#Reading Rope Model

[joelmichaelmurphy]

The Reading Rope Unwound: Translating Science into Special Education Strategies

The challenges of imparting proficient reading skills are amplified in a middle school special education setting. With the insights gained from the LETRS training, the task of blending theory with practical instructional strategies becomes a promising venture. The objective is clear: to build a bridge from the foundational theories of reading to actionable teaching strategies that cater to the…

[kthologue]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

[ladyredmoon13]

DCXDP prompt

Summer of change.

Maddie Fenton was many things, and a patient mother of two was only one of them. Here lately, however, Maddie found her patience wearing thin with their youngest child. Now she loved Danny. He was her son, after all, but here lately, his actions and overall dismissive attitude towards everything from his grades to his responsibilities was starting to get to her.

She and Jack had tried everything they could think of to try and get Danny to behave and reconsiderhis actions. From taking away his phone, restricting time with his friends, to full-on grounding him. Nothing seemed to work. They were running out of options, but there was one last thing she wanted to try before, even considering bringing up the suggestion of military school to her husband.

"Hey Jack?" She called to her husband from the living room." Yeah, Madds?" He called back from his position over the kitchen table as he tried to fix the trigger on their latest invention. Hoping that this will be what they'll need to finally catch that ectoplasmic nuisance of a ghost boy.

"Your cousin, the one from Gotham; the one you introduced me to at our wedding. He's a cop, right?"

-------------------------------------------------------

Detective Harvey Bullock was a man of little patience and even less tolerance to the kind of nonsense that the usual scum of Gotham City drummed up.

The only times he could ever really recall ever having more patience and tolerance than a saint was when he was growing up with his favorite cousin. So when said favorite cousin called him up out of the blue, asking for a favor, Bullock did little else, then say, "Sure thing," and " anything for you, little Jacky.'

That was how he got roped into looking after his cousins son for the summer. At first, he was hesitant. Asking Jack if he was sure he wanted to do that. After all, he didn't really have much experience with kids( and no, the Bats kids don't count).

But when Jack started telling him about all the trouble his kid was getting into. The arguments, the mysterious bruises, the skipping school, etc. The boy was on the start of a one-way street down to a bad place, and Bullock didn't like it. So he sucked it up and asked his cousin when he could send him.

Now Harvey knew he wasn't a good role model, that Gotham wasn't the safest place for any saine parent to raise a child, let alone send one here; but now that he was told what was going on with Danny. Bullock found himself determined to get the teen to turn over a new leaf. "Who knows," he thought to himself hopefully, "maybe Gotham was the perfect place for him to do it?"

For those of you who would like to read more, here is a link to the fic writen bu siri-ike. It's really good! I recommend it.

[outtathisworld-imagines]

Runs warm

——⚡️——☀️——⚡️——☀️——

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warning: Here we go againnnnnnn! Smut! MDNI 18+. Just pure filth. Unprotected sex, Oral (M&F rec), threesome (MMF), cum-swapping, Bob is a lil slutty submissive mess, and of course he has a praise kink, dirty talk, double penetration, teasing, eating out, swearing, overstimulation. You name it, it’s probably got it. Not proofread!

A.N: A continuation of this fic! Two of our faves again, just as filthy as the first part 🥲 Happy reading!

Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too ✨

——☀️——⚡️——☀️——⚡️——

Bob almost came in front of everyone in the living room when you and Bucky walked past.

Dressed in tight tactical gear, the two of you in deep conversation meant you didn’t notice. Bob swallowed hard seeing the outfits perfectly cling to all the curves of your bodies that he practically begged over a week ago. How the zippers came up to your necks that he kissed, and how tight the material was over your breasts that he moaned into.

The pair of you looking like goddamn models who could kill more with their looks than their knives and guns.

“We’re going to practice in the training room guys,” Bucky spoke up.

“Thanks for warning in advance!” Yelena called out. Everyone knew what training meant for the two of you.

“Yeah, and remember to clean up after yourselves after your ‘training’.” John chuckled, using his fingers as quotation marks. You rolled your eyes at his sly dig of a comment.

“Can’t help it if training gets us all hot and bothered, Walker.” You shot back at him but your eyes were locked onto Bob who was practically drooling at this point. “Knock before you enter next time.” You smirked and his face contorted before a shudder took over his body remembering the sight he saw the first time he accidently walked in.

Bob’s nostrils flared in jealously that John got to witness that.

He watched as the two of you walked away, perfectly synchronised with the most perfect view of that tight suit showing off the curve of your asses as you disappeared down the hall.

“You got that boy wrapped around your little finger, baby.” Bucky squeezed your hip, pulling you close. “Goddamn world, if we weren’t so busy with being sent out onto the field-“

You cupped his cheek “Don’t worry sweetie, we’ll have him again soon. We’ve got a few break days, and the party too.” You kissed him gently “We’ll have our fun with him again.” Bucky held onto the hope you had as the two of you reached the training room.

You grabbed a couple of pieces from the training equipment cabinet, your back facing Bucky. He mischievously smirked, twisting his fingers over the handle of his mock training knife and threw it at you. You quickly turned and caught it, surprising him. “You shouldn’t have turned your back,” he finally said in a teasing tone.

You walked towards him with a small frown on your face, reaching it out to hand him it back. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Your eyes were sad but the rest of you was begging for trouble. Bucky took the knife from you and as soon as he did, your calf met his neck and he fell to the floor with a groan. You lowly chuckled and walked away, not before he grabbed both your ankles and you hit the ground. “So this is how it’s gonna be today…” you huffed out and wound the rope you grabbed over your hand and between your fingers. “Game on, Barnes.”

Bob played his cool for at least 30 minutes.

Even then it was 30 minutes too long for him.

He made an excuse of going for an afternoon nap to get him out of the shared living space and then made his way to the training room. He watched from the door the two of you throw each other about, flipping the other to the ground, how one of you sat on top before being expertly pushed off and then pinned down. It was like he was watching foreplay but with more fly kicks.

“Hey cutie,” his ears pricked up at the mention of his nickname you had given him. He peered in a little more and saw you on one side of the room with Bucky on the other, both of you panting laboured breaths and stars of sweat droplets scattered over your foreheads. “What’s up?”

He cleared his throat, his fingers twitching against each other, something he always did when he was nervous. “Can I train with you guys?”

You and Bucky shared a glance. “Train or watch?” Bucky asked licking is his lips as if Bob was his next meal, slowly approaching him.

“Watch…” he lowly breathed out with a nervy smile.

Bucky pulled him into the room and shut the door. “You hear that, Y/N. He wants to watch.” Bucky’s hands found Bob’s shoulders and rubbed them “You like watching us?” He nodded with a gulp “I know how much you love it when we give you a show.” He kissed his cheek and you approached the two men twirling a mock-knife which somehow turned Bob on even more watching your slender fingers in action. “We’ve missed you.”

“So much,” you added. “Missed having my boys,” you squeezed yourself in the middle between them both, your free hand moving up and down Bob’s side whereas your other pressed the fake knife to Bucky’s neck, reminding him your little session wasn’t over until someone won. The two men gasped seeing you remain so composed but so willing at the same time. “Excuse us, Bob. We have a show to perform.” Bucky grabbed your arm and flung you to the middle of the training mat, remarkably landing on your feet. “Now he’s just showboating!” You told Bob, teasing Bucky who playfully growled.

He ran towards you and you leaped into the air, your legs wrapping around his torso as you spun and flipped him to the floor. You let out a laugh and Bob didn’t know what to do so clapped instead of what he wanted to do which was whipping off his sweats and touching himself at the scene unfolding before him. “Fuck!” Bucky groaned and tried standing back up but you turned him over and grabbed your rope. He knew he had lost now. You placed his hands behind his back and Bob watched in awe effortlessly you bound Bucky.

And just how much he would have loved that.

“I win,” you rolled Bucky back over and stuck your tongue out at him, your legs strangling his waist.

However, Bucky wasn’t backing down quite yet and thrusted his hips up making you moan in surprise and suddenly you were now on your back with him on top. He smirked, shooting a wink to Bob before taking your zipper that was near your neck between his teeth and slowly dragging it down beyond your cleavage and to your bellybutton. Showing enough skin to really rile both them up.

Bob thought the show in the kitchen you gave him was hot, but this was like he was thrown into a pool of lava.

You darkly laughed at the two of them and then used your strength in your legs to flip him back over. You left your suit unopened “Nuh uh, I always come out on top.” You were now straddling his chest. “You hear that Bob. Always on top.”

“Sometimes you cum on the bottom,” Bucky added and you smirked knowing that could be one of two options.

“Or in between…” Bob said which caught you both off guard.

You looked up to Bob “Well, since I’ve won, how do you think I should celebrate, Cutie?”

Bob looked between you and Bucky, a newfound, almost authoritative confidence surging through his veins.

“I think you should sit on his face.”

His straight to the point answer made both you and Bucky gawk.

“You heard me. Take off that hot as fuck suit and sit that pussy on his face.” He practically commanded. You quickly and wobbly stood up and removed your suit and underwear, both men groaning in pleasure at the sight. You felt very exposed especially with the two of them still fully dressed but a wave of excitement crashed over you.

You did as Bob asked as sat your pussy over Bucky’s eagerly awaiting opened mouth. You moaned feeling his hot tongue explore every inch of your wet folds. Your hands found his hair as you gripped onto him, he tried to free his own hands but with no luck from your tightly wound bound. “Oh fuck,” you groaned.

“That’s it, Bucky. Eat her out.” Bob stepped forward a little. “Ride his face, Y/N, rub that pussy all over his face. Get it nice and wet for me.” You were on the verge of cumming already from Bob’s words and Bucky’s talent.

You moved a little, doing a 180 turn to hold onto Bucky’s sides. Bucky’s mouth gasping for air at the opportunity. “Are you joining us or not?” He asked before you sat on him once more.

“Sor-sorry for watching. Again.” He near enough skipped forward, his palms sweating and being reminded that he always ran warm, even more so now.

“You like watching us, Bob?” You asked, toying with your breasts for him.

He let out a choke disguised as a laugh. “Can’t you tell…? Got a fucking boner from you guys just fighting. Anything you both do is hot as fuck.”

You giggled, his authoritative mask slipping a little to reveal the slutty little mess you both got to enjoy the week before. “Well you wanna practice fighting still or you wanna fuck? Although I think your dick has spoken for you.” You nodded towards his crotch with a smile.

He came over and kissed you, his hands roaming all over your body, his fingertips gently pinching your nipples and making you moan into his mouth. His lips trailed down your chest, his tongue now replacing his fingertips as it swirled over your nipples, leaving sloppy kisses in his path. You felt Bucky struggle under you, how much he wanted his arms to be free to embrace the pair of you. You saw the struggle his cock had too against the tight material. When your eyes locked onto it, Bob’s gaze then followed.

“You should give him a hand…or a mouth.” You grinned between moans.

Bob gulped and nodded, moving down Bucky’s body, his shaky hands undid his belt and with a deep breath, pulled down his tactical gear to his knees. “Fuck…” he breathed out. No matter how many times he saw you both, you were as fucking gorgeous as the last.

You saw him hesitating. “Cutie?” You called out for him. “Everything alright?” You and Bucky both slowed too, wanting to make sure he was okay.

He lowly laughed and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just…I’ve never sucked anyone off before.” He shrugged.

His innocent inexperience made your heart burst. “Aww,” you cupped his cheek and stroked your thumb over his skin. “That’s alright! Bucky loves a first timer, don’t you sweetie?”

“I sure fucking do, honey.” He said once you moved allowing him to answer and catch his breath. “Don’t worry Bob, she’ll tell you everything I love. There’s no wrong, just wanna feel your mouth on me.”

Bob felt the nerves ease, something he now realised the two of you always effortlessly did. You moved from Bucky’s mouth and Bob watched as you hovered over him. “Don’t worry, Bob, I’ll get him warmed him up for you.” Your lips met his as you sat yourself on Bucky’s cock. The two of you moaning at the sensation. You didn’t move, you kissed Bob as Bucky’s cock twitched inside you. “Oh he’s so excited for you,” you moaned against his lips and then moved off him, taking your rightful place on a throne otherwise known as Bucky’s mouth.

Bob bent down, his lips meeting Bucky’s head before biting the bullet and almost swallowing him whole. He moaned tasting the remains of you on him mixed with his salty pre-cum. “Fuck! Fucking fuck!” Bucky roared into your folds which made you cry out in pleasure.

“Just like that Bob, use your tongue to lick him too, he loves that so much.” He responded to your guidance, moaning against Bucky’s cock and feeling it hit the back of his throat when it twitched with pleasure. Bob gagged and you both let out a gruff at the gorgeous noise, you could feel yourself about to cum on Bucky’s face, that tightening coil in your stomach only wound more from the sight of Bob pleasuring Bucky with his mouth and continuing to gag on his cock. Bob looked up to you through his eyelashes and that was enough to send you over the edge. You came with an almighty scream, Bucky frantically eating you to the point where you had to roll off from sheer overstimulation. You lay on the floor catching your breath before finding enough strength to crawl to Bob.

Bucky’s head fell back, his jaw tight and his eyes closed, Bob’s pace quickened, eager to please him all while mentally wishing he had done this sooner. Your trembling fingers reached to the waistband of his sweats and you reached in, pulling them down as you did before finding his hardened cock and stroking it. Bob moaned against Bucky and the vibration that ran through his body made him groan loudly, cumming in Bob’s mouth. “Sh-shit! Oh god, yes! Fucking yes!” He yelled as he came.

“Swallow, as much as you can, Bob” you practically begged on Bucky’s behalf. “He loves it. He’ll always give you such a big load.” You watched as Bob’s Adams apple moved as he did as you asked, moaning loudly at the taste of Bucky and the fact you were touching him. “Good boy,” you praised and he let out a whimper from his lungs. “Such a good boy for us. You wanna cum on Bucky’s cock? Huh?” You asked batting your eyelashes. “When do we can both lick it all up and let him taste.” Bob struggled to nod.

“Y-y-yeah. Want that so much,” he struggled to speak even more than nodding.

You smiled watching him become undone by your hand, white ribbons of his cum decorated Bucky’s cock. The winter soldier found enough strength to moan again at the feeling. When Bob finished you both licked Bucky clean with your tongues before both going to his mouth and decanting a mixture of spit and Bob’s cum into his open mouth.

The three of you lay panting and catching your breaths on the floor, the boys keeping your naked frame warm with their bodies wrapped around it.

“You sure you never done that before?” Bucky tiredly chuckled asking Bob.

He breathlessly laughed. “Never. But fuck, I can’t wait to do it to you again.” He groaned.

You stood with a smile, pulling on your tactical gear again and helping Bob up when he reached out his hand. “Well after all that fun and excitement, I’m starved and in dire need of a shower.” You turned to Bob “You should join the team soon so they don’t get too suspicious,” you pecked his cheek.

“Uh what about-“ Bob looked to Bucky, still tied up on the floor with his pants to his knees.

“Nope!” You cut him off. “I won so he needs to figure his own way out of this very big, sweaty, cum soaked mess before anyone else comes in here…” you laughed walking away, leaving him struggling. Bucky looked at Bob pleadingly and he went to bend down to help, just having the chance to pull up his tactical gear and cover him more modestly before you came back, grabbed him by the neck of his sweatshirt and pulling him away. “I told you I won.”

Bucky groaned “I yield Y/N! I yield!”

—•—

“I hate these things.” You complained, trying to fasten your necklace.

“The necklace or the party…?” Bucky laughed and helped your struggling hands, his own brushing against the back of your neck. “There you go,” he kissed the spot above the clasp.

“The party, so pointless, just a bunch of people flaunting about how influential they are- pisses me off.” You huffed, now organising your clutch.

Bucky breathily chuckled “You’re so hot when you’re pissed.” You swatted away his flirty tone, he came up and hugged you from behind, kissing your exposed shoulder and melting away the stresses inside you. “I don’t like them either but seeing you like this always makes them better, doll.”

Bucky walked away to grab his suit jacket, you had stopped fidgeting with your bag and blinked at the nickname. It was one you hadn’t heard in years.

“What?” You quietly said.

“What do you mean what?”

“You called me doll again.”

The room fell silent, a ghost of a smile appearing and then vanishing over his face. “Huh, guess I did.” He left the room before you could further question it, both of you unsure of what just happened.

You made your way to meet up with the rest of the team who were all gawking and gushing over outfits. Then all eyes fell to you and soft gasps filled the room, Bucky looked at you with a proud smile, Bob’s jaw dropped to the floor and your lover subtly nudged him to ensure he kept his cool around your other teammates. You looked him up and down, his crooked bow tie and his converse peeking out under the hem of his suit pants. He was a far cry from Bucky, but that’s what you liked.

“Hoo boy!” Alexei yelled whilst clapping. “Our lineup is beautifully complete with stunning Y/N!” You playfully rolled your eyes and lightly pushed his arm before twirling in your black, one shoulder dress with a cut exposing your leg to the world. “Let’s go! The red chariot awaits!”

You raised a brow “Will we all fit in the limo?” Alexei looked at you as if to say of course. “I mean between the half bottle of vodka and the Cheeto packets I’m sure we will all be as snug as bugs.” Bucky chuckled.

“There will be plenty of room!” He insisted.

“There will be if we all sat on top of each other,” Bucky quickly added. You and the two men you had your way with the day before sent each other a glance, holding back a smile.

“What else do you suggest we do? We all ride Bob?” John joked.

“Hmm could you imagine riding Bob? What a funny thought...” Bucky said in a dry tone looking at you and causing your face to become stoic.

Alexei waved his arms dramatically, not noticing the bubbling tension. “Ah she is robust enough to handle all of us!”

You laughed “As much as I’d love the limo, I’ll drive some of us in my car.”

Bobs hand flew up “I’ll go with Y/N.”

Bucky smirked “Going to have to change your shoes first, bud. Pretty sure they won’t let you in with converse on. He can ride with us, guys. You can go ahead, we will meet you there.”

Bob lightly jogged to fetch his smarter shoes, Alexei pleading with him. He turned around, still keeping his pace and using his hands to weigh up options. “Hmm….Sexy sports car versus a red limo with bullet holes in it…yeah. Sports car it is. Sorry Alexei! Besides my nights are never boring.” He winked to the group and everyone looked at him shocked. You and Bucky sent a side-eye glance to one another wondering just what you had unlocked within him.

You met with Bob in the garage, you and Bucky greeting him with a smile. You fixed his tie, straightening it out for him. “Ready?” You asked and he nodded, jumping in the back of the car as Bucky opened your door and then made his way to the passenger side.

“GPS says seven minutes away,” you started pulling out from the basement of the watchtower.

“Seven minutes in heaven…?” Bucky suggestively said while feeling up your exposed leg, Bob watching the two of you interact from the back seat, his palms already becoming clammy at the sight.

“You wish,” you mumbled under your breath, concentrating on the road. You looked to Bob in your rearview mirror, noticing he now had a book in his hand which he was engrossed in. “Whatcha reading, cutie?”

“Kama Sutra.”

You almost crashed the car at his nonchalant tone combined with his admission. Bucky choked on thin air.

Bob laughed “I’m kidding! I’m kidding you guys.” He mischievously giggled. “It’s just a booklet about the gala party we are going to tonight.” You tried to catch your breath and haphazardly laughed along with Bucky at his little prank. “Although I should probably read it. Might come in handy with the two of you.” His voice suddenly turned dark.

Your hands tightened around the steering wheel, trying to focus and concentrate on the streets of New York.

“We did it right where you’re sitting.” Bucky’s voice broke the silence.

Bob groaned, his hands feeling the soft leather that surrounded him, picturing your softer bodies there. “Fuck. That’s fucking hot. Can the two of you do me back here?”

You and Bucky both smirked “Anything you want, Bobby.” He replied.

When you arrived to the party Bucky helped you out of the car, supporting you by linking your arm in his. Bob walked behind you both intently watching as your hips perfectly swayed up the stairs. You glanced behind your shoulder noticing Bob’s eyes fixated on you both and whispered to Bucky who then looked too, smiling to himself noticing Bob’s entranced stare.

The team mingled with others throughout the evening, you found yourself on your own at one point looking at all the information plates that were tied to your past. You walked up to one, Steve’s original suit and sighed, your fingers discreetly touching the glass. “I still miss him too.” Bucky’s voice snapped you back to reality. “We can’t change the past.”

“Why’d you call me ‘doll’ again?” You quietly asked. “It’s been so long I almost forgot it,” you dryly laughed, not an ounce of humour in it. The nickname still played on your mind, one that he only dedicated to using around you with Steve all those years ago.

You watched as he tried to search for the right answer, his mouth gaping and then shutting. “I suppose I’m just really happy again.” He said reaching for your hand “I was always really happy before, with you, I always am. But having someone like Bob for us…I dunno feels like those old times that I didn’t know how much I missed until it happened.” His soft confessions in the quiet corner of the room made your heart swell.

“Bob reminds me of Steve in lots of ways.” You said, looking at the suit again.

“Hmm, me too.” He smiled to himself. “You okay?” He asked, always wanting to check in with you. You nodded your head and he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You wanna go home?” You nodded again. Bucky looked up, seeing Bob there. “Think someone wants to go home with us too…” you turned and saw him, you could see him mentally picturing you both with him again already.

“I think we should try something on him tonight. I noticed him get very excited when I used the ropes.” Bucky raised a brow at what you had said. “Maybe since he likes watching so much we tease him with that too…” your plan was vocally coming alive. “You up for that sweetie?” You asked Bucky in an angelic voice. He responded by practically dragging you and Bob back to the car.

The second the three of you arrived back to the tower and into your room your mouths were latched onto one another. Arms everywhere as you all tried to remove your clothing as quickly as possible.

“You both looked so fucking sexy tonight,” Bob moaned against Bucky’s lips.

“So did you, cutie. We just couldn’t wait to get you home.” You said with a smile, slipping out of your dress. “Fuck you senseless.” He loudly moaned into the air at your words. “We wanna play a little game with you tonight if you’re up for it?”

He nodded, willing to agree to anything, he just wanted to have you both again. Not even meth got him this high. “Everything, told you guys I wanted to do everything.”

You climbed off the bed and fished around in the drawer while the two men kissed and groped one another on the bed, shedding their clothes with each kiss until they were just in their underwear like you. You faced the bed, Bucky directing Bob’s attention to you. He saw you twisting a rope in your hand “I saw how much it got you excited. We wanna tie you up and have some fun with you.”

Bob was fairly certain he already came at your words with the noise he made. He usually ran warm, but he felt like he was on fire. “You done this before?” Bucky asked and he shook his head no. You and Bucky shared a look one of excited arousal and concern. “Let’s make a safe word, just incase.” He pecked his lips. You and Bob both agreed and pondered until he came up with one.

“Cucumber?” He said and you and Bucky chuckled.

“Cucumber it is,” you said wrapping the rope even tighter around your hand and throwing yourself on the bed. Bucky brought Bob’s arms to the bed frame and you wrapped the rope around his hands and wrists, tying him to the bed.

“Fuck…” he groaned as Bucky removed his underwear and then his own along with yours. You and Bucky lay either side of him and kissed every inch of his body before meeting at his cock. The two of you dragged your tongues across either side of his shaft, his hips involuntary jolting and rising up at the sensation. Bucky smirked and held them back down again, his tongue brushing against your own every so often as Bob’s moans reached the walls of your room. Bucky’s mouth surrounded his cock as you moved to Bob’s face.

“Open wide, cutie,” you demanded and his tongue eagerly awaited your dripping pussy. His arms shook, almost forgetting what state he was in. He just wanted to grab you both, hold you both, but the denial you had bestowed upon him was settling in. “Oh, oh fuck, Bob.” You moaned, Bucky’s eyes looking up and catching you sitting on Bob’s face.

“So fucking hot,” he moaned against Bob’s cock, now using his hand along with his mouth.

“He takes it like such a good boy doesn’t he, Buck?” You whined, jutting your hips against his head. “Such a good boy, Bob.” He moaned against you, always being so willing and eager to please. His throat became hoarse as he felt a rush through his body. “Shit, Buck he’s gonna cum already.”

Bucky pulled back with a gasp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while Bob practically screamed into your pussy as the sensation was suddenly taken away from him. You and Bucky laughed “Not that quick, Bobby.” Bucky warned “We want to play with you more.”

Bucky pulled you from his mouth and kissed you, Bob struggled against the rope. “You guys,” he whined “Please, please! Fuck!” He cried out as you and Bucky made out in front of him, your hands roaming all over each other suddenly making him feel a little left out. “Fuck me, god, please!” He begged.

“So needy,” you teased “So desperate to cum for us are you?” You and Bucky moved to either side of him and peppered kisses all over his face. Bob tried his best not to burst into tears from the fact he was about to burst in another way any moment now. “Hey Bucky?”

“Yes honey?”

Bob didn’t like the sound of this.

It was the sound of your plotting coming to its crescendo. “Since Bob loves watching us so much, let’s make him watch us fuck. Leave him on the bed, we’ll fuck over the top of him.”

Bucky wickedly smirked “Sure thing, doll.” He winked and your heart skipped a beat at the nickname again.

“Y/N please don’t do this! I’ve been so good! Do whatever you want but just do me right now too!” He pleaded, fully submitting himself to you both. You ignored him as you got on all fours above him. “Bucky! I’ll let you give me a facial or whatever you want! Just don’t listen to her! Just fucking touch me!”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “What makes you think I won’t do that anyway?” He said “Gonna fuck my Y/N and then coat you in my cum, let her clean it up.”

You pressed a kiss to Bobs lips as Bucky brought his hips forward, fucking you from behind. “Oh god! Fuck! So good. So. Fucking. Good!” You moaned, Bob struggled under you both. “You love watching us don’t you, cutie? Bet you wish it was you doing or getting this.” He frantically nodded “Bucky might even fuck you soon if you’re a good boy and if that’s what you want. You gotta prove that to him though. Takes him a little while to warm up to someone,” he forcefully spanked your ass. “FUCK!” The slapping of your two bodies almost made a tear slip from Bob’s eye. He wanted to break free from your bounds and reach you both. His hips levitated off the bed and you giggled at the sight of him being so desperate.

“Gonna cum so- shit! So fucking soon!” Bucky panted out, hands firmly gripping your hips. “Love having you on all fours for me, baby, so fucking hot! Ain’t she Bobby?”

“Fuck!” He let out a gritty scream “I’m gonna cum just like this,” he was on the verge of imploding, especially watching you cum above him, your eyes shutting, swears dripping from your lips and then your mouth forming the most perfect smile after you did.

“Shit, I’m gonna fucking cum too.” Bucky gently pushed you to the side, you placed your face with your tongue out beside Bob’s desperately wincing one as Bucky came over the two of you. “God, so fucking stunning with my cum on your faces. Clean him up Y/N.” You dragged your tongue over Bob’s features, licking up and savouring every last drop. Bob watched as Bucky licked yours, then hovering over him commanding that he opened his mouth which allowed him to spit his cum down Bobs throat. “Let’s finish him off together, Y/N. He’s gonna cum before we even touch him again.” You both chuckled at the sight of him wriggling and writhing with his arms above his head.

You and Bucky both brought your hands around his cock and watched him bathe in relieved pleasure. “Thank you so, so much,” he cried out “Oh god I’m gonna cum so fucking fast because of you guys.”

“Then be a good boy and cum,” your sultry tone made him release a feral moan.

“And then when you do, we won’t stop until we make you cum again. Gonna milk you dry, Bob.” Bucky darkly laughed as he watched the man on the bed let out a loud roar, his body almost fully lifted off the bed as he finally came over your hands. His cum lubricated your hands more, making a slick noise that filled the room between his moans.

His chest pulsating as you both kept pumping, his hands frantically trying to untie the rope. “Guys, I don’t know if I can again!” His voice was starting to pitch.

“Not with that attitude you won’t,” Bucky said, intently watching Bob’s twitching cock.

“Yeah, cutie, thought you wanted to cum for us so badly…” your sweet voice sent Bob over the edge again, his cock suddenly spilling out again as tears of pure pleasure slipped from his eyes. “Good boy!” You praised “Let’s get him all cleaned up, Buck.”

You unraveled his hands, his arms having no strength to move as he desperately caught his breath again. Bucky brought a wet flannel to cool him down. Bob was shaking as shockwaves of pleasure continued pulsating throughout his body. “The two of you…something else. Something…so fucking perfect.” He said with each breath.

You gently placed back on his underwear before you grabbed yours and Bucky’s, crawling into the bed together with Bob. “You okay, doll?” He asked you and you nodded with a smile, asking him the same and getting a nod and wink in response.

The three of you closed your eyes, limbs lazily draped over each other as Bob enjoyed being sandwiched between you both as the three of you caught your composure again. “What are we?” Bob suddenly asked you and Bucky.

Your eyes met with Bucky’s and you blinked, not ever being asked that question before. “What do you mean?” Bucky asked.

“The three of us.” Bob replied.

You turned, looking up to him and resting your chin on his shoulder. “What would you like us to be?”

“I like this. I like all of us. I like you both.” He softly admitted.

Bucky mirrored your actions. “Then that’s what we’ll be.” He said “It will be us three.”

—•—

It was raining in New York, a dreary wet day with no sign of clearing up.

Everyone was lazing about in the living room, you were reading with a cover tossed over you, Yelena was on her phone, Bucky and John were arguing about something, Ava and Bob engrossed in a conversation about New York’s best pizza and Alexei was on his tablet, trying to get bookings for his limo service.

“Maybe we should all go on vacation?” Yelena suggested out of the blue. Your ears all perked up and smiles dashed across your faces.

“That sounds good!” You sat up a little more “Somewhere warm.”

“With a pool!” Ava requested.

“All you can eat buffet!” Alexei added. You all looked at him with a raised brow.

“Vacation sounds nice.” Bob spoke up, his fingers twiddling together, it made you and Bucky smile. He was wearing one of Bucky’s tight black tops which you were on the verge of ripping off, seeing the two boys matching. You had a feeling they planned that just for you.

“Is anyone bringing anyone along?” John asked “I could maybe ask Olivia and she can bring the baby. Could be my chance to reconnect and get another opportunity with them again.”

“Sure, why not?” Alexei said before smiling to himself. “Maybe I can bring one of my many fancy lady friends…”

You rolled your eyes with a smirk “Any number times zero is still zero…” you playfully jibed and Alexei sent you a deadpanned glare before standing up and rushing towards you, throwing you over his shoulder causing you to scream and laugh in response. “Put me down!” You giggled and he tossed your back on the sofa as the others laughed with you both.

Ava turned to Bob again. “Who would you take Bob?” She asked and he shrugged a shoulder. “Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Any friend?”

He nervously smiled and played with the hem of his gifted top. “You guys are my friends. I’ll go with you guys, wouldn’t want to go with anyone else.” He said, eyes darting between you and Bucky. The team felt a rush of content at his kind words.

You and Bucky felt something different entirely.

Bucky bit down on his lip and suddenly stood up, looking at both you and Bob. “Well, I’ll start looking out my speedos.”

—•—

PART 3- ‘cumming’ soon 😉

[el4ise]

applecrow reactions when some girl tries to flirt with them while you're beside them! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

× includes sylus & caleb, fluff ᯓ

light kisses ( ◜ᴗ◝)

read below the cut <3

SYLUS

you and sylus were at an auction. he had some spare time in the N109 zone and invited you to come with him. there you were now clinging onto his arms, wearing the black silk dress he bought you last week.

“I must say, kitten. you look even better than I imagined in this dress.” his voice barely above a whisper as you strolled through the numerous different artworks. “you chose it, ofcourse it'll look pretty.” his chuckle echoes in your ears as he slightly leans down, muttering. “the one wearing it is even prettier.” you simply smile at his remark as he pecks a light kiss on your head. stopping at a gorgeous clay model of a lady. as if on cue, a woman dressed in a white dress steps from behind the sculpture.

“are you interested in buying this, sir?” the woman smiles at him, she raises her hands and grazes it on the work. “it's one of the best in here. made by the one and only me.” she laughs, batting her eyelashes to sylus. “but maybe.. it's not the best since.. you're here?” she giggles, I catch a glimpse of her eyes darting to mine with a rather daring glare. I bit my lower lip. before I could speak, sylus crimson eyes glows, his evol grips her wrist with an intense force. “your voice irritates me like nails on a chalkboard.” he lets out an exhale, “..and I am simply not the best when my wife is standing beside me.” the red ropes of evol that clung around her slowly faded as she held her wrists in pain.

“get your artwork out of here. it's nowhere near close to the beauty of my sweetheart.”

CALEB

after weeks of the farspace colonel having a hectic schedule, he finally cleared his agenda. which is why he's with you as you stroll through the old streets of your neighborhood.

“you sure you don't want to rest instead, cae? I know you've been busy and this is your only day off an—” he cuts you off, patting your head. “c'mon pips. you know my answer to that. you are my rest.” he chuckles. kissing your cheek. his arm draped over your shoulder. as you stray on the sidewalk, a girl suddenly stops right in front of caleb. “oh my gosh, is that you? caleb?” I turn to him confused, and he looks at me with the same expression. “I'm sorry, who are you?” the girl simply laughs and jokingly hits his shoulder. you didn't like that. “it's me, dianna! from the DAA? we were in the same class remember? oh my gosh you've grown so much! gosh. you're even more handsome now. y'know we could go grab dinne—” he smiles at her, though it's laced with bitterness and irritation. “sorry. don't remember ya. specially when my minds always preoccupied with the thought of my beautiful, gorgeous pipsqueak. yeah?” he turns to me suddenly, his arms that were previously on my shoulder now holding my waist firmly. “this was a good catch up. me and my girlfriend will get going now, bye!”

he tattles as he intertwines my hand with his and drags me away, leaving the girl stunned.

© work of httpzsho 𐙚 do not repost, translate or copy.

[joelsrose]

chapter 4!!!! i love this story so much omggg - as always, i hope you guys enjoy xxx

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You were ecstatic—buzzing, practically vibrating with excitement as the sun crept over Jackson’s rooftops like it, too, was eager for what the day might bring.

Today was the day: Joel Miller’s first date in what was likely two decades, maybe more, and you had been the orchestrator of it all.

The entire thing had lived in your head for a week now, spinning like a little carousel of possibilities—some disastrous, some dreamy, some wildly romantic like something out of the battered books you kept stacked beside your bed.

You’d imagined a dozen outcomes: Joel arriving early with flowers (unlikely), Joel cracking a rare joke over dessert (a stretch), Joel sitting with his arms folded refusing to speak (realistic), and even one where he somehow fell instantly, hopelessly in love (a girl can dream).

But most of all, you hoped—really, truly hoped—that he’d try.

You had found someone you thought was perfect. Her name was Naomi—mid-forties, soft-spoken but sharp as a tack, with kind eyes and a laugh that could warm a cold room.

She worked with the school’s little garden co-op, loved to read mystery novels, and once told you that she’d be open to something “real” if it came along. And when you’d nervously shown her Joel’s name in your journal (complete with scribbled-out lines and notes in pink ink), she had blinked, smiled faintly, and said, “He’s handsome. I wouldn’t mind meeting him.”

That alone had made your heart flutter with cautious hope.

Their date was going to be at the dining hall—humble, yes, but at sunset it turned soft and sweet, the candles on the tables flickering like tiny promises. You’d even roped in one of the cooks that night to make something nice—nothing fancy, just warm bread, grilled fish, and the kind of roasted vegetables that made even the most stoic Jacksoners groan with delight.

You’d told Joel you’d meet him at the dining hall, just to make sure everything went smoothly—not that you thought he needed you, exactly, but because a tiny, worried part of you couldn’t bear the idea of him showing up alone and uncomfortable, his arms crossed and jaw tight, already halfway out the door before the poor woman even said hello.

And though he’d grumbled something predictably Joel—something along the lines of, “I don’t need no damn babysitter,” or maybe it was “Like hell you’re watchin’ me like some charity case”—you hadn’t really listened, because the miracle had already happened: he was going.

Joel Miller, who frowned at butterflies like they personally offended him, who didn’t eat dessert because he was apparently too proud for joy, who moved through town like he was allergic to small talk—was going on a date.

And not because Maria begged him, or because Tommy tricked him, but because you had asked.

Because somehow, after all the sighs and sharp looks and muttered curses, he had agreed to try.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You sat—not subtly, despite your best efforts—tucked into the far corner of the dining hall, half-hidden behind a tall, mismatched stack of crates and a poorly potted plant that offered minimal cover but enough plausible deniability.

From your perch, you watched with the anxiety of a director at opening night as Joel sat at the table, looking profoundly out of place, his posture slightly slumped like he was already apologizing for being there. His shirt was unironed, the sleeves unevenly rolled, and his hair looked like he’d run a hand through it once out of obligation and then given up entirely. You winced.

When his eyes flicked up and caught yours across the room, you straightened your back instinctively and mouthed, “Sit straight,” even modeling the posture with a meaningful lift of your shoulders. Joel blinked once, scowled like a grumpy schoolboy, and adjusted stiffly, muttering something under his breath as he did so.

And then Naomi walked in.

She looked lovely—effortlessly polished in a way that made you feel a flicker of hopeful pride. Her braid was neat, her dress floral and soft, and as she approached the table, you could see the faint smile of curiosity tug at her lips.

Joel stood up, which you had to admit was a win, but any warm feelings were quickly extinguished as he greeted her with an awkward, two-handed handshake—firm and businesslike, like he was closing a deal rather than stepping into a date.

Not a hug, not even a kiss on the cheek, just a dry, utilitarian shake that made Naomi tilt her head a little, puzzled. Then he sat—sat—without offering her chair, the screech of his wooden seat dragging across the floor echoing through the hall like a warning bell.

You physically cringed, your hand flying to your forehead as you whispered, “Oh, God,” under your breath, already bracing for the slow-motion disaster about to unfold before your very eyes.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You weren’t a body language expert by any means—didn’t need to be. Anyone with a pair of eyes and half a brain could tell this date was going up in flames before the second course even hit the table.

Joel sat stiff as stone, arms crossed so tightly across his chest you wondered if he was keeping himself from bolting. He didn’t smile, not once—not even the tight-lipped kind people give when they’re trying to be polite.

His jaw was set, his mouth a thin, immovable line, and the only real movement he made was stabbing his fork into his mashed potatoes like they’d wronged him personally.

You watched in slow-building horror as he grunted in response to Naomi’s questions, barely making eye contact, and at one point—at one godforsaken point—he actually leaned away from her mid-sentence to refill his water glass with all the grace of a brick wall.

You ran your hands through your hair, heart racing, like maybe the friction would rub the secondhand embarrassment off your skin. You wanted to crawl under the table. You wanted to crawl out of your skin. He was paying more attention to his peas than the gorgeous, interesting, totally game woman you’d found for him, and all you could do was stare, helpless, as your most promising Cupid endeavor to date unraveled like a badly-knitted scarf in the middle of winter.

You kept watching like it was a car crash happening in slow motion—horrifying, inevitable, and impossible to look away from.

Joel said something—you couldn’t hear it over the clatter of cutlery and murmur of nearby tables—but you saw Naomi’s brows shoot up, her head tilt just slightly, the way a woman does when she’s giving someone one last chance to backpedal. Joel, of course, did not backpedal. His mouth moved again, probably something gruff and dismissive in that grumpy cowboy drawl of his, and you actually saw Naomi scoff. Not laugh. Not smile. Scoff. Sharp, unimpressed, and loud enough that a few heads turned.

Then, just like that, she pushed back from the table with a scrape of chair legs that echoed louder than it had any right to, grabbed her coat, and left without another word. You were frozen, eyes wide, mouth half-open, watching as Joel just blinked at her retreating form like she’d spilled her drink and he wasn’t sure if he should clean it up or not.

As soon as the door swung shut behind Naomi, you didn’t hesitate—not even for a second. You launched out of your hiding spot like a woman on a mission, practically sprinting across the dining hall, weaving between chairs and startled diners until you slid into the now-vacant seat opposite Joel. You leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes wide and incredulous, like you’d just walked in on a crime scene.

“Joel,” you hissed, voice pitched low but vibrating with disbelief, “what the hell happened?”

He barely looked up from his half-eaten plate, casually poking at a piece of roasted potato like this wasn’t the dating equivalent of a four-alarm fire. “We didn’t click,” he said, with a shrug so nonchalant it nearly made your head explode.

“Joel,” you said again, dragging out the syllables like a prayer for patience, “why did she get up and leave like that? Like you insulted her lineage or ran over her kid!?”

He gave you a look, the picture of stone-faced indifference, and mumbled, “I don’t know. She was talkin’ about her cat.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And what did you say, Joel?”

He paused for a beat, glanced away, then muttered under his breath, “I said I don’t trust people who let animals sleep in their bed.”

You blinked at him. “Jesus, Joel.”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter, like he hadn’t just taken a flamethrower to a perfectly decent date. “Didn’t like me the second she sat down.”

“Yeah, Joel,” you said, exasperated, “maybe because you said three words total, insulted her cat, and greeted her like she was an IRS agent coming to audit your crops. You shook her hand.”

He scowled deeper, already standing, already grabbing his coat like this whole night had been a bad dream he could storm away from. “That’s enough,” he muttered, brushing past you, out the door and into the cold.

“What the hell,” you hissed, pushing your chair in with a sharp scrape, bolting after him.

You caught up with him just outside, your breath fogging in the evening air as you jogged to close the space between you. “Joel! Stop.”

He did. He turned on a heel, the movement sharp, sudden, and his voice was rough when it came out. “What? Is that why you’re here? To tell me how shit I did? You think I don’t know I fucked it up? You don’t think I’m aware I ain’t some charming, fresh-faced guy women line up for? I know what I am. I know I’m well past my goddamn prime.”

You stared at him—this big, broad, stubborn man who looked like he was made of iron and regret, standing under the soft street light like it was trying to make something warm out of someone who didn’t believe he could be.

“Stop it,” you said, firm, breathless. “You want me to feel sorry for you? I won’t. Because you’re not past your prime, Joel. You’re still here. Still living. Still capable. You’re handsome, whether you believe it or not—Naomi said so herself before she even met you.”

He froze.

You could see it—that flicker of something in his eyes, just barely there, something startled and unsure. And it wasn’t your scolding that got to him, or the fact that you’d followed him out into the cold like you cared enough to keep trying.

It was that one word. Handsome.

Because you—who wore sweaters with daisies on them and drank out of a chipped Little Miss Sunshine mug and believed in soulmates and fresh starts and love at first sight—you had called him handsome. Had looked at him like there was still something good there. Something worthy.

He shifted, his shoulders tight, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat like he was trying to tuck his embarrassment away with them. His gaze didn’t quite meet yours, instead flicking sideways, focused on some invisible spot in the dirt. “Alright,” he muttered gruffly, voice thick with something he wasn’t ready to name. “Maybe I shouldn’t’ve shaken her hand.”

You watched him, lips twitching with the threat of a smile you didn’t dare let fully bloom just yet. “You think?” you said, teasing but warm, your voice low like you didn’t want to scare off this rare, soft moment.

He sighed, and it felt like it came from somewhere deep—bone-deep, years-deep. “I should’ve talked more. Been less—” he gestured vaguely, almost helplessly, “—me. More gentlemanly or whatever. It’s been a while.”

You took a step closer, slow and steady, like you were approaching a wild animal that didn’t quite know how to accept kindness. Your fingers brushed his forearm first, then settled there, grounding, gentle. He didn’t flinch. Just looked down at your hand like it was the first warm thing he’d felt all day.

“And that’s okay, Joel,” you said softly, eyes on his, voice like honey and heartache. “No one’s asking you to be perfect. You don’t have to get it right the first time. Or the second. We just… have to try. A little more. Next time.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours then, a brow arching with something halfway between surprise and amusement. “Next time?”

“Oh yeah,” you said, your hand still on his arm, your eyes sparkling with something fierce and fond. “I’m not givin’ up on you yet, cowboy.”

That earned you a sound you hadn’t heard before—a real chuckle, low and rough, pulled from somewhere deep in his chest. It made something in you light up, bright and effervescent.

He shook his head, just slightly, like he couldn’t believe you, like he was still fighting the smile threatening his own mouth. “You’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, but this time, it sounded an awful lot like a compliment.

And you just grinned, the wind catching your hair, the cold forgotten entirely. Because for once, Joel Miller didn’t look like he wanted to disappear into the night.

He looked like he might actually be willing to stay.

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i wont be doing a tag list angels, im sorry it gets so confusing and messy for me !!! hope you understand xx

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 17/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : none

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 17 :

Paris was grey that morning.

The kind of grey that soaked through wool and bone. That made the Seine look like smoke and the streets like a sigh.

Lando didn’t notice. Not really.

He stepped out of the car across from the Palais Garnier with a heartbeat he could hear in his throat. Cold air clung to him. His fingers were stuffed into the sleeves of a coat that wasn’t warm enough, his curls flattened by wind and worry.

He looked up at the gilded facade, the statues and columns, the massive green dome rising like it held all the stories in the world. The building seemed to breathe with history and elegance, like it knew he didn’t belong here.

But he went in anyway.

The woman at the front desk stopped him before he’d even made it past the first velvet rope.

“I’m sorry, monsieur. This entrance is for staff and registered company members only.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I’m not… I’m not trying to sneak in or anything. I just—” He hesitated, suddenly aware of how stupid he sounded. “I’m looking for someone.”

She raised a brow.

“Ariana Riverria.”

The name landed like a note played too softly on a grand piano.

The woman blinked once. Her voice stayed polite. “Mademoiselle Riverria is in rehearsal. Visitors aren’t permitted inside the studios.”

“I know. I’m not trying to interrupt. I just… I thought maybe I could wait?” he asked, quieter now. “Just in the lobby. I won’t cause any trouble. I just need to see her. Just for a minute.”

Something in his eyes must have reached her, the guilt, the longing, the grief still bleeding under the skin.

She sighed.

“You can sit. But you’ll have to wait until classes end. Maybe someone can pass a message, if she comes by the desk.”

“Thank you,” he breathed.

He took a seat on one of the antique benches, hands clenched together between his knees. Time slowed. The walls stretched. People came and went, dancers, staff, tourists with quiet steps and velvet voices.

And Lando waited.

Hours passed.

Every time a girl with dark hair in a long coat crossed the marble floor, he sat up straighter, heart thudding, only to deflate again when it wasn’t her.

Rumors started.

Who’s the guy in the corner?

He’s been here all morning.

Is he okay?

Some whispered he looked familiar.

Others said he was handsome. Some girls smiled at him. One even asked if he was waiting for someone important. He just nodded.

The woman at the desk checked on him once. Slid a bottle of water across the counter with a faint smile. “Still nothing,” she murmured.

He nodded. “I’ll wait.”

By late afternoon, the sky had gone gold behind the stained-glass windows. The lamps flickered on, and the lobby glowed.

He had stopped checking his phone hours ago.

He had stopped trying to rehearse what he’d say, too. The speech had dissolved into dust somewhere around the fifth hour. All that was left was a feeling, sharp, aching, restless.

And then…

The doors opened again.

Footsteps. Light ones.

And Lando knew, before he saw her face that it was her.

Ariana stepped into the lobby in her long black coat, hair tucked into a soft scarf, ballet shoes in her gym bag hanging off one shoulder.

She paused.

Her body stilled, not with surprise, but something else.

Something colder.

Lando stood slowly, legs stiff, heart pounding like it had been waiting for this cue all day.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The marble floor between them felt endless.

She didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

The words he’d rehearsed “I’m sorry,” “I was wrong,” “I miss you,” “I love you” all of them collapsed inside his mouth.

He looked at her like a man who had been crawling through a desert and finally found water.

She looked at him like she wasn’t sure what to say.

His voice, when it came, was rough. Quiet. Scared.

“Can we talk?”

A pause.

“Please?”

They didn’t speak again until they were alone.

Ariana led him to a side corridor, past the main rehearsal halls, to a small room tucked behind a velvet curtain, a warm-up studio, empty now. The light was soft, slanting through the tall windows in amber streaks. Dust floated in the air like breath held too long.

She dropped her bag in the corner.

He didn’t sit.

Neither did she.

They just stood there, ten feet apart, hearts louder than their voices.

Lando swallowed hard.

“I didn’t come here to fix everything in one conversation,” he said. “I came because… I couldn’t live with the way we ended.”

She didn’t interrupt.

“I said things I didn’t mean. I said things out of fear, not truth. I let jealousy get in my head, and I let doubt speak for me instead of love. And that’s not who I want to be. Not with you.”

He looked up, eyes glassy.

“You were honest with me. In your way. Quiet, careful, soft. And I… I didn’t know how to handle that. I wanted loud proof. Concrete answers. I didn’t know how to listen to silence.”

Still, she said nothing.

“I should’ve asked instead of assuming. Should’ve trusted you when you gave me every reason to. I let something from before define something we were still building. And I know now, that was the worst thing I could do.”

A pause.

He stepped closer, slow, not too close.

“I miss you,” he whispered. “Every morning. Every night. Every time I look at my phone and hope to see your name. Every time someone asks if I’m okay and I want to say your name instead of answering.”

Finally, Ariana spoke, voice steady, but hushed.

“I left because I had to. Not because I wanted to.”

Lando nodded, wordless.

“I left because… I gave you the most fragile piece of me. I gave you the part I swore I’d never give anyone again. And the first time it cracked, you dropped it.”

She stepped toward him now, arms still crossed, but closer.

“I know you didn’t mean to. I know you were scared. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.”

He exhaled, jaw clenched. “I know.”

“It wasn’t about you being jealous. Not really. It was about being asked to prove something I’d already shown you every day I was with you. In the way I held your hand when no one was looking. In the way I let you into my world even when I was still learning how to feel safe again.”

She looked away, then back.

“And when you questioned that... it felt like everything I feared was true. That love is never enough. That even when I give everything, it won’t be believed.”

Lando’s voice cracked. “I believed it. I just… I panicked.”

“I know.”

They stood in that truth for a while.

Then Lando spoke again, quieter now, voice shaking like a branch about to snap.

“I saw the post,” he said. “About Marc.”

Ariana’s eyes flickered.

“I saw what the Royal Ballet said. I saw everything people are saying.” He looked away for a second, like it burned to remember. “God, Ariana. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to believe you were still with him, but I let what I saw online—what he wanted people to see—convince me.”

He looked at her again, fully, with nothing to hide behind. “I’m so sorry. For the way I reacted. For not seeing the truth. For not asking.”

Ariana’s shoulders rose slightly, then lowered. Her voice came quiet. “I know. I saw your texts.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Then she stepped back slightly, not away, just enough to breathe.

“When we were together… Marc lied. He cheated. He said things that hurt. He’d lose his temper sometimes. But it never got too bad. Not then…”

She paused.

Lando’s throat worked around the lump that rose. “That’s already too much, Ariana.”

Her eyes lifted to his, suddenly more tired than anything else. “It was worse after I left him.”

Lando stilled.

“That’s when he showed who he really was. He started making calls. Quiet ones. Blocking me from auditions. Dropping comments to directors. He told people we were still together. Told me I had to act like it, if I wanted to stay ‘relevant’ in the company. That I owed him, for everything he helped me get.”

Lando’s chest felt like it might split open. “Jesus, Ari…”

She kept going. Not coldly. Not with pity. Just fact.

“He manipulated every room he walked into. And I let it go on for months."

Lando’s jaw tightened. “That’s—Ariana, that’s… horrible. I'm so sorry really, I should've been better."

She looked up at him, tired but calm.

“I’m glad it’s out now. I’m glad he’s fired. But I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t want to think about him.”

Lando nodded slowly. “Okay. I understand.”

Then, softly, like she didn’t want the words to exist yet she says “I miss you too you know ?"

His breath hitched.

“But,” she added, eyes meeting his, “I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Lando nodded.

“I don’t expect you to. Not yet.”

She blinked. Surprised by how easily he accepted that.

“But I’m going to earn it,” he said. “With showing up. With doing the hard work of being better.”

He stepped closer now, just close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, not touching, but there.

“Because I know it now. It’s you. It’s always been you. And I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need. Because in my world, the noise, the chaos, the spotlight, you were the only thing that ever felt quiet.”

She didn’t speak for a long moment.

Then, a small smile tugged at her lips. Sad. Soft. Real.

Her voice broke on the edges.

“You matter to me too, Lando. That’s why it hurt so much.”

His eyes brimmed again. “Then let me try.”

She looked at him for a long time, studying him not like a stranger, but like someone she still recognized beneath the cracks.

Finally, she whispered, “Okay.”

The walk back to her apartment was quiet.

Not the uncomfortable kind, not anymore, but the kind that breathes. That lets two people simply exist beside one another, hearts still sore, but beating in sync again.

It was dusk in Paris. The sky the color of a bruised peach, buildings blushed in soft golds. The world was winding down. But for Lando, something was just beginning again.

Ariana didn’t say much on the way. He didn’t need her to.

He was too focused on the way her hand kept brushing his, not quite holding it, not yet, but close enough that he could feel her warmth and knew that maybe, someday soon, she’d let him hold it again.

When they reached her door, she paused with her key in hand.

Then she looked at him. Quiet. Unsure.

“Do you want to come up?”

He blinked.

He hadn’t expected that. Not yet.

But his chest tightened with something warm.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”

She opened the door and let him inside.

Her parisian apartment was... just like her.

Not just decorated by her, but inhabited by her essence. Every detail, from the neatly stacked books to the ballet shoes strung quietly by the window, the old records beside the player, the soft rugs, the muted tones, the corner full of candles she probably lit when the city felt too loud, it all spoke of her.

And suddenly, he understood.

This wasn’t just a space.

This was how she spoke. How she’d always spoken.

It hit him like a wave.

She never needed to say “I love you” ten times a day. She didn’t need grand gestures or big declarations. Ariana spoke in acts of trust. In proximity. In letting him in, literally, figuratively, entirely.

He saw it now.

She had let him in when she first texted him back.

When she agreed to see him again after the gala.

When she met his friends despite the fact she hated loud people and unfamiliar faces.

When she let him kiss her for the first time in front of her favorite painting and then again in the quietness of her appartement. When she tried karting with him even though the sound of engines made her flinch.

When she introduced him to her cat.

And as if summoned by thought, the small white ball of fluff strutted into the room from the hallway, blue eyes icy and unblinking, tail held with the arrogant posture only cats could pull off.

Lando froze.

The cat blinked at him. Judging. Displeased.

Ariana bit her lip, amused. “She remember you.”

“She always stare like that?”

“I think she knows you are the reason why I was sad lately.”

He sighed. “Perfect.”

Aria padded closer, then sat dramatically at Ariana’s feet, pressed herself to her like she was claiming her back from him.

Lando stared.

The cat glared.

It felt like a test.

“Do you want to pet her?” Ariana asked, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He shifted awkwardly. “I don’t know how.”

“You’ve never owned a cat?”

“I’ve barely been in a room with one that didn’t try to claw my face off.”

Ariana crouched down, stroked Aria’s head. The cat purred instantly, leaning into her hand. Then she looked back up at Lando, still amused.

“She’s soft,” Ariana said gently. “But she doesn’t like sudden movements. She doesn’t chase affection. You have to earn it.”

He swallowed.

“Ironic. That reminds me of someone”

Ariana said nothing. Just waited.

So he moved. Slowly.

Kneeling down beside them. His hand hovered, then, with all the hesitance of a man defusing a bomb, he reached forward and brushed a single finger along Aria’s back.

She blinked.

Didn’t move.

He tried again, this time with his whole hand.

And she… tolerated it.

It was the smallest of victories. But when he looked up, Ariana was smiling.

Really smiling.

Something soft and tired and almost proud.

He sat back on his heels, sighing. “I’m trying, you know.”

“I know,” she said.

He leaned against the couch, let his head fall back with a long exhale. His voice, when it came next, was quiet, nearly a whisper.

“I didn’t understand before.”

Ariana sat down beside him.

“Understand what?” she asked.

“You. The way you show love.”

She looked at him.

He turned toward her, eyes earnest, hand still tingling from the pressure of Aria’s fur.

“I kept expecting you to say things the way I would. To scream when you were angry. To cry when you were sad. To tell me exactly what you felt when you felt it.”

He swallowed.

“But you were loving me the whole time. Just… differently.”

Ariana was quiet.

“You let me into your world. Slowly. Carefully. And I missed it. I was too loud to hear you.”

“You were scared,” she said gently.

He nodded. “But I let the fear make me cruel.”

They sat in that silence, the kind that no longer felt empty, just shared.

Finally, she said:

“I wasn’t asking you to be perfect. Just… patient.”

He looked at her, really looked at her. Her hair slightly messy from rehearsal, her cheeks still pink from the walk, her hand now resting close to his on the cushion.

“I can be patient,” he said. “I’ll take it one day at a time. One breath. One pet of that terrifying little fur demon.”

She laughed.

And it broke something open in both of them.

Aria jumped up beside them, curled beside Ariana’s thigh, and let Lando exist in her presence without complaint.

Which, for a cat like her, was practically a love letter.

Ariana smiled again, softly this time.

“You’re learning,” she whispered.

Lando smiled too. “Yeah,” he whispered back. “Because you’re worth it.”

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1

Tell me if you want to be add to the taglist !

[ninetailedruby]

hi i have a request :D

maybe Thunderbolts reactions for catching artist!reader doodling them because they have a crush? 🤭

Enjoy anon! :)

Warnings: None, all fluff.

Yelena

The two of you were sat on the couch hanging out but doing your own thing. You stare down at the page in front of you, erasing and redrawing the same line over and over again trying to get it perfect. You gaze over at her. Your eyes linger on the slope of her nose, the curve of her jaw and then to her lips; lips which look so soft and oh so kissable. You let yourself imagine it, imagine what her lips might feel like against your own. You see her lip quirk up into a smirk but she doesn't look up from her phone.

"You know, a picture lasts longer."

She teases you knowingly. She knows you think you're subtle but she's too perceptive not to notice the way you're always looking at her, especially when you're drawing. But she doesn't mind, she thinks it's cute that you draw her as a means of dealing with your little crush and she is more than content to be your model.

Bob

Everyone else had already turned in for the night but you found yourself feeling restless as you sat on the couch, thoughts full of the sweet, blue eyed man whom you've admired since the moment you met. You don't even realize that you had started mindlessly drawing him until your page becomes filled with little doodles based on random conversations you two have had or funny little things he's done. Bob had walked in from the kitchen, stood behind you for the last few minutes silently watching when suddenly you hear his voice.

"Those are really good."

You whip around to face him, snapping your book shut out of instinct. Your cheeks feel hot, maybe he won't notice? When you give him an awkward smile and a thank you he smiles back and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't the cutest smile you've ever seen.

Ava

She's quite nosy by nature so when she walks into your room and sees your sketchbook laying open on your desk she can't help herself. She flips through the pages, admiring your skill but stops when she's about half way through because she notices the sketch seems to be of her. She flips a few more pages and then there's another one of her, and then another, and another. The last half of your sketchbook is comprised almost entirely of various drawings and doodles of her. She looks up when she hears you walk in, a cocky smile on her lips.

"Just the person I was looking for."

She makes a show of shutting the book, making sure you notice. She walks past you and gives you a kiss on the cheek, saying something about how you're going to be late for dinner if you don't hurry it up.

Bucky

His lips turned upwards into a grin when he saw your mission report on his desk. He had grown accustomed to the little doodles you always left on sticky notes attached to them either of a cute cat you saw earlier that day or of an interaction between your fellow teammates. When he sees the drawing you left this time he chuckles. It's a doodle of him in a little suit and bow-tie that you had probably done this morning when he was briefing all of you. What really catches his notice though is the note written beside it.

"You looked cute in your suit this morning"

He reads it aloud to himself and peels the sticky note off of the stack of papers, putting it in a drawer in his desk that is scattered with at least twenty other notes from you.

John

The sun is just barely rising in the sky when you look out the window. It's early, too damn early for you, but you somehow got roped into going jogging with John this morning. You scrawl lazily on the piece of paper in front of you, scribbling some little doodles of him to try to keep yourself awake. After a few minutes pass your eyes start to feel heavy and for a moment you debate skipping out on your plans so that you can catch a few hours of extra sleep but before you can text him you hear his footsteps coming down the steps and into the kitchen.

"You ready to go?"

He looks over to you and raises his brow. When he sees the sleepy look in your eyes he can't help but smile a little, you look cute all sleepy like that. He reaches out to pat your head, ruffling your hair. He looks down at the paper in front of you and his smile widens into a full on grin.

"Is that me?"

[ateezscupid]

─── FEB FILTH FEST: Church - BONDAGE ♡

SUMMARY / You've always wanted to try bondage, but didn't know how to go about it. So, you went online and found a professional to help you.

warnings ✩ SMUT, DOM/SUB dynamics, soft dom!seonghwa, service top!hwa, sub!reader, seonghwa is literally just some stranger you hired so basically an escort or whatever, just more professional!, unprotected sex, bondage, oral (f), fingering (f)

word count ✩ 4,26k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension @kitten4sannie @faeriehwas @lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh @hwallazia @aurorasjoongie

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

"Nope," you mutter to yourself as you scroll through the forum, "definitely not that one." You've been on this site for hours, trying to find someone who could help you with your curiosity without making you feel like a complete novice. The images and descriptions you've seen so far have been overwhelming, and you can't shake the feeling that you're about to stumble into a pit of weirdos and creeps.

"Absolutely not." You click away from the page, feeling a mix of frustration and relief. It's hard to believe that such a simple search for a bondage instructor has led you down a rabbit hole of questionable ads and eerie profiles. But you're not giving up just yet. There has to be someone out there who can introduce you to this world without making it feel like you're signing your soul away to a dark cult.

You hesitantly click on a link titled "Experienced Bondage Educator." The profile seems professional, with no explicit content in sight. You read through the details, which outline safety measures and a no-nonsense approach to BDSM education.

"Hm." You lean closer to the screen, studying the profile. "He seems okay." The profile is simple, yet alluring—no naked photos or lewd comments, just a promise of guidance from someone who knows their knots. You click the button to send a private message, your heart racing.

But instead, you got a pop-up. It was just a list of prices. Weekly, Monthly…you only wanted lessons whenever you could get them, honestly. But this was just a practice round.

"SINGLE LESSONS: $50 (+$40 for Sexual Favors.)"

Very pricey, you think, your cursor hovering over the "Send Message" button. But what's a little extra cash for peace of mind, right? You click, and a new chat window pops up. "Hello," you type, trying to sound casual. "I'm interested in learning about bondage. Would you be willing to give me some private lessons?"

You sat in front of your screen nervously waiting for a response, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum at a military parade. The cursor blinked at you, seemingly mocking your indecision. Finally, the chat box lit up with a new message. "Hello," he wrote, his screen name a simple "MasterK." His tone was surprisingly friendly, a stark contrast to the seriousness of the topic at hand.

MasterK asked for your name and a brief explanation of your experience. You told him you were a complete novice, eager to learn but cautious about the scene's reputation. He assured you that safety was his number one priority and that he enjoyed teaching those who were curious but had no desire to dive into the deep end. His words put you slightly at ease, though the price tag still nagged at the back of your mind.

Did you even want any sexual favors? You were clean yourself, but what about him? You tap your nails on your laptop's keyboard, contemplating your next move. Maybe you could just ignore that part of the price list? After all, you weren't looking for that. Just education.

But, from the pictures he posted with his body, face just barely visible, he looked attractive. It was mostly his hands that you were attracted to. Strong, yet gentle, the way they held the ropes in the pictures. The way they looped and curved around the model's wrists, not tightly, but with a firmness that suggested experience and confidence.

"Are you clean? Like, sex wise?" you finally ask, biting your bottom lip as you await his response. The chat bubble flickers with activity for a few moments before MasterK's response appears.

"Yes, I practice safe and hygienic protocols. I understand your concerns, and I assure you that my services are strictly professional. However, if you are not comfortable with the additional fee for the full experience, I can tailor the lessons to focus solely on bondage technique without any sexual elements. It's all about what you're looking for and what makes you feel safe," he writes back, his words measured and reassuring.

You let out a sigh of relief. Maybe this isn't so bad after all. "I'm clean myself. I'll take the sex or whatever. I mean, I have the opportunity. Might as well," you reply, trying to sound casual. The chat bubble pulses with his response.

"Great," MasterK types. "Let's get you booked in. I usually hold my sessions in a private studio downtown. It's equipped with everything we'll need, and your safety is guaranteed."

"Cool. I mean, from the location on your site, you're right by me. How far is your studio? I might need to grab a cab," you reply, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. The anticipation was building, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement.

MasterK's response is swift and friendly. "It's about a 10-minute drive from your area. You can take a cab or use a ride-sharing service. The exact address will be shared with you once the appointment is confirmed. Also, remember to bring comfortable clothing, but I'll have some items available if you don't have anything suitable," he writes.

You nod to yourself, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. The thought of being tied up by a stranger is both exhilarating and terrifying. But you've read enough articles about consent and safety in BDSM to know that this is a chance to explore your kink with a professional. You decide to take the leap and agree to the terms, confirming your appointment for the following weekend.

And finally, it was Saturday. You didn't know what he meant by comfortable clothing and you wanted to wear something that showed your curves, and you went with a black, two-piece outfit: a simple tee and biker shorts along with your oversized jacket on top.

You took a cab to the address MasterK provided, feeling the butterflies in your stomach multiply with every passing block. The studio was tucked away in a nondescript alley, the only hint of its existence a small, discreet sign that read "The Knotty Den." You pay the driver and step out, the cool evening air doing little to calm your racing thoughts.

Walking through the door, you're immediately struck by the clean, minimalist decor. The scent of freshly sanded wood and leather fills your nostrils, and you can't help but feel a little intimidated by the array of bondage equipment lining the walls. You're greeted by a softly-lit room with a large, padded table in the center, surrounded by an assortment of chairs, benches, and what you assume are various types of restraints.

MasterK emerges from a back room, dressed in black from head to toe. His eyes are piercing, yet gentle, as he approaches you with a firm handshake. "Welcome to my studio," he says, his voice a soothing tone. "I'm your instructor for the evening, MasterK. Or Seonghwa if that makes you more comfortable." He gestures to a chair, indicating you should sit.

You take a deep breath and settle into the chair, trying to calm your racing heart. He's not what you expected—his demeanor is more calming than intimidating, which helps ease some of your anxiety. You notice his hands again, now unadorned by the ropes from his profile pictures, but they still exude the same confidence.

"H-Hi," you stutter, taking in the sight of Seonghwa—MasterK—up close. He's taller than you anticipated, with a presence that fills the room despite the spaciousness of the studio. His smile is welcoming, his eyes a comforting shade of brown that seems to read your soul. You feel a strange sense of safety in his gaze.

"Let's get started," he says, his voice a smooth blend of authority and kindness. He guides you to the center of the room where the padded table awaits. The leather is cold against your skin as you sit on the edge, your knees tightly pressed together.

Seonghwa opens a chest at the side of the room, revealing an organized selection of ropes, cuffs, and other gear. He selects a set of soft, red ropes and begins explaining the basics of bondage, his hands moving with a mesmerizing fluidity. You listen intently, nodding along, trying to absorb every word like a sponge in a pool of water.

"You have a favorite color you want me to use?" Seonghwa asks, holding up the red ropes.

You blush slightly, feeling a little embarrassed. "No, I don't have a preference. Red is fine," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Okay. You should take your jacket off, too. It's better to learn without any unnecessary layers," Seonghwa says, his eyes never leaving yours as he holds out a hand to help you remove your oversized jacket. You hesitate for a moment, feeling a little more exposed than you're used to, but his gentle touch and the warmth of the room soon have you discarding it.

You were right for paying the extra fee for sexual favors because good lord, the thought of him without clothes on immediately plagued your mind.

He starts by showing you the ropes, explaining their different types and purposes. You can't help but feel a tingle of excitement as he runs the soft, red ropes through his fingers, demonstrating how to hold and manipulate them. His hands are strong yet gentle, and you find yourself imagining what it would be like to have them on your body.

"What position do you want to be in?" Seonghwa asks, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation or discomfort. You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I-I'm not sure. What do you recommend for beginners?"

"Mmm." he narrows his eyes. "Either doggystyle or missionary. Whichever you prefer."

You gulp, feeling a sudden rush of nerves. "Missionary," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. Seonghwa nods understandingly, laying out the ropes on the table. He explains that this position allows for the most control and safety for your first time, which you appreciate.

"And what sexual favors did you want? You asked if I'm clean, so clearly you want penetration. But, was there anything else?" His voice is calm and measured, but you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

You shake your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. "I-I don't know. Just… whatever's normal, I guess." You feel a mix of excitement and fear, but you're also curious.

"Alright. Do you mind…removing your clothes? It'll make the process easier and quicker." Seonghwa's voice is steady, as if asking you to take your shoes off at the door, not disrobe in front of him.

Now you were kind of embarrassed. You were already soaked down there. But you nodded, taking off your tee and shorts, leaving your bra and panties on. He nodded in approval, and you laid down on the table. The coolness of the leather made your skin break out in goosebumps, but the warmth of your own excitement quickly overtook the sensation.

"If you want to move to a different surface at any time, let me know. I have more comfortable areas." Seonghwa says, as you lay there feeling the coldness of the table. You nod, trying to hide your nervousness as he approaches you. He's professional, but you can't help but feel a thrill of anticipation at what's to come.

He starts by placing a soft, padded cushion under your hips, ensuring that your comfort is a priority. Then he takes one of the red ropes and shows you how to hold it in a way that won't cause you any pain, but will still be effective in securing you in place. He explains that communication is key in bondage, and that you should always have a safe word ready. You nod, choosing the word "pumpkin"—random, but it feels right.

He took his time with you, showing you how to tie a basic wrist restraint. His hands were firm yet tender as he demonstrated the right amount of tension. You watched in amazement as the rope began to take shape around your wrist, creating a delicate but unmistakable bond. The feeling of being restrained, even in such a simple way, was already starting to stir something within you—a mix of vulnerability and excitement.

Within the blink of an eye, you were tied up, your wrists bound to your ankles and your legs spread wide flawlessly. The anticipation was unbearable. Seonghwa's eyes never left yours, searching for any sign of fear or discomfort. You nodded slightly, giving him the green light to proceed.

"So I'm…only bound in like, one area? It seems so…simple," you say, your voice betraying a hint of disappointment.

"Well, this is for beginners, love." Oh god, the pet name. There was definitely a visible pool of wetness in your underwear. "But if you want to be more…involved, I can add more complexity to your restraints," Seonghwa says with a smirk. He runs his hand lightly down your bare leg, sending shivers up your spine.

"T-This is fine," you stutter, feeling the ropes bite into your skin just enough to remind you of your vulnerability. Seonghwa nods, seemingly satisfied with your response. He walks beside the table now and leans down in front of a small side table, pulling the drawer open and grabbing a condom and bottle of lube.

Words couldn't even describe how badly you wanted him.

He sat them down and ran his hand up and down your leg again. "Are you ready?"

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow pants. You were more than ready.

"I'll perform regular oral on you, fingering, and then penetration. You can use your safeword whenever you feel it's too much and need a break." Seonghwa's voice is low and steady, his gaze intense as he looks down at you, sprawled out on the table. You nod, feeling the warmth spread through your body at the thought of his mouth on you.

He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and knelt down in front of you, pushing your underwear to the side to reveal your wetness. Your legs trembled as he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. His tongue was soft and explorative, tracing your slit with gentle strokes that made your hips buck involuntarily. You moaned softly, the feeling of his mouth on you sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"Just relax," he murmured against your skin, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Let me take care of everything."

And so you did. As Seonghwa's mouth worked its magic, you felt your body melt into the table. He knew exactly how to coax the most pleasure from you, his tongue swirling around your clit in a rhythm that had you panting for more. You've had oral before, but this was different—it was like he was reading your mind, knowing exactly what you needed before you even knew it yourself.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned louder as Seonghwa's tongue grew more insistent. He paused for a moment, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye before plunging two fingers inside you without warning. You gasped, the sudden fullness surprising and overwhelming in the best way possible. He curled them in a come-hither motion, hitting that spot deep within that had you seeing stars.

"Oh my god-!" you leaned your head back, eyes rolling up as Seonghwa's skilled fingers worked in tandem with his mouth. The feeling was indescribable, and your body responded with eager jerks and twitches. Each stroke was deliberate, each suckle precise—it was as if he had a map of your pleasure points and was navigating them with expert ease.

You were glad that you could still close your legs, so you did. You squeezed your thighs around his head, trapping him in your wetness as he devoured you. His fingers continued to move in and out of you, hitting that spot that made your toes curl with every stroke. You could feel your orgasm building, a tight coil in your belly that grew tighter and tighter with every touch of his tongue.

"S-Seonghwa!" you whimper, your voice strained and breathy. You didn't know if you could take much more of this exquisite torture.

He pulls back slightly, smiling up at you. "Good girl," he murmurs before returning his attention to your sensitive clit. He increases his pace, and the pressure of his tongue and fingers builds until you're teetering on the edge of orgasm.

Not being able to move your arms felt like torture, but god, it so exciting at the same time. You've never been so vulnerable. His tongue danced around your clit, flicking and circling until you couldn't take it anymore. The orgasm that had been building explodes through you, your body arching off the table as your legs tighten around his head.

"I-I'm gonna cum," you manage to gasp out, your voice thick with desire.

Seonghwa's only response is a low, approving grumble, his fingers working faster and his mouth sucking harder. The pressure is unbearable, yet you crave more. Your eyes roll back in your head as the orgasm crashes over you, making your body convulse and your muscles tighten around his invading digits. The feeling is so intense, so all-consuming, that you scream out his name, the sound echoing through the quiet studio.

"F-Fuck! Fuck, Seonghwa!" you scream, your body trembling uncontrollably as you ride out the intense wave of pleasure. His fingers don't stop their relentless pace, even as your orgasm subsides, pushing you towards another peak with every stroke.

Seonghwa pulls away from your pussy with a wet pop, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watches you pant and squirm against the ropes. "You taste delicious," he murmurs, his thumb idly circling your clit.

"Ah," you were so sensitive, so overwhelmed with the aftershocks of your orgasm that you could barely speak. But you felt a strange sense of empowerment, like you'd just unlocked a secret chamber in your mind that had been waiting for you all along. "W-what's next?"

He didn't answer as he stood, undoing his belt with a smooth, almost ceremonial air. He was still fully dressed except for his unbuckled belt, and you found yourself eager to see the rest of him. He pulled out his cock, thick and hard, and you felt a thrill run through you. This was really happening.

He reached for the condom and ripped it open, rolling it down his length with a confidence that made your heart race. You couldn't help but stare as he lubed himself up, the sight of him preparing to enter you making your stomach flip. You've never been so exposed, so ready for someone.

He climbed onto the table and positioned himself between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice gruff with desire. You nodded, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. He pushed in slowly, giving you time to adjust to the unfamiliar feeling of being filled so completely.

The stretch was incredible, the way he filled you up, so much so that you felt like you couldn't take it anymore. But as he inched further in, you felt yourself relax, your body welcoming him in. "You're so tight," he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as he began to move.

"Definitely…the tightest…client I've had," he says with a smirk, pushing in a bit more. You feel a slight pain, but it's overshadowed by the exhilaration of the moment. "Just breathe," Seonghwa instructs, his voice a gentle command. You do as told, feeling his cock stretching you open, filling you up until you're sure you're going to burst.

As he starts to move, the pain fades away, replaced by a deep, intense pleasure that makes you moan with every thrust. The ropes dig into your skin, reminding you of your restraint, adding a new layer to the sensations coursing through your body. You can't help but tug at them, testing the limits of your bondage.

"S-Seo-Seonghwa!" You gasped as he pushed in deeper, the sound of your voice muffled by the leather of the table. He leaned over you, placing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he began to move with a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you squirm against the ropes. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every movement, your body desperate for more.

"D-Does this feel good?" he managed to ask, his voice thick with lust. Seonghwa's eyes never leave yours, his expression a mix of concentration and pleasure as he watches your face contort with every thrust.

"Y-Yes," you moan, your voice a breathless whisper. The feeling of his cock inside you is like nothing you've ever experienced—intimate, yet overwhelmingly powerful. You can feel your walls clench around him, desperate to keep him there. He begins to pick up the pace, his movements growing more forceful, and you realize that you want it—you want him to take you, to claim you in this primal dance of dominance and submission.

You could see his expressions changing frequently, as if he was losing control of himself. He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was because he was good at his job or maybe it was because he actually enjoyed it. But you didn't care, you liked it, the way he looked at you as if he was the one who was the novice, learning every little noise that you make, every little twitch of your body, every gasp that escaped your lips.

"Tell me how it feels," he urges, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through your entire being.

"S-So good," you pant, your voice barely audible. "It feels…amazing." The words come out in a rush as he starts to hit that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars with every deep, hard thrust.

Seonghwa's grip on your hip tightens, his pace increasing as he drives into you with a fervor that makes your breath catch in your throat. You can feel his muscles tensing, his movements growing more urgent as he chases his own climax.

His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned over you, lowering his head trying to focus on his climax. You could see him trying to hold it back, his body shaking with the effort. But the sight of him losing control was too much. You couldn't help but moan louder, your body responding to his need.

"C-Cum in me, please! P-Please, I need it," your thighs shut around his waist, squeezing him tightly as the ropes dug into your skin. The sensation was unbearable, a mix of pain and pleasure that had you on the edge of another orgasm.

Seonghwa's eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with yours. He nodded, his movements becoming more frantic as he pounded into you, his breaths coming in harsh pants. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your desperate pleas for release.

"S-Shit-" he shudders. "Even with a condom on you feel-" He stops talking as he focuses on his task at hand, his strokes becoming more erratic as he tries to hold on. "You're gonna make me-"

You nod, a wicked smile playing on your lips as you tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. "Do it," you whisper, your voice husky with need. "Cum for me."

The words seem to be the final push he needs. With a roar, Seonghwa slams into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he reaches his peak. The sensation of him coming inside the condom sends you hurtling over the edge again, your own orgasm crashing over you in a wave of pleasure that leaves you trembling and breathless.

You both try catching your breaths, his body still connected with yours, your eyes locked in a silent conversation of satisfaction. He slowly pulls out, his cock still semi-hard, and carefully unbinds your limbs, massaging the areas where the ropes had dug into your skin. The cool air hits you, making you shiver, but the warmth of his hands is soothing.

"How was it?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or dissatisfaction. You smile, feeling a bit shy.

"Very…wow." You manage to get out, your voice still shaky from the intense orgasm. Your body feels like a puddle of goo, and your mind is racing with the aftermath of what just happened.

"Good. That's good to hear," he gulps, looking down for a moment. "I normally don't, uh, come that quickly. I last much longer than that…" Seonghwa trails off, seeming a little embarrassed by his loss of control. You laugh, the sound a little shaky.

"You…don't?" you ask, a playful smile playing on your lips. Despite the situation, you felt a strange sense of pride knowing that you had brought him to climax so quickly. "So I'm special?"

Seonghwa chuckles, his eyes meeting yours as he nods. "Very special," he says, his voice gentle. He helps you sit up, his hands lingering on your shoulders. You feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him, a bond formed through shared experience and trust.

"Uh, what's your number? I'd…like to do this again. And would also get to know you better." The question slipped out before you could think, but Seonghwa's smile grew wider.

"I'd like that," he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

[florvaine]

— tied him down to my queen bed !

Shoto’s always open to help you - even if it’s torture having to sit through it.

sub!shoto todoroki x fem!reader

warnings: bondage/shibari, 🚨‼️ PATHETIC ‼️🚨 shoto, how whiney can i make this grown man?, no actual smut this guys just needy thats it hit post

a/n: this is self indulgent ngl 😋

wc: 1.3k

One thing about Shoto is that he is willing. If you called him at two in the morning before the sun even thought of rising, if he was halfway across the globe, he'd find a way to get to you as soon as he could. It's one of the many reasons why you love him.

There was one time that you had a wardrobe malfunction at an important event, so you called him. In a matter of minutes he made his way into the women's bathroom with a whole new outfit for you. He stayed by your side for the rest of the night. What you found out later was that he cut an important interview short to get you that change of clothes.

It took a while to figure it out, but through many slow conversations, he revealed that he likes being useful. He enjoys being the first person you call for and finds pride in your trust of him. The undying loyalty of him being more than just a husband but a partner to be with forever, come ripped seams or life-threatening situations. Shoto thrives in chivalry, especially for you.

There's an underlying emotion of being the opposite of his father, a man who Shoto can't forgive to this day even if the rest of his family does.

In shorter terms, if there's some way that Shoto can serve his beautiful, strong, lovely wife, he will.

But it's moments like these that he hates it.

The second you came up to him just before he was about to leave for the gym, Shoto knew by the glint in your eyes that he wasn't anymore.

You pressed up against his back, wrapping your arms under his and to his tapered waist. Over the black compression shirt he wore, you (not very subtly) dragged your manicured nails along the muscles on his abdomen.

"Where are you going, dressed like that?" You hummed, a hand sliding down to thumb at the waistband of his grey joggers, hanging low on his hips.

Shoto knew that you had a certain affinity for this specific outfit and was hoping he could escape before you saw. As soon as he felt your hands glide across the material of the shirt, he sank back into you slightly. A heat crosses wherever you leave your touch, causing the two-toned man to let out a breath.

Shoto turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, almost immediately noticing the way you look back at him. Eyes half-lidded, lips pulled into a glossy, unsuspecting smile. Your whole expression showed expectation.

"Nowhere," he muttered.

Like that, his fate was sealed. More precisely, his fate was sealed by soft crimson rope wrapping around his limbs. Shoto let you pose and prod and pull at him onto the bed with forceful love. His head bowed like a knight to a queen until you gently grasped his jaw to look him over.

With every length you tie, every splitting junction from a knot you tied, you create an intricate design over top of his mundane clothing that he just wishes would disappear.

Laying thick twine steadily against his broad shoulders, past his flexing arms, across his sturdy chest and down his sternum, you make careful bonds at his joints and set him up like a model for an artist.

Eventually you finished the final knot. You had got Shoto pent up, his arms and hands tied behind his back, and forced his rideable thighs to bend underneath the strips of scarlet. Diamonds sat along his arms, and a heart – which you had been reading on how to do recently – sat in the middle of his chest. The string wasn't pulled tight enough to hurt but enough to slightly hinder his movements and keep him where he was.

By the time you've finished and stepped back to admire your work, Shoto's huffing and puffing with need. He can't hide it; the tips of his ears flushed along with his neck, and pressing a hand to either side of his face showed how he was reacting.

It feels as if you're holding him down, the thread replaced with your hands cupping, holding, gliding along his body as he just wants to rid himself of his shirt and trousers to get as close to the feel as he can. But he can't, the binding reminding him of his dilemma.

You avoided placing pressure where he needed it. A familiar print pressed against the clothing of his trousers, both from his want and the ropes that led from his hips to the back of his legs.

It's not very often that Shoto gets like this, all desperate and pliant, but when he does, you take your time.

He holds back whines from the back of his throat as you graze lightly over his torso. You watch fascinated at the way your hands send ripples along his skin underneath his clothing. One of your hands lingers around his thin waistline, feeling his reactions underneath slivers of rope. The other moves smoothly up to his face, and with a tender grasp, you direct his bowed head upwards. And oh, what a sight it was.

A crystalline layer covers azure and gunmetal irises, lashes pronounced with low eyelids. The scar around his eye was slightly more prominent from his dishevelled hair, wine and chalk fusing together to form a slight pink if you focused. His thin eyebrows pulled together and up with a look of utter hopelessness. There were small breaths exiting his parted lips, and a pink overlaid his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

"Look at you," you mumble with a loving smile on your face.

With the hand from his torso, you lift it and card through his hair softly, settling on his lap. Shoto inhales sharply, reacting with a slight movement of his hips underneath you. He's been craving any sort of contact from you that wasn't fleeting and replaced with thread, and now it's overwhelming.

You're so close to where he needs you, and you know it. It's difficult not to ignore the hardness that rested beneath you, but you settle light kisses across the warm and cold expanse of his face.

"Please," he whimpers out as you sneak your fingertips underneath the collar of his t-shirt.

The needy man gulps for air that doesn't seem to exist, Adam's apple bobbing and drawing your attention. In seconds you draw your lips down from his jaw and settle around his neck, light loving pecks transforming into wanton and messy. Taking your time to pick and choose where to mark him, leaving light cerise plumes of skin in your wake and smoothing over sensations with your tongue like a cat.

Shoto can't handle it. Whines release from his mouth, vocal cords pulled in a way to allow for the high-pitched sound to echo around your shared bedroom. The warmth of you sat on him, but not where he needed you; the feeling of love transferred to his skin through your lingering pecks to his face and the stinging and smothering reoccurring touch of teeth and tongue.

You pull away, lips just hovering over his as he breathes heavily. "So pretty, so beautiful."

The praise pulls a sound from him before you push your lips against his fully. With that you slip a hand underneath the material of his joggers, and Shoto knows exactly why he waits to serve, existing in limbo to your beck and call.

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (04)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 6.4k

Aliyah's Notes: i'll say it again, but specifically this chapter depicts heavy body image and ed descriptions + vomit so i beg of you to skip the beginning if you're uncomfortable with that. besides that, the chapter is cute and full of rafe and reader moments

No, no, no, no, no…

The air in the cramped bathroom felt stifling, its walls pressing close as if they could hear every breath slipping through your lips. Your phone screen glared up at you, the message burning into your mind, twisting your insides. It felt like a rope tightening around your chest, the words somehow dragging you thousands of miles back to a place you fought so hard to escape.

It was just a text. Just words. But your body reacted as if you’ve been thrown into an ice-cold river, your mind spiraling as your heartbeat thumped in your ears, louder and louder, drowning out all your sense of reason. You weren’t supposed to feel this way—not here, not anymore. You fought too hard to let a few words send you back to that place.

The text was simple, it read: "Hey, do you remember me? Just to let you know we're coming to the U.S. in a few weeks."

Your fingers, knuckles white, tightened around the phone as you tried to calm yourself. You had come so far, broken so many boundaries to make it, to have a life that was your own, that you chose. And now? Now your world felt as fragile as glass, your strength chipped away by something as simple as a message.

For years, you pushed that life aside, buried it beneath layers of success and glossy magazine covers, of flashing cameras and compliments that felt like armor. You learned to smile, to keep your chin up, to say what people wanted to hear. Y/N Y/L/N, the golden girl, they’d call you, the one with the perfect life, the charmed career. They didn’t see the cracks beneath, the memories you pushed so far down you could almost believe they’d never existed.

You missed them, sometimes. In quiet moments, when you let yourself think of them, you felt the familiar pang of loss. But you missed them on your own terms, and never to this point—never to the point of feeling that old, oppressive weight. The suffocating sense of having your every move watched, every thought scrutinized and molded into someone else’s idea of perfection. You’d broken free of those chains. Or at least you thought you had.

Your breath hitched as a tear slipped down your cheek, cold against your heated skin. You quickly wiped it away, but another followed, then another, until you were gripping the edge of the sink, trying desperately to hold yourself together. “You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely a breath. “You’re fine. Suck it up, come on.”

The words felt hollow, but you forced yourself to repeat them, steadying your breathing as you stared at your reflection. The woman looking back at you wasn’t the helpless girl from your past; she was someone stronger, someone who’d fought for every inch of her success. But as you brushed away the tears, you wondered just how deep those old wounds ran.

Another shaky breath, another splash of cold water. You didn’t have time for this. Not here, not today. There was a shoot waiting, people depending on you to be the flawless professional you always were. You could fall apart later. That would have to be enough.

Drawing yourself up, you checked your reflection one last time, wiping away any trace of emotion from your face. Your fingers still trembled, but you forced them to steady, exhaling one last time before stepping out of the bathroom, your shoulders set with the poise you spent years perfecting.

As you walked back into the studio, the lights blinded you momentarily, the heat from the set lights prickling against your skin. The room buzzed with activity—assistants darting back and forth, stylists fussing over racks of clothing, and the low hum of the photographer’s voice directing the scene. You slipped back into your role, letting the familiar rhythm carry your as you took your place on set.

“Finally,” the photographer muttered, barely looking up from his camera. “We’re on a schedule, Y/N. I don’t have time for dramatics.” His voice was cold, clipped, as though your presence was nothing more than an inconvenience.

You clenched your jaw, brushing off the comment. Just keep your head down, and keep moving. You struck your first pose, forcing yourself to focus on the rhythm of the camera’s clicks. Each flash, each snap, pulled you farther away from your thoughts, grounding you in the present. You knew this world, knew how to inhabit the perfect persona they wanted from you. You could do this.

“Okay, chin down,” the photographer barked, barely glancing up from his lens. “More. More—there, but tighten up your core, Y/N. It’s looking a little… fat.”

The comment hit you like a slap, the faint tremble returning to your hands. You adjusted your pose, forcing yourself to stay calm. You've heard comments like this before. Your body was scrutinized in ways most people couldn’t understand, your curves debated and dissected like they belonged to someone else. You have been trained to brush it off, to smile and push through it with the poise they expected of you.

But today, after everything, the words dug a little deeper.

The photographer snapped another shot, then lowered his camera, looking you up and down with a critical eye. “You’re slipping, Y/N. You used to be skinnier. Are you having those episodes again?” He cocked an eyebrow, his tone dripping with condescension. “If you’re going to stay at the top, you have to stop whatever it is you’re doing that’s triggering you. That means discipline, diet, focus. Do you have that? Or am I wasting my time here?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, the words stinging sharper than you wanted to admit. You knew you gained a little weight—nothing drastic, nothing worth commenting on, but in your world, even a fraction of a change was enough to invite scrutiny. You forced yourself to hold your pose, to keep the practiced smile on your face, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

“No,” you said quietly, your voice steady but clipped. “You’re not wasting your time—I understand. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to his camera. “Because the camera doesn’t lie, Y/N. Either shape up, or Chanel will find someone who will.”

The ride home was a blur, the city lights streaking past the window as you sat, rigid, in the back seat of the car. Your stomach twisted painfully, a churning knot of anger, shame, and something that felt dangerously close to despair. Each time you closed your eyes, the photographer’s words replayed like a cruel loop in your mind, mocking you, unraveling every shred of confidence you’d managed to build. You’re slipping… used to be skinner…discipline, diet, focus. His voice echoed with the ghost of memories you’d focus so hard to bury.

You barely noticed when the car finally stopped. As soon as you stepped out, the familiar ache in your chest intensified, the weight of everything pressing down, suffocating. You fumbled with your keys, barely able to keep your hands steady long enough to unlock the door. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, not even caring where they landed, and stumbled over to the couch. Every nerve in your body screamed, the urge clawing at you with a ferocity that was both frightening and familiar.

You sat there, breathing heavily, your fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as you fought to steady yourself. But the memories kept coming, one after another, tearing at you until it felt like you were drowning in them. You saw yourself, younger, lost, staring into the mirror late at night, desperate to feel in control of something—anything. The hunger, the self-loathing, the endless cycle of guilt and relief—it all rushed back with a force that stole the breath from your lungs.

It would be so easy to give in, a voice whispered in the back of your mind. Just this once. Just for tonight. You could have the relief you craved, the escape from the pressure that felt like it was suffocating you from the inside out.

No, you told yourself, clenching your fists. You’re stronger than this.

But the temptation was too strong, too insistent, and before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself in the kitchen, stuffing your face with whatever you could find. You just needed to eat, eat, eat, and eat more. You blinked and found yourself in the bathroom, hands braced against the sink as you stared into the mirror, a tear-streaked, desperate face staring back at you. Your chest tightened as the shame washed over you, the familiar ache settling deep in your bones, dragging you down into the darkness you’d spent years trying to escape.

Your fingers brushed your throat, trembling as you fought against the impulse. You didn’t want this, not really. You knew the pain that would follow, the emptiness that would settle in your chest like a lead weight, crushing you from the inside out. But the need for control, the need for release, was stronger than you were.

As if in a trance, you gave in, the guilt and shame numbing your mind as you went through the motions, each step mechanical, devoid of thought. The feeling of release came in a rush, bringing a momentary sense of relief that quickly dissolved into nausea and self-loathing. You sank to the floor, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling as the full weight of what you’d done settled over you.

The bathroom floor was cold against your skin, grounding you in the present even as your mind spiraled, tangled in a haze of guilt and despair. You pressed your forehead to your knees, the tears coming fast and hot, unstoppable. Your chest heaved with silent sobs, each one cutting deeper than the last as you choked on the bitter taste of regret. The walls seemed to close in around you, trapping you in a prison of your own making, a prison you’d vowed to escape but somehow couldn’t.

You thought you were done with this, that you’d left this part of yourself behind. But here you were, broken and hollow, the fragile pieces of your self-control shattered beyond repair. You wanted to scream, to tear at your own skin, to do anything that would make the pain stop, even for just a moment.

“Why am I like this?” you whispered, the words barely audible through your tears. 

When the tears finally slowed, you felt hollow, emptied, the relief you’d hoped for replaced by a numbness that was somehow worse. You pulled yourself up, the motion slow and heavy, as though your limbs were weighed down by the shame you carried. You splashed water on your face, watching as the streaks of mascara and foundation washed away, leaving you bare and exposed, a shadow of the person you pretended to be.

Stumbling back into the living room, you sank onto the couch, the silence of the apartment pressing in around you, thick and suffocating. Your stomach ached, a dull throb that echoed the ache in your chest, a reminder of everything you’d tried to forget. You leaned back, closing your eyes, your fingers still trembling.

The silence was shattered by the faint buzz of your phone, the sound jarring in the quiet. You opened your eyes, feeling a fresh wave of dread as you reached for it, already bracing yourself for more bad news. The screen showed a message from Rafe, sent twenty minutes ago.

Rafe: “Hey. On my way over. Be ready. We’re going out.”

Your heart skipped a beat, panic flaring in your chest as you processed the words. Rafe was coming here. He’d be here any minute, expecting you to be ready, expecting you to be fine. But you were anything but fine. The thought of facing him, of pretending everything was normal, felt like an impossible task.

You wanted to ignore it, to curl up on the couch and let the world fade away. But you knew you couldn’t. He’d see through you, he’d ask questions, and you weren’t ready for that. You weren’t ready for him to see the broken pieces.

Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, wiping the last traces of tears from your face. You couldn’t fall apart now. You’d have to pull yourself together, put on the mask he expected to see. 

But as you stared at the screen, the weight of what you’d done settled over you, a cold, crushing ache that threatened to drown you all over again.

A sharp knock broke the silence, the sound slicing through the thick air of your apartment. You jolted, your heart racing as you looked toward the door.

Fuck! You hadn’t even had time to fully compose yourself. 

Another knock, lighten this time, followed by his familiar voice. “Come on, open up, sweetheart,” Rafe called out, his tone easy, teasing. He was here. Of course he was here. 

Forcing a deep breath, you pushed yourself up from the couch, running your hands through your hair in a last-minute attempt to look put-together. You brushed a hand over your face, trying to erase any trace of what had happened, then ran to close the door of your kitchen to hide the mess of food sprawled everywhere.

The moment you opened the door, Rafe’s eyes locked onto yours, his playful smile faltering as he took you in. The lightness in his gaze shifted, softening with a concern that made your chest tighten. You could feel his eyes sweeping over your face, catching the lingering redness around your eyes, the slight shake in your hands and naked legs, the way you wouldn’t quite meet this gaze.

“You…” he said, stepping forward as his brow furrowed. “You okay?”

You forced a smile, dismissive, brushing it off as though he hadn’t seen what he had. “I’m fine, Cameron. Just a long day, you know,” you replied, your voice steady but rough, your fingers clutching the edge of the door.

He didn’t move, his gaze unwavering as he studied you, his expression laced with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice careful now. “You don’t look fine. Your eyes…”

“I said I’m fine, Rafe!” you snapped, the words sharper than you’d intended, the force of them surprising you both. His brows shot up slightly, but he didn’t move, his gaze locked on yours as though he were searching for something beneath the anger. 

“I’m just asking, but something’s obviously wrong. You don’t have to—”

“Why do you care?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a defensiveness you couldn’t control. “It’s none of your business, alright,” Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you willed them back, pressing down the wave of emotion threatening to rise again. “I told you, I’m fine. Just drop it.”

The silence stretched between you, tense, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. You could see the hurt flash across his face, fleeting but unmistakable, before it softened into something closer to understanding, something that only made you feel more exposed.

“Alright,” he murmured, his tone calm, measured. He took a step back, lifting his hands slightly in surrender, his gaze lingering on you, patient, waiting. “If you say so.”

But you could see it in his eyes—he didn’t believe you, not for a second.

You stepped back, allowing him to come inside. He moved past you slowly, his gaze flicking back to you once before staying put. You headed toward the living room, and he followed you, swallowing the lingering shame in your throat as you focused on steadying your breath.

He paused near the couch, glancing around the room as though searching for a sign of what had shaken you.

“Alright, so… where exactly are we going?” you asked, aiming to keep your tone casual. Your gaze dropped to your hands, hoping to mask the slight tremor of your nerves.

Rafe glanced over, he seemed to take a moment to consider his answer, studying you as though choosing his words carefully. “One of my friends is hosting a little get-together…”

“Topper?” 

“Hell nah!” He quietly laughed, shaking his head. “Not this time. It’s Kelce. He throws these gatherings sometimes—more chill than anything else. It’s just a handful of people, around a dozen or so, max. You think you’ll be okay with that?”

His gaze lingered on you, a mix of playfulness and genuine concern softening his features. You swallowed, nodding as you offered a small shrug. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. So… just friends? Are there going to be, um… other girls?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah, some. Kiara and Cleo are usually around for these things, and…” he paused, scratching his jaw before continuing, “my sister.”

That made you look up, your curiosity piqued. “You have a sister?”

“Two actually, both younger,” he replied with a faint smile. “But only one’s coming tonight. Sarah. I think she’s around your age. You’ll probably like her. She’s… got a bit of a wild streak.”

You nodded and stayed quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before glancing back at Rafe. “So… I’ll just go get ready—wait! How should I dress up? Is it a casual-casual or a casual-but-nicely-dressed type of gathering?”

Rafe’s lips quirked into a smile, visibly relieved to see you bouncing back to your usual self. “Pretty sure, whatever you wear, you’ll make it look elegant, sweetheart.”

“That’s not helpful—but thanks.” You arched a brow at him, waiting.

"Just something simple," he replied with a shrug, leaning back on the couch. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your outfit—a pair of black shorts paired with an oversized, ripped T-shirt splashed with images of Barbie. Somehow, even in that, you looked hot, and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger.

“Simple?” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Like…a dress? Wait, maybe a skirt is better for this. But a dress is more of a party vibe…” you started muttering to yourself, lost in wardrobe decisions. “Should I wear something with prints? Oh, wait—”

“Just wear a skirt, baby,” he cut in smoothly, his gaze softening as he watched you.

That one little word—baby—made your heart flutter and stopped your train of thought cold. You caught his eyes, trying to ignore the sudden swarm of butterflies, and arched a brow at him with a teasing smirk. “Oh, I see what this is. You just want an excuse to look at my ass. Bet you’re hoping for a little peek under my skirt, huh, you perv?”

Rafe’s smirk grew, and he sat up, his blue eyes gleaming with something undeniably mischievous. “I’ll see your ass at some point during this marriage, whether it’s tonight or some other night,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Got you speechless now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, pretending his words hadn’t just lit a spark that was still buzzing beneath your skin. “No, actually, I was just thinking of all the ways I could strangle you.”

“Kinky,” he teased, eyes alight with amusement.

You groaned, chuckling despite yourself. “Not like that, you perv.” You waved your hand dismissively, shaking your head. “Enough of this. I’m gonna go get ready.”

Before you turned, he grinned and made a move to get up. “Can I come and watch the show?”

You placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down with a laugh. “Absolutely not. Stay here and be patient. I won’t be long.”

Rafe relaxed, settling back with a smirk as he watched you disappear into your bedroom, and you made sure to close the door firmly behind you.

You emerge from the bedroom an hour later, dressed in a strapless leopard-print tube top that clings to your figure just right, paired with a faded denim mini-skirt. For makeup, you opted for a natural look with a subtle glow, focusing on your lips, and you left your curls loose, letting them fall naturally over your shoulders, once again. 

You walked into the hallway, slipping on your black Louboutin stilettos. As you straightened, you didn’t need to look back to know Rafe was right there, his presence a steady hum in the quiet of your apartment. You’d heard his soft footsteps the second you stepped into the hallway.

"You—"

"Watch what you’re about to say, Cameron," you cut him off, throwing a teasing glance over your shoulder, "because if it’s about my ass, I’ll slap you so hard you’ll fly out the window."

His smirk widened. "Now, I wasn’t gonna say anything like that," He let his gaze travel up and down your figure, lingering on the way your fitted mini skirt hugged your curves. "But since you brought it up—yeah, it’s the perfect opportunity to take a peek. Especially with you bent over and all."

You straightened up, narrowing your eyes at him, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. "Rafe."

He raised his hands, palms out. "Alright, alright—my bad." He let his eyes travel over you one more time, this time slower, more appreciative. "But you look nice."

"Just nice?" you teased, tilting your head slightly as you stepped closer, noting the way his eyes darkened as he drank you in.

"No..." His voice dropped, his eyes turning hungry as they lingered on you. "You look hot. Really hot."

You felt a satisfied smile spread across your face. "Perfect. That’s exactly what I was going for."

"Well, you succeeded, sweetheart," he replied, voice thick with an admiration that felt too close for comfort.

You smiled, pushing down the heat rising to your cheeks, and made your way to the door, pulling it open. Rafe followed close behind, stepping into the hallway as you both moved toward the elevator.

"So," you asked as you pressed the elevator button, "do your friends know about the arrangement, or…?"

Rafe shook his head, popping the 'P' as he answered, "Nope. None of them have a clue. Not my teammates, not my sister—nobody. So you’re gonna have to pretend to tolerate me for a few hours. Think you can handle that?"

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. "Tolerate you? For a few hours? I mean, it’s gonna be a challenge, but I think I can manage.”

“Is that so? Gonna be that hard to put up with me?”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, in fear to hurt your poor feelings but you are extremely annoying and hard to put up with, Rafe Cameron,” you shot back, your eyes sparkling.

“Ouch,” he touched his heart and mocked a pained expression. “You’re hurting your husband’s feelings here, sweetheart.”

“Future husband,” you corrected with a smirk. “And, womp womp!”

The elevator reached the lobby, and the two of you stepped out, making your way toward the exit. Rafe opened the door for you, his hand resting briefly on the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine.

Outside, his car was waiting, sleek and polished under the streetlights. He held the passenger door open, and you slipped inside, watching as he rounded the front and got in beside you.

The car ride was quieter than you expected. He seemed content, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift. You stole a few glances at him as he drove, catching the glint in his eye as he noticed you looking.

Finally, he spoke up. "You know, if you’re gonna be my girlfriend for the night, you’ll have to act the part."

"What do you mean?"

He smirked, shifting gears smoothly as he turned onto a quieter road. “Maybe try not to glare at me every time I look at you. Oh, and try smiling, or I don’t know, pretend like you don’t find me annoying.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Noted. You have some more notes, Mr. Cameron?"

“I do, actually, future Ms. Cameron,” he said, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “As my girlfriend, you should probably let me put my arm around, or even hold my hand if we’re getting really freaky.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Oh, yeah ‘cause touching your hand will make me nut, right?”

He chuckled, glancing over you, his expression full of amusement. “I mean, that’s usually how most people feel—but more seriously, we need to make this believable. The whole world has to think we’re in love.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "And here I thought this was a marriage of convenience. You know, strictly business. But since we’re giving notes then I think you should show a little more enthusiasm."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he navigated the streets. "Alright, I can do enthusiasm. How about I serenade you while I drive?"

"Oh my God! Please don’t," you laughed, shaking your head. "I’d like to keep my hearing intact."

"Suit yourself." Rafe grinned, glancing at you with a mock-seriousness. "But if I can’t sing, then I have to hold your hand. That’s the rule."

You hesitated, your heart racing at the idea of intertwining his fingers with yours. “Fine…”

He raised his hand triumphantly, a playful smirk plastered across his face. "See? You’re already getting into the spirit of things. Besides, it’s not like our lips haven’t touched—"

“Rafe!” you exclaimed, slapping his chest with a mix of disbelief and embarrassment.

“What? I’m just stating the truth,” he said, feigning innocence as he rubbed his chest, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips. “Come on, don’t get shy on me now, baby.”

“I am not shy,” you retorted, unable to suppress a smile.

“Right, and I’m the bloody king of England,” he shot back with a horrible fake British accent.

“Shut up,” you laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the car as you shook your head at his antics.

The banter hung in the air between you like a playful thread. You both lapsed into a comfortable silence, the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional rush of wind outside the car providing a soothing backdrop. As the minutes passed, anticipation buzzed in the air, making each second feel charged with excitement.

Finally, you pulled up in front of a large, ornate gate guarded by stern-looking security personnel. Rafe, unable to contain himself, leaned forward and called out his name with exaggerated bravado, “Rafe Cameron!” The gates swung open, revealing a huge house with lights everywhere.

As he parked the car, you took a moment to steady your breathing, inhaling deeply to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach. With a final exhale, you opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Before you stood three familiar faces, their expressions a mix of anticipation and curiosity as they waited at the door of the house. 

You glanced at Rafe, who had just stepped out to join you, his presence exuding a quiet confidence that somehow eased your tension. The way he stood beside you, relaxed yet alert, made you feel a little more at ease.

“Am I dreaming, or are there three people waiting for us—and they’re jumping?” you asked, barely able to contain your laughter as you watched the trio bouncing in place, their enthusiasm infectious.

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re not dreaming. The idiots over there are my sister, JJ, and Topper.”

“Oh, I know Topper!” you exclaimed, a spark of excitement igniting in your voice. The prospect of recognizing someone made the moment feel a bit more comfortable.

“Yeah, you do, sweetheart,” Rafe replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes glinted with warmth.

As you approached the animated group, the sounds of their laughter filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere that made your heart race with anticipation. Rafe walked beside you.

Topper was the first to spot you, his face lighting up with a broad grin as he waved. “Love birds! Over here!” he shouted, bouncing on his feet, you could tell he was slightly tipsy already.

JJ turned at the sound of his voice, his expression shifting from casual to surprise when he caught sight of you two. “What the fuck? Rafe is here with a girl—isn’t that—”

“That’s Y/N! What the actual fuck, Rafe?” Sarah exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief as she slapped JJ’s chest, the surprise evident in her wide eyes.

As you stepped into view, the weight of their stares sent a wave of nerves crashing over you, and suddenly, the words you’d rehearsed vanished from your mind. It was ridiculous—usually, you were the life of the party, friendly and extroverted. Why were you feeling so overwhelmed now?

“Hi,” you managed to say, cringing at the awkwardness of it. A rush of heat crept up your neck as you mentally kicked yourself for being so inarticulate.

“Hi, pretty girl,” JJ chimed, his grin infectious. “Now that Y/N and her boyfriend have arrived, the party can officially start!” He turned and bolted into the house with an enthusiastic shout, followed closely by Topper, leaving you alone with the Cameron siblings.

Turning your attention back to Sarah, you took a moment to admire her outfit—a stunning black leather dress that hugged her curves perfectly, her makeup expertly applied to accentuate her striking features. She radiated confidence.

“I’ve seen stuff about you two on social media, but I didn’t expect you to actually bring her here—respectfully, of course,” Sarah said, her gaze flicking to you as she finished her sentence and you simply shrugged. “This is a first for you, Rafe,” she continued, raising an eyebrow at her brother.

“I’m serious about her, so get ready to see her everywhere by my side,” Rafe replied casually, but the warmth of his words sent your cheeks aflame. “Are you the only girl here—”

“I love your dress, by the way. I don’t know if I said that already ‘cause I’m pretty tipsy, but I love it. Leopard prints suit you so well! Every time you wear animal prints on the runway, I’m always so in love with how it fits you. Oh, and I heard you’re working with Chanel right now—is that true? You can tell me; I promise I won’t spill. Plus, I’ll probably forget about it by tomorrow anyway—”

Rafe, clearly exasperated, swiftly placed a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say weird shit like that, stalker. You’re creeping my girlfriend out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, placing a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “No, it’s fine.”

“You sure? Because she really sounded like a fucking creep,” he said, feigning seriousness, but you could see the hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Guess that runs in the family,” you teased, lifting yourself on your tiptoes to lean closer and whisper in Rafe’s ear, the warmth of his body radiating against you. “But thank you, Sarah. I was going to say the same about you and your dress. It fits your body like crazy; I’m honestly jealous.”

“Girl, please. Have you seen yourself?” she scoffed, her confidence shining through.

“I have, but have you seen yourself? You’re stunning, like a goddess.”

“Oh my God—”

“Alright, enough with the glazing,” Rafe interrupted, a mock-seriousness creeping into his tone. Sarah shot him an annoyed glare, which you mirrored, both of you momentarily united in your frustration. “I introduced her to you, but there are other people who don’t know she’s here, so get out of the way, Sarah.”

With that, he gently nudged her aside, his protective demeanor hinting at how much he cared, even amidst the playful banter. You couldn’t help but smile at the way he navigated the room with ease, leading you into the chaos of the party.

The room was awash in vibrant colors, illuminated by twinkling lights strung overhead. A long table was set up against one wall, laden with an enticing spread of snacks and alcoholic drinks that sparkled enticingly under the glow. The atmosphere buzzed with energy; laughter and music melded together in a lively symphony. Groups of people swayed on the dance floor, while others engaged in animated conversations or indulged in the delicious food. Rafe was right—though the crowd wasn’t particularly large, the energy was palpable, and the music was loud enough to make your heart race.

You gently tapped Rafe’s arm to get his attention, and he leaned down slightly to hear you over the din. “We’re not gonna go to each person to introduce myself, are we?” 

“Hell no! Just my close friends—” he started, but his words were cut off as someone unexpectedly leapt into his arms, wrapping their limbs around his neck with abandon. Rafe staggered slightly, instinctively holding the person tight to steady them both. Your brows knitted together in confusion and irritation as you wondered who would be so brazen as to interrupt a conversation. The person had clearly come from the front, meaning they’d seen you two talking moments before.

Fucking prick, you cursed internally at the bold interloper.

When the person turned around, you found yourself face-to-face with a woman who had long, straight brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her cheerful smile faltered briefly upon noticing you, but it returned almost instantly, though you could sense the shift in her demeanor.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry for coming in like that,” she shouted over the thumping bass, her voice bright and exuberant. “I was just so excited to see Rafey. I couldn’t contain my joy.”

You waved your hands dismissively, plastering on a friendly smile, trying to keep the peace. “It’s totally fine, don’t worry. I get it.”

“I’m Chiara, by the way. Chiara Romano,” she introduced herself, extending a hand for you to shake. You accepted, noting the warmth of her grip.

“That’s a pretty name,” you said sincerely, your tone genuine. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“The supermodel who fled from her country, right?” Chiara asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

You scratched your cheek, a touch of embarrassment creeping in. “Well, not exactly, but yeah… that’s me.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said with a bright smile before turning her attention back to Rafe, suddenly snatching his arm and tugging at him playfully. “Come with me, Rafey.”

Rafe, who had been uncharacteristically silent during the exchange, finally spoke, his tone firm. “Wait! No, Chiara.”

“Why? It’s gonna be fun—” she retorted, but Rafe’s tone shifted to a more serious note.

“I’m here with Y/N,” he said firmly, the protectiveness in his voice undeniable. Chiara halted her playful tugging, her expression shifting as she turned her full attention to you. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Oh…” she said, her brows raised in surprise as she studied you intently. “Are you two serious, or not?”

You frowned, taken aback by the bluntness of her question. You knew Rafe had a reputation for jumping from one woman to the next, but he had just referred to you as his girlfriend with such conviction. That had to mean something, right? You couldn’t help but wonder what Chiara would have done if you had said no.

“We’re se—” you started, but your voice faltered.

“I want him to say it,” Chiara interrupted, a challenging glint in her eye as she turned to Rafe. “Say that you two are serious, Rafe.”

The air grew thick with anticipation as you awaited his response. The weight of the moment felt significant; this wasn’t just a casual interaction—it was a test of the fragile foundation of your arrangement. Rafe’s eyes darted between you and Chiara, a mix of uncertainty and determination swirling in them. You held your breath, knowing that you needed him to affirm the seriousness of your relationship, even if it was just for show. Rafe couldn’t afford to slip up, not when so much was at stake. You watched him struggle with the words, a silent plea hanging in the air as he held Chiara’s gaze, and you braced yourself for what would come next.

Who the fuck was Chiara Romano to Rafe Cameron?

chapter five

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 01

post cibum - "after a meal" - Kinktober Masterlist TF141 x f!reader Kinks > wet/messy, food play, objectification Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Your new job as a professional nyotaimori model pays all the bills and then some, but tonight, you are serving a group of soldiers who want more than just the novelty of eating fancy sushi rolls off of a naked woman. After they’ve had their fill of the nigiri and the rolls, they want you for dessert. 

“That’s fine, sir. We can do a seven o’clock tonight. Have you had a chance to choose your selections from the menu?”

You strained your ears as you listened to your maître d' consult with a customer over the phone. You were prepping in the adjoining room, going through your normal routine, but the growling, Manchester accent coming through the speaker was making it difficult to focus.  

“Yeah, give us a full spread. The works. No barriers.”

It must be a big party, you thought. The full spread option included a large array of sushi and sashimi. Asking for no barriers was quite adventurous, and you felt your skin flush with excitement. 

“Yes, sir. And would you like your artist bound or unbound?”

“Mm,” he thought for a minute, and you tried to send telepathic messages to the gruff stranger, “Let’s have ‘er tied down.”

Yes, you celebrated, already imagining the feel of the ropes crossing over the big, wooden table and pinning you to it, forcing you to stay in place all night long.

“And will you be including the sake option?”

“Yeah, sure. Johnny’s a bloody lush.”

Your heart began to race just imagining what sort of night you were in for. The sake option meant needing to shave your sensitive pussy completely bare, so you added that step to your process. Being a food model wasn’t something anyone seemed to take seriously, but you felt like a true artist, and you wanted your guests to have an unforgettable experience when they came to dine with you… on you. 

“Alright, sir, that’s –”

“And we want the additional package. I’ll pay extra. Whatever it costs. Just put it on the tab.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like A, B, or C?” 

The additional package? How did he know about that? You’d never performed for this man before – you would not have been able to forget that voice – and only your regulars knew about your secret options.

“A and B, but keep her mouth open, yeah? In case she gets hungry…”

His dark laugh made your blood burn in your veins. Your add-on package meant that he wanted to fill your holes while you lay on the table for him. Option A was for a large glass dildo in your pussy, warmed and heavy, option B was for a bulbous anal plug made of the same body-safe glass, and option C was for a rubber ball-gag in your mouth. But, he wanted to have access to you there, and that made you almost see stars when you thought about the implications. What did your mystery Manc have planned for you?

“Yes, sir. Do you know how many will be in your party tonight?”

“Four. The one with the mohawk is the birthday boy.”

“Thank you, sir. I will add that to the notes. Any allergies?”

“No.”

“And the name for the party?”

“Riley.”

“Thank you. See you later.”

When she hung up the phone, you listened to her boots clack against the marble floor as she came into your dressing room,

“Hey babes, here’s your ticket for tonight. Table of four. Bunch of soldiers. Sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, not feeling as confident as you sounded, “Just make sure to keep their drinks coming. They tip more when they’re drunk.”

You winked at her and she laughed, closing the door behind her to let you finish grooming and cleansing your body. 

Each swipe of your razor was another tantalizing part of your ritual. Once you were fully shaved, you cleaned your skin with special antibacterial soap before applying neutral oils that wouldn’t affect the taste of the food. No perfume, no deodorant. Those were the standards. You weren’t allowed to talk, or to move if you were bound by the tight ropes that pinned you to the table, and you were simply there to be a beautiful platter for the immaculately-made sushi. 

At more traditional restaurants, your position was revered, and guests were forbidden from interacting with you directly. You’d worked at a number of venues that hosted nyotaimori events, all with varying levels of standards and rules, but this one paid the most. This place allowed their guests to do almost anything they wanted, and those high risk situations added to the excitement and to your bank account. However, you’d never felt safer. There were cameras, guards, and highly trained staff all over the premises, and if you ever needed to press your emergency button, you could do so. You wore your panic ring at all times, and you’d used it effectively once or twice; it worked like a dream. 

But, you had to admit, it wasn’t just the money that kept you coming back here. You liked the clients. You liked feeling their hands and mouths eating off of your warm body. You enjoyed the more adventurous customers who wanted to taste you and touch you after they were done with their food. It was exhilarating, and you loved being at their mercy. 

Just before your call time, your attendant brought you your glass dildo and anal plug from the back. They had been sanitized, and you used a little lube to insert the familiar, rigid shape into your pussy. You felt yourself already wet from anticipation, and although the glass phallus was thick and heavy, you took it with a satisfying ease. 

The anal plug was another story. You used much more lube and began to play with your hole with your fingers before you committed to pressing it through your tight rim. The pressure from the fat dildo in your cunt made it even harder to accept, but after a few deep breaths, you felt your body relax and allow the round bulb to sit inside of your ass, pushing against all of the sensitive nerve endings inside of your stretched hole. 

You washed your hands thoroughly and cleansed your skin again, just to be sure. Eventually, you finished with your prep and walked through the hallways to lay on your long black table. It was a chabudai, a short table where guests would sit on mats on the floor, and the dining room where you served was dimly lit, very minimally decorated, and had instrumental music playing softly through the speakers. You looked up into the corner and saw the camera light go from red to green. It was showtime. 

Your attendant returned to perform your shibari. You were laying on your back, and she tied your wrists to your thighs, making sure to position your thumb so that you could press your panic ring easily. Then, she began to lay the ropes over your ribs, framing your breasts, using the ties to make them stand perky and proud on your chest. Finally, she fed the bindings under the table and fastened them down. You were stuck. You could bend your knees and twist your body, but that was about it. 

“All good, ma’am?” She asked.

You nodded,

“Yes, thank you. All good.”

“Alright. I’ll tell chef.”

She left you alone, and you tried your best to focus on your breathing. The dildo was nudging a very sensitive spot inside of you, and you pulsed against it, attempting to find some relief. But, you were just making it worse. Your clenching muscles were allowing it to thrust against you, and no amount of wiggling was going to grant you any reprieve. So, you stopped. You shut off your mind as much as you could, listening to the music and imagining an infinite, empty expanse in your head. 

The door clicked open and the sushi chef came in with his two other servers. They set to work, laying slabs of salmon and octopus sashimi across your breasts in a spiral pattern, using delicate roe to dust the inner circle over your hard nipples, making it look like the pollen-covered pistil of a flower, the fish serving as your beautiful petals. 

A row of maki trailed their way down your belly and each arm. More sashimi were laid on all the places where a roll wouldn’t sit, and one of the chef’s assistants began to place thinly-sliced mango across your neck like a choker. Your legs were covered in sushi and more fruit, and finally, right in the join of your legs, you balanced a bowl with a single lotus flower inside. 

The door cracked again, and your attendant poked her head in,

“Chef, your party is here. Should we send them in?”

The chef nodded, and everyone left the room. But, this time, the silence was deafening rather than zen. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t wait to see and hear and feel what these four guests had in store for you. 

Finally, the door opened, and you heard their jovial laughter and talking. 

“Cannae believe you got a reservation, LT! Been dyin’ to try this for the longest.”

“I know, Johnny,” you recognized that deep, Manchester accent, “Won’t shut up about it.”

Johnny finally came into view. He peered down at you with a uniquely boyish wonder, staring at your face and your body like a kid at Christmas, eager to unwrap his presents. His friends surrounded him on both sides. You guessed that the wry blond was Simon, your vocal crush. You didn’t know the other two, but they were just as nice to look at. One of them was enormous, over-muscled with a bit of a belly, and an odd beard. The other was like a professional athlete, chiseled and masculine, with big brown eyes and dark, smooth skin. 

“Sure is a pretty plate, huh, lads?” The beard spoke with a growling, gravely Scouse accent. He was a smoker, that was for sure. 

“Fittest table I’ve ever seen,” the athlete smiled, his full lips revealing sharp, blinding teeth. 

“Please, have a seat, gentlemen,” your attendant put on her best sexy customer-service voice, “First round is on the house.”

“Oh, shit,” Johnny laughed.

He and his friends ordered an absurd amount of alcohol, and then you were left alone with your party. 

“Think we can get started?” Johnny asked, “Is that alright with you, bonnie?”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as the bearded one hit him lazily on the arm with the back of his hand, 

“She isn’t supposed to speak, MacTavish. Didn’t you fuckin’ listen, or is all the blood that’s meant to be in your brain stuck in your prick?”

“Here, Captain,” the athlete called the bearded one over, “Try this.”

You felt the soft wood of your restaurant’s polished chopsticks graze the side of your breast as he lifted a slab of salmon off of your skin. 

The captain grabbed the fish with his fingers clumsily, but he slurped it down, groaning with pleasure,

“Mm, that’s not bad, Gaz.”

Johnny reached out to you, his hands steady and sure, 

“Lemme try…”

You felt his warm thumb graze over the top of your nipple, pushing some of the fresh roe onto a cut of octopus, and as he curled the fish, he let it drag over the same spot he touched, purposefully teasing you. 

Once they started, they didn’t want to stop. Their hands were roaming all over you, picking up food and feasting on what you had to offer. 

“Look here,” Gaz commented, letting his fingers swipe up the side of your ribs, gathering up dark sauce and licking it off of his knuckle. 

“Oh, tha’ looks tasty,” Johnny smiled, leaning his head down and using his tongue to lick up the rest of the flavor, taking great pains to get as close to the side of your breast as he dared. 

They were getting braver, but you could tell they still weren’t sure what they were allowed to do.

Before long, your attendant was back, ready to get more drinks and appetizers for your men, and you listened to them politely dismiss her, too focused on their task at hand: uncovering you from your delicate morsels of sushi. 

“Mm,” Simon grunted, “Not bad, hm?”

“It’s proper tasty,” the captain agreed. 

“I’m so glad to hear you’re enjoying yourselves,” your attendant encouraged them, “Could I interest you in a sake presentation?”

“Wha’s tha?” Johnny asked with his mouth full, excited to know more. 

“Your artist has more than one talent, gentlemen,” she smiled coyly down at you, kneeling beside the table, carefully removing the bowl from where it was so carefully perched on your pussy. 

The whole room stood still as your smooth, oiled vulva was revealed. Your attendant leaned over you, pouring warm sake into the divot between your closed legs and your mons, filling the space with drink. She made sure the men were looking at her with rapt attention, and she bent to suck the alcohol from your body, her mouth sucking right below your clit, slurping up the delicious sake until it was almost gone. 

“Creepin’ Jesus,” Johnny said under his breath, “Can I do one, lass?”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled, “Of course! You can do anything you like.”

“Anything…”

Johnny’s eyes watched as she filled the crevice between your legs again, letting the sparkling fluid pool and ripple against your skin. Then, when she was done with her pour, he bent to drink from you, putting his mouth exactly where hers had been, gulping and swallowing the sweet brew, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy until you were empty. Then, he stole a lick, shoving his tongue between your lips to tease your clit, testing the limits of what was allowed, trying to find the boundary. 

“I’ll leave the bottle, yes?” Your attendant asked, leaving it on the table without waiting for an answer. 

“Thanks, love,” the captain smiled, watching his friend hovering over your wet quim as Johnny considered going back between your legs for seconds.  

“Go on, then, Sergeant,” Simon encouraged him, “For what I fuckin’ paid, you better enjoy it.”

That was the only permission the mohawked birthday boy needed. He sank his hot mouth down onto your pussy and began to suckle at your clit like it was part of his meal. He laved his tongue inside of your swollen lips, licking you in rhythmic, rolling thrusts. 

You tried your best to control your reactions, but there was only so much you could do to contain your pleasure. Gaz noticed when your eyes rolled back in your head, your lashes fluttering closed as you tried to breathe through the feeling. 

“Delicious, aren’t ya, babe?” 

He bent his head to your breast, feasting on the two pieces of sashimi that were left behind, using his tongue to pull them into his mouth. You could feel the warmth of his full lips on your skin as he ate from you, and every little touch was electrified by Johnny’s feast between your legs. 

As Gaz chewed on his bite, he used his thick finger to scoop up the fresh roe that remained on the peak of your nipple. Then, he bent over you, smiling like a demon, 

“Open up.”

You obeyed, and you melted into your submission. The hard, unflinching stare from those big brown eyes was enough to crush your will to dust. You felt your skin flush across your whole body as you surrendered to him, as if allowing him to control you made you even more sensitive to the touching, licking, kissing, and groping that was happening to you.

He slipped his finger past your lips, placing the roe carefully on your tongue. You felt the tiny eggs spill into your lips like beads. Just when you were about to swallow them, he grabbed your chin in his hand sharply, his face turning darkly serious,

“Hey, open, I said. There’s a good girl. Stick that pretty tongue out for me. Say ahh, pretty girl.”

You did as you were told, and to your shock, he bent his mouth over yours and spit into your throat. You could feel the bubbling drool pooling in your cheeks and sliding to the back of your tongue, but there was nothing you could do about it. His lips turned up into that same dirty smirk as he said, 

“Swallow.”

You took the roe into your mouth and swallowed it along with his saliva, the salt of the fish eggs mixing with the salt and alcoholic tinge in his spit. He must’ve been drinking at the bar before his party sat down at your table because the herbal scent of gin was unmistakable. 

He pet your cheek with the back of his hand, praising you with his touch, watching your face twist with pleasure as Johnny became almost uncontrollable between your legs. The mohawked man was sucking so hard on your clit that the slurping sounds from his mouth were filling the room. 

Gaz bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back. The softness of his lips lulled you into an even deeper sub state, and you felt like you were melting. Suddenly, he forced his tongue into your mouth and wrapped a huge palm around your jaw, holding you in place as he began to slide his slippery muscle in and out of your cheeks. It was as if he was fucking your throat with his tongue, and your mind fed you an imaginary scene of how his cock might feel in its place. 

When he pulled away, you felt Johnny stop his kisses as well, and your body writhed without your consent, desperate to feel them tasting you again. 

“This is the best fuckin’ birthday I’ve ever had,” Johnny smiled, wiping a hand across his shining mouth. 

The man who’d made the booking, Simon, sat beside his friend and pointed between your legs,

“Pour us one, Johnny.” 

“Aye. Here ya go, lads. Slàinte mhath.”

You watched as he poured sake into the divot between your legs again, but he over-indulged. He began to pour it across your belly as well, letting it pool in your belly button and settle in the dip of your sternum. 

The captain was the first to take a sip. He lapped at the pool of sake that splattered across your mons and lips like a hound, aiming to taste you more than he was the alcohol. Then, he followed Johnny’s trail, dragging his hot tongue along the swell of your tummy, aiming for the well of spirits in your belly button. He hovered over it when he found it, and as he leaned down to drink from you, you could feel the tickle of his mustache, making you squirm.

His filthy, gravelly chuckle made your blood run cold. It seemed that he enjoyed forcing your body to respond to his touch. 

“Ticklish, love?” He returned to your lower belly, letting the bristles of his beard tease you until your breathing became ragged, your lungs trying to suck in, doing your best to pull away from him and yet not being able to escape. 

Your tormentor shoved Gaz around the table so that he could tease your breast with his bearded mouth, and Gaz followed suit, both of them fighting for the puddle of sake between your breasts before suckling on your tight nipples. They had such different agendas. Where Gaz seemed to suck because he wanted to see you squirming from pleasure, the captain seemed hell-bent on keeping you from it. 

You could feel him biting into your delicate flesh with his sharp teeth, causing just enough pain to pull you out of your relaxed, pleasure-induced haze. Then, when he could see your eyes flash with just a hint of apprehension, he would retreat, rewarding your responsiveness with a long, deep suck or hungry, flat licks with his tongue, a barely-there smile twisting across his cheeks as he did. 

You felt something brush against your leg, and Simon was using a napkin from the table to wipe the rest of the food off of your legs, not giving a shit about the hundreds of pounds worth of sushi being gathered up in the cloth. Dinner, apparently, was over. 

Your mind raced. This was far and beyond the bravest party you’d ever served before. They worked on you as a team, giving each other silent feedback, and when Simon finally bent to drink from between your legs, your mind was throbbing from the overstimulation. 

You weren’t supposed to, but you began to let long, cracking moans escape from your throat. Anything you did to hold them back was just making them worse, and your voice only seemed to spur these men to double down on their efforts. 

Simon did not eat you like Johnny did. His Scottish companion ate you out like you were the food, but the Manc was more like his captain. He wanted to see where your buttons were, and when he found them, he began to press them just like a lad playing with a shiny new toy. 

His tongue found the body of your clit and swirled around it, avoiding the searing head, swollen and sensitive to the point of discomfort. Instead, he pushed the tip of his tongue just below it, lifting it up, making the hood stretch just enough to apply its pressure. 

You bucked your hips, the sake that rested in your thighs sloshing out, ignored by your new master. He didn’t give you a smug grin like his bearded boss. In fact, you could barely tell what emotion he was feeling. It wasn’t until you met his gaze that you noticed the fire behind his eyes. 

Only then did he begin to drink from you, emptying the alcohol from your body, letting his tongue venture down into the crevice of your thighs and licking between them as if they were your cunt. He had gone deep enough to feel the edge of your dildo, and when he found it, he turned to the others, getting their attention,

“Had them do something special for Johnny. Wanna see your surprise?”

Johnny had been busy sharing a nipple with Gaz, leaving hungry little hickies across your skin. But, when Simon called him over, he seemed all too eager to return between your legs.

“Aye,” he smiled rakishly, “Gonnae spoil me, Si.”

All four men shifted to the foot of the table, their eyes wide and focused on you like hyenas with a wounded gazelle, selfish and ready for their next taste of you.

Simon took your legs and lifted them up, bending your thighs at the hip, showing the others how two fat, glass dildos were shoved deep inside of your holes. 

“Oh, bonnie…” Johnny reached forward, grabbing the dildo stuck in your pussy gently between his fingers and giving it just the slightest twist, “For me? Such a good lass, innit she?”

Simon reached down below Johnny’s hand and began to tug at the anal plug. The resistance was driving you mad. You tried to relax, but he was not waiting on you, and the pressure began to build and build until finally, your muscle relented and you felt the heavy bulb slip wetly out of your asshole, soaking in lube.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz murmured, not wasting any time, sticking a long finger into the gaping hole left behind by the plug, testing the stretch of your ass with his strong hands. 

Simon pressed it back in, forcing Gaz away, slowly fucking the heavy toy back into you, letting it sink inside of your body with a sloppy pop, pushing on it just a little harder than he needed to so that it would feel like it was thrusting inside of you. 

Then, Johnny did the same with the dildo in your swollen pussy. He didn’t pull it all the way out, choosing instead to fuck you with it, shoving it into your hole with wet, slicking sounds, marvelling at the sight. 

You were so drunk from the pleasure that you hadn’t noticed their captain sneaking around to the head of the table. He startled you, grabbing you beneath your arms and yanking you and your ropes up, strong enough to move you even though you were tied down. He had pulled you far enough that your head hung off the edge, and you found yourself staring at his black slacks, amazed at the thickness of his thighs. Then, you watched him roll down his zipper, stroking his cock until it gleamed with his precome. 

You felt his other hand supporting the back of your head, holding you at just the angle he wanted. Then, he purred his command to you,

“Let me in, pretty girl.”

You allowed your muscles to weaken, opening you mouth wide, unsure if you could pry your mouth open enough for his girth to fit inside of you. He chuckled in that same, devilish way, slapping his sticky head against your lips twice before feeding his head into your cheeks, settling at the back of your throat, letting you gag and cough around him all you wanted and doing fuck-all about it. 

Between your legs, you felt the dildo slip out of your pussy, replaced with eager fingers and a tongue. Now that you had the captain’s thick cock to block your noises, you let yourself whine against him like a gag, moaning and crying out from the overwhelming feeling of being used. 

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, lads,” he grunted, “Make her scream for me.”

Both of his hands were cradling your head as he fucked your throat, guiding his fat dick in and out of you like a piston. You breathed when you could, but it was only just enough, and you felt yourself going light-headed. 

A mouth found your nipple again, and a hand rolled itself beside your clit, making frantic circles from above. Then, below your thighs, a round prodding cockhead pressed its way into your lubricated walls, making your dildo seem like nothing more than a thick finger or two. You were being well-stretched, and your body flooded your cunt with wetness to try and ease his way, doing everything it could to make it easier for whoever it was to fit his prick into your warm body.

He rested your ankles against his neck, and your bare feet scraped the side of his head. Buzzed hair. It was the birthday boy afterall. 

“Mmmph, fuckin’ hell, bonnie. Too tight. Too goddamn tight. Fuck…”

As he pumped himself into you, his movements made free and fast by the lube and your dripping cunt, your whole body began to jerk across the table. These men weren’t just large; they were stronger than you could’ve ever imagined, and you felt like you were nothing more than a mere toy to them. 

The fingers teasing your clit were sending your mind into a panicked orgasm, and your whole body convulsed as you let yourself tumble into the swirling madness of your bliss, your eyes wrenched shut and flashes of rainbow light dancing across them as you came violently. 

Apparently, that was enough to send the captain over his edge because as you were trapped in the throes of your orgasm, he shoved himself all the way inside of you and began to pulse hot shots of his come into your belly. You were desperate for air, but there was nothing you could do. They were in control of you, and you were ashamed by how much you enjoyed being at their mercy. 

“Ohhh, Cap’n. She loves tha’, dontcha, lass?”

“Knew she would,” the captain slipped out of your throat, smiling down at you as you gasped wetly for a breath, “Filthy little slag.”

You watched as he shifted to the side of you, his thighs leaving your line of sight, being immediately replaced by a pair of dark jeans. You knew it was Gaz when his wide thumb reached down to wipe the drool and come from your lips, lovingly cleaning up after his captain’s mess. 

“Being so good for us. Still hungry, baby?”

You couldn’t answer him, but he didn’t care. He tugged his long, curved rod out of his pants and let his balls rest on your mouth. You started to suckle on one of them, taking it into your mouth and letting it roll between your lips.

“Yeah, she is. Mmff-fuck, tha’s it.”

Gaz lifted your head up with his hand to help you reach, stroking his huge shaft with the other, jerking off as you did your best to pleasure him, trying to be careful with his sensitive sack. 

Johnny’s thrusts became frantic. Simon and his captain were taking turns pouring sake across your belly and sucking it off of you, and you were dizzy from the feeling of being fucked with your heavy plug inside of you. When you began to come again, it hit you slowly, building and building in waves, making you tremble from the suffocating joy of it. 

You cried out, and your mouth was open wide in a silent oh. Gaz took the chance to feed you his cockhead, giving you something to scream around. You felt Johnny pause deep inside of you, his cock nestled as close to your womb as he could get, and he began to fill you with his come, shamelessly bending himself over you to fit his rod down to its root in your wetness. 

“Christ, bonnie! Come for me. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hnngh…” 

He slid himself out of you, but almost immediately, someone filled your empty hole with your dildo, keeping his load sealed safe inside. 

Gaz was still jerking his cock as he rested his tip inside your mouth, and you could feel him shuddering above you, his fingers twisted and tugging at the base of your scalp. 

“Suck on me harder. Yesss,” he groaned, “Just like that… mmfgh. Good… girl…” 

You felt him throbbing, pulsing, and ready to come. Then, just when you were ready to taste him, he pulled out and painted your mouth, chin, and neck white with his seed. There was so much of it, and whatever your tongue could reach, you licked it up, sucking him clean when he let you have the tip one more time before he smeared the remnants of his dripping cream across your cheek. 

Suddenly, Gaz’s hands returned to the back of your head and lifted it up. At the same time, another man yanked your whole body back down the table, making the wood creak from the stress. Now, you could see what was happening to you. 

Simon was holding your thighs, playing with your pussy, making sure your dildo was nice and snug. Then, he removed your anal plug again, twisting it out with a steady tug. When you made a whimpering cry, he looked up at you, and you saw that same light in his gaze, a hunger unlike that of his other friends. Something uncanny and secret about his message that you failed to decode. 

He began to pry open your asshole with his fingers, exploring just past the rim. First, it was just one, but then it was two. They twisted, curling inside of you, plunging deeper and deeper and testing how pliant you were. Your plug was pretty large, so you weren’t usually concerned about a man’s cock being a challenge. But, the way he was preparing your hole made your whole body tense with anticipation, worried about what was going to happen to you. 

You watched him rest your heels on his shoulder, just like his friend had done, and his tattooed hand held your thighs as the other placed his swollen head at the rim of your asshole, teasing it, barely even touching you. 

You thought he would plunge inside, but he never did. He just kept painting little warm circles around you, pressing on the outside yet never allowing himself to slip into your ass. 

“Mngh…” You whined, twisting your hips as much as you could, begging for it. 

“What’s that? Speak up, love. Can’t hear ya.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing you weren’t allowed to break your ceremonial rule but desperate just the same. He let himself smile softly down at you, planting his head at your hole and using the weight of his cock to rest it there. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tell me you want it. It’ll be our little secret.”

His friends were kneeling around you, spent but still groping your body, licking and kissing you lazily, enjoying watching Simon torment you.

“She doesnae wanna break the rules, Si. Good lass tha’ she is,” Johnny cooed, letting his fingers rest on either side of your clit, drawing deep ovals and watching your face twist in desperation.

“Let him hear it, love. We won’t tell,” the captain whispered in your ear, using his fingers to slide Gaz’s come from your chin into your mouth, making you taste his salty seed. He kept his fingers inside of your lips, pushing them all the way to the back of your throat, letting you suck on them, “Tha’s right. Our perfect little slut.”

Your mind went blank, and all you could focus on was the feeling of relief that would come to you if you just broke your rule…

The captain removed his hand, returning to your tits to suck on them and pinch your nipples. Then, Simon pressed forward just a little more, giving you his head before immediately taking it away, leaving you hollow.

“... please…” You whispered, your voice so shallow and small. 

“What? Cannae hear you, bonnie,” the Scot smiled, moving his hand faster between your pussy lips. 

“I think I heard something, did you?” Gaz joked, raising his eyebrows at Simon, smacking your ass cheek with the palm of his hand. 

“Say it,” Simon growled. 

His team was all smiles, but he was dead on. You locked eyes with him and said it again.

“Please.”

“Fuck,” Simon’s eyes rolled back in his head, the whites peeking through his long lashes, and he sank himself deep into your asshole in one punishing thrust. 

He was as thick as your plug, but he was so much longer, and you had never felt so stretched out in your whole life. As he began to fuck you, he wrapped his hand around the dildo in your pussy, covered in come and lube, and he fucked you in time with his own prick, making it seem like he was in both places at once. 

“You ready for more?” Simon asked you breathlessly, checking in with you. 

You nodded, fuck-drunk but just as submissive as ever. Whatever he asked for, you were ready to give it to him. 

When he saw your shallow nods, he began to fuck you at an incredible pace. Your whole body was shuddering every time he slammed himself forward, and the strength of his thrusts was making you feel like his cock was even bigger than you thought, your poor asshole stretched past the point of comfort. 

“She’s takin’ it so good, Si,” Johnny sighed, watching your face go slack as his friend railed himself into you.

You weren’t even moaning. You were barely breathing. Your mind only had one goal: making you come and come and come. 

“Spread her legs,” Simon commanded his team. 

You heard the schnick of a knife’s blade being unsheathed, and then the ropes around your ankles were sliced away. Gaz and Johnny pulled your knees up to your chest, forcing you open for him like a book. 

Johnny bent down over your pussy and spat onto your slit, smearing it with his fingers. Then, he slapped you gently a few times, increasing the pain each time his hand came down until you were literally screaming from it. But, it didn’t hurt. It just made you come even harder. The pleasure was muting the pain to an incredible degree. You wanted him to give you more, but you were too far gone to ask. 

The captain was kissing your mouth, using his hands to feed you come again, and you couldn’t even kiss him back. Your body was frozen, your muscles tight and stuck in a loop of pleasure. You were coming in cyclical waves, unsure of where one started or ended, just suspended in blissful torment, sucking in breaths when your lungs allowed you to. 

Then, Simon’s movements stuttered, and he slowed, sinking into you as deep as he could fit before pulling out in one swift movement and jerking his cock right in front of your swollen, punished pussy.

He slid the dildo out of you, leaving you feeling empty to the point of grief, and you watched as he hovered at your entrance, shooting his load into your already-filled cunt. Rope after rope of milky come seared its way into you, messy but accurate. Then, he replaced the dildo and sat back on his heels, out of breath. 

His friends let your legs back down, and they all moved away from you, leaving little kisses on your body as they retreated. 

Once they recovered, they had one more shot of sake together, and Johnny poured one into your mouth. 

“There ya go, bonnie. Job well done, aye? This birthday party willnae be topped anytime soon.”

You swallowed the shot, tasting just not the alcohol but the remnants of Gaz’s come as well when it slid down your throat in tandem. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” the captain said, “You don’t have to say your goodbyes yet.”

Simon peered down at you over his shoulder,

“Riverbend street, apartment six, right?”

Your eyes went wide. How did he know where you lived? 

But, before you could ask him, they let themselves out, leaving you stunned, full of their come, and thrilled about what you would find when you finally made it home tonight.

[amaranthineghost]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ TWO WHEEL DRIVE: MEET ME AT THE CROSSWALK ( lando norris. )

lando norris x biker!reader

under the guise that she's on vacation, she travels to monaco in surprise for a certain mclaren driver who had missed her presence.

authors note: there may be a fourth part to this, but it will come after cowboy lando (live laugh love) and also trying to work on the requests that have built up (please be patient if you haven't seen yours!) and other ideas I have <3

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ynusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 20,472 others

ynusername the dreaded vacation curse of finding a cute boy and then leaving to never see him again!

read all 204 comments

user girl don't play with me right now

user this better be lando or I'm going to tip cows!

user after all of us hyping him up, she better not have ran off with some random boy during a VACATION

⤷ user right like girl he's RIGHT THERE PLEASEEEE

user nah guys, now you see that she was probably just using lando to go to a grand prix

⤷ user this. like it was clearly a guise just to be able to get her tidbit of fame and act like she's hot shit on her bike

landonorris hate when that happens 😅🔪

⤷ ynusername literally the worst

⤷ user little passive aggressive there lando!

⤷ user I'm sorry but y'all make it too obvious

alexandrasaintmleux a mandatory coffee date and tour is in order, gorgeous ☕️🥐

⤷ ynusername yes, please! I promise I'll park better than your boyfriend 😅🫶🏼

⤷ user NOT THE RANDOM CHARLES SLANDER

⤷ user I'm living for it, she's so c*nty

user okay it's confirmed guys she's in monaco

⤷ user officially freaking out 🤗

user not her buddying up with alexandra to get close with charles too

⤷ user what are you on because I got to make sure so I can avoid it

⤷ user right like she's clearly only interested in lando 💀

⤷ user is she really? because to me it looks like she ran off to a random vacation and forgot about him!

⤷ user no, it just looks like you're delusional! hope this helps! 🤗

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri and 1,023,287 others

landonorris guys I'm on my multi-million dollar yacht! (cough)

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user damn I remember that yacht! such good times sipping EXPENSIVE champagne!

user oh yeah, that looks just like the model lando gifted me so we could be twinsies!

user I remember when lando accidentally spilled a drink on me, he gave me a couple hundred dollars as compensation and a go at steering the yacht!

oscarpiastri I remember celebrating your win in that! such a gracious host!

⤷ user oscar has lando's back 😭

user i'm begging for that to be yn

⤷ user she's in monaco so the chances it's her are HIGHHHH

⤷ user girl don't get my hopes up

⤷ user we can both dream

ynusername wow that yacht looks very expensive!

⤷ landonorris oh yeah, you know how it is! athlete's salary and all...

⤷ user not yn also hyping lando up

⤷ user she's trying to be his wingman to get herself

⤷ user she's such an icon

mclaren looks like we brought back a certain good luck charm? 😉

⤷ user mclaren DON'T play wit me rn

⤷ user don't get my hopes up, admin

user this is torture HARD LAUNCH ALREADY

⤷ user okay they're doing this on purpose because they know we know but they also know that we are doubting if it's real!

⤷ user the soft launch makes sense all of a sudden...

ynusername

liked by landonorris and 43,027 others

ynusername my go at a four wheel drive

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user THIS IS GOALS

user oh my god she's done it! she drove something that has more than two wheels!

⤷ user i bet lando roped her into it

⤷ user oh you know for SURE that he did

landonorris i bet you were great on the track behind you there

⤷ ynusername oh i was. i had the best teacher there with me!

⤷ user haha just kiss on camera already haha

⤷ landonorris bet

⤷ user PAUSE!

⤷ user HELPPPP but fr they need to hard launch already like guys we already know, it's not funny anymore!

oscarpiastri bet those skills were top tier, i can't wait to see you on the grid next year!

⤷ ynusername i'm coming for your seat, buddy. you better watch out

⤷ landonorris hey guys, let's not get too crazy now!

⤷ user lando jealous?

⤷ user over little oscar (who already has a girlfriend) just being friendly with her

user he's too far gone i fear

⤷ user he's so whipped

user he's utterly hopelessly deeply in love with her and you can so tell

landonorris

liked by ynusername and 1,347,293 others

landonorris should i buy a bike with my athlete's salary?

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user i speak for everyone when i say YES DO IT RIGHT NOW

user stop everyone thank yn because she gave us biker lando

⤷ user THANK YOU YN!!! we say in unison

⤷ user YN THE WORLD THANKS YOU 🙌🏼

⤷ ynusername haha my pleasure

⤷ user oh my god im gonna faint

user oh my god imagine lando buys his own bike and get a motorcycle license

⤷ user and then she can be his backpack 🥹

⤷ user or!! they can go on rides around monaco or whatever country they bring their bikes to

user hello she's wearing the same white tank top in her post!

⤷ user ynndo confirmed!!!

ynusername two words. death wobble.

⤷ landonorris we do not speak of it

⤷ user see, this just confirms it

⤷ user DEATH WOBBLE??? I CHANGE MY MIND LANDO NORRIS DO NOTTTTTT GET A BIKE!

⤷ user bro probably doesn't even care as long as he gets the girl

oscarpiastri maybe this is your time to shine in motogp! which means an empty seat at mclaren for yn to be my teammate! thanks a lot lando for your great sportmanship!

⤷ ynusername oh my god YES!

⤷ landonorris hold on, what, i didn't agree to this guys 😅

⤷ oscarpiastri well, i think you've been overruled

⤷ user LET YN COOK IN F1!!

user the second photo hello?!

⤷ user RIGHT like they are such goals

user and the fact we don't know it's her but we also do know 🫠

ynusername

liked by landonorris and 63,024 others

ynusername sorry guys, busy again this weekend

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user hello the oscar cap? SHE'S ONE OF US 🙌🏼

⤷ user ONE OF US!!!

landonorris why are you wearing my teammate's cap??

⤷ ynusername because he's my second favorite driver!

⤷ landonorris well why don't you wear the hat of your favorite driver instead? 🤨

⤷ ynusername why would i

⤷ landonorris why wouldn't you

⤷ ynusername i don't know 🤷🏻‍♀️

user hello the back and forth over her wearing oscar's cap

⤷ user stop, and the fact he knows that he's her favorite

⤷ user i mean why wouldn't he be!!

user see she's just using lando so mclaren will keep inviting her 🙄

⤷ user get a grip 😭

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landonorris

liked by ynusername and 1,293,420 others

landonorris might not have been the result i wanted, but at least i've got the girl, and also congrats osc on p2!

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user HE LOCKED IT DOWN YALL

oscarpiastri you'll be back on the podium next time for sure, and congrats on the girl, mate

⤷ landonorris that hype comment really sold it i think

⤷ ynusername @/oscarpiastri so did he not help you win that sprint?

⤷ oscarpiastri no comment!

user the comment section being his wingman nailed it in

⤷ ynusername well they did say how great and rich he was, how could i refuse! he gave cpr to a goldfish, top tier qualities right there!

⤷ user not her basically admitting she's using him for his money

⤷ user you wish it was you 💀

mclaren our good luck charm returns!

⤷ ynusername it worked on oscar this time! maybe it was because he knew I'd be there 🫣

⤷ landonorris yeah, but he can't keep his mouth shut so I also knew... eventually

⤷ oscarpiastri hey!

⤷ ynusername it's okay, osc! congrats on p2 😊

⤷ oscarpiastri thank you yn 🥲 you should take me on a ride as a celebration

⤷ ynusername yes!!

⤷ landonorris okay let's take a minute 😅

user lando AND yn calling oscar 'osc' 🥹

⤷ user oscar is their child confirmed!

comments have been limited

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taglist (found here): @poppyflower-22 @sapphiccloud @darleneslane @decafmickey @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej @soamericn @tellybearyyyy @geniusalpaca @namgification @landossainz @sweate-r-weathe-r @luvsforme @theyluvflynn @ln4smiamitrophy @rylieverstappen-sargent @littlegrapejuice @mel164 @jiggly-puff-12 @ahnneyong @prudyhoo

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[bbyg4rl]

what if pouge JJ worked at an adult toy store?

-🦇

hes such a dumbass he'd probably love working there

lets start from the beginning, he probably applied as a joke or a last resort but it quickly becomes a fun job. because horny women in the same room as jj. thats it. you know how that is.

he has a favorite vibrator model that he refers to as “The GOAT.” Literally pets it like a cat sometimes.

he has a ranking list of the weirdest things in the store posted behind the counter. updates it weekly, argues passionately with coworkers about it.

but he genuinely takes the job seriously in the weirdest way. like, he'll deadass explain the difference between silicone and jelly materials while chewing gum and leaning on the counter like he’s talking about surfboards.

he comes up with a jingle too— everytime the bell on the door rings, hes all sing songy “If it buzzes, hums, spins or thrusts—we got it, baby.”

definitely gets way too proud when someone leaves with a purchase he recommended. “I made that night happen. You're welcome.” he dares himself to sell the most insane thing to the most normal-looking customer. has an 80% success rate somehow.

has been banned from demo-ing anything because of “that one time with the anal beads.”

he's the most informative (and way too confident) employee on earth, uses product names in casual conversation just to mess with customers. “Yeah, the weather’s been real ThunderStick 3000 lately, huh?”

keeps telling the Pogues he's gonna write a memoir about his time here. working title: “Ropes, Regrets, and Retail.”

read more concepts here !

[melancholicstation]

GOD BLESS AMERICA AND ALL THE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN IN IT —HUSBAND!JACK SCHLOSSBERG COMFORT HEADCANONS 𓍼 𓇢𓆸

jack schlossberg fan fiction is for the lovers

WIFE!READER returns and is the orion carloto archetype, who balances modelling and writing, and i imagine her making tiktoks in the same vain of alanabananaxox (she's been my no.1 tiktoker since 2021) and sotce on tiktok.

taglist: @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl

no matter the stressor husband!jack literally treats it as a top-priority emergency

immediately goes to start a bath for you in your gorgeous copper bathtub (cause of course you have a copper bathtub ... duh) with some suzzane kaufman bath salt's that he picked up down in greenwich after a meeting with vogue's magazine department.

husband!jack is a freak for baths and it's rubbed off on you ... seriously like that man takes baths multiple times a week, on top of daily showers

if he had to be out on a day you were particularly anxious for whatever reason he would come home with a laundry bag of new tasteful yet cute stuffed animals from loewe and never tell you the prices cause he knows you'd crash out

is great at being a body pillow and has no shame just laying in silence together for hours

would try to make you feel better by getting the overpriced (not in your opinion) criterion subscription just so you could watch vintage halloween movies without running a risk of getting hacked on some third-party sketchy website

would 100% let you live in his clothes while he was out of the house so you could feel comforted even if he wasn't physically near

would absolutely try to distract you with light comedy, despite his cockiness he is indeed a funny guy so it helps slightly

husband!jack would be such a proponent of a healthy mind is a healthy body so he'd make you go do jump rope with him (cause why does jump roping have to be so humiliating) or even worse takes you out to paddle board, like imagine your knee-deep in that melancholic state where you only read plath novels and listen to unreleased lana and your boyfriend drags you out to go paddle boarding???? like cmon now

you do feel better afterwards but you would never tell him that

if you guys owned any pets together he would without a doubt tell you he's going to be out for a couple of hours and come back with one of those portrait paintings of house-pets to cheer you up (editors note: vang olsen mimi does the most delightful pet paintings if your in greenwich!)

he would absolutely NOT be above trying to self-medicate your problems (within reason) by smoking w*ed with you or sharing a cigar being the chicest couple ever!

would 100% smother you in delightfully soft cashmere blankets in the pattern of gorgeous tapestries

would earnestly read poems (robert frost, emily dickinson, and shakespeare) to you to get you to sleep on the especially hard days

is a devout optimist and routinely talks you out of your doom scrolling

always holds space for whatever emotions you are feeling but always wants to provide solutions to your problems

and when he encounters a problem he can't so easily fix he invests time into getting your mind off it and plans steps you can take to lessen the hold whatever your stressing about has on you

writes mini impromptu love letters/pep talks on the empty spaces in your agenda notebook (wife!reader would totally own more than 1 of these louise carmen organisers in an apropos shade of autumn scarlet )

encourages you to do self-care rituals with your staple skincare products by letting you do the exact same steps on him

while husband!jack cooks for you both you read him your favourite chapters of "democracy" by joan didion in the kitchen every night and it remains a pillar in your routine despite the tumult

during your hard times jack is serving peak husbandry doing the washing, cooking and cleaning

when he's on his lunch break at the office you get text messages like this:

always makes sure that you take your medication (if you take any) at the exact times its supposed to be at and has little alarms on his phone

husband!jack would increase his acts of service to 1000% like that man would be taking your row boots into the cobbler for a new sole

would bring home flowers without a special occasion, just cause

would without a doubt bring out those STELLAR accents just to see you smile

disclaimer: this is all obviously fiction and i do not know this man nor how he calms anyone down, this is all for some fun distraction in these trying times.

to anyone struggling with the results and its ramifications (same here) i would really encourage you to read this beautiful (free) essay from alanabanaxox on patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/i-miss-dancing-115580140?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_fan&utm_content=web_share

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 4/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : none

CHAPTER 4 : SMAU

Serie Masterlist

@landonorris

Life lately: city nights, soft lights, slow things 🎼

@pietra you forgot “dragged to the ballet and actually kinda loved it” 😌🩰

@maxfewtrell he's lying. man was into act II don't let him pretend otherwise

@carlossainz55 slow things? who is this poetic new version of you

@formula1fashion slide 4… tux?? okay classy king

@curiouscatfan is that a program for The Nutcracker? 👀

@slowcircuits love this whole soft mood. winter season lando is ✨

@arianariverria

Opening night in Royal Opera still lingers in my limbs. Thank you to the ones who made it feel like gold 🩰🤍

@ballerinasoflondon You were luminous on stage

@velvetdanse this is what grace looks like

@stagequietly saw you last night — truly breathtaking 🩰

@quietballetgirl this bouquet is straight out of a novel. you’re magic.

@balletfansunited whoever gave you those flowers has taste 😍

Instagram Story – @pietra

@f1casuals not pietra casually giving us ballet night with the lads content 😭 I love it here

@ballerinasonthegrid wait was doing Lando and Max at The Nutcracker??

@fashionf1blog tbh obsessed with this whole aesthetic

@quietobserver32 Lando looked like the adoptive son of Max and Pietra

@f1winterwatch #LandoNorris seen by fans at the Royal Opera House in London for opening night of The Nutcracker during winter break. Dressed in full tux and accompanied by close friend Max Fewtrell and Pietra Pilao, the McLaren driver was photographed looking very out of his usual element.

Fans were quick to clock the ballet program in hand — and even quicker to spiral. Sources say he stayed through the full performance and went to the after show gala, according to Max’s own comments he was “weirdly into Act II.” 👀.

@f1girlie lando norris watching ballet in a tux… literally what dimension is this

@chaoticgrid so we all agree this is Pietra’s doing right??

@curiouspitlane "weirdly into Act II" IS THE FUNNIEST THING I’VE EVER READ

@formulafits not me falling in love with winter opera lando. he’s just like a victorian novel character now

@gridgossipgirl he’s not suddenly into ballet y’all 😂 he prob just got roped in by max and pietra

@f1curiosity don’t forget it was donors night at the Royal Opera… PR move?? 👀

@midfielddreams let’s be real: this is 100% media team damage control for the party boy Lando headlines

@offtrackantics tbh i wouldn’t be shocked if McLaren told him to show face and act classy for once lol

@slowburnsundays he looked good. that’s all i’m taking from this. tux Lando supremacy

@gridoverdramatic we’ve gone from ibiza yachts to ballet in a month 😭 PR team is working overtime

@f1goat not buying the “soft boy era” spin yet. we’ve seen the club videos. we remember.

@quietlyofftrack maybe he was just trying to support pietra. like. sometimes guys do wholesome things to balance the chaos

@fansofthegrid i know everyone’s like “image change!!!” but honestly?? maybe he just likes dressing up and sitting down for 2 hours

Texts messages :

Unknown Number hi so, this might be weird unless it’s not? I don’t know

Ariana Who is this?

Unknown Number right, yeah sorry it’s Lando from the other night I get your number trough the dancers contact list I hope it's okay, I swear I’m not weird

Ariana …Norris?

Lando yes, that one Formula One guy bad-at-tuxedos guy

Ariana I remember You weren’t that bad at tuxedos

Lando 😅 thanks I practiced standing still in a mirror beforehand

Ariana Impressive. So, what’s this text about?

Lando right, yeah ok so this isn’t like a thing like it’s not a date not that I wouldn’t, I mean it could be not that it has to be I just thought—

Ariana Breathe.

Lando okay resetting hi again

Ariana Hello again.

Lando I wanted to see if you might want to come to this gathering thing, not like a wild party or anything just friends, pizza, blankets, probably candles Pietra said something about fairy lights and “safe vibes”

Ariana That’s… quite the pitch

Lando I panicked halfway through and committed to the bit

Ariana I could tell So you’re inviting me to a not-a-party?

Lando yes, very chill Max is hosting and Pietra’s coming no pressure at all, if you hate it you can pretend you weren’t even there

Ariana Are you always this nervous when texting?

Lando only when the person I’m texting is kind of intimidating and elegant and casually tore my ego in half at a club once

Ariana Fair And do you usually invite said people to pizza nights?

Lando no, this is a new thing trying something different slower quieter less… tequila and regrettable decisions

Ariana I appreciate that Maybe

Lando maybe yes or maybe “I’ll disappear for three months and never answer again”?

Ariana Maybe yes if I’m not busy and if the playlist isn’t terrible

Lando Max made the playlist so yes it’s terrible but we can change it if you come

Ariana Tempting

Lando pls come I already told Pietra I invited you and she’s going to mock me forever if you don’t

Ariana Send the address I’ll think about it

Lando [📍Shared Location] okay sent thank you for being gentle with how awkward I am I swear I’m cooler in person actually no, that’s probably a lie

Ariana It’s fine I don’t like cool people anyway

Lando 😳 I’ll take that as a win

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @esw1012

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !