky."

"You don’t have to thank me," he muttered, his voice low, almost intimate. "I’m just doing what’s right. Keeping you safe."

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of his embrace. "I know," you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with gratitude. "And I’m glad you’re here."

Bucky’s fingers brushed through your hair, his protective grip never faltering. "And I’m not going anywhere," he murmured.

A moment later, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the room he booked and dumping you on the bed. The sudden motion made you giggle as you kicked off your boots.

Bucky turned up the heat, and as the warmth began to fill the room, you settled onto the covers. 

"What did the team say?" you asked quietly.

"They’ll try to make it tonight," he replied. "But I told them we can wait until the morning."

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Why?"

"Because I’m keeping you safe tonight," he murmured, quickly adding, "And Sam snores. I can hear him from two rooms down the hall. I’m in no rush to go home, sunshine."

You laughed softly, your eyes brightening. "You’re unbelievable, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, his usual grumpy expression softened. "Yeah, but you’re stuck with me."

"Seriously though," he said, his voice suddenly quieter, "I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not on my watch."

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. "And I trust you."

His eyes softened, just for a moment, before he cleared his throat and pulled away slightly, pretending to be unaffected by the vulnerability in the air. 

“Hey,” he muttered, his voice hushed and rough with concern. He paused for a moment as if considering whether to push or back off. He couldn’t ever quite figure out how to balance his protective nature. But when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. “You sure you’re okay?”

You forced a smile, shifting a little more, trying to get comfortable, but the throbbing in your side was relentless. The last thing you wanted was for him to notice. He already had enough on his shoulders; you wouldn’t let him add your worries to his pile.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. Lie.

"Bullshit," he grumbled, his voice laced with frustration, the one that surfaced when he cared too much and couldn’t fix things fast enough. "What’s the matter?"

Bucky stared at you, his eyes narrowing. 

God, that stare. 

It was like he could read every inch of your soul, and you couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“Talk to me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, your side flaring up in protest. You winced, sucking in a sharp breath, hoping he didn’t notice, but of course, he did. 

He always noticed when it came to his sunshine.

"My side. Just a little pain," you admitted, the bruise hidden under the layers of clothing you still wore.

Bucky’s face softened, his worry evident. Without a word, he stood up, reaching for the small medical kit in his bag.

"Lift your shirt," he said, his voice low but commanding.

"I'm fine-" You mumbled. 

But Bucky wasn’t one to back down. He crouched in front of you, his large hands already moving to your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt with a touch that was far too tender for someone like him.

“Lift.” The word was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a warning wrapped in affection. The way he said it made it clear that this was happening.

You frowned and you raised the hem of your shirt, exposing the tender spot on your side where the impact from earlier had left its mark. "Shh, sunshine." He whispers soothingly. "You're okay, promise."

Bucky’s hands were gentle as he inspected the injury, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, and his touch was careful but sure. There was something tender about the way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. It made you lightheaded.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he muttered, though you could hear the underlying concern in his tone. “But we’re still gonna clean it up, yeah?”

 His brow furrowed, and for a moment, his expression softened into something that hurt to look at. 

Like you meant something to him.

The second his fingers brushed over your side, just lightly grazing the bruise, you couldn’t help it. A whimper escaped, and your body tensed. You hated it. Hated being weak.

“Shh.” His voice was soothing. “You’re doing so good.”

You tried to move, to escape the pressure, but Bucky’s hand was already on your abdomen, holding you gently but firmly in place. His fingers splayed out over your skin, not forceful, but steady.

“Sorry,” you muttered, your voice strained as another wave of pain hit and you squirmed.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Bucky murmured, his grip tightening just a little, his other hand reaching for the antiseptic wipe. "Just breathe for me, okay?"

Something about his voice, soft yet commanding, made the tension in your body ease just enough for you to inhale deeply, to steady yourself.

“You’re tough, sunshine,” Bucky murmured, his eyes softening even more as he cleaned the bruise. "You’ll be alright."

But his voice held a gentleness that made your heartache. As he worked, cleaning the wound, his touch was slow, deliberate. The sting from the wipe was sharp, but his hands on your skin were grounding, like he was pulling the pain out of you with every careful movement.

Every time you whimpered, every time the pain made itself known, he soothed you with gentle words,“I know, sunshine, I got you,” “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

He cleaned the wound with slow, careful movements. The cool, sterile wipe stung a little, but his gentle touch was soothing, making the discomfort easier to bear. 

“I got you.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. A calm anchor. “Just breathe, sunshine.”

And you did.

When he finally finished, he leaned back and reached for a bandage. He pressed the bandage against your side like he was trying to heal something deeper than the bruise, something you couldn’t name.

“Good as new.” His voice was softer now. “You’re tough, sunshine. You’ll be alright.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing the edge of the bandage. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, but there was no bite to it. His gruffness was a comfort, like a wall of security you could lean against when everything else felt shaky.

“Just-” His eyes softened as he looked at you, the rare tenderness that always made your chest tighten. “Get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded, curling up under the covers.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, your voice small and soft as you nestled against him.

Bucky’s hand gently brushed through your hair, his fingers pausing to stroke your scalp in a way that made you feel like the most important thing in the world.

“Goodnight, милая девочка.” Sweet girl.

His words were quiet, a soft reassurance in the night. You let out a sigh, the ache in your side fading as the warmth of his body enveloped you, and slowly, you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Bucky stayed awake for a while, keeping watch, making sure you were alright. But as the night drew on, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, making sure you were okay before falling asleep himself.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[thatsdemko]

inexperienced? - o.piastri

masterlist | pairing: Oscar piastri x Norris!fem!reader. summary: in which a little joke takes a hit on you, and you prove to your brother that you do in fact, get it. warnings: mentions of sex + 18+ content + some soft fluff a/n: I’m back! so so happy to have something out xx ps please don’t do this I’m sure that this wouldn’t go so well with your family xx

your cheeks are a deep red hot and you’re sure the moisture forming on the back of your neck is from the sheer embarrassment right now.

“what?” Lando laughs, your sisters cracking up alongside him, “I’m sure the only thing those two do is vanilla at this point, we don’t have to worry about osc and y/n ever having a kid.” the laughter that spews out of him brings tears in his eyes but only brings you embarrassment as you sink further into your seat.

the conversation deterred rather quickly. it was a family dinner—a rare one to be specific—where your mother announced she’d found a few gynecologists for you to visit if you were to continue to see Oscar. Lando busted into a fit of laughter that you were sure he’d choke if he didn’t stop.

it wasn’t that you and Oscar weren’t exploring each other— because that would be a lie you definitely were, but you were taking your time. Oscar was your first serious boyfriend, and he was very serious about making sure you were comfortable with whatever were to come next.

“I’m sure osc has never even had sex. he’s got an innocence to him.” your sister snickers, but your mind is playing all the dirty moments it can of Oscar being nothing but innocent.

he was shy, always had been and even when it came to bedroom activities. you both never pushed each other beyond what you wanted and it was always sweet how nervous he got. it was like you weren’t alone in the first timers pool.

“do you guys do anything like that?” lando asks out of sheer curiosity, but he doesn’t realize you’d left the table. you’d snuck out of the laughing fits and into the living room far away from them.

“oh y/n! we are joking!” your sister hollers from the other room, “give us all the piastri babies in the world!”

—

“that really happened?” Oscar’s voice is hoarse in your ear. his heartbeat pounding against your shoulder, you can hear his uneven breathing pattern as his pushes himself against you.

“it was so embarrassing.” you grumble as you turn into his body and allow him to hold you like he always does.

“what did lando say? all we do is vanilla?”

“he knows im a virgin.” you reply in your brothers defense, and while you have no previous context of what vanilla is, you’d say that these activities you both do were far from that.

“not anymore are you.” Oscar reminds you with a nibble on your earlobe, “it doesn’t grow back, once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

your body shivers against him, “I don’t think it counts if I come in the first thrust.”

“it does count, but we can work on that.”

your first time was special. after many months of working on trust and definitely not laughing at each other in awkwardness, he finally set up candles and rose petals around his apartment. he did whatever he could to make you comfortable, and that night will probably be etched in your brain forever.

you practically floated home that evening and that next evening your mother laid down the recommended gynecologists at the dinner table. she knew you’d done it, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice the hickeys and the way you smiled at visibly nothing.

“you know lando is going to go into the office and tell everyone you’re not fucking me.”

Oscar rolls his eyes in response. it didn’t bother him that people thought he wasn’t getting it. he knew he went home to you and did whatever you two pleased before sleeping. Lando could spread all the false rumors around that he wanted, but Oscar never would care. that always showed you that Oscar was way more mature.

“one day you’ll get pregnant and he’ll still think we aren’t doing it.”

“there’s only one way to show him we are doing it,” your playful smirk makes his stomach swirl in excitement and anxiety, “you scare me, Norris.”

—

“why the fuck did you have sex in my bed?!” Lando shrieks running down the stairs towards the kitchen where you’re buttering toast for your dear boyfriend who’s covered in hickeys. a marking that certainly shows your bother otherwise.

“oh was that your bed? I’m so sorry, we just were really into it.”

[blackwhitez]

BET YOU ────────୨ৎ

⤿ ALTERNATIVELY ✿ the science nerd fucks you in his dorm ᝰ.ᐟ

⤿ wc: 5k

s. jy × fem . reader

ⓘ cw: smut, academic rivals, literature student : reader, science student : jake, enemies to lovers?, they're literally nerds, unprotected sex, embarrassment, whiny jake, puppy!jake agenda, a lot of it, he's so cute, public-ish sex (not exhibitionism), eating out (fem), overstimulation, teasing, sexual tension. ♡

you always had your own suspicions around him—everyone called him a sweetheart, the golden retriever of the campus, kind to everyone. you thought no one could possibly be this good, but the more he spoke with his beautiful smile and gorgeous flowy hair, the more you believed it. that's until... he went on an uncalled for debate with you over his amazing science major.

you were in the college's conference hall with few elite students and three other professors discussing orientation plans and how to get students into your majors. you volunteered to help, and just so happens the sweetheart jake sim people talk about is here too. it's not a surprise. you see him around often when you participate in college events that bring different majors together. but it's your first time having a one on one talk with him.

"I could write down the history of the big tree planted in the campus' entrance, how it was planted when the first ever female student enrolled in our college." as you spoke, you heard a huff of a laugh. "I don't think new students would care about some history." he tilted his head, and your eyebrow rose.

"that's the issue about your major, it's not interesting enough." he played with the pen he had been fidgeting with for a while. "in science, you could explain the world with clarity poetry can never reach. it's so much deeper than words." he eyed you, eyes challenging and smug. you didn't break the contact, refusing to show weakness. but the more you did the hotter he got blabbing about science. he continued about the gravitational wave lab and the latest discoveries. meanwhile, your blood continued to boil. you have no idea you're fuming because of the insult to your major or of how gorgeous he looks with that stupid sunray casting on him from the hall's window like a paid actor.

the professors and students listened in amusement as you both went back and forth. one professor enjoyed it so much she suggested you two be the hosts for the panel during orientation week. you accepted the opportunity immediately. yes, you do volunteer often, but you're still not at the top of the top. it's perfect to boost your resume and get you noticed. of course, jake accepted the request, too.

when you left the hall, you heard someone whispering next to you. "hey, don't get the wrong idea. I wasn't arguing with you. I'm just that passionate about science." you look up to see him again, closer and ever dazzlingly beautiful. "it's fine. I don't get to defend my major that often, 't was fun." you say, as you continue to walk. "I think professor lee is more convinced over the impact of the science major, though." you internally roll your eyes, you could care less. before you speak again, he goes, "hey! wanna place a bet?"

you look at him. he's smiling so wide, the way you often had glimpses of from far away, but now it's close and... pretty. "who can convince professor lee to publicly endorse their major as more impactful wins the bet." oh, now you're interested. you would, in fact, love that. "and the prize?" you try to hide how amused you sound, but it shows, he grins. "ummm... the winner gets the other person to wear their major's sweater merch for a whole week."

that's so stupid...

but it's fun...

"sure." and that's how it starts. orientation week rolls in, where you both get busy with events and the bet on the line. you'd steal glimpses on what he's doing with his colleagues, and you'd catch him doing the same. the panel goes as heated as it was in the hall last time. this time, the friendly rivalry draws giggles from the students. you would occasionally shake your head, and when you look at him, he flashes you the cutest smile and winks. you had no idea what that meant.

you actually have no idea what most of his actions meant. if it were you, you'd call him a wolf than a golden retriever with the way he randomly gives you those dreamy eyes and raises his eyebrows before he looks away when you all were out handing flyers; with the way he's surrounded by a group of giggly girls most of the time; with the way he bites his lips and brushes his long hair with his fingers. he knows what he's doing.

but precisely, with the way he found you walking alone in a hallway to get more flyers and stopped you there. "I don't think you have to work that hard," you literally roll your eyes this time. "worry about yourself." he steps closer, with a pout. you're kind of taken aback, so you retreat your steps, accidentally cornering yourself between the wall and him. to your surprise, he leans into your ear. "count your days, y/n" his breath tickles you, "you will be wearing my sweater soon"

"my sweater"

he is insane

you hate yourself more by the end of the week, because—he won. of course he did. and here you are hovering your mouse over the college's merchandise shop tap. but most of them are sold out after the orientation week. you hear a kakaotalk ping and look at your phone. it's a new chat.

"can't wait to see you next week ^^"

clicking on the profile tells you who it is, though you guessed from the content of the text. you text him back.

"it's sold out"

"what to do?~ ^^"

you give him the same energy back. you hoped that would make him give up on the dumb bet, but you underestimated the nerd you're talking to. jake would never back down.

"come to my dorm I'll give you mine"

and he sends a cute and teasing sticker. he's annoying... but cutely so. he likes to push your buttons and you hate how much you enjoy it. you admit, being single for a while got you awfully bored. after that first debate and the entirety of orientation week has been the most fun you had for a long while. what could go wrong? you will just go and recieve a sweater.

you grab a jacket to throw it over your camisole and text him that you're coming. the sky was a gorgeous orange as you strolled your way to the boy's dorms. you text him again when you're outside, but he tells you to come to his room. you huff and hesitantly go in. It’s kind of quiet, and the few male students who spot you only took a quick glance and went about their business. you know some female students would invade the boy's dorm to see their boyfriends and vice versa, but something about it still feels weird for you.

you gently knock his door and he opens it in seconds. walking in his room, you can neither call it clean or messy. it's a bit of both. you could tell he tried to throw some clothes that were scattered on his bed into a "tidy" pile next to his closet. but one thing for sure, it smells really nice. not overwhelming at all, smells like fabric softner and faintly of flowers. something you never expected. but if you were to be honest, it still smells heavy of him.

"I have to admit, you did really well this week." you raise your brow in suspect with this sudden gentle tone. "why? is it weird to compliment you?" you nodded, "yes. I'm actually scared." he went to his closet and got his sweater off the hook. "I actually almost called off the bet halfway, because it felt stupid... but every time I saw the sweater it got me thinking of you wearing it." you can't tell if his grin was innocent or with a deeper intent. nevertheless, he looked like a puppy excited for a treat. except, he's holding it out for you.

"wear it, I can't wait till next week." he says, excited. he goes to sit on his desk's chair after handing you the sweater, his sweater paws between his legs, and looks at you with utmost anticipation. if he had a tail, it would be wagging. you swear you can see it. "now?" you look around the tiny proximity of his room. "yes!" you sigh, "fine. well... will you turn around or watch me strip?" he tilts his head, "would you let me?" you almost throw the damned sweater at him but he holds his hands up, "okay, okay."

when he turns his wheeled chair the other side, you make sure he's not stealing glances—you do trust him it's just your own little insecurity—before you take off your jacket and top, fold it aside, and put on the sweater. the smell of the same fabric softer in the air is coming off of it. "okay... I'm done." you fix your hair and straighten the sweater and your shorts.

for a few moments he doesn't say anything, just watches with a blank expression. for some reason, something about it—the whole thing feels extremely illegal, scandalous, hot. you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, being in his territory, wearing his clothes as he watches you. an amusing smile finally breaks his controlled features, his voice shaky "not bad. looks better on you than me."

"well, I'm glad it's washed. I was going to walk out if it smelled like shit." he finally relaxed a little and giggled, blushing. he was blushing. why was he blushing so much? you know he's nervous with the way he can't stop touching his hair and abusing his lips. you wanted to tell him to stop before they start bleeding. "but really, what was the bet for?" you know it was just for fun, but jake knows both of you are busy students and would care less for stupid things like this. so, why did he start a bet out of no where.

"why did you agree?" he asks instead, tilting his head in the same amused way he does, but his eyes were more deliberate, intent. like he wants to get out a secret out of you before he tells his own. "you can't return the same question" you hold your ground. "and why is that," now he's off his chair, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "is it not literary correct?" he teases. you look away, hiding how his silly teasings gets you worked up.

"I was just curious, because you seem to enjoy it so much." you start to notice the waver in your voice, nerves getting to you, he's getting to you with the way he's standing tall in his room and looking ever handsome in the dimmed lights. the once fresh air feels thick and suffocating. your hands clasp to the hem of the sweater, noticing how they started sweating. even though you liked to take jake lightly and joke with him, you can't deny how actually smart he is and how tactful. you feel like you walked into his trap, but you don't seem to mind it.

he pushes his lip into a pout and raises his shoulders, "I did. but you seem to have enjoyed it too?" he teases again, with a knowing smile. that similar feeling you had in the conference hall is back. where you start to fume for all different reasons. he sees it, and you know he does. the faint dilation of your eyes. he knows his own affect on you. you can see it in the way he grins without his eyes. caught on your own thoughts to form a protest, to find the right words to attack him back, he goes first with soft strides you almost don't notice. before you feel his hand on the side of your face and lips locked fervently onto yours.

very quickly, your world starts spinning. it takes you few seconds to process you're kissing jake. jake the science major nerd. jake the beloved golden retriever of everyone. jake who always looks at you with such intent no one else does. the fumes in your body rush to your face. his lips feel so soft and hot, burning you both. once you respond, instinctively opening up for him, you feel him get more excited. enthusiastic with the way he holds you closer by your waist and slide his tongue over the plush of your lips. he almost suffocates you with his fervor.

placing your hands over his chest and shoulders, you did not know how much you were craving this. craving jake. yes, you've thought of how would it be like if you dated—and it sounded so silly and embarrassing you quickly made yourself forget about it, but you never thought how would it feel to have his plump lips caress yours, how his big warm hands hold your waist, how he would manhandle you and lift you to his bed, how it would feel to straddle him and return his kisses.

hours went by like minutes as you make out on his bed, as he sucks and bites your neck with his hand sneaking under your – his – sweater. your stomach flex, chills running through you at the contact of his soft fingertips caressing your body. you pant next to his head, his hair tickling you. a hot suck on a spot between your collarbone and neck draw a suppressed moan out of you. "jake..." you plea, hips rocking in swift motion onto his. you want him so bad. it's so bad it's driving you insane. you can feel him twitching, you can feel him so hard he keeps whining when you press on it.

"shit... you feel so nice, y/n" he speaks from your shoulder. he looks back for a quick check on you, "never thought I'd get the literature nerd on my lap" he grins his silly, flirty attempt grin he always gives you across campus and on the panel and in hallways. you couldn't hide the little bashful laugh that comes out of you, looking off distance. "what? you're shy now?" he pries for your gaze. "you wish." you trace a finger over his waistband, palm had no choice but to brush over the rising bulge, a noticeable twitch pushes the fabric. you hear him swallow, watching your every little action. "I knew it all along, you're not as innocent as you make yourself seem."

this time, your palm landed gently on his bulge, pressing curiously. this made you realise how much he have been holding back, because the simple touch made him jolt and hiss. you were shocked at first, but now you're the one having a mischievous grin on your face. your hand teasingly rub up and down his clothed cock. you notice, it's bigger than you thought. you squeeze, just a little bit, feeling it out. a guttural moan comes out of jake it makes your insides twitch. shit, you really like hearing him like this.

you sat up on your knees, jake watches you as you slide your shorts and panties off. the science sweater stays on. he gulps once more; how you're half naked with only his sweater on. pulling on his waistband to free him, cock rising and falling it makes you sick. you let him focus on you again, gently kissing his cheek, his soft but sharp jaw, his lips. as you move, his cock slaps the wetness of your exposed clit making you moan and lean into it. gliding on him feels so good you're seeing stars. and he's not even inside yet.

after menacing minutes of drawing whines out of the both of you, your cunt throbbing from the contact, from the smooth and sticky slide over his veins, and over the shroom of his head. he's impossibly hard and aching. translucent plops blooming out and dripping down his length. "fuck, y/n. if you don't ride me already–" he huffs in your neck, holding your hips so hard you think it would leave printed marks. "patience," you would never let him one up you in this game you created.

if he smiled you can't see it, as you align and slowly sit on him. you bite your lip, you did nothing to prepare. you're dripping wet but still a little tight. "fuck." you feel his tip plop in. the more you go down the more dizzy you are and can't take control anymore. you're glad he has his big hand on your lower back and helps you go all the way.

impatient, you start moving before he's all the way in. and fuck he feels amazing. he feels so so good, you think you're gushing wet again. "ahh.. y/n" his lips swollen and wet with your spit, skin flushing red and glistening. he had took off his own top at some point. your hand on his pretty abs as you kiss again and again. his taste is addicting, the way he bites you is addicting. you keep moving, and he keeps getting deeper. you keep tasting heaven every time his shroom tip grazes that spot. "shit, shit, shit, jake!" you're long lost careful with the noise being too loud and travelling the thin walls. anyone passing by would hear that. hell, anyone on the same floor. It’s probably dinner time by now. the sun is setting, and the room is getting dimmer, but both of you are getting hotter.

jake's hand have undone your bra under his sweater long ago, working one tit and mouth bruising a new spot beneath your ear. the pressure of his hand is dizzying. you almost lose your pace on his dick, so he picks it up, starts fucking you relentlessly while hugging your waist you start to see white. you try to focus on him and kiss him again but all you can do is pant and rest your forehead on his.

you're incredibly close you can taste it. "oh, I'm gonna cum." jake breathes. god his sounds turn you on so much. his whines and the way he keeps hitting the spot are throwing you over the edge. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming.." he almost cries. "please." you respond, wanting to feel it. wanting him to paint your walls as you cum too. you're tightening so much it draw moans and whines from the both of you. he's holding you so strong and close, focusing all his willpower into fucking you. "y/n..."

"oh- my god" you feel it, your knees clenching as you cum hard. the waves rip through your stomach to the top of your head. jake is cursing too. you can't tell if he came before or after you—or with you, but he stills for a moment, holding you strong, flush to his chest. he then moves slowly, riding out the high. cold sweat drips down your waist and bare thighs between jake. he stays hugging, face in your neck. your head throbbing and your core too. you take still moments to breath. faint sounds outside brings you back. "oh no... how am I gonna leave like this." you breath, in delirium.

jake finally looks, "you can stay?" he's back to his menacing act. and he still looks fucking hot, if not hotter with sex sweat glistening his face. "yeah, no." you try to hide the simmering blush with a stern tone. you really just fucked one of the elite students of your college, in his own dorm room, in his own major's sweater, shamelessly. looking back to day one at the conference hall, he was giving you this same look, like he'd be more than pleased to devour you.

when the sounds outside subside, you slowly and carefully shift off jake. "i need to go before there's more people around after dinner." you feel jake pouting without you looking as you collect your clothes. logically, he knows you're correct. but emotionally, he's already missing your warmth. he thought he'd get to do some aftercare, kiss you more as if he didn't a thousand times just now, cuddle you, and kiss you more everywhere. but you're already out the door.

the weekend pass by in an odd whim. you're constantly thinking about jake, the back and forth teasings of last week, the sex... his mouth... his smile... just how much he made you feel good. but also, the whole ambiguity around it. you're not dating and you're not friends either? you have no idea what you are and why you kept pushing and pulling each other. so, you just left. like none of that happened. you were so hot and embarrassed you chickened out. he got what he wanted and you got what you want(?) so what's more there to it?

when you meet again at the same conference hall to receive your rewards and few good words from your assigned professor. you try your best to act normal, though you can't help yourself checking on him every time the professor is speaking to him and the focus is not on you anymore. he seems normal. in his usual clean and professional, yet casual attire. did he get a haircut? his hair still looks long and curling at the ends but tidy. that's until your eyes meet. he looks a little worried, but there's also the glint of desire.

the professor makes a joke that you both look like the perfect pair and whispers, questioning if you're not dating already. you both just giggle and kindly deny the rumor, it probably became a topic among the professors who seen your debates. you and jake... together... he is cute. he'd make the loveliest boyfriend. it honestly would be funny if a perfect literature girl dated an elite science guy. you just know it would be a hot topic that would keep students amused until you both graduate. after the short meeting and exchange of empty future plans you both just nod off to and suggest empty promises, you two exist and to your surprise, a hand hooks onto yours and you're dragged into the nearest secluded class.

jake doesn't even bother to turn on the light, the sun coming in through the windows is enough. "everything's okay? did I do anything wrong?" you feel the worry dripping from his voice. like it's been killing him the entire weekend. he's so close, like he wants to be assured so bad. he really thought he did something wrong? when you were the one that ran out?

you soften, touching his cheek carefully. hesitant. "no, jake. you did nothing wrong." he literally melts, leaning into your touch like an obedient pup. he's a tall and huge guy. and yet, your simple touch affects him this much. you hate and love how much he affects you, how much your heart is throbbing inside your chest when he's looking at you like this.

it happens out of habit, a new habit you formed for him, you hook your hand through the back of his hair and the other arm over his shoulder and kiss him for all the wait you put him through. he moans.

that's how much he craved you through the weekend. but his kisses are gentle, yet passionate enough to tell you "I still want you and I will continue to". you can never get used to how good his mouth feels and tastes. it's always so plush and full of spit. bigger than yours, he almost devours you—and he does. in few minutes, his hand worked the buttons of your polo sweater, his mouth tasting your chest, trailing kisses to your ribcage and stomach. he kisses it with so much love it makes you melt. his hands hooked to your thighs, riding up under your skirt. you gasp when his hand grip your ass at the same time he's sucking a spot on your hip. he's going to be the end of you.

the next thing you know, your panties are down and jake taking his time placing kisses to your inner thigh. he watches you drip with wetness caused by him like it amuses him. the way he looks up at you drives you insane. "been thinking about you" he says, holding your leg up to get closer to your cunt. trailing his hot mouth in the direction where you want him to go. "wanted to taste you" and that's the last thing he whispers before he gives in to his need for you. his mouth latches openly on your core you literally wail and shake. "jake!"

his tongue flicks between your folds and he looks drunk how much he's enjoying the taste. he looks hungry. "oh my god," your hand goes from holding the wall behind you to one shotting out to thread through his hair since you can't stop yourself from moving to his face. he doesn't seem to mind any of it. he looks up at you, underneath his now messy bangs like he's telling you to go ahead and use him.

feels weird

you want to say, but the sensation is taking over you. It’s your first time getting eaten out and you didn't imagine you'd recieve it standing like this. with nothing but a wall for support. you want to push him, but you also like it. it feels really good. so good your thighs almost suffocating him. but he doesn't look like he'd care to lose his breath with him going in, nose deep, slippery sounds coming out, and you feel him drooling so much it's running down his chin.

to your surprise, long fingers slide in—you're assuming two—and curl making you hold in a scream. "I'm gonna cum, jake. I ca–" you were reaching your high when he suddenly started sucking hard. you felt like you were exploding into several fireworks, covering your mouth not to make the same mistake again. although you know, it’s probably too late by now. he licks and sucks you through it, you start begging him to stop. when he does, he gently puts down your leg and licks whatever remnants of spit and your cum on his mouth. he still looks like he wants more, eyes heavy and dilating when he gets up. but the way he kisses you is soft and gentle.

you feel him working something down with his free hand and then his bare cock rubbing on you. he must have been aching so much in his pants. you let him have his way with you, hand back into his hair soothing him through it. he sucks down your neck, as he's pounding and writhing against you like a horny dog. "god. I can't believe how you make me feel, y/n..." the head of his cock keeps poking, before he finally hold it and forces himself in with the most satisfying slide you suddenly want to cum again. you tentatively hold your knee up to make it easier for him and hook it around him. "keep talking to me like this and I'd think you really want me."

"what if I do, y/n?" you hear him pant to your ear, hips never stopping. "what if I actually... really... love you." your insides churn at that, eyelids fluttering. "bullshit." you had enough experience you know most of them throw this word around whenever. but jake, he was patient. he didn't get into your pants until he knew you wanted him too. you have no idea why you're trying to deny how his looks are different, his touch is different.

his thrusts halts for seconds. he slides out and you think it's over, it's done. but he's twisting you to face the wall and holds your hips out for him. you gulp, he's sliding in again to fuck you from behind. he rests his chin on your shoulder as he holds you in place. he's always close, like he never wants to be a sentimeter away from you. "you... you seem to not trust me yet. let me show you" moans escape you, he's so so deep. you don't think he got this deep last time. you want to say something back, have the last word, always, and it’s like he knows you do so he's going harder. his body is pushing you it’s making you one with the wall.

"jake. fuck, fuck, fuckkk." his free hand that was on your stomach, goes down to rub your dripping clit and you patently scream to the wall tilting your hips. his other hand somehow lift your bra, cupping your tit and squeezing your nip. you feel him everywhere it's dizzying. the sight of his veiny arm and fingers working your core as he keeps rutting into make you see the heavens gate.

his little whines next to your face is the cherry on top. he whines like an injured puppy it makes you want to cry. who knew he sounded this beautiful high with pleasure. is this how much he wants you? you want to tell him you wanted him too, you craved him too. but you can't help but whine it out, just like him.

it's coming, achingly close your knees joining together. the sensation of his hot fingers rapidly working you, his dick pushing all the way you feel it in your stomach, the warm hand and faint squeezes on your tit. "jake..." he's getting hold of every part of you deep inside until you explode. it arrives in waves, you don't know how many. just when you think it stopped, you're losing it again. in the midst of it, comes jake's mantra, "I'm coming, I'm coming..." you never heard such a melodic voice. you're seeing a pattern—he likes to announce his coming over and over. he stills deep in your cervix, gushing white ropes. you wince and whine, jake is pushing you further to the wall until there's really no space. his hand on your stomach.

there's a wet, droopy kiss on your neck. it sends chills, even after everything that had happened. the kiss lingers as he mutters into it under his breath. "I want you." he say, with demand. as if he didn't just had his way with you. but you understand it as in, "I want to continue this" he makes you chuckle a little bit—he doesn't know it yet but he's a romantic himself. you will tell him later.

♥︎ : @srehyaps

[shoukokus]

Yuu gives Floyd a rubix cube as a gift and floyd hyper focuses on it until he solves it. Then it becomes his baby. No one is messing it up after the work it took to get it solved. Yuu gets a free pass to handle it since they gave it to him.

he would totally do this

floyd leech/prefect

Being from a different world was an interesting experience, for unique reasons. One of the biggest things you enjoy is seeing the similarities between this world and your previous one. Architecture, raising children, cultures, inventions, etc. It was fascinating!

While on break with Ace and Deuce, you were able to shop in the Queendom of Roses. While passing a game shop, you saw something in the window you just couldn't pass up. A rubix cube! Well, here they called it a "color shift puzzle," but it looked identical. You bought it, and returned to school a few days later.

You were never any good at these things, but you didn't want it to go to waste. Someone might enjoy this as a gift, but who? Perhaps Idia or Azul, since they're in the board game club, but they've probably seen these plenty of times. What about... A thought popped into your head. Floyd! He liked little things like this, and being from the Coral Sea, probably hasn't seen this particular toy before.

When you saw him next, you gave him the cube, and his reaction was... unexpectedly enthusiastic. He was immediately intent on solving it, even slacking in class to play with it. Maybe you should have given it to him after school... Well, at least he liked it. Probably too much, if the grievances Azul rose with you were anything to go by.

It was just a couple days later when Floyd suddenly showed up in the library where you were studying with Epel and Ace. He slams down the completed puzzle with a wide grin on his face. "Wow," you pick up the cube in awe, turning it and seeing that it truly had been done. "This is impressive, Floyd!"

"What's so cool about a-"

Before Ace could take it from your hands or finish his sentence, Floyd smacked the poor boy's hand harshly. "Only Shrimpy can touch it!"

"The hell?!" Ace shelters his wounded hand with a pout.

Floyd takes the item back, and tugs at your arms. The strong as anything eel pulls at you with ease towards the exit. "Come on, let's go find something to carry it with!"

"Wh- But I-" You sputtered helplessly, trying to drag yourself back to the books you were apparently leaving behind.

"We have to take good care of it!"

Epel and Ace could only look on, feeling incredibly sorry that you were the eel's current fixation. It was not a great experience, and it happened to you a lot. Ace is still rubbing at his hand. "What, is it like their baby or somethin'?"

Epel makes a face in response. "Do not even joke about the prefect having a baby with Floyd."

[tarotwithavi]

You from the eyes of your lover

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist 🌷 extended masterlist

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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT 💞🫶🏻

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 1

When I look at you, it feels like the world slows down just a little. You are the place where my restless heart finds its rhythm. With you, it’s not just love, it’s recognition like my soul has been looking for you in every lifetime and finally, finally found you.

There’s a fire in you that keeps me awake at night, a spark that makes me want to dream bigger, run faster, live louder. You move through life like a storm wrapped in sunlight, fierce, beautiful, unforgettable. You make me believe that maybe, just maybe, love is supposed to feel like this. Wild and free and terrifying in the best way.

You make me want to build a life, not just a moment. To hold traditions close, to create a world with you where things are sacred and real. You’re not just someone I love you’re someone I trust without even trying. Someone who feels like something ancient and holy written into my bones.

I see the way you guard your heart sometimes. I see the walls you’ve built, and I see the strength it took to still leave the door open. And I swear to you, every time I see that quiet bravery in your eyes, I fall in love with you all over again.

With you, love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a journey I want to be on every single day. Through storms, through silences, through dreams I haven't even dared to speak yet.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 2

You are the warmth that fills the empty spaces inside me. You are laughter echoing through lonely rooms, sunlight spilling over broken places I thought would never heal. With you, love feels real, not something imagined or wished for, but something I can hold, something I can build a forever with.

When I look at you, it feels like watching a heart in motion, choosing between fear and hope with every breath. You carry such a soft strength, the kind that does not scream for attention but moves mountains quietly. You are the pause before the promise, the calm before the celebration. Being near you feels like arriving somewhere I have been searching for my whole life.

I know you have seen the kind of endings that leave marks on a soul. I know there are mornings when you still carry the weight of yesterday in your chest. But to me, even your scars are sacred. Even your sadness is beautiful. You are not what happened to you. You are what rose after it.

Sometimes I see you lost in thought, drifting away from the moment, wondering if you are enough, if happiness is something meant for you. I wish I could press my hands against your doubts and kiss them away. I wish you could see yourself the way I do, not just beautiful, but unforgettable.

With you, love feels like building something real with hands full of dreams and a heart full of courage. You are my foundation and my flight. You are my reason to believe that love can be both soft and strong at once.

You are not standing still, my love. You are moving toward everything you ever deserved. And I will be right here, choosing you over and over, with every step, with every breath, with every piece of who I am

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 3

When I look at you, it feels like every forgotten piece of me wakes up. You are laughter wrapped in sunlight, a melody sweeter than anything I could have ever asked for. Being near you feels like breathing in a life I had only dreamed of from a distance.

You are my warmth, my safe place, my wild joy. You are the reason the world feels beautiful again. Your smile could tear down walls I built around my heart without even trying. You carry a kind of happiness that feels like magic, the kind that stays, the kind that heals without asking for anything in return.

I see your strength, the way you carry your battles inside you and still choose to shine. There is a power in you that humbles me, a softness that makes me believe in forever. You are made of the kind of courage that bends but never breaks, the kind of love that holds and forgives and chooses again, even on the hard days.

There is something about you I cannot escape. Something that pulls at me like gravity, like a song that only my heart can hear. You are fire and freedom, temptation and tenderness. Every time I touch you, it feels like being set alight and saved all at once.

You awaken every dream in me. Every hunger. Every hope I thought I had buried. With you, love feels like creation itself, raw and wild and sacred. You are the spark behind every risk I am willing to take, every future I dare to imagine.

And still, beyond all the wildness, there is a quiet in you that I worship just as much. A soul that needs space and silence, a spirit that goes deep where the world cannot follow. I would wait a lifetime just to sit beside you in your silence, to be the hand you reach for when you come back into the light.

You are not just my love. You are the universe written in skin and soul. You are the reason I believe that some loves are written long before we are even born

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[itsnesss]

Please charles leclerc x american shy!reader? Shy!reader knows nothing about racing but Charles feels warm and happy that shy!reader watches him race or practicing racing. You can add this if you want so Every time he wins, they go to his car and have heavy car sex the back of the car seats just 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐢 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | charles leclerc × fem!reader

summary | you're shy, know nothing about racing but charles wins, and loves you for being there. you celebrate in the backseat

warnings | shy!reader, fluff, smut, explicit content, soft dominance, public/semi-public setting (car), emotional intimacy, after-race tension

word count | 1.2 k

🖇️ more cl16 🖇️ f1 masterlist

You never thought you’d end up sitting in a paddock, with earplugs in, watching a series of fast cars zoom past you with a roar you could barely endure. You didn’t understand a single thing happening on the track. The timings, the strategies, the tires… it was like another language. But there you were, in a world that wasn’t yours, simply because he was there.

Charles.

The boy who spoke with a sweet accent, who smiled as if the sun rose just for him, who had the warmest eyes you’d ever seen. The boy who, for some reason you still didn’t understand, had chosen you.

You, the shy one. The American lost in Monaco. The girl who hid behind her hair when someone looked too directly at her. The one who couldn’t hold a conversation with strangers without blushing. Sometimes you wondered what he saw in you. Other times, when he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered… you just believed it.

"Are you okay?" he’d asked you that morning, adjusting your Ferrari cap before entering the circuit.

"Yeah… just a little nervous," you admitted quietly, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

Charles leaned in and kissed your forehead, as if that could calm the thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach every time he was near.

"I’m going to win today," he said confidently. "And I’m doing it for you."

You didn’t know much about racing, but you knew those words meant something. Because Charles raced for millions, for a team, for his country. But that time, he said he was racing for you.

And he did.

You watched as his car crossed the line first, as the crowd erupted in cheers, as his team jumped up celebrating. You didn’t understand any of it, but your eyes filled with tears. Because you knew what it meant. You knew how happy he was in that moment.

And you knew what came next.

Charles took off his helmet, hair soaked in sweat, with the brightest smile you’d ever seen on him. He came straight to you, not caring about the cameras or the shouting.

"Let’s go," he whispered, taking your hand.

You knew where you were going. He didn’t say it, but you knew.

The garage was empty when you arrived. The adrenaline still buzzed under his skin as he opened the back door of his car and helped you in.

"I love it when you come watch me race," he murmured as he leaned over you.

"I don’t understand anything you do," you whispered.

"Doesn’t matter," he smiled. "What matters is that you’re here."

His voice grew softer, more intimate, as his hands started to trace your waist.

"Can I show you how much that means to me?"

And you just nodded.

You adjusted yourself in the back seat while he gently closed the door. Outside, the circuit’s noise still echoed faintly, but inside, the world seemed to fall silent. It was just the two of you, breathing the same air charged with emotion and desire.

Charles sat beside you, his eyes fixed on you like he was trying to memorize everything. His hand reached up to your cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that made you shiver.

"You’re so beautiful…" he whispered with that accent that always made your knees weak.

He kissed you slowly, patiently, like he had all the time in the world. Your fingers tangled in his shirt as he settled above you, guiding you gently to lie back. The leather seat creaked beneath the shared weight. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm, wet path that lit you up from the inside.

"Every time I win," he said between kisses, "I just want to do this. Come to you. Touch you. Be with you like this."

His confession made your cheeks burn, but you didn’t look away. You believed him. You saw it in his eyes, in the way he touched you with such reverence, like you were his greatest trophy.

Your clothes disappeared between whispers and soft caresses. So did his. He took his time, as if he didn’t want to rush, as if every second with you was sacred.

When he finally settled over you, both of you naked, your bodies so close there was almost no air between you, he caressed your face again and asked in a murmur:

"Are you okay?"

You nodded, breathless, your heart about to explode.

"Yeah… always, with you."

He took your hips in both hands and looked into your eyes. You didn’t look away. You felt his body join yours in a way so perfect, so natural, it felt like you’d always been this way. His hips moved with steady rhythm, each thrust deeper, more intense. The car creaked slightly with the motion, a nearly musical sound that mingled with his muffled groans and your breathless sighs.

The back seat seemed to shrink with every movement, as if it were wrapping you both in a more intimate embrace. His fingers traced your body gently, like he wanted to memorize every curve. The side window began to fog up with his ragged breathing, creating a private world just for you two.

"I love you so much," he gasped in your ear, his voice rough with effort and passion.

And you, with words lost in the flood of sensation, could only reply in a whisper that sounded almost like a prayer:

"I love you too… I do."

And there, surrounded by the scent of leather and the distant echo of the circuit, you found your own rhythm, your own shared victory in the secret of that stolen moment. A moment that was just yours, one that made you feel that even though the world kept turning outside, here, in this small space, everything was perfect.

When it was all over, when you had reached that peak together, Charles collapsed beside you, still panting, his chest rising and falling with effort. He turned toward you, took your hand, and kissed it with that old-fashioned charm you adored.

"That was incredible," he said with a playful smile. "As always."

You smiled, your face still flushed.

"I like how you celebrate your wins," you murmured, hiding your face in his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and whispered:

"As long as you’re my prize, it’ll always be perfect."

Charles Leclerc had won more than a race that afternoon. He had won your heart, again and again. And as you both stepped out of the car, hand in hand, you knew that every one of his victories would always be yours too.

"I love you," he said in your ear, just before losing control.

And you did too. You loved him with every fiber of your being, with every breath, with every shiver.

Later, when your bodies relaxed, Charles didn’t move. He just held you tight, like he never wanted to let you go.

"Thank you for coming today," he said softly.

"I don’t understand this world… but I do understand you," you replied, your fingers entwining with his.

He smiled against your temple.

"That’s all I need."

[bbokicidal]

Maybe Our Last .:. SKZ [L.FX]

Genre : Smut Pairing : Lee Felix x Fem!Reader Warnings : DUB-CON, Tentacle penetration I don't know HOW ELSE to word it!!, Hentai-esque themes, Monster Fucking (essentially), Throat fucking (kind of)

Kinktober Day 6 of 10 : Monster fucking w/ Felix Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 3.8K

I'm going to write a small snippet here because I need this to be clear; There is no sex between Felix and the reader; Changbin is the character who becomes the tentacle monster so technically he's fucking them both lol, and both Felix & the reader experience a sort of aphrodisiac which is why this is labeled as Dub-Con. If you don't like this type of shit just DON'T FUCKING READ IT LOL - also I've never written anything like this before so if it's bad... oh well.

You’d caught his eye the moment you walked into the party; The outfit, the style you’d worn your natural hair in, the dramatic makeup, the contacts, the thigh highs, the cute shoes – 

Felix had seen that character multiple times before; A beauty from one of his favorite animes in the world and now it was like she’d come right to life in front of his very eyes in the form of your Halloween costume. 

If he was honest, Felix wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his composure around you that night. You already made his heart race before, your demeanor was always so pleasant and kind towards him any time the two of you had bumped into each other or conversed as your friends spoke with each other, and now he knew you were about as big a nerd as he was; Which made you 10 times more attractive. As if you could get any more perfect.

Hell - He wasn’t even sure how he got you to sit down and talk to him on the couch like this; Your legs thrown over his lap, his hands resting respectfully atop them while the two of you chit-chatted as if you weren’t sitting in the middle of a massive college Halloween party. Biggest one that happened on campus, actually; Changbin just had that reputation going for him; Couldn’t let his people down this year, could he?

Music blared around the two of you, people dancing and singing, drinking ungodly concoctions of Rum and juice and edible glitter and making out against the walls; someone gagging just behind at the smell that was slowly flooding out of the downstairs restroom and towards the kitchen. Though, it felt as though none of it mattered as you were in your own little world with Felix.

“Yeah, I mean - her basic outfit is just so boring so I guess I tried to recreate the ascended version; I just think it’s cooler.”

“Definitely.” Call Felix a loser. He can’t keep himself from staring over at you in admiration, awe rushing through his veins the more you talk about what you thought of the show and what your opinions on different arcs were. His replies remain short and sweet - and you try your best to keep the conversation going, you do, but it’s hard to focus when he’s just so… pretty.

With a pink knitted sweater tucked into light wash jeans, he’d managed to secure a small pair of white wings to his back. He’d buttered up his look by applying glittering hairspray to the platinum locks that fell down over his shoulders and framed his face so well, a chunkier rose gold glitter overtaking the freckles on his cheeks. It seemed to complete the look for the cutest pixie you’d ever seen in your life; Not that you’d seen many.

“So you know the guy who lives here?” You question, tone soft. You’d heard of him before but you’d never talked to him personally; You’d really only been invited to the party because he was a friend of a friend. 

Felix’s lips part before he nods, a shy and polite smile overtaking his lips. “Ah - Yeah. Changbin’s a close friend of mine. He’s pretty cool, I guess.” His eyes darted over to peek at said friend, Changbin’s head popping into the restroom as his hand secured its hold on the doorframe. He looks as though he’s investigating something but Felix hasn’t a clue what, so instead of fretting about it he turns his attention back to you. “You don’t?” Felix quips before continuing. “I mean - you don’t know him?”

You blink a few times, offering a small shake of your head. “Oh, no. He’s a friend of my friend, Hyunjin. They’re practically attached at the hip and I see him around every so often but I don’t think I’ve ever had a full conversation with him before, you know?” You smile, giving a shrug. “We just don’t really run in the same friend group I guess. No big deal.”

The hand that had previously been resting against your shin - which was placed in Felix’s lap as you lounged back on the sofa in Changbin’s living room - moved to instead gently grasp at your knee. Felix giggles, “You should talk to him sometime. He’s genuinely one of the nicest guys I know. I get that his physique can be kind of intimidating but he’s really a nice guy. Maybe after the party we can –”

“Oh my God,” A girl shrieking from behind the sofa causes your body to jolt in surprise, your leg pulling off of Felix’s lap. He selfishly misses the contact immediately but lets his gaze pull from you to the young woman standing just over your shoulder. She’s turned away, her hand shaking as she points to the bathroom doorway. Changbin was gone, but where his hand had previously rested was now an oozing trail of green slime. Like something had slapped against the doorway and left a puddle that dripped down the polished wood. “Changbin?!” She cries, free hand pressing over her mouth. “Are you okay?!”

Hyunjin pushes past a few people to get to the girl, his hand resting against her arm as he glances between her horrified expression and the bathroom doorway. “What -?! What? What’s going on? Why are you yelling?” He stares down at her, the girl trembling under his touch. Her face had gone ghastly white, her joints blushed with blood that tried to push through to her extremities that had long lost all sense of warmth.

“Changbin,” She gasps out her friend’s name, her fingers shaking horribly as they dig into her cheek in terror. “He was trying to figure out what that awful smell was but I just – I saw him get pulled into the bathroom by something! I swear, it was like a monster - It was –”

The atmosphere turns horridly tense. The air thickens with dread as people begin to back away from the bathroom and some even turn to leave, wanting to get out of the house in case something horrible had happened. What if it was another person and Changbin had just been attacked? What if there was a serious sense of danger in the house now? And as you listen in, your chest feels heavy enough to cave in on you. You didn’t know Changbin well but that didn’t mean you didn’t care about him. He seemed like a genuine guy and right now you could only hope that this was some sick, cruel Halloween prank happening.

By the time you push yourself up off of the couch to even move into action Hyunjin is already in the bathroom doorway. His rushed demeanor comes to a sudden halt as he stops where the door cracks open, his gaze settled behind it and directed towards the shower. Everyone seems so quiet now, waiting impatiently for Hyunjin to give them some sort of update.

The only response they get for at least five seconds is the color draining from his face. His jaw clenched as he huffs out a breath before his body turns back to the living room and he pushes himself to leave the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He points, throwing his arm towards the front door that isn’t too far from where you stand. “Get out!” His voice leaves his throat in a scratching scream, begging for people to run from whatever it was he had seen in the bathroom only moments ago. “Get the fuck out!” He cries. “Run! Fucking run!”

People scatter; Dust settled on a shelf for decades now disturbed and dispersing into the once pure air. Footsteps are loud and heavy as some book it for the upstairs area, their shoes thumping heavy against the wooden steps. Most head for the front or back doors, Hyunjin’s hands pushing people to move into action as screams and cries fill the house and drown into the music still playing from the stereo speakers. 

The bathroom door slides open and what emerges makes your blood run cold.

That wasn’t Changbin.

That was a monster.

With eyes pure white and veins pulsing angrily in his throat, the Senior exited the bathroom not on his own two legs; Maybe not of his own free will. His head lulled as if he was no longer present, the parasite within him pushing him to exit and begin to attack. His upper half looked as if it had been melted and glued to the body of an octopus - if that octopus had biohazard green tentacles and slime oozing from every orifice. It pushed out of the corners of his mouth as his expression turned into a heavy scowl, his head tipping in the direction of the people scrambling for the front door - one of the tentacles reaching out in a quicker manner than expected. It had taken him so long to reveal himself that you were sure he was sluggish when it came to movement, but the tentacle seemed to snap out and wrap around the closest person’s waist.

Hyunjin gasped in horror as the wet surface slid and soaked his band tank, grabbing onto him tight and curling around him a few times to ensure he couldn’t escape from its hold. The tip of the tentacle smothered his cheek in goo and he visibly cringed, pulling his head back as far as he could while it rubbed against his face.

You hadn’t even realized your own body had become frozen in its place until Felix had reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours to pull you back to him. “Hey,” He yells over the noise, gently tugging on your arm, “We’ve gotta go!”

Your eyes drag to Felix before you nod, surely out of it by everything you were witnessing. This had to be some horrible nightmare - surely. Changbin wasn’t some scary tentacle monster and Hyunjin wasn’t getting smothered in goo and this house party was not just taken over by some… alien octopus parasite!

Felix moves to guide you as far from Changbin as he can get you, which isn’t very far unfortunately. His attempt is futile; The moment he rounds the couch it’s already too late. A tentacle had wound around your ankle and begun to lift already, refusing to let you go while suspending you mid-air. Felix, also refused to let you go.

He cried out as his hand was ripped from yours, watching you be lifted towards the ceiling as you screamed and begged for him to find a way to get you down. “Felix!” Your gasps were slashes to his heart, the knife twisting and digging into the muscle, ripping it apart. “Felix - Help me! Help me!”

Though he’s no better off. A third leg had wrapped over Felix’s chest, slime oozing from what looked to be the suction cups of the tentacle - only open and gaping as they sucked and clung to his sweater tight. Felix’s mouth opens though no sounds escape, his body only reacting as it knows how to when he’s this terrified. His hands come down on the tentacle and he hates how smooth it is, how slimy and wet it feels against his skin. “Let me go,” He gasps out, his head turning to look over towards Changbin’s upper half. Not that he’s really Changbin anymore. “Changbin-hyung! Let me go! Let me go, I’m your friend!”

Felix’s head snaps in your direction instead as he hears your voice letting out soft whines. The tentacle holding you up by your leg had tightened its grip and squirmed down towards your inner thigh, still wrapped up against you so snug that it made the soft fat beneath it bulge under your thigh highs. He didn’t even bother to take in the way your skirt had flipped upside down to reveal the pink panties underneath - He didn’t care. He was instead watching a separate tentacle rubbing against your face as if it were nuzzling you, smearing a pale green goo over your cheek and towards your mouth that made you spit in disgust. The tentacle pushes lower instead and wraps loose around your neck, your eyes darting down to watch as the suction cups open and release what looks like a sort of gas.

Your gasps are immediate, the sweet scent filling your body as you cried, “What the fuck is that?!”

Felix barely even registered that the tentacle wrapped over his chest had done the same, and when he did he was dumb enough to look down right into it. The scent was… nice. Pleasant. It made his body hum with a pleasant vibration that made him feel so warm and fuzzy. A feeling akin to being drunk for the first time - feeling a little out of it, a little loose. It felt immediate, too. 

His body slowly began to relax as the gas fogged around his head, the cups closing shortly after to let the air around your bodies clear. His eyes slowly pulled back to you, and though you were a bit hazy now, you were still there. 

The tentacle wrapped over your neck slithered down towards your chest, wrapping beneath the swell of your breasts tight so the fabric pulled taught against your curves - and the poor pixie across from you couldn’t stop himself from looking. He didn’t even feel guilty about it at the moment either. In any other circumstance he would’ve been too respectful and shy to even steal a quick glance but now, something about it felt so shameless. 

The tentacle slipped lower to give your body more support, leveling you out so you could essentially lay as though you were in bed instead of being hung upside down. How kind of it.

Felix swallows hard as his eyes trail over. He watches the tentacle holding onto your leg adjust itself so your thighs push apart for it and your body seems to naturally comply, your head tipping back as you allow the creature that was once Felix’s best friend to bend your body to its will. He finds himself whimpering when the tentacle pushes higher, the tip of the appendage wriggling and squirming over your skin until it tucked under your skirt and pried at your panties.

Your lips part in a sharp gasp, a heavy blush coating your cheeks at the realization that it’s trying to get at the most intimate of spaces on your body. The appendage curls tight around your panties before it begins to pull back, though when they refuse to move from your hips because of how snug they are - it opts to instead rip them right open. The fabric falls like nothing from your body before the tentacle moves back to work, your skirt ruffling against your hips and thighs as it pushes over your slit and curls the very tip around your clit in an effort to make you moan. And it works, of course.

Felix’s cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you being touched like this. He knows it’s gross - knows it’s dirty and knows you’ll no doubt judge him for enjoying nasty Hentai like this (if you even live to see the next morning…) but he really can’t help it. He can’t help that he’s getting hard at the sight of you like this. It’s like a scene right out of a movie he’d watched recently - The tentacles, your stupid Halloween outfit…

“Felix…” Your soft call of his name makes him snap back into reality - which isn’t far from his fantasies right now. His hands tightened down on the tentacle wrapped over his chest as he felt something push between his own legs; An appendage separate from the others had slipped up his left leg and prodded at the bulge in his jeans, curling slowly around the outline of his half-hard cock while he whined. His lashes fluttered and he squirmed at the feeling, the friction more than enough to make him chub up just a little bit more. 

He curses, whimpering under his breath. “Fuck,” Felix gasps, biting down hard into his lip to stop any other sounds from escaping from his mouth.

His gaze darts back to you just in time to see the tentacle between your legs begin to squirm back. The cups along the inner section of the appendage open slowly and begin to once again ooz the slime that had slicked up your face and soaked into your costume’s top. It dripped over your inner thighs and as you sucked in a breath, the tip of the tentacle pushed carefully into your entrance. It eased it’s way in until it was nearly five inches deep - though this wasn’t quite like having sex with just.. Some guy. First of all - this was a monster; Second - the tentacle was thick. 

It felt as though it was attempting to split you right in half, wriggling deeper before finally pulling back and pushing into you once more.

“Oh my God,” Your voice leaves in a desperate hum. Felix watches in both shock and awe as your head falls back at the feeling of your pussy being filled to the brim; The little suction cups kissing at your walls every time it pushed into you further, the tip squirming against the entrance to your cervix and begging to be let in - to fill you until you would burst.

Felix’s head swirls as his gaze drops once more. He stares at the tentacle wriggling its way into his waistband, his mouth dropping open to let out a moan that makes him feel disgusting. He’s enjoying this and part of him loathes himself for it. “Shit,” He whines, the appendage wrapping around his cock when it slipped into his boxers and smothering his length in slick, sticky goo. It soaked through to the denim of his jeans and caused a heavy, damp stain that made him embarrassed and made him whine in protest. His hands curled into fists, reaching down with both to try and rid the appendage from his waistband before another - smaller and thin as a rope - wrapped tight around his wrists at lightning speed. He trembles as his arms are pulled above his head, no longer able to defend himself against the tentacle wrapping around his cock and making him twitch and writhe in pleasure. “Fuck – Fuck,” He cries, his toes curling in his sneakers at the ache that forms through his abdomen. “Fuck –!”

Your eyes finally press open as you hear Felix whining across from you, your gaze settling first on his flushed and desperate expression before falling to watch as the tentacle below wraps around his cock and coats him in goo. You can’t see anything but you know it’s a delicious sight.

Though, the appendage previously touching Felix seems to realize something of its own - It can’t fill Felix like it can with you, so it would have to find another way to inject its semen into the man.

“Shit,” Your whisper is barely audible as you peek up, watching the tentacle drag over Felix’s chest before coming up and prodding at his lips. He barely has time to react as it forces it’s way into his mouth, pushing at the back of his throat and making him choke on a whimper as goo drips down the corners of his mouth. His gaze meets yours before you watch as his eyes flick down between your legs, watching the tentacle between your thighs pump into you quicker than before. Your shaky, unstable moans meet Felix’s ears and he hates that the mix of seeing you getting fucked and having his mouth used at the same time are what makes him coat the inside of his jeans in cum that mixes with the goo left behind.

Your gasps become frantic as the tentacle pushes further into you, stretching you as much as it can before it suddenly stops, burying itself into your walls and pumping something out of the cups that had once again opened. You can feel it; It’s hot and heavy, thick, creamy. Holding a promise of your demise.

It’s the same moment that the tentacle buried in Felix’s throat seems to release the essence, Felix choking and gagging and closing his eyes in embarrassment as it fills his mouth full. The tentacle retracts as quickly as it came, black leaking from the corners of the pixie’s mouth as he swallows and spits at the same time - trying to figure out what it is and what to do in his post-sex haze.

The appendage between your thighs retracts and as exhaustion waves over you, so do the rest. Your body falls from the air and hits the ground with a heavy thud, Felix’s following only moments later. You land on your side, eyes glossy with tears of fear and pleasure as you look over at where Felix lay on his stomach to your right. His eyes are closed, though it’s not long before they slowly flutter open and attempt to meet your gaze. Felix’s hand slowly shifts from his side, coming to meet your own. His fingers curl into your palm as he sighs out, his body giving into the exhaustion and slumping against the hardwood - his cheek squished against the floor and his brain shutting off.

While you remain conscious a while longer, your eyes slowly move around to what you can see of the room. Hyunjin sits slumped against the wall, black ooze dripping down his chin and throat. His mouth had been filled the same as Felix, though while it happened a bit earlier on after he was grabbed, his body had already begun to turn. He was no longer present, his lower half bubbling and steaming and his legs gone, four appendages already present and squirming as the others began to form. 

Your eyes slowly dragged back to the blonde laying beside you, your thumb swiping over his knuckles in admiration. You take in the way his hair falls over his eyes, the way his lips part and the way the chunky rose gold glitter on his cheeks only adds to the charm of the deep brown freckles painting his skin. Part of you was… happy, that he’d fallen asleep before he’d seen what had happened to Hyunjin; What would happen to him now, too. Though as you lay in exhaustion and attempt to fight the sleep, as your brain clears itself of the fog and begins to be overrun by the slime that had entered your body and taken control of every functioning system left inside of you, and the fear settles into your chest; The realization that this would be the last time you would be human, the last time you would see Felix’s face. So you fight the sleep a little longer, just enough to try and memorize every detail of the man laying across from you before he becomes a monster, too. Your head pounds with the need to rest as your eyes finally drop closed, your body slumping and going loose as your future ahead of you lay unknown. But again, holding the promise of your demise.

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[nativegirltapes]

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚ what happens when sweetheart!reader invites drew over after their recent movie together finally wraps . . .

pairing: sweetheart!reader x drew starkey

warnings/notes: smut but not much until the end. also new reader yay <3 hoping to get her moodboard out tmr 🎀 lmk your thoughts sexies

the tension between you and drew was undeniable, to the both of you and the rest of the world; your friends, his friends, and both your guys' fans. it's not like you guys tried to hide it though, you were both constantly staring at each other whenever in the same room, especially during interviews, or the way you would both subconsciously have your hands all over each other, or maybe the way you'd both find a way to bring each other up when the other wasn't around.

and now that the movie you both starred in was wrapped, you both felt some weight fall from your shoulders. drew didn't feel like much of a pervert since you weren't exactly his costar anymore. and you didn't feel like you had to suppress the way your body reacted every time he got too close to you.

you hated how much you liked him, he made your stomach do literal flips. the feeling was mutual though, drew adored you in a way he hadn't anyone else. "nice place you got." drew said as you showed him around your apartment. "thanks." you stopped when you made it to your bedroom, drew looked around, your bedroom making him realize how much he really didn't know about you. "so, this is where the lucky guys get to come huh?"

"guess so," you plopped on your bed, letting your dress ride up your thighs. you'd be lying if you said that you didn't have intentions of getting somewhere with drew tonight after inviting him over alone. and it would also be a lie if drew wasn't hoping that you had intentions tonight, because he definitely did.

"am i one of those lucky guys?" drew questioned as he sat next to you on your bed. "are you?" you questioned him back, flashing him a little smile. "can i be?"

you shot out of your bed, standing up in front of him. "don't know. can you?" you teased him. drew chuckled, you were playing hard to get and it surprised him. you were the shy type yes, but there was something playful and even a little daring about you tonight and drew loved it. "do you like messing with me?" drew looked up at you as you still stood in front of him. it took a lot for him to not pull you down on his lap and kiss you. a lot actually. "maybe."

"we both know you want me just as bad as i want you right now," drew's hand fiddled with the end of your dress. "and what makes you so sure about that. hm?" you took a seat on his lap, his arm wrapped around your body, they felt even bigger than they looked. "i don't think you would've let me in your bedroom if you didn't." he said. and he was right, he was absolutely right and you didn't like it.

but clearly not enough because before you knew it, you were both tearing your clothes off each other and you were riding him. "fuck, i'm obsessed with you." drew said squeezing your ass as you bounced on his cock. his tight grip making you squeal a little, you knew it would leave marks but that was the last thing you were worried about. "you're so fucking perfect." you watched as drew's chest rose and fell at a certain pace. "cmon, talk to me." he begged.

your whole body felt so good that all you literally could do was let out moans and squeals, "s' good." you whispered, your eyes instinctively shut from the amount of pleasure. "wanna fuck you all the time." you said.

"yeah? you can baby. i'm all yours." drew responded. it was your first time having sex, but holy, the way your pussy felt wrapped around him; he swore he'd never even want to fuck anyone else ever again. "knew you weren't that shy."

you felt your cheeks get red at his comment, "m'gonna come!" you fell into his chest, heavy breaths leaving your lips as you collapsed on top of him. your manicured nails gripped onto his big arms, "me too." drew's breath hitched. you laid on him as you both caught your breath, "soooo, i am one of those lucky guys?"

[anantaru]

— comforting you on a bad day

including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader

genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort

— scaramouche

scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.

easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you�� and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.

scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.

he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.

however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.

hopefully you do.

"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?

troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.

his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.

scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.

you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.

for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.

the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.

scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.

"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."

you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.

strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.

"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."

— wriothesley

you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.

you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.

as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.

as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.

in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.

yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.

"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.

wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.

"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.

— alhaitham

alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.

instead, he just listens to you.

you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.

he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.

"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.

although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.

his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood. 

"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"

shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.

— childe

childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.

it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.

naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.

you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.

for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.

the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.

he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.

it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.

"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.

your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.

childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"

"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.

it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.

ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[tillysslife]

soft launches—w. scobell smau

pairings: walker scobell x childhood!bsf!reader

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walkersgf guys guys its me...

user the mystery is actually killing meeee

pjofanatic drop the @ or we riot

leahsavajeffries can confirm this is not a pr stunt

yourusername cuties!!

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user walker scobell i am BEGGING you to stop playing wit us

momonatamada i'm eating this up like it's my full time job

⤷user not even mo knows??

charliebushnell when she doesn’t even like him back HA

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user i hope whoever this is knows she's the most lucky girl in the world

dior.n.goodjohn walker. scobell.

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You were painfully oblivious to Walkers massive crush on you. You two had been neighbours ever since he had moved in to the house beside yours in pre-school. The connection had been instant between you two.

And as age and maturity tracked your friendship what started as meeting outside to draw on the pavement with coloured chalk turned into sneaking out of your houses and trekking to target.

The biggest problem that had ever rose between your hearts was the long time he was away to film Percy Jackson. You two had never spent time away from eachother, opting to go to eachother’s family holidays and even beg to be put in the same classes at school.

Walker having to leave and fly to Canada was tougher than either of you had anticipated. Separation anxiety was definitely a word thrown around by your friends and family, and you missed him dearly. Though, Walker missed you even more.

The separation only clarified Walker’s feelings for you. He was in love with you. He always had been forever but he buried it deep inside, classing it as platonic admiration instead of admitting that he was head over heels and had been for years.

But it was hard to escape feelings that were so all-consuming.

When filming season one wrapped up, the two of you spent all your time together. Giving Walker tons of photos and memories to store with him while he was back in Vancouver for season two.

That is how he started ‘soft launching’ you on his instagram. The first post started with a chaos of questions. Many from you.

His cast members had caught on to his infatuation and only ever commented with disappointed faces to his delusional posts but you were left in the dark.

You didn’t like the gnawing feeling in your gut every time you viewed Walker’s social media. Who was this girl who had him this down bad? Why wouldn’t he tell you? Why wasn’t it you?

You were truly so oblivious that you somehow didn’t even realise that the girl in the photos were you.

It wasn’t until you saw a Tiktok that annotated all of his posts that it clicked .

It shows multiple pieces of evidence that the mystery girl was you. A hoodie the girl was wearing that was on your account as well. A side by side photo that made it look a helluva lot like you. A coffee cup he posted that had your custom order on it.

Suddenly it was viral and everyone thought it was you. Fans of him flooded your DM’s you were tagged in several comments and your friends and his alike were going crazy.

ACCEPT FACETIME FROM SCOOBY🐕

YES OR NO

You don’t even let him say hello before you burst out, “It’s me! I’m the soft launch?!”

“What happened to hello?” He teased, a smirk smugger than you had ever seen on his face.

You rolled your eyes, narrowing your eyes at your best friend. “Hello Walker William Scobell. Now tell me why everyone is telling me that the girl in all those photos was me.”

“Yes sweetheart, it was you the whole time.” He chuckled, dragging a hand down his jaw, “It’s always been you. You’re just oblivious.”

“Hey excuse you. I am not oblivious,” You retorted.

Walker shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I mean… C’mon who else could it be y/n?”

You can only stare at him, jaw dropped and unable to breathe. Because now that you really think about it, who else could it be. The captions, the hoodies, the messages, the way he had been captured multiple times looking at you like you hung the stars.

You let out a shaky breath, your voice softer now, “So you weren’t just playing the internet.”

His smirk drops, and it is replaced by such a sincerity in his eyes that it takes your breath away. “No silly, I was playing you.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat but you can’t formulate any word in your head but; oh! The way he’s looking at you right now is like he’s already won.

Walker raises a brow “So… did it work?”

“Did what work?” You question quietly, swallowing forcefully.

His voice goes unbelievably soft, the tone he uses when you’ve just slept over and he’s tenderly waking you up. “Soft launching myself to you.”

Tbe silence stretches and your heart beats at a speed that doctors wouldn’t approve of.

Walker watches you through the screen, ever so patient.

You take a shaky breath “So… you’re saying this whole time… you’ve liked me?” The last two words come out as an uncertain squeak. Like you’re not too sure you want him to hear.

Walker blinks “Mhm, I always have.”

Your stomach flips “And the playlist?”

“Just me trying to tell you I love you through our favourite songs.”

You exhale sharply , your eyes fluttering closed “Oh my god.”

Walker leans closer to the screen, a smile on his lips “Childhood friends falling in love. What a concept.”

Your heart malfunctions. And you hate how easily he’s saying it like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.

You shake your head, laughing under your breath “You’re unbelievable.”

He grins “You love it.”

You smile because you do. You really, really do.

So you finally voice it, your words hardly a whisper “Yeah I do.”

Walker freezes, the teasing smile fades. His eyes flicker between yours like he has to know you’re being serious, waiting for you to take it back. “…You do?”

You nod. There’s no going back now. “Yeah Walker I really do.”

His face breaks into the biggest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

But before you can even process it he hangs up.

“What the hell,” You mutter.

Then your phone buzzes “Omw. Open the door.”

Your stomach drops and then confusion kicks in. Isn’t he meant to be in Canada right now?

Nonetheless, you sprint to the mirror, fixing your disheveled appearance from running yoir hands repeatedly through your hair when you found out. Two seconds later there’s a knock on the door.

And when you open it, Walker’s right there.

Grinning. Out of breath. Eyes shining with everything that he wanted to say.

And then? He says none of it.

He just cups your cheeks with a quick, quiet “Can I please?”

As soon as you nod, he presses his lips to yours.

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[harryspet]

well kept [3] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think! Thank you so much for all the feedback so far :)

word count: 4.5k

In which it's your first day working from home with Rafe and you have a new lesson to learn.

well kept masterlist

The Cameron residence was fifteen minutes outside of downtown Charlotte and situated in a large neighborhood where hills and huge oak trees hid all the houses. You didn’t really see his house, only what you could tell was large pond, until the driver was at the end of the mile-long driveway.  When you did, you felt woefully underdressed. Assuming that being inside all day meant you could opt for something casual, you’d chosen a cream knit dress. 

Following Rafe’s instructions, you sent him photos of each outfit you tried on, but he hadn’t told you which ones you could return. It was another blow to your confidence. You began to doubt whether he’d even been serious, but the fear that he might mention it the next day kept you from taking any chances.

Stepping out of the black Escalade, your eyes widened as you took in the architectural masterpiece before you. The house was a striking blend of traditional and modern styles, with a light-colored exterior contrasted by dark shutters framing the windows. A stone chimney rose from the roof, and the three-car garage with wooden doors added a rustic touch.

After your car drove away, a tall and impeccably dressed staff member named Anthony guided you up the stone-paved driveway. From your cheat sheet, you recalled that he was the House Manager. Rafe required a full team: Anthony, two housekeepers, a private chef, a driver, a gardener, and now you—his personal assistant. The inside of the house was as intimidating as the exterior. The expansive foyer featured high ceilings and a grand staircase that curved up to the second floor. To the left, you caught a glimpse of the formal dining room. Each room you passed was more impressive than the last. Anthony informed you that there were six bedrooms and eight bathrooms.

“I don’t usually work on Fridays but Mr. Cameron wanted me to give you a tour of the house and show you the ropes of house management. It’ll be important for you to be able to oversee the staff when I’m absent and understand the scheduling.”

Once again, it was all too much to take in. Today was your fifth day working for Rafe, and you’d barely survived until now. 

“I want to clarify that what happened yesterday stays between us. That includes Eleanor. Okay?”

That was all he said about his outburst. There was no apology for groping you, for pinning you down on his office couch, or for taking your virginity. If you were to tell the story, you’d have to mention how your body had betrayed you—not once, but twice. But you had said no. You didn’t want to use the word that described what happened to you. You didn’t want to think about it at all.

And it didn’t happen again—not over the next three days. He continued to be harsh, forcing you to apologize for every small mistake, even those you weren’t aware of.

As you followed Anthony through the expansive kitchen, you couldn't help but marvel at its sheer size and sophistication. The kitchen was a chef's dream, with gleaming marble countertops that seemed to stretch endlessly, state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, and custom cabinetry in a rich, dark wood finish. An oversized island dominated the center of the room.

At the far end of the kitchen, massive glass-paneled doors stood, offering a glimpse of the world beyond. The porch was furnished with elegant wicker seating with plush cushions. The space was perfect for elegant parties, with enough room to accommodate at least a dozen guests.

Beyond the porch was a stunning infinity pool stretched out towards the horizon. As you walked closer, to the right, you took notice of a garden. You spotted the gardener, Tyler, who Anthony had mentioned earlier. In simple clothes, the young man blended easily into the scenery. 

“This is where Mr. Cameron will typically entertain his guests,” Anthony said, 

The beauty of the outdoor space was undeniable, but so was the control that permeated every aspect of it. You wondered what hand Rafe played in how spotless it looked. You could almost picture him, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing with a harsh intensity, if even the smallest detail were out of place. It was easy to imagine him demanding that every leaf, every petal, every stone be exactly where it belonged. 

Did his staff ever make mistakes? Did he make them beg him forgiveness like he did with you? 

“Shall I show you the study? It’s approaching seven-thirty.”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. He was kind but part of you didn’t want him to hear your voice shake or your face contort into an uncomfortable position as you struggled to get your words out. 

There would be enough struggling today, you knew that. 

Surprisingly, Rafe’s home office was more quaint than you expected. Dark wood panneling decorated the walls as well as floor-to-celing bookshelves. As you made your way around the room, you took note of the picture frames containing images of what you believed to be his family. Here, it seemed he had a heart. The four of them stood on a dock, sun shining down, and his arms were wrapped a young girl with dark brown hair. His smile was genuine and there was darkness lingering in the blues of his eyes. 

Other than the bookshelves, the room only contained his desk, a set of leather couches and a coffee table. The smaller room still managed to exude sophistication but it was far less imposing than you expected. 

The room almost felt intimate as sunlight trickled in through light colored curtains. You were standing behind his desk, glancing out his office window which faced towards the nearby pond. Beside it, sat a gazebo, although you couldn’t imagine Rafe enjoying it. You wondered if he lived here alone as you saw no traces of the other three people in his family photo. 

“Boo,” You yelped as you heard Rafe’s deep voice. 

You placed a hand over your beating heart as you looked toward where he stood in the doorway. Having been deep in thought, you hadn’t heard the door opened. He knew that much which explained the amused look in his eye.  

Everything flooded back at the sight of him. The air had already left your lungs. You felt his body pressing down on yours, warm breath against your ears, and that pain between your legs. 

The door clicked shut, making you flinch.

“Good morning,” he said, his gaze fixed on you.

It hit you then, you hadn’t greeted him like you were supposed to.

You were taken aback by his appearance. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a plain navy t-shirt, a stark contrast to your heels and carefully applied makeup. You weren’t sure why you were expected to dress up, especially when he looked so casual.

“G-Good morning, Sir,” You crossed the room, his eyes locked on yours. You remembered where he liked you, near the door, ready to greet him and present yourself to him. You hated how your voice always betrayed you, how weak it made you sound. Your only saving grace was that you’d already memorized his schedule for the day, having spent the entire commute looking at your laptop. You recited it to him, including the midday Zoom call he had with Kelce and Topper.

Topper, you had learned, was Eleanor’s husband. Rafe hadn’t ever touched her but the way Eleanor always answered your questions with vague responses made you suspect that her relationship with Topper mirrored your own with Rafe. She hadn’t warned you but now you were suspecting that was because Rafe seemed to always get what he wanted, no matter who got hurt in the process.

You froze the moment his hand reached out to touch you. His fingers curled around your side, hovering just above your stomach but dangerously close to your breasts. His grip was surprisingly gentle as his thumb grazed over the fabric of your dress. You stiffened as his other hand mirrored the first, sliding across to the opposite side of your body. “Eleanor picked this,” he murmured, his brows knitting together as his gaze slowly traveled down your figure. A jolt shot through you as his thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a wave of panic coursing through you.

“Y-You don’t like it?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He clicked his tongue, “Turn around for me.”

You did as he said, “Doesn’t do enough for your figure,” Your heart panged in your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious of your own shape, “Are you wearing the panties I sent you?”

All you could do was nod. Rafe never commanded you to wear the panties everyday to work but you didn’t risk it. Luckily, they were all comfortable despite the lace and cheekiness. 

“Pull up your dress,” He said next. 

You’d spent the last three days in a fog, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to understand why your body betrayed you. When you were younger, you always asked the universe why you couldn’t speak like the way all your friends at school did. Now you asked the universe why Rafe’s voice made you want to clench your thighs together. Why you had felt empty ever since he’d finished inside of you. Why you wanted to try again, to experience that intimacy again without so much fear. Your life was so simple before but now it felt like it was too late to turn back. 

Your thoughts were too jumbled. Rafe cleared his throat and you realized you were just staring back, “I’m not gonna fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Please-”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me ask again.”

You squared your shoulders. “I’m nnn-nn-not comfortable—”

“Just do it.”

You reached down to the edges of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric to your waist. It was nothing he hadn’t already seen and yet you were shaking, “Turn around. Face the other way.” Like a robot, you obeyed. You’d chosen a light pink color today. 

“Good,” You felt him against you. He pulled your hair back over your shoulder and leaned down against your ear, “Maybe I should make you walk around naked while you’re here, hmm?”

You bit down on your lip, wanting to contain the protest that was about to leave your mouth. You wanted to lean into his touch, to embrace the comfort that would accompany the torture. He brushed past you just as you tilted your head back, “Go make me a coffee,” He commanded. 

He made his way behind his desk and you reached down to move your dress, “Did I say to pull your dress down?”

“N-No, Sir,” You moved your hands quickly to your sides.

“I could make you walk around like that, couldn’t I?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

He tilted his head and you realized you needed to answer. You gave him a painful look. You could say no but what would it cost you, “I . . . I don’t know,” He wasn’t satisfied by your answer, clearly. It was torture to force the words out, “Y-Yes.”

“Right answer,” He said, “Pull down your dress, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but see the irony in the fact that despite that you upgraded to a salaried job, you were still making coffee for the rich and spoiled. The opulent kitchen had an even fancier coffee machine than his office. Your movements as you prepared his steaming mug of coffee were precise despite the turmoil in your mind. 

Searching for solutions, your mind landed on the idea of trying to assert your competence. Sure, you could make a great cup of coffee but the whole point of getting a real job was so that you could have real skills to market yourself. You could be perfect at this job, anticipate his every need, and you could more than an object to look at. 

You re-entered his office quietly after realizing he’d begun his first meeting of the day. Carefully, you set his coffee down on the edge of his desk. He was always so intense, so completely absorbed in his work, and that unwavering focus made you even more anxious. Maybe that’s how you should be, more composed, projecting an air of confidence.

Unsure of where you should settle, you made yourself comfortable on one of the leather couches. You checked your email on your laptop, finding several reminders from Eleanor. You found yourself frustrated by how she picked and chose what information to share with you but you balanced those feelings with the fact that she was often your saving grace. 

She gave you a list of tasks including arranging for a delivery of documents that needed to be signed by Rafe, confirming his dinner reservations for the night, and proofreading the notes you took from yesterday’s meetings. You told yourself by the end of the next week, you’d be able to handle things by yourself, and you wouldn’t have to lean on her so much. You’d have a day, eventually, where Rafe didn’t point out anything you did wrong. 

“I was thinking-” Rafe’s voice cut through the silence. You were so focused that you hand’t realized his meeting had ended. He folded his hands over each other, his eyes on you, “From now on, I want you to wear what I pick for you each day.”

“How …y-you’re not happy with what I’ve been choosing?”

“It’s not about not being happy. Now I have more of an idea of what I like on you,” His voice was smooth and authoritative, “You want to reflect my taste, my standards, yeah?”

You mustered the courage to ask your next question, “Can I-I dress a l-little less … formally when I work at home with you?”

“Less formally?” He tasted the words on his tongue, “You mean, like more casual?”

“Yes, Sss-sir. Like more comfortable.”

“We could experiment with that,” His tone was deceptively light, “On my terms though. Yeah?”

You nodded and were grateful that he hadn’t reacted lightly. He seemed to enjoy that you were asking him for permission.

“You’ll have to wear something different tonight though, for dinner. Eleanor is coming by towards the end of the day to bring you your outfit and take you to get your nails done.” 

“Oh,” Your eyes opened wide, “I-I thh-thhought it was more of a personal-”

“I won’t keep you out forever,” He said, “You got plans or something?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, Sir.”

Rafe worked through lunchtime, so you brought him the meal prepared by his chef, Stevie—an elegant older woman with blonde hair. She had made a pesto pasta salad that looked like it belonged in a gourmet magazine, despite your protests and insistence on eating your own packed lunch. Only after delivering the meal did Rafe grant you permission to take your break elsewhere.

You settled on the outdoor patio by the pool, enjoying the peacefulness of the space despite the distant, steady hum of a lawnmower. For a moment, you didn’t feel out of place. Your dress, though apparently unflattering to your figure, was worth a small fortune, and the gourmet lunch you were now enjoying was a far cry from the PB&J you’d packed.

Thirty minutes later, after finishing your lunch and enjoying a lengthy chat with Stevie, you reluctantly headed back upstairs. Hearing Rafe still on the phone, you decided to explore a bit more. His office was situated in the private wing of his house, and as you meandered through opulent corridors, you couldn’t resist sneaking a glance into the master bedroom. It was cozier than you had anticipated, with tall gray walls that gave it a masculine feel and a plush bed draped in navy linen blanket that created a snug, cocoon-like atmosphere.

Rafe ended his call a minute later and the afternoon wore on. You settled into a rhythm, completing the various tasks that you’d added to your own to do lists and ones he’d assigned to you. You spent some time organizing files in his office. His gaze burned into you, even more when you were turned around, and surprisingly, you were starting to get used to that unnerving feeling. 

He waited for you to make a mistake but you used a hundred-percent of your effort to make sure that didn’t happen. 

The clock inched towards the evening, and the day grew even more quieter, more intimate. “I was looking over your notes from yesterday’s meeting with the board members. I highlighted some sections for you to read back to me,” He waved you over, his voice gruff after a long day of talking. You joined him behind his desk and you moved to lean over and get closer look, but he placed a hand on your hip. The gesture was firm, possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. With effortless strength, like a wolf guiding its prey, he maneuvered you onto his lap, settling you on his thigh. You felt the power in his grip, the unspoken control, and all you could do was comply.

“Rafe–” You started, an desperate attempt at a protest. 

“Start with the first section,” He commanded, his grip tightening. 

“I’ve been working on proofreading them–”

“Sweetheart,” He warned, not needing to add that you were making him angry. You could feel it, the heat coming off of him. 

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to read each sentence. Even if you didn’t have a sentence with a small typo, you still stammered over several of your words. He slid the chair closer to the desk and you yelped. 

“See right here,” He pointed to the screen but that only pressed him into you. You breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate, “This whole section needs more detail. I don’t want to have to ask more information.”

You were taken aback when Rafe actually began to instruct you on what you were meant to do. He spent at least ten minutes walking you through each sentence, explaining how to word your report, and deleted all the unnecessary details you added. He was surprisingly patient. 

“Now, your turn,” he said finally, leaning back in the chair. For a moment, you thought he was letting you up, but the pressure of his hand on your waist told you otherwise. “Fix it.”

You swallowed, hesitating as your fingers hovered over the keys. Ever keystroke was amplified in the quiet room. Doing your best to actually use your brain, you carefully made the changes he suggested. He watched you closely, his hands first placed on your hips but soon one wandered between your thighs. 

“Good,” He said. You could do it again, you thought, and not be so scared. His touch was teasing, a reminder of what he could do to you, all the pressure that built inside of you a spilled over. You could impress him, you could be beautiful, and not turn into a crying mess when he was inside of you. You could be more than a fragile thing to be broken.

Each word was a small victory. It was a battle you thought you could win until his fingers slipped inside your panties and his other hand grabbed a handful of one of your breasts. It was unbearable, and as he made small circles, you found your fingers slipping clumsily over the keys. 

You pressed your palms into his desk, your body tilting forward. A frustrated sigh left your lips, you couldn’t contain it, and Rafe’s chuckle rumbled from behind you, “Do you ever touch yourself like this? Be honest with me this time.”

“Y-Yes,” You whispered. 

“How do you do it?” He pulled you away from the desk, pulling your torso against his, “You use a toy?”

“J-Just my fff-fingers,” You admitted. 

“Like this? How do you like it?” Carefully, he switched between different approaches. He rubbed circles over your clit, smaller ones and then slower, bigger ones. Then he stroked you up and down, fingers slipping easily into your warm hole as he wandered lower, “You put those little fingers inside of you?”

“Rafe, please.”

“Tell me,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Or I’ll stop.”

"I-I don't usually put them inside… ," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I always use my pillow…”

He hummed against your ear. "See how much better this is when you cooperate? You can be such a good little assistant when you try."

You nodded, unable to speak, and let the feeling consume you. He brought you right to the edge, you were seconds away coming undone, but his movements slowed. Before you could register the feeling as disappointment, Rafe was hoisting you off of his lap. 

Moving with sudden determination, your feet were suddenly off the ground and Rafe was carrying you out of the room in his strong arms, “Rafe!” You clutched his shoulders as he carried you down the hall.

You turned your head as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, the heavy thud of the door slamming shut reverberating through the room. With a swift motion, he laid you gently on the bed. The softness beneath you was just as you had imagined, but the thought barely registered. You shot him an incredulous look, your face flushed with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He leaned over you, grabbing a pillow from behind you and placing it in front of you, “Show me.”

You shook your head instantly and moved to crawl away. Somehow, you could let all of his other sleazy behavior slide by but this was an insane boundary for him to try to cross. He’d already been inside you and yet this was a thousand times more intimate. 

He grabbed ahold of your thigh, “You’re so close, sweetheart. I know you want it,” He challenged you, “Probably feels like you need it.”

“Please,” You tried, your voice threatening to crack. His hands found your hips again, slowly positionin you over the pillow. The soft fabric brushed against your most sensitive spot, the familiar sensation making you bite down on your bottom lip, “Rafe.”

“You saying my name like that just makes me want it more,” Balancing on his knees, he grabbed ahold of your face and leaned in to kiss you. You felt the intensity of his desire, how much he wanted this, and it left you dizzy. 

When he pulled back, he looked over you. Your hips started moving in a familiar motion despite your embarrassment. You trembled from the vulnerability, the pounding in your chest, but you chased that high he gave you. It ignited your fire again, and since you didn’t have the full force of his touch anymore, you focused your eyes on him, “Good girl,” He said again and you whimpered, “Look at me just like that.”

You rolled your hips harder, faster, imagining his kiss, his touch, as the tension coiled tighter inside you. His gaze never left yours, his words a constant stream of encouragement and control.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” 

His words all jumbled together. 

“Just let it happen.”

“I want to see your face when you cum, sweetheart.”

“You look so desperate.”

“So needy.”

“You’re gonna make yourself cum, huh?”

“Just because I told you too.”

“Such a good girl.”

“Look at you.” 

The words pushed you over the edge, finally, and you were able to let go. He watched as you rode out that wave of pleasure and his hands found your body again, his grip grounding you. “Fuck,” You heard him say but you couldn’t respond. 

You were too overwhelmed to respond, your mind unable to fully process what had just happened. All you knew was that you felt good, embarrassed, and strangely satisfied that you'd pleased him, all at once. 

When you manage to look at him again, the doorbell rang. 

Eleanor navigated through the upscale nail salon, a palace of white and silvers, with ease, like she was a regular, and this was just an extension of her universe. You imagined this place as an escape for her, from both Rafe and Topper. She secured side-by-side seats near the back of the salon and you followed her lead as she set down her purse and removed her sandals. Her movements were fluid and assured. 

“Have you thought about what color you want?”

“Oh, um, n-no,” You tried to make yourself comfortable in the pedicure chair, “What d-do you think Rafe would like?”

“Maybe something pastel. You can’t go wrong with a soft pink.”

“Is that what you’re getting?” You asked, unassured, as you glanced around the luxurious setting. It wasns’t like other nail salons you’d been to where the technicians and customers talked at whatever volume they liked. It was quiet and each technician wore matching black uniforms. 

“I’ll tell them you want ballet slipper on your nails and white on your toes.”

You nodded, grateful for her guidance, “Thank you.”

As your pedicures began, the warm lavender-scented water soaking your feet, two technicians took their places by your sides, working silently as they filed your nails. 

“How are you holding up?” Eleanor asked.

“Fff-fine,” You said, “I’m trying to . . . t-to understand him, I guess.”

“You’ll go crazy doing that,” She laughed lightly, flashing a look that said “poor you”. 

“How d-did you meet Topper?” Her face tightened at your question, “I mean, y-you didn’t say.”

“I’m from the same town as them, Rafe and Topper. Not really the same town, my parents didn’t have money growing up. But I worked at the country club they all went to. That’s how I met Topper.”

“And you started dating?”

“Something like that,” She made a small shrug, “I owe everything I have to them.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of her words despite the lack of detail. Another piece to the puzzle you were trying to put together. Maybe the two of them had an attraction to girls struggling to get by.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” She asked and it made you pause.

Your instinct was to mirror her shrug, but you hesitated, wondering if you could trust her with your thoughts. If anyone could understand what you were going through, it had to be Eleanor.  “I-I just ffff-ffeel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only heard good things.”

“A-About me?” She nodded and your lips parted in shock. 

“Yes. I know you feel uncertain right now, but I think you'll be glad if you can stick it out. Topper… he’s a bastard, but he takes care of me. Rafe likes you too. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it, but…” She paused, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “He’s filthy rich. That would be enough for me.”

In that moment, her brutal honesty felt almost like reassurance. You weren’t sure if Eleanor truly grasped the extent of Rafe’s inability to show affection, that his pleasure came from humiliating you, from making you cry. Just as you couldn’t fully know what she endured with Topper. Her words weren't necessarily comforting but at least they felt real.

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