prettyprincessduh

[prettyprincessduh]

“Room 312”

James Sunderland

~~~

Set deep in Lakeview Hotel, Silent Hill.

~~~

The door slams behind you both, loud in the thick, oppressive silence. That cursed radio crackles once… then dies. For now, you’re safe.

James leans against the wall, chest heaving, shirt torn, and stained with god knows what. Sweat clings to his skin, shining under the sickly yellow light above the cracked mirror. He won’t meet your eyes... not at first. His fists are clenched like he’s still fighting something. Maybe he is.

"You're bleeding again," you whisper, stepping closer. "Sit."

He doesn’t argue. He never does when you speak that gently. You kneel in front of him, hands brushing over the bruises blooming along his ribs. He flinches, but not from pain. From the touch. From the way your fingers linger.

"You shouldn't take risks like that for me," he says, voice low, almost scolding. But his hand finds your wrist, thumb stroking your skin like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“I’m not letting you die in this hell,” you murmur, tugging his shirt further open.

That makes his breath catch. His eyes snap up to yours, haunted, hollow, but burning. Like a match held too long.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he rasps.

“I don’t care,” you whisper, straddling his lap now, hands pressed to his chest. “You’re still here. You still feel.”

His jaw tightens. His hands hover like he’s scared to touch you. But you guide them to your hips, soft and slow. His fingers dig in, shaking.

Then he breaks.

James kisses like a man, unraveling desperate, trembling, a little rough. The kiss is all teeth and breath and guilt, like he’s punishing himself for wanting you this badly. He moans into your mouth when you grind against him, low and needy, and that’s when you realize

He’s been holding this in for so long.

“I’ve thought about this,” he confesses, voice cracking. “So many times. Alone. In the dark. I tried to stop.”

“You don’t have to anymore.”

He lifts you in his arms like you weigh nothing, laying you back on the creaky old bed. The mattress groans as he settles between your thighs, eyes devouring every inch of you like it’s the first light he’s seen in days.

“You’re real,” he whispers, hands roaming. “You’re mine tonight. Right?”

You nod, pulling him down into another kiss. “I’m yours. Right here. Right now.”

Outside, Silent Hill groans and shifts.

But in Room 312, all that exists is heat. Skin. Need. James.

And the way he says your name like a prayer he doesn’t deserve to answer.

[prettyprincessduh]

[prettyprincessduh]

Rami Malek scenario P2

An ~ Another scenario based on the pic!

~~~~~

You're sitting across from Rami in a dimly lit tea room, all marble and vintage decor. He’s in that black sweater, a tiny embroidered heart near his chest, and that messy hair looks freshly tugged. Maybe by your hands earlier. The table between you is set with delicate china and tiered trays, but the way he’s pouring your tea? You can barely think straight.

His eyes flick up, just once, to catch you watching him. There's something simmering behind them, like he knows exactly what he's doing. His voice is smooth and quiet, velvet over steel. “You like when I take care of you, huh?”

You swallow hard, nodding slowly.

He sets the teapot down with deliberate grace and leans back in his chair, elbows resting on the arms like he owns the room... and maybe you, too. “Come here.”

You blink. “Right now?”

He tilts his head. “Do I need to ask again?”

Your chair barely scrapes the floor before you’re beside him. He pulls you gently into his lap, not caring who’s around, arms wrapping tight around your waist as his mouth brushes your ear.

“You’ve been such a good girl today,” he whispers, the edge in his voice making your breath hitch. “Letting me spoil you. Letting me feed you. You really want your reward now?”

You nod, and he smirks like he’s already won.

His fingers skim your thigh, trailing under the tablecloth, slow and teasing. “Then stay still. Be quiet. And drink your tea like nothing’s happening.”

The tea room is quiet. Elegant. Respectable.

But under the table?

Your pulse is screaming.

You’re trying, really trying to sit like a lady in his lap, back straight, chin high, holding your teacup in trembling hands. But Rami’s hand? It’s not where it should be.

He’s got one arm snug around your waist, keeping you close, but the other? It’s slid under that prim little tablecloth, fingers working their way up your inner thigh like he’s tracing a secret map. Slow. Lazy. Possessive. You can feel every calloused pad of his fingertips as they skim the edge of your panties, then slip under like he’s done it a thousand times.

“Shh,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple like he’s comforting you, but his hand is doing anything but. “Keep sipping.”

You can’t. The cup rattles slightly in your hand.

He finds the spot, presses just enough to make you squirm. His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing, testing, never giving too much. He wants to see you break. Wants to watch you try and fail to stay composed.

“Don’t make a mess,” he whispers, voice low and smug, like he’s enjoying every single second of your unraveling.

A server walks by. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop.

Instead, he slips his fingers deeper and curls them just right, your breath hitches, and his smirk deepens against your skin. “You’re dripping,” he mutters, like it’s your fault. “Want me to taste it or make you beg for it later?”

You finally set the cup down before it shatters in your grip, and he grins. “That’s what I thought.”

His fingers keep moving faster now, daring you to moan, daring you to lose control with a room full of strangers around you. But only he knows what’s happening under that table. Only he gets to see how wrecked you are for him how much power he has with just one hand and a whisper.

[prettyprincessduh]

Rami Malek Oneshot~

An~ basically writing stories based in the pictures

Setting: Your apartment. Dim lamps, a soft playlist humming in the background your posters casting a nostalgic glow, and you… lounging in nothing but an oversized tee and lip gloss.

---

He was seated on your couch, that soft black sweater hugging his arms, sleeves pushed just slightly up to show veins you couldn’t stop glancing at. Hair tousled like he’d been running his hands through it, a lazy smirk on his lips as he read something on his phone.

You walked in, bare-legged and glowing from your post-shower pamper. He looked up—and you caught it. The subtle pause. The exact millisecond his eyes dragged up your thighs and landed on your smirk. You didn’t have to say a word.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice dipped in honey and heat.

You climbed into his lap slowly, straddling him, the hem of your tee brushing against his jeans. “Missed you,” you whispered, nuzzling into his jaw.

He tilted his head, letting you kiss along his neck. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, hands sliding up your thighs. “Every time you walk through that door, I swear you’re gonna kill me.”

“Then die happy,” you grinned against his throat.

He gripped your waist hard, grinding you down onto him through the denim. His breath caught, a low groan slipping out as your lips brushed his ear.

“You’re not wearing anything under that shirt, are you?” he rasped.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, eyes wicked. “Nope.”

He swore under his breath.

You rocked your hips, slow and deliberate. “What?”

He kissed you. Hard. One hand behind your neck, the other sliding up your shirt, palm pressing over your heart. His mouth moved hungrily against yours—tongue, teeth, everything. He was usually so careful, so in control… but tonight? You had him unraveling.

“Need you to—lift your hips,” you whispered against his lips, your fingers already teasing the waistband of his calvins underneath the denim. “Wanna help you out of these.”

He obeyed instantly, hands trembling as he let you tug them down. His head tilted back, lips parted, letting out a sound so filthy it made your thighs clench.

You took your time. Kissing down his neck. Letting your nails trail over his stomach. Watching his abs flex with every shaky inhale.

“You sure you can handle this?” you whispered.

His eyes met yours, dark and wild. “No. But I’ll die trying.”

[prettyprincessduh]

I NEED RAMI MALEK STORIES, FANFICS, ONESHOTS ANYTHING

[prettyprincessduh]

My #ramimalek photoshops

[prettyprincessduh]

More Rami Malek oneshots

~~~

AN~ OKAY. JUST SEEN THE HOTTEST VIDEO OF DRUNK RAMI LIKE EVER. HAD TO WRITE ABOUT IT.

~~~

Totally sober~ SWF

You’re scrolling on your phone when the front door bursts open.

Loud.

You flinch as it slams into the wall, and then—

“Honey i'm home!!,” Rami yells, like he’s just found the last golden ticket to Wonka’s chocolate factory.

He stumbles in, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, and a massive, adorable grin stretched across his face.

“Guess who didn’t even drink that much,” he announces. “Just, like, three—okay, five shots. Maybe six. But they were tiny, like baby shots. Baby tequila.”

You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed. “Rami... are you good?" You stand up

He points at you dramatically. “I am good. So good. Too good. Wait—you're good. Like, look at you.”

He walks over in uneven steps, grabbing your face between his hands like you’re made of clouds and dreams. “You’re sooo pretty. Your face is so… symmetrical. You have, like, Cleopatra vibes right now. Do you know that?”

You laugh. “Okay, we’re getting you water.”

He gasps. “You’re taking care of me? I love you.”

You guide him to the couch, but he flops down and pulls you with him, dragging you into his lap like a ragdoll. Arms wrapped around you, head pressed into your neck.

“I missed you so much while I was gone,” he mumbles into your skin. “Like, five hours without the love of my life? That’s a crime.”

“You texted me 12 times saying you wanted pasta.”

He pulls back, wide-eyed. “Yeah, because you make the best pasta.”

You shake your head, trying not to laugh as he keeps rambling, tipsy and hopelessly in love.

“Do you wanna marry me?” he blurts suddenly.

You blink. “What?”

“I’m serious. You’d look hot in white. Wait—any color. Even, like, trash bag material. You’d still look like a goddess.”

You’re wheezing.

Then suddenly, his expression shifts, he looks so soft. “I’m serious though,” he whispers, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “You’re everything to me. You always take care of me, and I love how your laugh sounds like a song I forgot I knew.”

He buries his face in your chest again. “Also your boobs are amazing.”

You swat him playfully. “Okay, lover boy. Time for water and sleep.”

“Can I sleep on you?”

“You are sleeping on me.”

“Good.”

Ten seconds later, he’s snoring lightly, arms locked around your waist, drooling just a little. Still muttering your name in his sleep like a love-drunk spell.

Home late~ NSFW

It’s past 2 a.m. when the door creaks open.

You barely stir, wrapped up in warm blankets, tangled in sleep. You don’t hear the soft thump of shoes hitting the floor. Or the quiet clatter of keys dropped onto the nightstand. What does wake you is the shift of the mattress, a low whisper of movement, followed by something even softer:

“Baby…”

His voice is raspy. Thick with whiskey and longing. And then you feel him, Rami, his breath warm against your neck, a palm sliding under the covers like he’s starving for your warmth.

“Mmm, you’re so warm,” he breathes, nuzzling into your hair. “Missed you so much.”

You hum sleepily, barely opening your eyes as he presses slow, messy kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your cheek.

“Rami… you’re drunk,” you mumble, voice still full of sleep.

He laughs softly. “A little. Maybe. Okay a lot. But also… you look so good right now, you don’t even know.”

His hand moves to your waist, holding you against him as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, lips dragging over your skin like a slow burn.

“You smell like dreams,” he mumbles. “You feel like one too.”

You finally roll to face him, and he’s a mess. Hair ruffled from the wind, eyes sleepy but burning with desire, and that look in them? Pure, intoxicated hunger. Not just from alcohol, but from you.

“I just—had to come home to you,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then lips, more desperate with every brush of his lips. “All night I was thinking about this. About you.”

You pull him closer, and he exhales like you’ve just saved his life.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice suddenly tender, almost boyish. “I need you. Just—let me have you, please.”

He’s breathless. Dizzy with need. Fingers trembling slightly as they trace the curve of your thigh under the blankets.

“Promise I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs, kissing you full-on now, slow and deep and aching. “Just wanna feel you. Wanna make you feel good…”

And as he slides over you, every kiss sloppier than the last, every whisper a little more desperat, his entire body pleading, you realize:

There’s nothing more dangerous than drunk Rami in love.

Your hands curl into his hoodie as he presses his semi hard on into you, dragging lazy kisses across your collarbone like he has to memorize every inch. His lips are hot, tasting of whiskey and something sweeter... him.

“D’you know,” he murmurs, voice gravelly and slow, “you ruin me every time I look at you?”

Your legs part on instinct, and he settles between them, still clothed but grinding into you softly, slow, needful, aching. He groans into your neck, as if even just that tiny bit of friction is too much to handle.

“Rami,” you whisper, fingers brushing through his messy curls. “You need sleep…”

“I need you,” he counters, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze is dark, hungry, worshipful. “Sleep can wait. You’re the dream I wanna be inside.”

You gasp as his fingers slip into your panties, his fingers sliding over your already wet slit. It’s slow. Teasing. Almost nervous, like he’s scared of rushing this moment, scared of hurting you, even drunk.

He kisses your chest, your jaw, your lips again, murmuring between each one:

“So beautiful…”

“My girl…”

“Mine.”

His hips press again, harder this time, and he lets out a shaky moan into your mouth. He’s now fully hard

You gently tug his hoodie up, revealing the tight heat of his body underneath, and he lets you, his breathing uneven, cheeks flushed. When your fingers graze his waistband, his whole body tenses.

“Wait,” he rasps. “Lemme… lemme help…”

You guide him to lift his hips, and he obeys like he’s under a spell, his sweats sliding down just enough for you to see the tip poking out

“God, baby…” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You lean up, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “Show me.”

He whimpers.

From there, it’s a blur of tangled limbs and whispered praises. His movements are needy but gentle, every touch soaked in love-drunk desperation. He kisses you like he’s afraid he’ll forget how if he stops. Whispers your name like it’s sacred.

And when he finally sinks into you, slow and deep, he shudders, burying his face in your neck, repeating your name over and over like a prayer.

You hold him, stroke his back, ride every soft gasp from his lips. And as the night fades and you both come undone, his final whisper makes your heart ache:

“I never wanna wake up from you…”

[prettyprincessduh]

Random Rami Malek oneshots ~

~~~

An~ Here is a collection of all my latest Rami short stories that have been sitting in my notes 😋

~~~

TW ~ Some stories are NSFW. However, some are just cutesy. I'll put a warning on the spicy ones!

All my stories are fiction. I don't actually know Rami, I just write these stories cuz I wish I did 💀🙏🏽

~~~

“Mine, and I’ll Show You”

SWF ~

The sky is a soft watercolor blue, clouds drifting lazily overhead as you lay sprawled on a checkered blanket in the middle of Hyde Park. You’re dressed in something light and flirty, bare shoulders glowing under the sun, legs crossed as you pick at strawberries from the basket between you and Rami.

He’s lounging beside you in a dark tee and sunglasses, sipping on sparkling lemonade, looking relaxed but... always watching. Especially you. He hasn’t stopped staring since you sat down. Occasionally, he reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear or trace lazy circles on your thigh with his fingers.

But then it happens.

A guy who is a little too confident, walking his dog passing by and does a full double take. Like, slows down just to drink you in. And Rami sees it. Behind his sunglasses, you feel the shift. His jaw tightens. One arm props him up straighter. He glances at the guy, then at you. Then, back at the guy.

You snort, brushing it off, reaching for a grape. “Babe, he was just looking at the fruit basket.”

Rami raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. Sure he was.”

Before you can sass him again, he pounces. Suddenly, you’re flat on your back, squealing in shock as Rami tackles you playfully onto the blanket, his sunglasses flying off. He cages you in with his arms, face inches from yours, grinning like a smug little devil.

“Problem?” you laugh, hands on his chest.

“I just remembered,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “you’re mine, [Name]”

And with that, he starts peppering kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, making you giggle uncontrollably as you squirm beneath him.

“Rami!” you hiss, glancing around at the handful of people nearby.

“I want them to look,” he whispers against your ear. “Let them see how in love I am with you. Let them wish they were me.”

He finally lands a deep, lingering kiss on your lips, silencing your laughter with something a little breathless, a little desperate. His hand slides under your head, holding you like you’re precious. When he finally pulls back, you’re blushing, grinning like a lovesick idiot, and so is he.

“Possessive much?” you tease.

“With you?” he says, brushing his thumb over your lip. “Always.”

“Dressing Room Secrets” NSFW?

It’s Fashion Week in Paris.

You’re not walking the runway, but you might as well be. You’ve been invited to sit front row for a major designer’s show, and you’re already dressed like a dream: sleek black mini dress, your hair styled to perfection, lips glossed, heels clicking down the backstage corridor.

And Rami? He’s your plus one tonight.

He’s waiting in your dressing room, lounging on the little velvet loveseat, scrolling on his phone until he looks up and stops breathing. You walk in, and the world tilts.

“You’re gonna get me arrested,” he mutters, standing slowly. His eyes rake over you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your silhouette.

You smirk, walking past him with a casual, “Thought you liked trouble.”

Rami’s behind you in seconds.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, arms sliding around your waist, pressing you gently against the mirror-lit vanity. His lips find that spot just behind your ear, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

There’s a knock on the door. “Ten minutes to showtime!”

You both freeze but only for a second. Rami doesn’t move away. In fact, his hands slip lower, gripping your hips as he presses his forehead to yours.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispers, lips brushing yours.

“But you want to,” you breathe back, gripping his shirt.

He kisses you. Not a little peck. A full-on, possessive, slow, deep kiss like he needs you to know exactly how much you’re affecting him. And when you part, both breathless, he smirks like he’s just won.

“Better walk out there looking perfect,” he says, straightening your dress like a gentleman except his fingers linger just a little too long.

And when you finally step out onto the pink-lit carpet and the cameras flash like fireworks? Rami’s right beside you, fingers entwined with yours, jaw tight, eyes scanning the crowd like, Yeah. She’s with me. Try something. I dare you.

“Penthouse Heat” – NSFW

It’s midnight in New York City.

You're in Rami’s penthouse, skyscrapers glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city humming below, but all you can hear is the soft click of your heels as you walk slowly through the suite.

You’d been at a red carpet event all night, sleek dress, flawless makeup, the works. Rami had been quiet the whole time, watching you like a storm cloud about to burst. And now? Now the door clicks shut behind you, and he snaps.

“You knew what you were doing,” he mumbles, his voice low and rough as he stalks toward you.

You smirk. “What? Wearing the dress?”

“That dress.” He corners you against the glass window, his eyes dark with desire. “You wore that to torture me.”

You let your hand trail down his chest slowly. “Is it working?”

He answers with a kiss, hot, desperate, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He spins you so your chests to the glass, the city lights threatening to blind you. One hand ventures under tour dress, while the other slides into your hair, tilting your head just right.

“I was holding back all night,” he pants between kisses. “Smiling. Waving. Watching them look at you.”

You bite your lip. “Jealous?”

“Possessive,” he corrects, voice low and dangerous. “You're mine"

And then he’s lifting you, effortless, like he needs to have you right then and there. He carries you to the kitchen island, sweeping things aside like a man on a mission. You gasp when your back hits the cool marble, but he’s already kissing down your stomach, whispering things in between each press of his lips.

“You drive me insane.”

“You’re so beautiful it hurts.”

“I want you—right here.”

You tug at his shirt, breathless. “Then take me.”

Rami pauses, breath shuddering. “here?"

You just pull him closer, whispering, “Don’t even think about stopping.”

And then it’s a blur of lips, hands, gasps, and moans echoing in the penthouse air. The kind of night that leaves bruises in the shape of fingerprints and love bites hidden under silk the next morning. The kind of night that marks you, body and soul.

“Zoom Call Chaos” NSFW

It’s early afternoon and Rami’s holed up in his sleek home office, headphones on, blazer thrown over a black tee, looking way too good for a work meeting. He’s deep in some serious industry Zoom call: producers, studio execs, a few big names... and you?

You’re feeling a little mischievous.

You’d just gotten out of the shower, skin still warm, towel forgotten somewhere down the hall. Quietly, you push the door open and step into the room completely naked, smug smile curling your lips.

He doesn’t see you right away, he’s facing the screen, nodding along to someone talking about scheduling.

But when you walk past him…

He sees. Oh, he sees.

His jaw drops, just slightly. His eyes flicker down, then right back to the screen, way too fast. He clears his throat. “Y-yeah, that timeline sounds… good.”

You lean against the doorway like you’re not causing chaos incarnate. “Rami,” you purr, soft and sweet. “Have you seen my robe?”

His whole soul leaves his body.

He covers the mic with his hand and turns slightly toward you, whispering fiercely, “what are you doing?!”

You bat your lashes. “Looking for my robe.”

“You’re naked!”

“You’ve seen me naked before,” you hum, slowly walking closer. “But they haven’t. You should probably turn the camera off”

He goes pale. “Babe.”

He mutes his mic and disables the camera quickly

But the way his legs shift under the desk? Oh, he’s struggling.

You step behind his chair, fingers ghosting along his shoulders, then lean down to whisper in his ear. “You look really hot when you’re stressed.”

He makes a sound a strangled mix between a cough and a moan.

One of the producers goes, “Rami? Are you okay?”

He straightens so fast, face red, unmuting. “Fine! I’m—yeah. Just… connection issues i think..”

You’re having the time of your life. You trail your fingers lightly along his chest, sliding one hand under the edge of his shirt while he desperately tries to act normal. His jaw is clenched, lips parted, eyes locked on the screen like a man trying to resist the literal devil on his shoulder.

You lean down again, pressing a kiss just below his ear. “If you finish this call in five minutes…” you murmur, “I’ll sit on your lap in nothing but heels.”

Rami FLIPS the mic off.

“Meeting’s done,” he growls, slamming the laptop shut and spinning in his chair to grab you by the waist. “You. Bedroom. Now.”

“Can You See Me Now?” NSFW

It’s date night.

Rami’s treating you to dinner at an exclusive rooftop restaurant in LA, soft candlelight, velvet seats, wine that probably costs more than your rent. You’d gotten ready in a rush, flinging on that new sheer dress you’d ordered last-minute. It looked stunning in the mirror: mesh, lacy, flowy, giving body and mystery.

But what you didn’t realize? In this lighting… with the way the fabric catches… it’s basically see-through.

And you skipped a bra.

And panties.

You stroll into the restaurant holding his hand, completely unaware. Heads turn. Waiters stumble. A woman chokes on her rosé.

Rami’s eyes go wide the moment he gets a good look.

“Babe…,” he murmurs as he helps you into your seat, voice tight. “Did you know your dress is… uh… slightly transparent?”

You blink innocently. “What do you mean?”

He leans across the table, eyes flickering down for just a second before darting back to yours full of heat. “Baby, I can see everything.”

You pause… then smirk slowly, devilishly. “Everything?”

Rami groans under his breath. “No seriously"

"Oh"

You spend dinner like nothing’s wrong, laughing, sipping wine, giving him your best doe eyes while he tries to focus and not combust. Under the table, his hand grips your thigh like a lifeline. Every time you cross your legs, shift in your chair, lick your lips his jaw tightens.

By dessert, he’s done for.

He stands abruptly. “Let’s go.”

You blink innocently. “We didn’t even finish.”

He leans in, voice low and dark. “If you don’t get in the car right now, I’m taking you right here on this table.”

You gasp dramatically but you’re already grabbing your purse.

The moment you both step out of the restaurant, Rami’s hand is locked around yours, leading you down the street with tunnel vision. He’s silent, jaw clenched, eyes practically burning into the pavement. Not even a glance back.

You’re giggling the whole way, your sheer dress fluttering with every step, the cool air brushing places that have no business being so exposed.

You slide into the passenger seat of his blacked-out car and barely get your seatbelt on before he peels away from the curb—fast. One hand on the wheel, the other gripping your thigh so tight you swear he’s trying to brand you.

“I can’t believe you wore that,” he mutters, voice rough, knuckles white on the wheel.

You tilt your head, sweetly. “I didn’t know it was see-through.”

He cuts you a look that’s all teeth and tension. “You do now.”

You place your hand on his, inching it higher on your leg. “What are you gonna do about it, baby?”

That’s it. He swerves into a quiet side street and slams on the brakes. The car jerks to a stop. It’s dead silent except your breathing and the low purr of the engine.

Rami turns to you slowly, eyes dark and wild.

“Back seat,” he growls.

You blink. “Here?”

He’s already unbuckling you. “Now.”

You’re clambering over the center console like it’s life or death, and he’s right behind you, pulling you into his lap the second you’re in the back. The car is cramped, fogged windows and pure adrenaline. You’re straddling him, sheer dress pushed up to your hips, lips hovering over his as he pants against your mouth.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he says, fingers digging into your thighs, voice wrecked. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Nope,” you whisper, smile wicked. “I’m just that irresistible.”

He groans, head falling back for a second then grabs your chin and kisses you so hard you forget your own name. It’s heat and teeth and tongues clashing, hands roaming everywhere. His blazer is gone, shirt halfway unbuttoned, hair a mess from you tugging it.

Outside, the street is quiet. But inside? The windows are steamed, and the whole car is rocking.

At one point, your foot hits the horn and you both freeze before collapsing into breathless laughter.

“Shhh,” you whisper against his lips. “We’ll get caught.”

“I hope we do,” he smirks, dragging your hips down again.

[prettyprincessduh]

Alphabet Soup ~ Rami characters edition ✨️

~~~

AN~ This trend is lowkey so old but I wanted to do it for my fav Rami characters

~~~

Characters in this post ~

Elliot Alderson

Ahkmenrah

Josh Washington

Finn - Need 4 speed

~~~

Elliot~

A = Aftercare

Awkward but sweet. He gets super quiet, not out of rudeness, but because his brain is overloading. He’ll probably get distant and nervous, especially if its a hookup. However if you're close and dating he'd most likely be stroking your hair. It takes him a while to say something, but when he does, it’s always something soft like, “You okay?” or “You were perfect.”

B = Body part

On you your thighs. He’s obsessed. Loves when you straddle him, loves gripping them, biting into them even. I get the vibe he would probably be a boobs guy, too. idk he feels like the type to wanna grab them

On himself—he hates his own body a bit, but he’ll admit his hands are “useful.”

C = Cum

He’s a mess. He tries to hold back but loses it when you whisper anything even slightly dirty. He likes cumming on you rather than in you. The thought of having kids terrifies him.

Places he'd cum ~ your stomach, chest, inner thighs, he finds it weirdly intimate.

D = Dirty secret

He’s set up cams in his room to rewatch you two together. Not out of creepiness ~ but because he’s obsessed. You’re his comfort and chaos, and he’s addicted.

E = Experience

Not a ton, honestly. But he's a fast learner. And once he trusts you? He’s eager to make you melt. Secretly watches porn you like to “study.”

F = Favorite position

He loves when you ride him. Being under you makes him feel safe but also absolutely wild. Watching you lose control on top of him? His favorite kind of powerlessness. He's a total bottom once he's comfortable

G = Goofy

He's not goofy... but sometimes when he's too in love with you, he’ll nervously laugh and ruin the moment. Then immediately bury his face in your neck in embarrassment. It’s cute.

H = Hair

Messy. Doesn’t shave anything unless he has to. Chest hair? None. Downstairs? He trims… sometimes.

I = Intimacy

Deep, intense eye contact when he’s fully emotionally connected. He may not say “I love you” every time, but his hands, his body, his whole soul shows it.

J = Jack off

Frequently. He fantasizes about you more than anything. Even the smallest moment ~ like you brushing his arm ~ can trigger a full-on fantasy spiral.

K = Kink

Voyeurism. Watching. Recording. That hacker brain loves capturing moments no one else gets to see. He may have hacked into your laptop webcam to watch you pleasure yourself

Also, slight power play ~ he likes you in control until he snaps.

L = Location

His apartment. Even though it’s a mess, it feels private and safe. He also secretly loves the idea of the fsociety arcade. Grungy, dangerous, perfect.

Once he's comfortable, he may go to your place since you'd have an actual bed and not a mattress on the floor

M = Motivation

Stress relief. Your voice, the way you look at him, the soft scent of your skin. And when you say his name in that one tone? Game over.

N = No

He won't do anything degrading or anything that makes you uncomfortable. No humiliation play. No hurting you. Emotionally or physically. Ever.

I mean, unless he's tripping out and losing control of himself but lowkey, I don't think I'd write that 💀 Especially after finding out what happened to him

O = Oral

Loves giving, but doesn't brag about it. He gets lost in it. Holds your thighs down and just devours you. Receiving? He gets shy but he won’t stop you.

P = Pace

Usually slow, sensual, drawing it out because he wants to feel everything. But when he snaps? It’s rough. Desperate. Unhinged.

Q = Quickie

He doesn't seek them out but when he's worked up? He’ll grab you against a wall, press a hand over your mouth, and take. He always apologizes after. Even though you loved it.

R = Risk

He’s more open than he lets on. If you suggest something risky, it turns him on like hell. Especially if it’s sneaky. He loves a good secret.

S = Stamina

One good long round… then needs to cuddle and reboot. Give him a few minutes, some soft kisses, and he’s ready again.

T = Toys

He doesn’t own any but if you bring one into the mix? He’s fascinated. Watches closely. May eventually ask to control it.

U = Unfair

He’s a tease king when he wants to be. Ghost touches. Whispering filthy things and then pulling away. He’ll edge you for hours if he’s in the right mood.

V = Volume

Quiet… until he can’t be. When he moans? It’s low, broken, breathy. He gasps your name like it’s the only thing grounding him.

W = Wild card

He's only had two previous girlfriends being Angela and Shayla

he is scared to get into a relationship again because he always feels like he puts others in danger

X = X-ray

Slim, lean muscle. Hidden strength. And he’s bigger than he thinks he is. Let’s just say... you were pleasantly surprised.

I wanna say more girth that length, but it's not, not lengthy like it's definitely a good size

Omg and veiny. Have you seen his arms and hands???

Y = Yearning

HIGH. But he won’t act on it unless you give him the green light. When he does though? He’ll crave you every hour of the day.

Z = Zzz

Immediately wraps around you like a blanket burrito after. Your heartbeat calms him. He falls asleep, holding your hand under the sheets.

He gets the best sleep after being with you.

Ahkmenrah~

A = Aftercare

The softest prince ever. He wraps you in silk sheets, gently massages your thighs, and whispers praise in ancient Egyptian. Think forehead kisses, feeding you grapes, and tucking you into him like his sacred treasure.

B = Body Part

On himself: His hands. He loves how strong yet delicate they are—how they can hold a scroll one minute and worship your body the next. I'd also say his Abs, he values keeping fit

On you: Your hips. He’s obsessed. He’ll trace them with reverence and grip them like a lifeline.

C = Cum

He treats it like a ritual. When he finishes, it’s almost reverent, like you’ve shared something sacred. Definitely into cumming inside if you’re down he thinks of it as marking his queen. Reader would probably have to go on birth control or she'd be pregnant 24 7

D = Dirty Secret

He’s been dreaming about doing it in front of one of the museum's sacred relics for years. He’d never risk it… or would he?

E = Experience

He was a virgin when revived but he learns fast. He's a quick study, eager to please, and surprisingly intuitive. By now? He knows exactly what he’s doing.

F = Favorite Position

Missionary but with his hands holding your wrists down, whispering Egyptian endearments while you fall apart beneath him. Or reverse cowgirl, so he can worship your body from below.

G = Goofy

Mostly serious, but if he gets really flustered, he’ll laugh. Especially if something modern confuses him mid-act like edible underwear. “This is food… but also clothing?”

H = Hair

Trimmed neatly, but not bare. He’s well-groomed out of royal habit. Yes, the drapes match the carpet. Regal, soft, slightly curled very touchable.

I = Intimacy

Deeply emotional. He sees sex as a bonding ritual. Every kiss, every touch is filled with devotion. He’ll look you in the eyes the whole time and whisper, “I am yours”

J = Jack Off

He does… but only when he can't have you. Always with reverence. Once he discovered lube, it was over.

K = Kink

Praise. Calling you his queen, his goddess, his chosen one.

He also believes in him being dominat in bed, but once you took control one time, a switch flipped

L = Location

The throne in his exhibit. Your bedroom. Your kitchen. A bathhouse. A carriage ride. The man’s got range.

M = Motivation

Seeing you in anything revealing, catching you stretching. Hearing you call him “Pharaoh” in that tone.

N = No

Anything degrading or too rough. He can get possessive, but never cruel. He values connection too much to treat you like anything less than royalty.

O = Oral

He adores giving. Watches your face the entire time. Skilled tongue, steady hands. You’ll be chanting his name like a prayer. Receiving? Oh, he’ll melt. He adores praise.

P = Pace

Slow and sensual, but when he gets really worked up? Oh, he’ll snap. Gripping your thighs, slamming into you, desperate to make you scream.

Q = Quickie

Once he understood what it was? Addicted. Back of your car, in the museum’s archives, your closet during a party, you name it.

R = Risk

Secretly loves danger. He’ll pretend to be innocent but gets thrilled by the idea of getting caught. The adrenaline makes him bolder.

S = Stamina

Royal blood means royal stamina. Two rounds minimum , sometimes three or four. He’s insatiable when you rile him up, and he won’t stop until you’re limp with pleasure.

T = Toys

He didn’t understand them at first… but now he has favorites. Silk ties, glass wands, and a soft feather he loves using to drive you wild.

U = Unfair

SO unfair. He’ll edge you with just his fingers and smirk while whispering, “Beg for your Pharaoh, my queen.”

V = Volume

He groans low and deep like thunder. Occasionally slips into Egyptian when overwhelmed. Hearing him moan your name? Life-changing.

W = Wild card

He has a royal breeding kink. Think: “I want you round with my heir.” Doesn’t matter if it’s roleplay or fantasy he wants to claim you in every way.

X = X-ray

Built like a god. Sculpted abs, strong thighs, and hung like royalty. Thick, long, and curved slightly to the right, just enough to hit every spot.

Y = Yearning

HIGH sex drive. He’s touch-starved from centuries of stillness, so now that he’s free? He can’t keep his hands off of you.

Z = Zzz

Once he knows you’re okay, he passes out holding you close, legs tangled, breathing warm on your neck. Dead to the world, no pun intended.

Josh~

A = Aftercare

He’s actually super attentive. For someone who seems chaotic, he turns into this gentle, cuddly softie. Warm towels, kisses on your forehead, and lots of “you okay, baby?” whispered against your skin. He needs to know you’re good.

B = Body part

On himself? He’s cocky about his mouth he knows how to use it, too. On you? Your thighs. Doesn’t matter if you're sitting, walking, lying down he’s obsessed. Loves resting his head on them and sneaking kisses.

C = Cum

He likes it messy. Every and anywhere.

Loves seeing you dripping, especially if he’s been teasing you for ages. But he’s also big on watching it soak your skin. He thinks it's artistic (in a hot, twisted way).

D = Dirty secret

He's jerked off to your voicemail like way too many times, which usually leaves you confused when you see the missed calls

E = Experience

Not tons, but enough. He’s watched a lot of videos and read some things he probably shouldn’t have. But with you? He’s eager, open, and gets better each time. He learns fast.

F = Favorite position

He likes it when you're on top. He loves watching you take control while he melts underneath you, but he also secretly loves flipping the script halfway through and wrecking you.

G = Goofy

He’s got a wicked sense of humor. Will 100% say something ridiculous right before sliding in. But once he’s in the zone? His smile fades, and he gets serious.

H = Hair

Groomed-ish, but nothing fancy. He’s not high-maintenance.

I = Intimacy

He doesn’t just want your body he wants your soul. Eye contact that borders on possessive. Whispers like “you’re mine” when he’s deep inside you. It's intense, emotional, and sometimes scary good.

J = Jack off

Yeah, he does. Often. Especially when he’s thinking about that time you sat in his lap and whispered in his ear. Uses his imagination vividly and definitely saves some of your pics.

K = Kink

Exhibitionism. The thrill of getting caught gets him going. Also, praise kink he lives for you calling him good. And he secretly wants you to ruin him just a little.

L = Location

Anywhere chaotic. Against a wall, in a closet at a party, on a piano he’s a vibe. But your bed after a long, intense day? His soft spot.

M = Motivation

You in a short skirt. You in his clothes. You being bratty. You not texting him back fast enough. He spirals fast, but it always ends up hot.

N = No

He’s not into anything that genuinely scares or hurts you. (Side eye)

He doesn't like sharing you, though he jokes about it, he wants to be the only guy inside you

O = Oral

Giving? Obsessed. He lives between your thighs. He takes his time, edge after edge, until you're grabbing his hair and begging. Receiving? He likes it messy, but watching your face is what really gets him off.

P = Pace

Unpredictable. Sometimes he’ll go painfully slow just to tease, other times it’s rough and desperate like he can’t get close enough. It depends on his mood… or yours.

Q = Quickie

Yes, and often. He thrives on them. The risk, the rush, the urgency chef’s kiss. Hallways, bathrooms, cars. He’s so down.

R = Risk

He’s a chaotic little daredevil. He’d try almost anything once. “What if we tried this?” is a phrase you hear a lot.

S = Stamina

Better than you expect. He can go a couple of rounds, especially if you’re encouraging him. But after an emotional night? It’s endless.

T = Toys

He’s curious and always down to experiment. Has a secret little drawer full of surprises. He wants to see how you react to all of it.

U = Unfair

He lives to tease. Texts you while you’re out, flirts when he knows you can’t act on it, and sends voice notes that are NOT safe for work.

V = Volume

Whiny. Breathless. Groans into your ear like he’s unraveling. When he’s really close? He starts moaning your name like a prayer.

W = Wild card

He loves recording you. Tastefully. With consent. Something about having it to watch later drives him crazy. It’s his private little obsession.

X = X-ray

It's pretty, On the longer side, slightly curved upward and very girthy He knows how to use it and loves your reaction every time.

Y = Yearning

High. Like, dangerously high. Even just seeing you in his shirt has him biting his lip. You’re the center of his universe and he wants you always.

Z = Zzz

Falls asleep with his arm slung over your waist, sometimes still inside you. Sleepy kisses and low murmurs until he’s out cold.

Finn~

A = Aftercare

Super soft king. He’ll help you clean up, pull you close under the covers, whisper compliments into your hair. Always checks if you’re okay, brings you snacks or water without you asking. He likes cleaning you off with a soft rag.

B = Body part

On you? Your ass. He loves grabbing it, standing behind you and pressing it against him.

On himself? His arms, he's actually fairly strong and he loves when he's carrying you and they're flexing

C = Cum

Finn’s the type to lose his breath, watching it drip down your stomach. He loves finishing where it leaves a mark.

Once got it in your hair, he wouldn't do that again unless you were in the shower though

D = Dirty secret

He’s had wet dreams about you before you even got together. One time, he may have accidentally moaned your name during a nap in front of the crew. They won't let him live it down

E = Experience

He acts like he is, but the first couple of times you had sex it went in the wrong hole atleast 5 times

F = Favorite position

Loves doing it from the side, laying behind you

Especially when it's late or early in the moring

G = Goofy

Totally teases. Slaps your butt, makes cheeky comments, but when it gets hot, he shifts into full smooth mode. He’ll crack jokes before and after, not during.

H = Hair

Groomed just enough, leaves a little for the rugged vibe. Smells good too like cologne and engine grease in the hottest way.

I = Intimacy

So much eye contact. Slow kisses between words. He’s the type to grab your hand during it, press it over his heart like, “feel that? That’s for you.”

J = Jack off

He does it, but not as often now that you’re around. When he does, he’s thinking of something specific like that one time in the car.

K = Kink

Car sex. Praise. Control. Danger. He gets off on the risk and the worship. Also has a thing for lingerie especially when it’s pink and just for him.

L = Location

The garage. The car. Against the hood. Backseat. Literally anywhere automotive-themed. Bonus points if you’re wearing his jacket.

M = Motivation

You looking at him from across the room? Instant switch flipped. Bonus: you in his hoodie, no pants. And when you call him driver boy? Done for.

N = No

He’ll never make you feel unsafe or unwanted. No to anything that makes you cry (unless it’s from pleasure). He checks in, every time.

O = Oral

He lives to go down on you. Obsessed. It’s like a sport to him. focused, determined, and he won’t stop ‘til you’re shaking. He also loves having your mouth on him but turns into a mess fast.

P = Pace

Likes to start slow and teasing, then gets fast and rough once he loses control. You’ll hear his breathing change first then it’s over.

Q = Quickie

Oh he’s a big fan. Behind a car. In the hallway. Against a wall before the crew shows up. Just give him a look, and he’s game.

R = Risk

He lives for risk. Getting caught? Hot. Car windows fogged up? Perfect. Public but private enough? Yes please.

S = Stamina

Surprisingly strong. Can go two, three rounds if you’re up for it. Gets turned on again fast if you keep touching him after.

T = Toys

He’s open-minded. Loves when you use them on yourself for him to watch. Might hold a viberator against you while kissing your neck just to hear you gasp.

U = Unfair

The biggest tease. Will act totally casual while his hand is in your panties, whisper something filthy in your ear then walk away like nothing happened.

V = Volume

He grunts. He growls. He swears under his breath. But when he’s close? Deep, needy moans with your name all over them.

W = Wild card

Once fingered you in the driver’s seat while making you keep eye contact through the rearview mirror. Still talks about it.

X = X-ray

Thick. Veiny. Heavy. And he knows how to use every inch. You definitely felt it before you saw it.

Y = Yearning

He’s needy in the best way. Always touching, always craving. Can’t go a day without tasting you. Gets irritable if he can’t.

Z = Zzz

Once he’s wrapped around you, he’s out like a light. But only after whispering something sweet against your ear.

[prettyprincessduh]

Period comfort ~ Rami characters edition ✨️

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AN ~ I wrote this cuz my cramps are doing backflips rn ~ Also, this isn't proof read it's literally 4am as I'm posting this, so if there's any Grammer errors I'm sorry 🎀

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Tw ~ None! These are just soft cutesy stories, all are welcome to read!

~~~

Characters in this post ~

Elliot Alderson ~ Mr Robot

Ahkmenrah ~ NATM

Josh Washington ~ Until Dawn

Finn ~ Need 4 Speed

Elliot ~

It was late. The city was quiet, blanketed in a dull, rainy haze. The soft hum of your apartment heater and the distant sound of car tires swishing through puddles filled the silence. You were curled up on your couch in the comfiest hoodie you owned, clutching your stomach, face twisted in pain.

Elliot sat across from you in your living room chair with his signature black hoodie on, thumb nervously rubbing his knuckles as he watched you with wide, uncertain eyes.

“You’re... um. In pain?” he asked softly, like he wasn’t sure if he should even be asking.

You nodded, letting out a little whine as a cramp rolled through you. “Period cramps. The worst ones.”

Elliot blinked. “Oh.” A pause. “Okay. That’s… a thing.”

You smirked through the pain. “Yeah, a very real thing.”

He hesitated, then stood up suddenly like something in his brain clicked. “I’ll be right back.”

You raised a brow, watching as he left your apartment. Literally just walked out the door with no explanation. You sighed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to your belly.

Twenty minutes later, Elliot returned, slightly out of breath, holding a grocery bag. His hoodie was soaked from the rain, and he looked like he’d just sprinted through a battlefield. He dropped the bag in front of you like he’d just defused a bomb.

“I got… stuff.” he mumbled as he took off the drenched hoodie, hanging it on a door to dry

You blinked. Inside the bag: a hot water bottle, three different kinds of chocolate, painkilers, two heat patches, and… was that a teddy bear?

You looked up at him, stunned. “Elliot… did you just run through the rain for period supplies?”

He awkwardly shrugged, his ears slightly pink. “I didn’t know which chocolate you liked. So… I got all of them.”

Your heart swelled. “And the bear?”

“That was… uh. I panicked. He looked like he might help.”

You giggled, despite the cramping. “You’re so cute when you panic.”

He looked away, ears redder now. “Shut up.”

You pulled the blanket aside and patted the couch beside you. “Come here.”

Elliot moved like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed, but then he sat beside you stiffly. You leaned into him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled.

He swallowed. “You can… use me. For warmth. I don’t mind.”

You looked up at him, soft eyes meeting his tired, wide ones. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

He nodded, then reached into the bag. “Want the bear now?”

You snorted, taking it and hugging it to your chest along with him. “Sure, but I’ve already got you.”

And for the first time in a while, Elliot smiled. Just a little. But it was real.

Ahkmenrah ~

It was well past midnight in your little apartment, the movie you two had been watching earlier now just a faint hum in the background. The lights were low, casting a soft pink hue over the room from the vintage lava lamp near the corner. Ahkmenrah was dozing lightly on the couch beside you, in one of your oversized hoodies completely smitten by how soft and strange modern clothes felt on his skin.

You, however, were not dozing.

A sharp cramp twisted through your stomach, dragging a whimper from your throat as you shifted under the blanket. Your hand instinctively moved to clutch your lower abdomen, and your legs curled tighter. The pain throbbed deep and familiar, and you felt your body tense up as another wave rolled through.

You didn't mean to wake him, but you did.

His eyes fluttered open, confusion settling in instantly as he sat up, still half-dreaming. “[Name?]” His voice was groggy, warm. “What is it, my love? Are you hurt?”

You tried to brush it off, giving him a weak smile. “It’s just cramps. I’m okay.”

His brows knit together. “Cramps…? You are in pain?” He was fully awake now, concern etching his features as he moved closer. “Where?”

You took a shaky breath, pressing your palm to your stomach. “It’s just... girl stuff. Period cramps.”

He blinked at you. “Your moon cycle?” he asked slowly, almost reverently, like it was a sacred rite.

You nodded.

He stared for a moment, processing. “And this happens… every cycle?”

You smiled, biting your lip. “Yeah. It’s not always this bad, but tonight sucks.”

Without hesitation, Ahkmenrah slid down onto the floor in front of you, kneeling between your legs. His warm hands reached up to gently tug the blanket down, revealing your curled-up body. His gaze was soft, almost reverent, like you were something divine.

“I wish I could take it from you,” he murmured, brushing your hair back. “In my time, this was… a sign of great power. The goddesses were honored for this.”

You gave a tired little laugh. “Yeah, doesn’t feel powerful right now.”

He pressed a kiss to your knee, then carefully laid his warm hands over your stomach, as if he could will the pain away with his touch. “Let me try something,” he said gently. “Close your eyes.”

You obeyed, and a soft warmth began to pulse beneath his hands. Whether it was just the heat of his palms or something more mystical, you didn’t know, but the pressure eased. The ache dulled.

Your breath hitched.

“Oh my god... Ahk… that’s actually helping…”

He smiled up at you. “Good. Then I’ll stay like this until the sun rises, if you wish.”

You opened your eyes, heart full. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

His fingers brushed your cheek, his voice soft as starlight. “I simply serve my queen.”

Then, with the gentlest care, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to bed, tucking you in like treasure. He climbed in beside you, curling around you protectively, one hand still resting over your belly. Warmth. Safety. Peace.

And as you drifted off, you heard him whisper a prayer in his ancient tongue, a blessing for pain to pass, and for the woman he adored.

Josh~

The wind howled outside the cabin, rattling the windows as snow gently fell over the pine trees surrounding the lodge. Inside, it was warm , wood stove humming, soft yellow lights glowing, and you curled up on the giant couch under a chunky blanket. You’d been feeling off all day, sluggish, sore, and crampy as hell, but you’d tried to play it cool for everyone else.

Josh, of course, noticed immediately.

Now, the TV was murmuring in the background, playing some old horror movie neither of you were paying attention to. You were bundled up, clutching a hot water bottle against your stomach with a pout that hadn’t left your face for hours. Josh came back into the room balancing a tray in his hands, tea, a little chocolate bar, and a heating pad he must’ve dug out of one of his sisters drawers.

He placed the tray on the coffee table, then looked at you with this gentle little smile like you were a hurt kitten. “Alright, soldier,” he said dramatically, kneeling beside the couch. “I’ve brought provisions. Cocoa. A backup heat source. And chocolate, obviously. Don’t say I don’t know how to take care of my girl.”

You cracked a weak smile, eyes glassy. “You’re such a dork.”

“I’m your dork,” he grinned, climbing onto the couch beside you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Now scoot. You get front-seat cuddles.”

You shifted with a groan, letting him tuck himself around you like a protective blanket. His hands moved carefully, one rubbing slow, firm circles on your belly while the other pulled the blanket tighter around both of you.

He kissed your shoulder. “Cramps suck, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“You want me to go hunt the evil uterus demon and slay it with a sacred axe?”

You snorted. “Please do.”

Josh chuckled softly, lips brushing against the back of your neck. “I’d do it, too. No hesitation. Ride out into the snowy woods, screaming your name like a maniac.”

“Josh—”

“Just saying. You’re worth a whole dramatic sacrifice ritual.”

You leaned into him, pressing your body closer to his warmth. Your fingers tangled with his, your breathing finally slowing as the rhythm of his touch calmed the ache. His voice dropped lower, softer. “You want me to stay up with you? If you can’t sleep?”

You nodded.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered. “Always.”

You didn’t even have the energy to respond properly. Instead, you turned to face him and nuzzled into his chest and let the steady beat of his heart lull you toward sleep. He stayed just like that, rubbing your back, whispering dumb jokes under his breath, and occasionally muttering things like “death to cramps” and “you’re braver than any warrior.”

Eventually, you whispered, “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you.”

He smiled against your skin. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I love you. Period monster and all.”

Finn~

The day had been normal enough, rain on the windows, soft music playing from the busted-up stereo in Tobeys garage loft, and you lounging in his Finns hoodie while scrolling your phone, curled up in a cozy blanket. But the cramps had started creeping in hard and fast, like your body decided to turn into a medieval torture device out of nowhere.

You tried to keep it cool, but a soft whimper escaped your lips as another sharp pang twisted through your lower belly.

Finn looked up from the corner of the loft where he was fixing a busted carburetor, wiping his hands on a rag. “Babe?” he called out, eyebrows pinching together as he crossed the room to you. “You okay?”

You groaned softly, pressing a hand to your stomach. “Just... cramps. Period cramps.”

He froze mid-step.

“…Cramps?” he repeated slowly, as if the word had personally offended him. “Like... stomach ones? Food poisoning? Did someone hit you?”

You blinked at him. “No, Finn. My period.”

He stared.

Blankly.

“…Your what now?”

You had to stifle a laugh. “You do know what a period is, right?”

He looked genuinely panicked. “Like…the monthly… thing? The one where you… bleed?” His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes darting around like he was worried your uterus might explode in real time. “Are you dying?”

You couldn’t help it, you burst into a fit of giggles, despite the cramps. “No! Oh my god, no. It just hurts sometimes. It’s normal, Finn.”

He looked so distressed. “You’re just bleeding? For days? And you’re just… sitting here like it’s nothing? You didn’t even tell me? Babe, that’s like—emergency status!”

He turned on his heel and bolted down the stairs before you could stop him. You heard rustling, drawers slamming, the fridge opening. A few minutes later he returned with an armful of completely chaotic things: a lukewarm water bottle, a half-unwrapped Snickers, a bottle of ibuprofen he wasn't sure if you could take, and a pair of fuzzy socks that definitely weren’t yours.

“I brought… comfort items?” he said, kneeling beside you, looking so unsure but trying so hard. “Do you need more towels? I can get a bucket? What do you need? Just say the word and it’s yours.”

You couldn’t stop smiling as you took the socks and slipped them on. “I need you to cuddle me and maybe rub my lower back.”

His entire face lit up like he just got chosen for the pit crew at a championship race. “Oh! That—I can do that!”

He slid in behind you on the couch, gently pulling you between his legs like you were made of glass. His hands found your lower back, warm and a little rough from working on cars, and he started rubbing in slow, careful circles.

“You sure you’re not dying?” he whispered in your ear.

You chuckled, sinking into him. “I’m okay, Finn. But thank you for taking it so seriously.”

He kissed the top of your head and rested his chin on your shoulder. “I just—I hate the thought of you hurting and me not doing anything. Even if I don’t… really know how any of this works.”

You smiled, squeezing his thigh. “You’re doing perfect. Seriously.”

“…Can I punch your uterus? Or is that not allowed?”

You burst out laughing again. “No punching. Just cuddles.”

He grinned. “Done.”

[prettyprincessduh]

“Don’t Make a Sound” – Josh Washington

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AN ~ I wrote this because I'm ovulating, and Josh is my savior rn 🎀 It's probably a little sloppy because I usually write late at night when I'm horny 💀🙏🏽

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Context - I mean idrk - Chris walks in on us making out

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The fire crackled in the stone hearth of the Washington lodge, casting flickering shadows across the massive living room. The storm outside howled against the windows, but inside, the mood was… a lot warmer.

You sat curled on the couch, legs folded, in one of Josh’s oversized hoodies ~ soft, worn-in, and smelling like cedar and his cologne. He was standing nearby, arms crossed, looking way too good for someone who claimed he was “just chilling.” His dark jeans hung low on his hips, snug in all the right places.

“Stop staring,” Josh teased, a lopsided smirk forming as he sauntered over. “I know I’m hot, but I didn’t realize I was melting your brain.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “You wish.”

He dropped onto the couch next to you, the weight of him shifting the cushions. “Please. You’ve been making heart-eyes at me since we came up here.”

“Because I was debating if I should throw you into the snow.”

He leaned in, voice low and teasing. “Is that code for ‘get on top of me’?”

You scoffed ~ but it died in your throat when his hand brushed your thigh, slow and casual, like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. But he knew. Josh always knew.

“You’re not slick,” you muttered, breath catching.

“No,” he said softly, nose brushing your jaw as he leaned closer, “I’m just really, really into you.”

You turned your head about to say something

And that’s when his lips met yours ~ hot, demanding, with zero hesitation. His hands slid under the hoodie, gripping your waist, tugging you effortlessly onto his lap. The denim of his jeans pressed against your sweet spot as you straddled him, heat blooming fast and intense.

His hands roamed, greedy, like he couldn’t get enough of you ~ up your back, down your thighs, pulling you closer, until there was no space left between your bodies. You rocked against him, and he groaned ~ low, throaty ~ that signature Josh sound that told you he was already completely lost in you.

“God, I-” he rasped. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

“You’re not exactly subtle either,” you whispered back, tugging at his shirt. “Jeans, Josh? Really?”

“I like to suffer,” he smirked, but then you rolled your hips just right and he choked on his own laugh.

You leaned in, nipping at his jaw. “You like being teased?”

“I like you on top of me. Don’t care how.”

Just as things were really escalating ~ his shirt halfway off, your hoodie pushed up and forgotten ~ a door creaked open somewhere behind you.

You froze. Josh didn’t.

“Josh?” came Chris’s voice, confused, too close. “Have you seen- oh my god!”

Chris stood at the entrance to the living room, eyes wide in horror, one hand raised like he might actually be trying to block the image out.

Josh barely spared him a glance, voice calm, smug, almost bored: “Close the door, Chris. Or stay and watch. I charge extra though.”

“DUDE. I—WHAT—NO!” Chris scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet as he slammed the door shut behind him.

You were mortified. “Josh!”

But he just grinned, absolutely zero shame, as he ran his hands up your thighs again. “What? Let the man suffer.”

You slapped his chest, trying not to laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your lips again, “are not done with me.”

The moment the door clicked fully shut, he pulled you back into the kiss, deeper, hungrier than before like nothing else in the world mattered.

[prettyprincessduh]

Yall, what build does Josh have, like, what are we deciding as a fan base cuz I'm writing something, and I want it to be biblically accurate

I wouldn't say he's like jacked ain't no way but he's also not fat or lean

[prettyprincessduh]

Yall, I gotta NATM theory for Ahk

Okay, hear me out

Say you have ur first kiss, the kiss breaks the curse of being him being bound to the museum and only being alive at night

So you let him live with you, teach him the ways of living in the present ect

I just got funny scenarios. yall lemme live 😭🙏🏽

[prettyprincessduh]

How they react when you wear a sundress ~

Rami characters edition ✨️

AN ~ Since it's getting hot out and the sun is finally wanting to shine, I wrote these short stories on how different Rami characters would react to the reader in a sundress and no panties cuz I'm down bad

TW ~ My stories are mature, so there will be suggestive language and depending on the character spicy scenes. Never mind, they all have spicy endings lmaooo

~~~~~~

Ahkmenrah ~

The sun is high, waves rolling, and your skin is still warm from a morning swim.

You pick that sundress. The soft, flowy one. The one that hugs your hips and flutters just right when the breeze hits.

No bra. No panties.

Just skin, sunlight, and sinful thoughts.

You find Ahkmenrah lounging by the pool, book in hand, shirt unbuttoned, golden skin glistening.

“Hey,” you say, real casual.

He looks up.

And then he sees.

The sway of your hips. The dip of your neckline. The way the light shines through the fabric.

His eyes narrow. His book closes slowly.

You tilt your head. “Something wrong, Pharaoh?”

He stands. He walks over. Doesn’t speak just circles you once. Observing.

Then leans down, voice husky:

“You wear nothing beneath this dress.”

You gasp, tiny, innocent. “How would you know?”

He smirks. “Because if you did… I wouldn’t be able to see through it"

You’re frozen.

He brushes a hand along your lower back, teasing the hem. His breath is hot against your ear.

“Is this how queens walk among mortals? Or is this meant for me alone?”

The wind lifts the fabric ever so slightly.

His hand grips your hip.

And then he steps back.

“I suggest,” he says, voice tight, “you go back to our room. Now.”

You blink. “Why?”

He leans in, eyes burning. “Because if I take you here… the ocean won’t be the only thing flooding this island.”

You run.

He follows.

And that sundress?

Tossed across the floor within seconds.

The aftermath ~

When it’s over, your body is trembling, every inch of you sore but satisfied in a way you never expected. Ahkmenrah’s body lies over yours, still breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling as he gathers his strength again.

You feel like you've been claimed, both physically and emotionally, by the Pharaoh himself.

And just when you think it’s safe to breathe…

He smiles, a devilish grin on his lips. “Rest well, my queen. You have earned this.”

But you know this is far from over.

His kiss is still imprinted on your lips, his touch still fresh on your skin. And now, every time you look at him, you know what he’s capable of.

You shiver, and he notices. “I think you may be addicted to me now.”

You smirk back, curling up against his chest.

“We’ll see about that, Ahkmenrah.”

Elliot Alderson ~

It’s a hot, sticky summer day in the city. You’re meeting Elliot for something simple, coffee, maybe a walk, nothing big.

You show up in that sundress.

Soft pastel, barely-there straps, falling perfectly over your curves…

…and underneath?

Absolutely nothing.

You catch him outside the café. He’s in his usual hoodie, jeans, head down and already anxious just existing.

Then he looks up.

And you see it happen.

System error.

His eyes widen, jaw tenses, lips part like he’s about to say something but—

Nothing comes out.

You walk over, all innocent. “Hey, you good?”

He blinks. Slowly.

“Y-Yeah. Just… you look—”

He stops himself. Swallows hard. Fidgets with his sleeve.

“Warm day, right?” you tease, swaying a little closer.

His eyes drop.

To your thighs.

The way your dress moves with each step.

The distinct lack of… lines.

Silent panic.

He clears his throat, looking away instantly.

“I, um… I wasn’t expecting—It’s just—”

“You okay, Elliot?” you lean in, whispering near his ear, “You’re glitching.”

His breath hitches.

“I’m not glitching,” he lies, very obviously glitching.

You smile, brushing his hand.

You both go inside and he sits on the inside of the booth

“Want me to sit across from you, or…” you lower your voice, “…next to you?”

He doesn’t answer. Just stares at you with a mix of panic, arousal, and pure emotional combustion.

So you sit next to him anyway. Cross your legs slowly.

He flinches.

You lean in. “I didn’t wear anything underneath.”

He.exe crashes.

He’s dead silent.

Then, after a beat:

“…Why would you tell me that?”

You grin. “Thought you’d like the visual.”

His voice drops, shaky and low.

“I do. Way too much.”

You see his hands curl into fists in his lap. He can’t even look at you.

But under the table?

You feel his leg twitch closer.

You reach for his hand. He lets you take it. His palm is sweaty. His grip? Desperate.

He looks at you finally, pupils blown, breath ragged.

He stands up abruptly, causing your heart to skip. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, voice a little lower than usual, before he walks towards the bathroom door.

You’re frozen. There’s an energy crackling in the air. You wait a beat, unsure whether you should follow. But the pull is too strong.

You get up, quietly following him toward the restroom, and the door swings open with a soft click.

Inside, the small, dimly lit bathroom is a world away from the café's bustling noise. It’s quiet too quiet, and the heavy silence between you both feels more charged than anything you've ever experienced.

You lock the door behind you, and Elliot doesn’t waste a second. He grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him until your chest is pressed against his.

You can hear his breath, shallow, like he’s barely holding it together. His hands slide to your waist, his fingers grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Elliot…” you whisper, your heart racing.

“I just… I need you. Now.” he murmurs

You barely process the words before his lips crash into yours, hot and desperate. It’s nothing like the casual kisses you’ve had before this is raw, urgent, as if you’re both trying to consume each other in the smallest space possible.

You gasp when his tongue slides against yours, his hands moving to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. He presses you against the cold, tiled wall, the heat of his body contrasting with the chill of the bathroom around you.

You can’t help but give in, your hands exploring him in return, feeling the intensity building between you both. His lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

His hands grip your hips tighter, and he lifts you slightly, pressing you harder against the wall. The way his body feels against yours makes everything else disappear the world outside, the constant noise. It’s just the two of you caught in a moment of reckless abandon.

Your breath quickens as he continues to kiss you, every movement of his lips on yours pushing you further into a state of need. His hand slides down to your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist, his touch searing through the fabric of your dress

You feel the unmistakable tension in the air, the hunger building, but it’s different with Elliot. He’s so controlled, so careful, yet so lost in this moment with you. There’s an edge to it, a danger of getting caught that only adds to the thrill.

Josh Washington ~

You're at the lodge again, but it's summer this time. No snow. Just heat, games, and a group reunion that somehow landed you and Josh alone for the afternoon.

You come downstairs wearing it.

A thin, pastel sundress. Lacy, flirty, soft as a whisper.

No bra.

No panties.

Josh is in the kitchen, humming something dumb, probably about cereal. His back’s to you.

“Hey Josh?”

He turns.

Silence.

His brain does a hard reboot.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

Then?

“Oh… fuck me.”

You smirk. “Something wrong?”

“Uh—yeah. No. Nothing. You just—uh—” he gestures vaguely at you, “—look like the entire concept of temptation.”

You twirl a little. “It’s warm out.”

He nods slowly, eyes absolutely stuck on you.

He’s trying to be respectful. Really.

But then the sundress sways when you step closer, and he sees just enough to realize…

“Oh my god. You’re not wearing anything under that, are you?”

You tilt your head, fake innocent. “Wanna check?”

He stares at you like you’ve just pulled the pin on a grenade and handed it to him with a kiss.

“Okay,” he says, hands on his hips, pacing like he’s negotiating with God, “first of all, rude. Second of all, I’ve been trying to be good—trying really hard—but you are out here acting like the world is your runway and I’m your personal simp—”

“You are.”

He freezes.

Then groans. Loudly. “This is so unfair.”

You walk past him, very slowly, brushing your hand along his chest. “C’mon. You gonna let me win this easy?”

He grabs your wrist. Gentle, but firm.

Eyes dark.

Voice low.

“Bedroom. Now. Before I lose the tiny shred of self-control I have left.”

You barely make it up the stairs.

He’s kissing your neck, his hands sliding under the dress, lifting it inch by inch.

“You really wore this for me, didn’t you?”

You nod, breathless.

“Yeah? You like teasing me? You like being bad?”

His voice is a growl now.

“You’re not walking right tomorrow. Just so you know.”

Finn ~ NFS

It’s late afternoon and you pull up to the garage where Finn’s been working all day music bumping, tools clinking, and that boy’s hoodie tied around his waist like he’s in a thirst trap ad for motor oil.

You walk in.

The air smells like grease and gasoline, but you? You’re a breath of dangerous air.

You’re in a tiny sundress. Bare shoulders. Loose skirt. Skin glowing in the sunset.

And nothing underneath.

“Hey, grease monkey,” you call.

Finn turns from under the hood of his car, wiping his hands on a rag. He looks at you.

Then looks again.

Paused. Entire game lagged.

“…Ohhh no. Nope. What’re you tryna pull, baby?”

You blink. “What?”

He walks over slow, checking you out head to toe.

“That dress. That smile. That walk—nah, that’s an ambush.”

You twirl. “It’s hot today.”

“Not as hot as you are, damn,” he mutters, biting his lip.

He grabs his water bottle and chugs it like his life depends on it.

You hop up to sit on the hood of one of the cars, swinging your legs.

The dress rides up.

Finn freezes.

“…You’re not wearing panties, are you?”

You give a coy shrug. “Maybe not.”

He runs a hand down his face, pacing.

“You know I’ve got work to do, yeah? You know I’m tryin’ to be good today?”

“You could be bad,” you offer sweetly.

He’s by you in seconds, standing between your legs.

“Say that again.”

You lean in, tugging his shirt. “Be bad for me.”

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing the dress higher.

The aftermath ~

You end up half-undressed, moaning his name in the backseat of some unfinished car, sundress bunched at your waist, his hands on your hips like he’s never letting go.

Later, he tugs you into his lap and whispers, “You’re not allowed in that dress near any of my friends. Ever. S’only for me.”

And he means it.

[prettyprincessduh]

Dance Lessons ~ Rami Malek

AN ~ I wrote this while listening to 'u weren't here, I really miss u' on repeat, I actually LOVE that song. I'd recommend listening g to it while reading this!

I wrote this based on Rami, but you could read it as pretty much any of the characters he plays,

Probably best suited for Josh Washington or Finn from need for speed ♡

TW ~

None, unless a kiss counts, this is a SWF story!

Enjoy ♡

~~~~~~~~~~

The lights in your apartment buzzed with a soft, cozy glow, but the energy in the room was anything but chill. “u weren't here, I really miss u” bounced through the speaker—fast, dreamy, with a beat that made your heart skip.

Rami stood in the middle of your living room, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “This song is wild,” he said, grinning. “You actually expect me to keep up with this?”

You just smirked. “I don’t expect you to keep up. I expect you to try.”

You grabbed his hands before he could protest, tugging him into the space. You were already moving—light on your feet, spinning and stepping like the beat lived in your bones.

“Just copy me!” you called out over the music, laughing as he fumbled the first few moves.

Rami tried. Oh, he tried—but his legs had a mind of their own, and at one point he did a weird half-spin that made both of you burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay, wait,” he said, catching his breath, eyes wide but sparkling. “Is this part of the routine or are you just improvising chaos?”

You smirked. “Bit of both.”

But then he got it. Like, really got it. He started matching your steps, his movements still clumsy but full of heart. You danced in sync, jumping and stepping and spinning, until you were both breathless and laughing.

And just as the chorus hit again, Rami grabbed your hand and twirled you, out of nowhere. It was awkward and slightly off beat—but it made your stomach flip in the best way.

You crashed into him, giggling. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“I’m a fast learner,” he said, his face inches from yours. His smile softened as the beat faded out, replaced by your shared breath and the thrum of adrenaline.

“You’re seriously cute when you dance,” you whispered.

“So are you,” he murmured, brushing your cheek lightly with his thumb.

And for a second, the chaos stilled. Just you, him, and the afterglow of music and movement.

The room was quiet for all of two seconds before you reached over, grabbed your phone, and hit replay.

The opening beat of “u weren't here, I really miss u” dropped again, vibrating through the floor like it owned the space.

Rami raised an eyebrow, chest still rising from the last round of chaos. “You’re not done with me yet?”

You didn’t answer—you just started moving.

But this time… slower. Sassier. You kept the rhythm, but your steps got suggestive. Hips swaying, eyes locked on him with a mischievous glint. Still smiling. Still playful. But he knew what you were doing.

His jaw dropped—just slightly.

“Oh… oh, so that’s what kind of dance this is now?” he said, biting back a smile.

You didn’t break eye contact. Just turned around and did a little dramatic hip roll, still dancing, laughing under your breath.

“I’m just vibing,” you said innocently, peeking over your shoulder.

Rami blinked like he was trying to stay cool—but he wasn’t fooling anyone. “Okay, wow. This is illegal.”

You moved closer, still dancing—playful, bold, not taking it too seriously, but just enough to keep him on edge. You looped around him once, then paused in front of him.

“Your turn,” you said.

Rami blinked. “I don’t know what you think I’m capable of, but—”

“You’ll be fine,” you cut in, grabbing his hands and placing them at your waist.

He didn’t even try to hide the little smirk tugging at his lips now. “You’re dangerous,” he whispered.

“And you,” you replied, stepping back with a teasing smile, “are stalling.”

So he danced. Kind of. It was awkward. A little stiff. But with you hyping him up, giggling and guiding his movements, it turned into something fun—and kind of hot, actually. The two of you dancing, laughing, bodies close, teasing and tempting.

The beat picked up again. You both moved like nobody was watching.

Except... you were watching each other. And that tension? It crackled.

The music pulsed, fast and dizzying, like it was daring you both to lose control. You danced circles around Rami, your movements light and teasing, never staying in one place too long—like a spark he couldn’t quite catch.

But he followed. Clumsy at first, still laughing, still trying to match your rhythm—but there was something different in the way his eyes stayed on you now. Focused. A little darker. Like the joke had stopped being a joke somewhere between the beat drops.

And then, without warning, he caught you.

Literally.

You were mid-step when his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you gently but firmly back into him. The music was still blaring, but suddenly all you could hear was your heartbeat—racing.

You froze, just for a second.

“Gotcha,” he whispered against your ear, voice low, breath warm.

You twisted in his arms to face him, breathless from dancing, cheeks flushed. The song kept going, but neither of you moved now. Just inches between you.

His hands were still at your waist, yours resting against his chest. You could feel the rise and fall of it. Could see how his eyes flicked from yours… down to your lips… then back up.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “What happened to fast learner?”

“I think I finally caught the rhythm,” he murmured.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him just a little closer. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He leaned in—and kissed you.

Soft at first, like he was still afraid to mess it up. But when you kissed him back—really kissed him—he melted into it. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, mouths moving in sync like you'd rehearsed this moment a hundred times in your dreams.

The song faded out in the background, but you barely noticed.

You weren’t dancing anymore. You were floating.

[prettyprincessduh]

Rami Malek by Brigitte Lacombe

[prettyprincessduh]

Backstage Heat ~ Rami Malek Oedipus Scenario

AN ~ Now Rami is single, I'm wildin out with all these stories that have been sitting in my notes since I saw oedipus ♡

TW ~

Mature themes

Kissing

Grinding

Devils tango

Most, if not ALL, my short stories are aimed for readers over 18. If you're not old enough, please just

GET OUT

Summary ~

You're starring in Oedipus with Rami. Let's say you play Jocasta. It's one of the few last shows, and Rami has taken a secret liking to you. However, you already knew about this.

I'd say it's basically porn without plot, but at the same time, the plot is sorta there? Idk

Please don't mind spelling or grammar mistakes, I'm no author, and i usually write these late at night 💀🙏🏽

It was too long to export it all here, so lemme know if yall want the morning after part 🩷

Without further ado

Please enjoy ♡

~~~

The room is dim, filled with the scent of old wood and lingering stage makeup. You’re backstage after one of the last few Oedipus performances, wearing a red dress that hugs all the right places. It makes your boobs look amazing.

He’s just come off stage, still flushed from the intensity of the performance. Sweat glistens lightly on his forehead, his shirt clinging to his chest, unbuttoned just enough to make you stare a second too long.

He sees you waiting, and a slow smirk curls on his lips. “Did you enjoy the show?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

You step closer, closing the distance. “I liked the part where you completely took control. Made me forget there were other people in the room.”

He laughs under his breath, eyes locked on yours like he's undressing you just with his gaze. “Funny. That’s exactly how I felt when I saw you in that dress. Nearly forgot my lines.”

You playfully run a finger down his chest. “Guess I’m more distracting than I thought.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he murmurs, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between your bodies. “You think it’s fair to look that good and not do something about it?”

“Depends…” you whisper, your voice soft and daring. “What are you gonna do about it, Mr. Malek?”

His hand slides to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips brush your ear. “I’ve been thinking about that all night. Backstage might get a little hotter.”

~~~~

His lips trail down the shell of your ear, and your breath catches. You can feel the tension humming between you, thick and electric. His hands are confident as they rest on your waist, fingers slipping just around your lower back like he’s teasing the idea of losing control right here, right now.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice husky, though there’s no hesitation in his touch.

You meet his eyes, fire dancing in yours. “What if I don’t want you to?”

That’s all he needs.

He walks you backward until your back hits some random backstage wall, the cool surface contrasting sharply with the heat radiating off both of you. He presses his body into yours, his semi already waking up just enough to make you feel it pressing against you slightly. His lips find yours, slow at first, like he’s savoring every second, every sigh you let out. But then it deepens, hunger taking over. It’s not just a kiss, it’s a claim.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispers against your mouth. “Every time I see you, it’s like I forget how to think.”

You tug gently on the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Then stop thinking.”

He grins, dark and gorgeous, before his lips crash back onto yours. His hands explore with purpose, your hips, your thighs, tracing paths that make your body react before your brain can catch up. He pulls your leg up around his waist, letting your dress ride up just a little, and you swear the low growl he lets out against your neck is going to be the end of you.

Then, suddenly, footsteps echo down the hallway.

Rami pauses, resting his forehead against yours, both of you breathless and wrecked with want. “We’ve got maybe 30 seconds before someone walks in here,” he says, voice low and deliciously frustrated.

You look nervous but ever so slightly excited

"Rami we need to continue this... some other time" You're slightly breathless

He doesn't move, away though he turns his head, glancing at a nearby clock

"How about tonight?" He asks, almost desperately

You look at him surprised, but dared to nod, agreeing to his suggestion. His lips twitched slightly almost like he was suppressing a smirk and he swiftly stepped back looking you up and down

"Great, it's a date, you'll leave with me"

~~~~

You’re waiting just outside the private exit of the theatre, the low murmur of voices echoing from around the corner where fans have gathered at the main stage door, holding posters, phones, and wide eyes full of obsession. The second Rami steps out, they’ll explode.

But he doesn’t go to them.

Instead, the door creaks open beside you and there he is, freshly changed into a soft, dark hoodie and jeans, hair slightly damp from a quick shower, but still tousled in that perfect, messy way. Casual, yes, but still effortlessly, stupidly hot.

He smirks when he sees you. “Told them I needed a moment to myself.”

You glance toward the crowd, voices growing louder, some calling his name. “They’re gonna wonder where you are.”

He shrugs, stepping close enough that your bodies almost touch. “Let them wonder. I only wanted to see you after the show.”

Before you can respond, a sleek black town car pulls up beside the curb. The driver steps out and opens the door, glancing toward the growing group of fans. Rami places a gentle hand on your back and leads you inside quickly and quietly, avoiding the spotlight.

Once the door shuts, the noise fades. The car glides away from the curb, and Rami lets out a low breath like he’s been holding it in all night.

You settle into the leather seat beside him, the lights of London casting soft glows on his jawline. His hoodie is slightly unzipped at the top, just enough to tease. He glances over at you with that signature stare, intense, unreadable, and so full of heat.

“You looked… incredible tonight,” he says, voice low. “Nearly forgot half my lines.”

You smirk, shifting slightly so your bare thigh brushes his. “You should’ve seen yourself. All that intensity onstage? Had me thinking about what you’d be like when you’re not being watched.”

He leans in closer, his voice dipping into something darker. “No cameras. No lines. No audience.”

His hand finds your thigh under the hem of your dress, fingers brushing just high enough to steal your breath. “I could make this ride unforgettable, you know.”

You glance toward the front, the driver’s there, but there’s a dark divider. Not fully closed, but enough.

“Maybe I don’t need to wait until we’re inside,” you whisper.

He chuckles low, biting his bottom lip like he’s holding back. “You’re trouble.”

“You like trouble.”

“I crave it,” he growls, sliding his hand higher. But before either of you can push the boundary too far, the car slows to a stop in front of his house.

The air is thick as you both step out. He says nothing, just holds the door open, follows you up the steps, and the second it clicks shut behind you, he drops the act completely.

You barely have time to take in your surroundings before his hands are on you, backing you against the wall

“All night,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours, “I’ve been imagining how you'd sound when no one else is around.”

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and Rami wastes no time. His lips find yours again, urgent and hot, like he’s been holding back the entire night just for this moment. You barely make it past the entryway before he pulls back, eyes locked onto yours.

“Come with me,” he says, voice low and loaded with meaning.

He takes your hand and leads you through his warm, quiet house, wide wooden floors, low lighting, and subtle earthy scents that make the space feel like him. You catch glimpses of books on shelves, records stacked beside a player, jackets hanging loosely over the back of a chair. It’s intimate. Lived in. Private.

The living room opens up in front of you—spacious, with a long, soft couch in the center, facing a fireplace that flickers gently. The lights are dim, and a slow, sultry song hums through a speaker in the background, setting the perfect tone.

Rami’s hoodie is gone now, tossed on the back of a chair. He stands in front of you in just a plain black tee that hugs his chest and a pair of dark jeans that fit way too well. You can’t help but stare.

He watches you with that trademark smirk. “Caught you looking.”

You smile up at him from the couch, already leaning back, legs crossed slowly. “And?”

“And if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

“Good.”

That’s all it takes.

He lowers himself onto the couch, his hands bracing on either side of your body. His eyes search yours for a beat, like he’s still making sure this is real—and then he crashes into you with a kiss that knocks the air out of your lungs.

His hands slide under your thighs, pulling you closer until you’re straddling him, your dress riding up just enough to tease. You run your hands over his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath your palms.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Oh, I have some idea,” you whisper, grinding down slightly just to hear him groan.

He throws his head back for half a second, jaw tight, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re evil.”

You laugh breathlessly. “You love it.”

He flips you gently, laying you back against the cushions, his body pressed against yours. His hands explore like he’s been waiting forever, like he wants to know every reaction, every curve, every breath you take.

The fireplace crackles, the music plays, but all you hear is him—his voice in your ear, rough and low.

“You’re not just a distraction,” he says, fingers trailing down your thigh. “You’re the whole obsession.”

And with that, the night stretches out around you, slow and hot and intimate, wrapped up in the warmth of his house, his touch, and the undeniable fire between you.

The crackling fire provides a soft glow, and Rami’s lips are still on your neck, kissing, nibbling, each breath of his sending waves of heat through you. Every inch of your body is hyper-aware of him, the electricity between you both so palpable it’s almost suffocating in the best way.

His hands keep moving, slow and deliberate, exploring your body like he’s memorizing every curve. You’re pressed against him, your chest rising and falling with every breath you take, and you can feel him—hard and eager—against you.

But he’s still not rushing. There’s a calm confidence in him, and that just makes the anticipation burn even hotter.

His lips finally find yours again, and this time, he kisses you with a deep hunger, no longer holding back, his hand sliding down to the back of your neck to pull you closer, as if he never wants to let go. His other hand moves to your waist, then to your thighs, pulling you up slightly, enough to press your body fully into his.

“You feel that?” he murmurs against your lips, voice thick with desire. “I want you so bad, Ashanti.”

His hands find the edge of your dress, lifting it just enough to let his fingers trail up your skin, the heat of his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You gasp softly at the contact, your body arching towards him instinctively, craving more.

He doesn’t tease you—he just gives you exactly what you want. The way he touches you is firm, but gentle enough to make you melt into him, your hands scrambling to touch him back, to feel his body, every inch of him.

“I don’t want to make you beg,” he says, lips brushing your ear. “But I do want to hear everything you have to say when I’m inside you.”

That’s all it takes. He lifts you easily, guiding you to lie back on the couch, his body moving over you, warm and heavy, his lips trailing down your neck, your chest, each kiss igniting a fire within you.

“You’re mine tonight,” he whispers, his hand moving to your thigh, parting your legs just enough to fit between them. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You don’t need to beg. You just need to give him the look—the one that tells him you’re ready for everything he’s about to give you. And with that, the tension snaps, the heat between you both finally coming to a head, no more waiting.

His hands roam over you like he’s lost in a maze, each touch, each caress, pulling you deeper into him. The tension that’s been building between you both snaps in an instant. You can feel it in the way his lips move against your skin, the way his body presses into yours, so close, so tight that you can hardly breathe.

He doesn't waste time. Rami is focused, determined, and his gaze is locked onto yours—deep and unblinking, like he’s trying to pull every ounce of emotion out of you.

“I need you,” he says, his voice rougher than before, his hands sliding under your dress, lifting it with an urgency that matches his heartbeat.

You don’t need to say anything. You can feel the need in the way his body moves, in the way his lips devour yours—rough, unrelenting, but still so perfectly tuned to you. Every inch of your body is on fire, and you’re completely lost in him.

He kisses down your neck, to your chest, his lips leaving a trail of heat, and when his hand finds the back of your thigh, he pulls you toward him with a growl. There’s no more teasing, no more holding back. He wants you, and you can see it, feel it, in every movement he makes.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters, his lips skimming the edge of your dress. “But I can’t wait any longer. I need to be inside you. Now.”

He’s not asking—he’s claiming you, body and soul, and you’re completely willing to let him. Your body arches toward him, your hands gripping the back of his shirt as he finally, finally pulls down the fabric between you both.

The firelight flickers in the background, casting shadows over the two of you as he enters you with a growl, pushing in slowly, giving you just enough time to adjust before he starts moving with purpose.

Every thrust, every movement feels like it’s in perfect sync with your heartbeat, the world outside the house fading into nothingness. All you know is the rhythm of his body, the way he fills you completely, the way he pushes you closer to the edge with every deep, slow thrust.

The tension inside you builds so intensely that it’s almost unbearable. You can’t breathe, can’t think. Everything is pure sensation—his name on your lips, his hands gripping your hips, the feeling of him inside you, driving you to the brink.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers, voice rough with need, his pace picking up, driving deeper and harder. You can’t help but meet him, your body responding to his, the friction between you both sparking something that builds hotter and faster with every passing second.

The tension finally, finally snaps, and you explode—your body shuddering under the intensity of it all. Your nails dig into his back, the world blurring, and all you can do is surrender to the pure sensation.

Rami’s eyes lock onto yours as you come undone beneath him, and with one final, desperate thrust, he follows you, his own release spilling over the edge, deep and raw.

You both stay there, tangled together on the couch, the world outside forgotten, the only thing that matters is the sweat-slick bodies pressed together, hearts still racing in unison. Neither of you speak for a long moment, just breathing, just feeling the aftermath of everything you’ve just shared.

Finally, he pulls you close, his fingers running through your hair as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Damn, you’re amazing,” he murmurs, and you can hear the adoration in his voice, softening the intensity of everything that just happened.

And just like that, the house feels like home. With him.

You’re still wrapped in him, limbs tangled, your head resting on his bare chest as you both catch your breath. The fire’s glow flickers softly across the room, the air filled with the scent of heat, sweat, and something sweeter—satisfaction.

Rami’s hand gently strokes your back in slow, lazy circles, his other arm resting behind his head. He’s calm now. Spent. But that warm smile tugs at his lips every time he glances down at you.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

You nod against him. “More than okay.”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about this all night. All week, actually.”

You lift your head to look at him, and his eyes meet yours—sleepy, tender, but still with that spark.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you after the show,” he admits. “When I saw you waiting backstage, it was like everything else disappeared.”

You smile, brushing your fingers across his jaw. “You still had fans screaming your name.”

He grins. “They weren’t the one I wanted to see.”

His fingers trail lightly down your spine again. “I like this,” he says softly. “You. Here. With me.”

There’s a pause. You can tell he’s thinking something over, but he’s choosing his words carefully.

“I don’t want this to be just a one-time thing,” he murmurs finally, eyes serious now. “Not when I feel like this with you.”

You’re not sure what to say, but you don’t have to. You curl in closer, letting your silence speak for you. His arms tighten around you, and the silence turns golden, comfortable, like you both just fit there, like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

And somewhere in the quiet, between shared glances and the steady beat of his heart under your ear, you realize—this might just be the start of something real.