#but i had a blast none the less

[theostrophywife]

poison paradise.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toxic by omido.

author's note: smutty unhinged theo won the poll. here’s your silly little treat. this came to me in a dream proving that even my subconscious isn't safe from theodore. this is pure filth, but ya'll already know that that's what i do best 🤪

The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your tongue as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Lost in euphoria, you cried out just as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you to the depths of sensual self-indulgence. 

Back arching off the bed. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans echoing off the walls. 

This was hedonism at its finest. 

The heady scent of sweat, skin, and sex permeated in the air long after your orgasm passed, inducing you into a foggy haze as you scrambled to anchor yourself back to the present. Between your legs, your girlfriend lifted her head up with a pleased smirk and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. 

The kiss tasted like cum and cherries, a sweet and intoxicating combination that sent your head spinning. Hannah hummed, her pretty doe eyes focused on you while your own fluttered open. 

“Babe, I’ve really got to get to practice now,” she whispered softly. “I’m late enough as it is.” 

You chuckled, twirling a strand of her red hair between your fingers. “Whose fault is that? You’re the one who dragged me in here, love.” 

Hannah grinned sheepishly as she pulled your red and gold skirt down. “Can you blame me? I can’t control myself when you’re strutting about in your cheer uniform.” 

“Then go out there and give me something to cheer about, babe. I expect a win against Slytherin tomorrow.” 

“If Potter doesn’t kill me first for being late,” she said with a final kiss to your cheek. “See you after practice?”

You nodded as you tossed her jersey over. “I’ll be here.” 

After taking a much needed shower, you sat in front of the vanity and blasted music as you diligently adhered to your skincare routine. The best thing about having a girlfriend was that you shared everything. Since dating Hannah, your makeup, clothes, and shoe options doubled overnight. 

As you combed through your hair, a sudden knock at the door caught your attention. You figured it was just a courtesy from Hannah’s roommate. Merlin knows that the poor witch had walked in on you and your girlfriend in countless compromising positions. 

Tightening the scarlet robe around your waist, you sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Emma to greet you from the other side. Instead, a looming figure eclipsed the doorway. You were surprised to find none other than Theodore Nott staring back at you. 

While you two weren’t exactly the best of friends given the rivalry between your houses, you and Theo were civil. You sat beside each other in Herbology and occasionally shared a laugh every time you caught him muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath about the ridiculous bloody plants that Professor Sprout had you wrangling during class. 

“Well, what do we have here?” you teased, cocking your head at the dead eyed Slytherin. “A serpent in the lion’s den? What brings you behind enemy lines, Theo?”  

Theo smiled back in response, shuffling a bit and allowing a glimpse of the wine bottle and bouquet of roses cradled in his arms. “Waiting for my girlfriend to leave so I can set this up for our anniversary.” 

You grinned. “Oh, how romantic!” You had always been a sucker for cheesy gestures. It was the hopeless romantic in you.  “Come in, then.” 

To his credit, Theo kept his eyes firmly on your face as you ushered him inside the room. Taking the hint, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and changed into something a little less revealing than your silk robe. When you came out, Theo was sprinkling rose petals on the bed. 

“Those are gorgeous,” you fawned over the flowers. “You’re definitely getting laid tonight.” 

Theo smirked in response as he set the vintage wine bottle into a fancy crystal ice bucket. “That’s the plan.” 

Slipping into your fuzzy slippers, you cocked your head at the arrangement. “Wait. I think you set it up on the wrong side. Emma’s bed is over there.” 

Theo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. This is for Hannah.” 

Whatever warm, fuzzy feeling his sweet gesture invoked suddenly soured at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “What do you mean it’s for Hannah?” 

“Hannah,” Theo repeated slowly. “As in, my girlfriend, Hannah.” 

The words hit you like the Hogwarts Express. Surely, Theo was mistaken. He had to be. That was the only explanation. “This can’t be right. I’m sure I heard you wrong. You can’t be dating Hannah.” 

The confusion in your face was mirrored in Theo’s features. “And why is that?” 

“Because I’m dating Hannah.” 

Theo stared at you. You stared back. The room fell silent as the declaration hung heavy in the air. 

“Wait,” he backtracked, furrowing his brows. “What? That’s not possible.” 

“We’ve been dating since term started.” 

“We’ve been dating since summer,” Theo countered. Disbelief dawned over his handsome features. “This is for our three month anniversary.” 

Desperate to make sense of the situation, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photo album. It didn’t take long to find a recent picture of you and Hannah. “See?” you said, pointing at the screen. “This is us sharing a hot fudge sundae in Hogsmeade just last weekend.” 

Theo’s mouth gaped open as he pulled out his phone in response, scrolling through his pictures just as you had done moments ago. “This is us swimming in the lake last July.” 

The photo of your girlfriend smiling up at the camera while Theo’s arms wrapped around her bikini clad body made your stomach plummet. The confirmation left a bitter taste on your tongue. There was no reason for Theo to be making this up, which left only one possible conclusion. Hannah was dating both of you. At the same time. 

You pursed your lips. “Hannah played us both.” 

Theo looked about as dejected as you felt. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” he muttered to himself. 

“All that tension between you during the quidditch match,” you recalled. The lingering looks that Hannah and Theo shared during last month’s scrimmage flashed before your very eyes. In hindsight, it was obvious that there was more to it than rivalry. 

“You know, I think I saw her kiss you on the cheek in the halls once, but she said that the two of you were just really close.” 

“Oh, we are,” you said rather bitterly. “She’s kissed a lot more than my cheeks. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?” 

“You’re not stupid,” Theo said softly. “How could we have known? Outside of Herbology, the two of us don’t really interact. We’re in different houses and our social circles rarely overlap. If you think about it, it’s actually the perfect plan.” 

“Yes, bravo to our girlfriend for being the cleverest fucking liar in the castle.” You winced at the title. "Correction, ex-girlfriend."

Nott nodded in agreement. "Definitely ex-girlfriend."

"What a bloody mess."

Theo rubbed his temples. “Well, fuck.” The sentiment of total and utter confusion was one you knew all too well. “I am way too sober for this.” 

Without a word, he swiped the bottle of wine from the crystal bucket and popped it open. You stared at him with slight bewilderment, which he responded to with a nonchalant shrug. “What? It’s not like I’m going to drink this with Hannah now after I found out that she’s been lying to me for three whole months.” 

While Theo was taking the perfectly understandable approach of getting absolutely pissed off his arse, you weren’t willing to take the hit so easily. You were angry. Correction, you were fucking livid. Seething in the heat of your fury, you snatched the wine bottle from Theo’s grasp and chugged a good amount. 

“That’s a vintage from my family’s vineyard. You’re supposed to sip slowly to really appreciate the flavor—“ Theo grimaced as you leveled him with a glare. “Or drown yourself in it. That’s fine, too.” 

You swayed on your feet as you gestured dramatically. “I can’t believe she cheated on me!” 

Who the fuck did Hannah think she was? You didn’t need this bullshit. She was the one who chased after you. Before she pursued you, you were perfectly fine ruling this school under your thumb, flashing pretty smiles and innocent doe eyed looks to the unsuspecting masses. You were head cheerleader, for fuck’s sake! You could’ve had your pick of boys and girls in this whole bloody castle. Even worse, Hannah dragged Theo into this too. While the Slytherins certainly had a reputation, he seemed sweet if not a little sardonic and cynical at times.

”I can’t believe she cheated on you.” You added, surveying the now tainted roses and wine. Indignation weighed heavily on every word. You and Theo were both hot as fuck and a complete catch. Neither of you deserved this. “We can’t let her get away with this.” 

Theo sighed in response, taking the bottle from you and drinking a decent amount before wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. “If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time a relationship has imploded on me. Usually, it’s my fault. But I can’t say I’ve ever gotten cheated on. My ego’s taken a little bit of a blow, but what can we do? She fooled us both.” 

“What can we do?” You repeated incredulously. “Obviously, you haven’t dealt with a Gryffindor’s wrath before. This is a matter of pride, Theo. She hit us where it hurts the most. I say we hit her back.” 

Theo blanched, his watercolor eyes glazed from the alcohol. The wine was no joke. You never would’ve known it from the smooth taste, but this shit was strong. “As upset as I am, I hardly think violence is the answer. My mum told me to never raise a hand against a lady and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. No matter how angry I may be.” 

For the first time in that fucked up night, you managed a laugh. Something about that was so endearing to you. “Relax, Nott. I don’t mean we hurt her physically. That’s not really my style. I have a much more effective way to enact revenge.” Your lips curled into a smile as Theo hung onto every word. “We’re going to wage psychological warfare on our ex-girlfriend, Theo.” 

“I’ll confess I’m a little bit scared,” Theo declared as he gulped down the last of the wine. “And a little bit turned on. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?” 

You smirked as you retrieved the wine bottle and gingerly set it on the nightstand. Theo glanced up at you curiously, anticipation evident on his handsome face. “What exactly is the plan, dolcezza?” 

Whether it was the alcohol or your anger, a devious plan started forming as you looked over your ex-girlfriend’s now ex-boyfriend. “Hannah comes back from practice in an hour,” you stated, toying with the neck of the bottle. “She’s expecting to find me in bed waiting for her.” 

Mischief danced in Theo’s eyes. Up close, you could see flecks of green swimming in his blue irises. Those mesmerizing eyes—the very same ones that had the entire castle weak in the knees—locked on yours. Now that you were single through no fault of your own, you had no reason not to ogle Theo and ogle you did. Your gaze flickered over his lean physique, examining his solid chest and broad shoulders before snagging on the sliver of skin that revealed the hard abdominal muscles beneath his light grey shirt as he stretched. A cocky smirk graced his handsome face when he caught you looking.

Merlin, he was fucking pretty. 

How had you not noticed that before? Oh, right. You were too busy being a good girlfriend. Well, fuck that. 

“Oh?” He murmured, his gaze flickering over you. 

Though you changed into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way Theo was looking at you. His dead eyed stare burned holes into your skin and a shiver crawled up your spine as he gravitated closer. 

“And she will,” you said with a smirk, closing the gap between you. “You’ll just be in it with me.” 

“Oh,” Theo hummed salaciously. 

“Wouldn’t wanna waste those pretty roses you got, do we?” 

The low rasp of your voice seemed to entrance Theo as he shook his head, appearing dazed as you pulled him in by the front of his shirt. “No, no at all. We should…” The nervous bob of his Adam’s apple sent a thrill through your body. “We should definitely make use of them.” 

With a grin, you led him towards the bed. Theo walked backwards, his eyes never leaving yours even as he landed on the mattress. The golden glow of the lamp kissed his sharp cheekbones, its warm hue coloring the slope of his nose, which were smattered with moles and freckles, before emphasizing his wine stained lips. The red roses fluttered around him as the bed dipped, soft petals tickling his skin as he settled against the headboard.

Theo felt like he was under a spell as you crawled over him. He couldn’t tell whether he was dizzy from the wine or if it was just the effect you had on him, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things to suffer from than a pretty witch straddling his lap. 

Instinctively, Theo gripped your waist while you settled over him. The sight of you leaning over him, your face mere inches away from his felt like a fever dream. One that he had no desire of waking up from. 

“I thought you liked girls,” Theo whispered softly as your lips brushed over his. Teasing, taunting, tasting. Fuck, what he would give to have you devour him whole. 

“I do,” you replied, tickling his cheek with a rose petal. Theo shivered as the low rasp of your voice pulled him in. “But I like boys too. Especially pretty ones like you.” 

Theo couldn’t help but blush. Obviously, he was aware that he was attractive, but he’d never been called pretty before. He was surprised to find that he really fucking liked it. 

“Don’t flatter me, dolcezza. Not unless you plan on following through.”

“I’ve never been with a Slytherin before,” you whispered huskily. “Tell me, Theo. Will you sink your teeth into me tonight?”

A part of him pondered the slightly fucked up situation that Theo managed to get himself into tonight. Was he really about to fuck his ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend in her own bed? Yes. Did he feel an ounce of guilt over what he was about to do? No. 

Honestly, fuck Hannah. But more importantly, Theo needed to focus on fucking you. 

“Fuck yes.”

When you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, it was over. There wasn’t a single trace of self control in him as he kissed back, his mouth hot and eager against yours. The infamous Gryffindor boldness didn’t disappoint as you moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his silky brown waves before tugging in a way that made Theo weak in the knees. As he parted your lips with his tongue, you grinded against him and laughed seductively when he whimpered in response. 

“Yeah?” you purred as you rolled your hips. “You like that, pretty boy?” 

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo groaned before he kissed you again, rougher this time. 

There was something satisfying about the way he grabbed you, his big hands guiding you to grind over him, providing a delicious friction between your clothed sex. Theo was hard and throbbing underneath you. By the feel of him, you knew you were in for a ride. The sheer size of him was going to absolutely destroy you. 

You pulled away and a glistening trail of spit extended between you as a result of your sloppy make out. Theo panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, keeping your eyes trained on him while you licked a path down his abdomen. He watched hungrily as you grazed your teeth over his hard muscles, flicking your tongue expertly while he shuddered underneath you. 

“I can see why Hannah went for you,” you hummed against his tan skin. “You’re hot as fuck. Your abs are unreal and your happy trail,” Theo groaned as you pressed soft kisses along his torso. “It leads to something delicious, doesn’t it?” 

“Fuck, bella. You’re killing me,” Theo groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand. The whimper that slipped past his lips as you palmed his cock was utterly shameless. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, Y/N.” 

“Yeah? Shut me up, then.” 

His head lolled back against the headboard as you released his cock from his boxers, stroking purposefully and savoring the filthy moans that echoed against the walls. Those pretty eyes of his were nearly black with lust as he looked down at you, biting his lip while your tongue swirled over the head of his cock. Licking up his precum, you smirked before fully wrapping your lips around him. 

Theo tugged at your hair and bucked against your mouth as you sucked, licked, and pumped every inch of his thick, hard cock. You knew you were good, but the desperation in Theo’s voice all but confirmed it. 

“Dio mio, right there. Fuck, you’re perfect. Your throat was made to be fucked. You can take it, bella. Choke on my cock, just like that.”

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Sucking dick had never been your favorite, but sucking Theo’s dick was something else. He looked so pretty with his waves plastered to his forehead, rosy cheeks flushed as he fucked your face with a dominance that had you growing wetter by the second. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you choked on his cock, but it was worth every second to hear Theo moan your name. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” hissed Theo after a particularly rough thrust. You could tell he was close by the way his body seized underneath you, but you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted more and so did he. “So fucking close, but I don’t want to come yet. I need…Fuck, I need more.” 

You released him with a pop, but kept stroking him with your right hand. “Use your words, pretty boy.” 

“I want to feel you,” Theo whined. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around my cock, principessa. I need you so fucking bad. I’d get on my knees to be inside of you. Please.” 

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said as you kissed his temple. “Who am I to refuse?” 

Theo watched as you shuffled above him, barely breathing as you slipped out of your clothes. When you threw your shirt off, Theo cursed to find you completely bare before him. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples before wrapping his lips around them. You could tell he was eager to please and that alone was a huge fucking turn on. It was rare to find a man who cared about pleasure beyond his own, which is why you usually preferred women. Theodore Nott seemed to be the exception. 

With rapt attention, Theo helped you lower down onto his length. He kept his eyes on you as you adjusted, gasping when your walls stretched to accommodate his size. 

“You know, I thought the rumors about you were exaggerated,” you groaned as you sank lower. “But I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.” 

Theo smirked as he nibbled at your earlobe. “What kind of rumors, dolcezza?” 

“That you had a huge dick,” you responded, sounding slightly winded once Theo was finally fully sheathed inside of you. “And that you fuck like a—“ You moaned when Theo shifted his hips to rut into you. He was so big that the minuscule movement felt like you were being split apart. 

“That I fuck like what, bella?” 

Never one to be outdone, you tugged at his hair and grinded against him. “That you fuck like an absolute demon.” 

“Yeah?” He drawled, sliding in and out of you with a cocky smirk. “Well, you’re no angel either, Y/N.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Theo.” 

The sight of you bouncing on his cock and riding the fuck out of him was almost too much. Theo was mesmerized as you used him to get off, head thrown back as you placed your hands on either side of his legs before bending in an angle that he wasn’t even sure was possible for a human to contort to. 

Damn, he should’ve fucked a cheerleader sooner. He should’ve fucked you sooner. 

“I guess you’re not the only one who listened to the rumors. They said you were flexible, but goddamn, this is something else. You’re something else, Y/N.” 

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you keened as you gripped the sheets. “You’re so big. It feels so fucking good, baby.” 

“I like the way you moan my name,” he said. “Gods, I could’ve had this all along. Why was I even wasting my time with Hannah? Sei una fottuta dea.” 

“I have no idea what you just said,'' you panted, picking up the pace. Your legs ached from the effort, but it felt too good to stop. “But I’m soaked now.” 

“I said,” Theo grunted as he fucked up into you and tugged your hair back. “You’re a fucking goddess, Y/N.” 

When he rubbed circles on your clit, you absolutely lost it. The room spiraled around you as you came hard, creaming Theo from tip to base. He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact until he replaced his cock with his mouth. Theo flattened his tongue, licking up along your soaked folds. His nose brushed against your already sensitive clit and you cried out as he lapped you up like a man starved. 

“Can’t take anymore,” you whined, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you pushed against Theo’s broad shoulders. “It’s too much. I’m so sensitive.” 

Theo gripped your ankles and spread your legs wider. “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, bella?” He chuckled, tracing circles on the inside of your thighs. His mouth glistened with your cum and rose petals stuck to his skin as he looked up at you. “Surely you can take more. We barely just started. I want you drenched in tears. Shaking, crying, and moaning my name. Right now, you’re not even close.” 

He sucked on your clit and you swore to Godric your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw heaven. Theo was determined to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I know you want it, baby. Let me make you feel good.” 

“Oh gods,” you cried out as he filled you with two fingers. It wasn’t as much of a stretch as his cock, but the way he curled them inside of you, touching that sensitive spongy spot within your walls made you whimper all the same. “Fuck, yes, gods. I want it. I want you, Theo.” 

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before Theo flipped you over, pressing you headfirst into the pillows as he feasted on your pussy from behind. There wasn’t a single thought in your head as he unraveled you with his tongue and fingers. It was a deadly combination that had you on the edge quicker than you thought possible. 

“Turn around, principessa,” Theo cooed. “Come ride my face.” 

For Godric’s fucking sake. The man was absolutely insatiable. You liked to think that you had excellent stamina. Most of the time your partners struggled to keep up with your pace, but Theo was seriously challenging that. You didn’t know if you could come three times in a row without passing out, but tonight was as good as any to find out. 

Theo rewarded you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before positioning your thighs on either side of his head. You held onto the headboard above him. Part of it was for balance, but mostly to keep yourself from collapsing all together. You felt so overstimulated that the line between pleasure and pain was blurring by the minute, but still, neither one of you had any plans of stopping. 

At this point, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about revenge. Hannah had long become a thing of the past. It seemed ironic that you and your ex-girlfriend were in this exact position mere hours ago yet you couldn’t even recall anything past the Slytherin fucking you with his tongue. 

“Theo, oh my fucking gods,” you cried out as you grinded against his mouth. “Right there. Yes, that’s it. So good.” Theo squeezed your thighs in response, which elicited a hoarse laugh out of you. “You like when I praise you, pretty boy?” 

Theo hummed against your clit and squeezed your ass in confirmation. “You’re so pretty when you’re eating my pussy,” you cooed, brushing his wavy locks back. “But you’re even prettier when you’re fucking me.” 

That seemed to be all the encouragement Theo needed. Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress as he hiked your legs over your shoulder. Theo slipped in easily, thanks to the juices coating both his tongue and cock now that he was filling you up again. 

“How’s the view now, principessa?” Theo asked with a cocky smirk. 

You bit your lip as he pounded into you, holding your gaze with every sharp thrust. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed while he buried himself inside of you again and again, watching you take all of him with rapt attention. His balls slapped against your ass every time his hips snapped to yours, drilling so deep that you struggled for words.

“The best in the castle,” you quipped back, putting on a serene smile as Theo grunted and fucked any and every coherent thought right out of you. 

Neither one of you noticed the door opening nor the sound of the broom hitting the floor. You were too busy staring into Theo’s pretty eyes to care. 

He turned your head towards the door, but didn’t stop fucking you as Hannah watched with her mouth hung wide open. Theo made sure that your ex-girlfriend had a clear view of the money shot as he claimed you with his mouth, moaning your name against your lips as he came with a loud cry. He filled you to the brim and you could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets as your eyes rolled back.

Theo collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sinful. As you lay boneless and blissed out of your mind, you couldn’t quite believe that you’d just fucked your ex-girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. In her own bed, nonetheless. If that wasn’t poetic justice, you didn’t know what was. Merlin, you hadn’t gotten shagged like that in—well, ever. The Slytherin really knew how to slither in. You lifted your head to find Theo already looking at you. When you made eye contact, the two of you burst into laughter.

Your ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, was not as amused. “What the fuck!” Hannah screamed. 

Her shrill voice brought you out of the post haze aftermath of your earth shattering orgasm. Completely unbothered, you stretched lazily and waved your fingers at Hannah. Theo smirked as he tugged his sweatpants back on, but opted to remain shirtless as he pulled his oversized shirt over your head like a proper gentleman. You were grateful, since you had absolutely no desire to walk around in your ex-girlfriend’s clothes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Theo looked absolutely delicious from the afterglow.

You bit your lip, already thinking of all the ways you’d like to have him. Again and again. As often as possible.

With a little smile, you met Theo’s gaze. It was clear that neither of you had any intention of calling it an early night. You had a feeling that you had a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you. Theo looked like he wanted to tear you apart and you were more than willing to let him. “My dorm?” 

“Whatever you say, dolcezza,” Theo said as he slipped his fingers through yours. “You could lead me off the astronomy tower and I’d follow.” 

Theo didn’t bother looking at Hannah as the two of you passed her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the chance to get the last word in. 

“By the way, we’re breaking up with you. Have fun cleaning up the mess.” 

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged you out into the hallway, smacking your arse as the two of you raced back to your dorm. Behind you, your long forgotten ex-girlfriend gaped as she watched her ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend walk away hand in hand.

[afterglowsainz]

fresh out the slammer | max verstappen

summary: after you broke up with your boyfriend, you join your friends for a night out in monaco and decide it's a good idea to invite max

warnings: fluff, mentions of breakups, drinking

word count: 1.8k

a/n: giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of a situationship with max

the tortured athletes department series

it’s been one month since you and your ex-boyfriend of one year broke up. you couldn’t say you were heartbroken because you really weren’t, like most men do at some points in their lives, he was disappointing you long before you broke up with him, so in a way, you mourn your relationship while you were still in it. now you just felt a bit lonelier than before, but you had definitely moved on.

on a saturday night, you had a few friends over to your monaco apartment for dinner and a very well deserved gossip session. you told them all about your breakup with your most recent boyfriend and how you were feeling almost too good.

“guys, what if we go out?” one of your best friends suggests. “a friend of mine is having a party at this club downtown and is supposed to be this very exclusive thing.” you thought about it for a few seconds after agreeing. it has been a while since you went out with your friends, especially in monaco where everything can happen. you got ready in less than ten minutes since you already were put together and joined your friends in the car on your way to the club. 

during the quick ride you check your instagram and saw that your friend max posted a story. you and max have had this weird relationship for years, were you’re both really close friends who’ve also liked each other forever, but none of you had actually made a move on each other (except for that one time, but you’ve never talked about it). you clicked on his profile picture and the story popped up, a picture of him and his friends playing fifa on his couch. you smiled and liked the photo, putting your phone away.

once you got to the club your friend led you all to the entrance and when she gave her name to the bouncer they let you all in. the place was completely packed, but she took you all to a place on the top that was a bit less full and looked more like that exclusive event your friend was talking about. soon enough, alcohol was running through your system and your body was moving along with the blasting music at the club when a thought almost made you stop on your tracks. you looked for your best friend all over the place and ran over to her when you saw her near the bar.

“hey.” you call out loudly over the music.

“hey.” she smiled at you. “having fun?” she asks and you nod.

“can i tell you this idea i just had?” she takes a sip from her drink and nods. “would it be a good idea if i invited max?” her eyes widen with surprise and gives you a knowing smile.

“max like max verstappen?” she asks. “like your max?” you nod again, this time more euphorically.

“yes, my max.” you took a sip of your drink and cleared your throat. “he’s in monaco, so why not? the worst that can happen is he says no.” you shrug, like the idea of him not wanting to see you didn’t kill you a bit inside.

“go for it!” she exclaims. “absolutely, yes, invite him over.”

you smiled and headed over to the balcony, relieved to feel the cold air of the monaco night hit your skin, cooling you down. you took out your phone and hover over max’s contact for a moment, wondering if you should text or call first. you decided to call since that would be much more immediate. you listen to the phone ringing for a few moments and when you thought it would send you to voicemail, you heard max’s familiar voice.

“hello.” he answers.

“heyyy.” you greet him with a smile that he couldn’t see.

“y/n.” he calls your name with happiness. “how are you?”

“i’m good, how are you?” you ask. “what are you up to?”

“oh, i’m good, yeah.” he says. “just hanging out with some friends. you?”

“i’m in monaco.” you say looking at the stars. “actually, i’m at this club, i was wondering if you wanted to come? you can bring your friends, my friends are here too.”

you waited for him to answer so long you thought the line had dropped.

“what club are you in?” you gave him the name and heard some loud voices in the background. “okay, we’ll be there in twenty.”

you smiled at the sky and bit your lip.

“okay.” you answered and finished the call.

when you got back inside you met your friends again and let them know that max was coming with his friends. twenty minutes later, you were still dancing in the middle of the place when someone tapped your shoulder with tenderness. when you turned around you saw those blue eyes that you loved staring back at you.

“hello, you.” you smiled at him and he returned it.

“long time no see.” he said, giving you a small kiss on the cheek. you felt yourself flustered and were grateful that the place was mostly dark with a few colored lights.

“you should’ve told me when you got here, i would’ve gone outside to get you.” you frowned, ignoring the blush on your face.

“i wanted it to be a surprise.” he defends himself. 

“it can’t be a surprise if i invited you.” you fought back and he placed his arm around your shoulders.

“you know what i mean.” he clicked his tongue, teasing you.

you spent the next hour dancing, drinking and talking with max. it was like the world around you had disappeared and it was only the two of you left in that club. when you took a quick break from dancing he got close to you and whispered in your ear.

“do you want to go outside?” he asks. you felt yourself blush again but nodded.

he was about to guide you to the balcony but you redirected him to the exit of the club. you stopped briefly to let your friend know that you were leaving with max for a moment so she wouldn’t worry and she just winked at you. you took his hand so you wouldn’t lose him while walking through all the people at the club and once you were outside you dropped his hand, even though you didn’t really wanted to, but the last thing you wanted was to make it uncomfortable for him.

“you wanna take a walk?” he asks while taking his jacket and putting it around your shoulders.

you nod and smile at him, grateful for his jacket. you both start walking along the streets, talking about nothing in particular until he makes the question you knew he wanted to ask all night.

“how’s it going with your boyfriend?” he doesn’t look at you while asking, no matter how much you wanted him to do so.

“we broke up.” you answer dryly.

“oh.” he finally looks at your face for any hint of sadness, but there is none. you’re not sad about it.

“how’s it going with your girlfriend?” you ask now, remembering the gorgeous redhead he was dating a few months ago.

it was on one of those few occasions both of you were in monaco at the same time. you were leaving from café de paris with your best friend and you crossed him at the entrance, next to him was one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen, holding his hand. you remembered she introduced herself as his girlfriend and your heart skipped a beat at the word, even though you had no right to feel anything like that since you had a boyfriend yourself. you said your goodbyes and he did too and that was the last time you saw him.

“what was her name again?” you asked. “i can’t remember.”

“we broke up.” max ignored your last question, answering the first one you asked instead.

“oh.” you frowned, sad for him for whatever reason. maybe it was the alcohol in you bringing out all the emotions. “what happened?”

“it just didn’t work out.” he answers simply, giving you a reassuring smile.

“when did you break up?” you knew you were a bit out of line meddling into his relationship. especially when he didn’t ask you these types of questions about your own breakup, but you couldn’t help it.

“a few months ago.” he said, completely unfazed by your curiosity. “actually, it was the day you met her.”

“at the café de paris?” you questioned with surprise and he nodded. “why would you break up with your girlfriend there? it’s such a lovely place.”

he wanted to laugh at your remark, but bit his lip instead.

“i saw you.” he whispered and you felt like all the air was leaving your lungs.

“you broke up with your girlfriend because you saw me?” you ask incredulously and he nods again. “why would you do that?”

“why do you think, y/n?”

he holds your eyes for a few seconds until you turn your head and continue walking. you didn’t answer him and he didn’t say anything else, his words hanging in the air while you got wrapped into a comfortable silence. you were trying to process his train of thought while also processing yours. could his words have such an impact on you? did he feel about you the same way you’ve always felt about him? would he want to try something with you? with each question you asked in your head, you felt yourself leaning more and more into max until the back of your hands brushed each other while walking. he felt so familiar in so many ways.

before you could realize it, you were both outside of your apartment building. did you really walk this much?

“well.” he said, breaking the silence. “i guess this is where i leave you.” he pointed with his chin at the building.

you looked at him for a few seconds, your mind racing ten thousand miles per hour.

“you could stay.” you whisper.

max looked at you, a sparkle in his eyes you knew too well.

“you’re drunk.” he murmured, just like you had. you shook your head and got closer to him, touching the collar of his shirt gently.

“just as much as you.” you were so close you could see every speck of color in his eyes. “i think the walk here sober me up, anyway.” you joke, taking your eyes off of him, fearing that looking at him a second longer would make you do something unexpected.

“are you sure about this?” he took your face between his hands, forcing you to look at him. the beautiful blue of his eyes was now much darker and you fell a little bit more in love just by looking at them.

“of course i’m sure.” your voice low, only for him to hear. “i’ve always been.”

his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, and then back into your eyes.

“come inside.” you ask.

he smiles at you like he just won a championship, taking your hand and pulling you into the building.

[cherryrainn]

Since hazbin is out can I have platonic headcanons with fem reader with alastor and velvette? Seperate please thank you 💜💜

ALASTOR AND VELVETTE PLATONIC HEADCANONS WITH READER .

pairing ; alastor + reader (platonic), velvette + reader (platonic)

note ; thank you for your ask!

warnings ; none

ALASTOR ★

he often surprises you with rare and antique radios that he finds during his ventures in hell.

alastor enjoys spending quiet evenings with you, listening to the old radio shows he loves so much.

he also often surprises you with old-fashioned gestures, like offering his arm when you walk together or holding doors open with a flourish.

it's his way of blending his peculiar charm with a touch of gallantry.

he's knowledgeable about classic literature and often recommends books for you to read.

you've engaged in many discussions about the great works of various eras.

despite his often erratic behavior, alastor is a surprisingly good listener!

you've found comfort in confiding your thoughts and feelings to him, and he responds with expected wisdom.

alastor often challenges you to friendly and harmless board games or card matches.

doesn't matter if you like them or not

you WILL play with him

alastor is an excellent chef!

so of course, you've had lots and i mean lots of his tasty food

VELVETTE ★

late-night gossip sessions are a common occurrence between you and velvette.

whether it's discussing the latest drama in media or sharing personal stories, you two can talk for hours without getting bored.

velvette is your go-to demon when you need a pick-me-up.

her energetic and lively personality never fails to lift your spirits, and she's always there with a shoulder to lean on during tough times.

velvette is fiercely protective of you, especially when it comes to dealing with judgmental demons.

she won't hesitate to shut down anyone who dares to criticize or belittle you.

movie nights with velvette are a FUCKIN blast.

her contagious laughter make every movie night less tiring.

like this girl laughs so loud

velvette often surprises you with small, thoughtful gifts that perfectly match your style.

it's her way of showing appreciation for your friendship and adding a touch of glam to your afterlife.

shopping sprees in pride's marketplaces are a regular occurrence with her as well.

[enhastolemyheart]

enha + boyfriend moments ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing non idol!enha x fem!reader warnings none genre fluff est. relationship nets @k-films @kflixnet

a/n I wanted to try something different this time. sorry i went mia for so long :(( i decided to do something for all of enha boys and i hope u enjoy!! also i totally forgot abt jungwon's allergies while writing his part so less jus pretend he is not allergic to cats :((

banners by @cafekitsune

LEE HEESEUNG ツ

i feel like heeseung would always and i mean ALWAYS trap you between himself and whatever other object is there near you. I honestly feel he loves to see you flustered and ears all burning red just from a mere touch as he very smoothly traps you between his arms, nowhere to escape. like, the look on your face is such a ego booster and this little "moment" has to happen at least once a day. It is just a heeseung coded move and it gets you worked up every single time.

"hee, I just had to go get groceries real quick, can you let me go?" You try to excuse yourself from his hold as you were trapped between the counter and his arms. "no baby," he bends to meet your eye level, "you left without giving me a kiss." he moves in so close you think you'll combust. "cmon baby, make it up to me."

more under the cut!

PARK JONGSEONG ツ

we all know Jay's love language is acts of service and maybe even gift giving. cmon, its obvious that jay is the kind of person to always buckle your seatbelt for you, open any kind of door for you, cook meals that remind you of your culture and hometown, likee he is literally the sweetest boyfriend ever. he's perfect. he is also the type to always have a belonging of your in his bag whenever you both are outside. like that is so jay coded.

your day started with a quick breakfast at a cafe, and then your extravaganza at the amusement park. You and jay went through it all, the amazing food, the thrilling rides. he even held your hand the whole through the roller coaster to help you conquer your fear. he was there every step of the way and you both had so much fun. the sun had started setting and so you both get seated at a highly reviewed restaurant in the park for dinner. Just as the food came, you wanted to tie your hair up, feeling scorching due the humid air and all that walking you did. noticing you were having trouble finding your tie, Jay casually puts his wrist closer to you where a hair tie was sitting. "here, i kept an extra."

SIM JAEYUN ツ

jake is definitely the type of boyfriend to take you out on night drives. windows rolled down, music blasting in the air, one hand on the wheel and the other intertwined with yours. you couldn't have spent your night with jake in any other way. he loves you with all his heart and i feel like one way of showing it is through songs, so what's better than listening to playlist he made for when he thought of you, while riding around the city at its most quiet hour?

"baby, i just added some new songs to the playlist." he confesses, giving your knuckles a sweet kiss before bringing it back onto your lap. "yeah? lemme hear it jakey." he giggles as he presses play "i love you, my girl." he looks at you the whole time you were listening, together on a blanket as you indulge the beautiful night sky.

PARK SUNGHOON ツ

one thing that sunghoon loves but doesn't want to admit is waking up in your arms. quite literally, he loves falling asleep on your chest with your hand massaging his back and hair. ugh, he'd just melt to sleep then and there itself. don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves seeing you under his arms first thing in the morning. but, something about being in your embrace where he can be vulnerable and himself is just far much better. he absolutely love your sweet and hoarse voice as you greet him a good morning and then proceed to pepper his precious face with kisses to start of the day right. he feel so much better with you and your presence.

the little kisses being left on the top of sunghoon's hair wakes him up. he looks up at you from his place, hair all strewn, arms wrapped around your midriff while head tucked inside the crook of your neck. you giggle softly at his sleepy smile before running a hand through his hair, "good morning, sleeping beauty." he huff as you see the evident pink on his cheeks. "good morning" comes out muffles due to how close his mouth is to your skin, placing gentle kisses and squeezing your waist. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, giving you a full, sweet good morning kiss and murmuring that he wants to stay five more minutes in bed.

KIM SUNOO ツ

this is such a sunoo coded thing. but, he absolutely LOVES doing masks and manicures with you. like, imagine just sitting on your bed, face masks on and gossiping about anything and everything while painting each others' nails. sunoo is the type of boyfriend in whom you'll find a best friend. like, he is always the first you would go to share news and stuff and vice versa.

"and so because of niki, we got the rest of the day off!" sunoo exclaimed finishing the mini story of a recently occurred event. you couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the story. minutes pass, and now he is painting your nails this time, both of you rocking a baby pink color. you both end up binging 2000s rom-coms before dozing off sleeping soundly in each others' arms.

YANG JUNGWON ツ

ugh. jungwon is such a soft boyfie. he is always by your side helping/accompanying you to anything and everything. jungwon is very kind and caring and takes care with so much love, he loves you more than himself. he is the type to always greet you with warm hugs and cheek kisses. hand holding when going on a stroll outside no matter the time of day. he is also very BIG on words of affirmation. he is always telling he loves you and he makes sure you know.

"omg! won, look!" you point at the stray cat that was situated under a tree near the trail of the pretty park you both are at. he looks at it with wide eyes before slowly moving towards the cat, wanting to greet it. once the ginger cat understands that you both mean no harm, it starts to get close with jungwon rubbing up against his leg. "it is so cute won, it looks just like you!" you exclaim resulting in a chuckle from your boyfriend. he slowly picks up the cat, bringing its face close to his before turning to you. "see baby, you can't tell the difference between me and the cat, can you?" you chuckle softly kissing his cheek. you both decide to take the cat to a vet and then give it some food and shelter for the night.

NISHIMURA RIKI ツ

this kid. as much as playful he is, he is as equal in being sincere and true to himself and your relationship. he loves to tease you. i think quality time is one of his ways of loving you, so i can def see you both out on adventurous dates together. whether it be basketball dates, going to an amusement park together, spending time with each other at 4 am having ice cream, anything and everything you do, it's always filled with love and laughter that make up wonderful memories.

"come on baby, try and take it from me." niki exclaimes as yet again steals the basketball from your hold dribbling slowly towards the basket. "ugh, you and your damn long legs." you mumur. he laugh at your comment before stopping in front of you. he is so close that you know you are going to turn red soon if he doesn't back up. "here." he puts the ball in front of you, and you have to declare yourself stupid because inches before you can get the ball, he raises his arms, putting the ball way out of your hold. "riki! not fair." you out as you try and jump to get the ball. Niki simply laughs at your silly attempts. "you are so cute, you know that?" he bends to meet your eye level, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "i love you" knowing the effect you had on him, you managed to snatch the ball before running away and yelling, "i love you too dork!" niki smirks at your escape before chasing after you.

a/n. tysm for reading!! i hope u liked it! this was not proofread!!

perm taglist: @jak-ey ; @snoowhore ; @hsgwrld ; @seungiesluv ; @1-800shutthefuckup ; @heeseungshim (send an ask to be added)

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Smile❤️ (Yandere X Loser!Reader)

Micky thought that he couldn't feel love.

Ever since he could remember, Micky couldn't connect with anyone on an emotional level. Even his own family members were like aliens to him, creatures that stretched their lips into strange contortions, ETs that became unreasonable when he wouldn't do the same. As a teenager many girls flirted with him in school, hell, a few guys did as well, but none of their confessions ever stirred any emotion from him, even at the height of his puberty. The smiles of the people around him never felt warm or welcoming. Just, tight. Cheeks pulled back, revealing teeth, expecting him to mirror their action, and Micky couldn't understand why.

Nothing made him smile.

College was further isolating. Group projects seemed to no longer be a thing, (at least in the classes he took) so his interactions with humans slowly became less frequent, making his classmates look more inhuman and monstrous.

Until someone in his college was doxxed for being a creep. It was interesting, watching how quickly people turned on their friend, forcing him into an outcast because someone online revealed his private post history.

An annoying young woman in his language arts class gathered people around Micky's seat to talk about what had happened. Micky wouldn't have searched up the drama on his own time, but he didn't see the point in pushing everyone away.

"This user on Xforums, anonymousXnightmare is the one who doxxed Nathan."

AnonymousXnightmare? How fucking lame.

"That's a lame username..."

"Maybe it's a kid..?"

Micky did his best to ignore them, but the username kept popping up in conversation throughout campus. It was getting a little annoying. Some people were mocking the name, while others were praising the "internet hero". It started interfering with his ability to focus in his classes.

But the gossip cooled down after a week, and life began to run as normal, until another student had their life ruined. A football player, they didn't post anything incriminating or disturbing. It was anonymousXnightmare who posted their own collected evidence. Pictures taken from afar of the player with his highschool sweetheart, as in sweetheart who was still in highschool. Recordings of the two of them. Months of stalking all compiled by the stranger.

Again, Micky was bombarded by chatter, excitable young adults losing their minds over the situation. It was... irritating.

Back in his dorm room, Micky was scrolling through Xforums, the most popular forum used by students in his university, made by students for students, searching for the loser with the lame username. Scrolling past the photos he had heard about, he found a post stating

"Dear Allen Brackens, if you cannot stop blasting your shitty music in the halls on your shitty speakers, I WILL ruin your life!"

and Micky had to lean back, to just take in what he had read. That must have been the name of the football player. What he was doing was genuinely gross, and should have been exposed by someone. But did this poster really stalk them for what looked like months just because he listened to music they didn't like?

It was so dumb.

He scrolled down farther into the mystery poster's history, to the first man they doxxed.

"Dear Nathan McAllister, we all know you're a two faced little bitch. Either stop littering the campus with your Jesus pamphlets, or else..."

Micky, for the first time in his life, was amused. The whole situation was so stupid. They really ruined their fellow students lives, just because they annoyed them?

He made an account just to follow his mystery poster, not sure yet why he was interested to see what they would post next.

Less than two days later, and Micky's phone notified him of another post.

"Dear Samantha Rudbeckia, your obnoxious laughter is driving me insane. Can't you see how annoying you are? Knock it off."

That was it?! That was enough to set you off? Laughter? Micky paused mid step, still staring down at his phone. Something felt off about his face. It hurt.

It was pretty easy to find anonymousXnightmare in his school. Micky picked up a map of the university, and mapped out the paths of the three people targeted. They ran into a lot of different students throughout their day. But they only ran into a couple of people who openly seemed to hate them, and only one of those people was a student named (Reader). (Reader), who constantly appeared as though they would collapse at any moment, the hollows under their eyes so dark they looked sickly. (Reader), who despite being borderline anemic, was very sneaky, and very good and being unnoticeable despite their extreme appearance. Unfortunately for them, they had someone watching them as closely as they watched their victims bullies. Micky watched as they stealthily snapped photos of students from around corners, how they seemed to blend into the background and nobody noticed them hiding in waiting.

Micky felt ashamed for ever thinking you were lame. You were.. cute.

The way you crouched like a bug, hunched over like a roly poly scared of being picked up. The way you bit your dry lips in anger to the point they bled.

Micky's face hurt more and more. Every time he saw (Reader) a pain he had never felt before would strain at his cheeks, and his face would feel hot all over. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of himself in his reflection in a window that Micky realized he was smiling. He never knew that smiling hurt. But he couldn't stop it.

Pictures and videos of Samantha and her married professor were posted online, and Micky was excited to know what (Reader's) face would look like when they reaped the fruits of their labor. But when he snuck into their classroom, zooming in on their exhausted face with his phone's camera, he felt a new emotion seeing that (Reader) was just as annoyed as they always were. A hard pit fell from his ribs into his lower stomach. He was disappointed.

Why aren't you happy? You won. You should be rejoicing right now.

He felt conflicted and confused. Like an octopus was throwing a tantrum in his abdomen, squirming uncomfortably. And it ruined his day. Micky couldn't focus on any of his classes, and the rest of his day was like a foggy dream. What was it about (Reader) that attracted him to them so much?

A cute young woman with smooth black hair approached Micky, a dark blush complimenting her picture perfect face.

"Um, excuse me? Excuse me? Excuse me?"

Micky snapped out of his thoughts, turning his gaze down towards the beautiful person. Her rosey lips were slightly upturned in a posed way.

She's smiling.

Micky internally verbalized it. The same way he did whenever he saw anyone smiling. It never looked good. Smiling was so awkward, and strange. People loved seeing others smiling, and smiled when they were happy, but it always reminded Micky of how not one of them he was.

"Hi! My name is Maggie."

I don't care.

"We have econ together?"

"Okay."

Why was seeing her smile make her look fake, inhuman, alien? Just like everyone else. Then why was Micky so let down seeing (Reader's) lukewarm reaction to their victory?

"I was wondering, I mean, (laughs), a group of us are going out for drinks later, and we, I was wondering if you wanted to come with us.."

She giggled nervously, fiddling her fingers and biting her lip. The image of (Reader) practically eating their lower lip was triggered like a trap. This woman, whose name wasn't worth remembering, made Micky feel nothing. The uncanny feeling of speaking with a living mannequin or an advanced AI. Her movements weren't natural, her smile was just a contraction of muscles. Then, like an epiphany, Micky realized all at once what made (Reader) so special.

Maybe, it wasn't that everyone else was alien, but Micky. Micky was the only one who never fit in. The only one who didn't feel emotions or connect with others like everyone else could. And there was a bug walking around in human clothes, barely staying awake in class and casually ruining peoples' lives simply because they annoyed them. (Reader) wasn't a human either, just like Micky. That's why they didn't seem happy with their victory. Why would a human bring them joy?

Micky's lips pulled tight, smiling brightly at the young woman before walking away without saying a word.

You're the first person to make me feel, because you're just like me. Right, (Reader)? If no one but you can make me feel, then no one but me should be able to make you smile!

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

(Reader) slouched over their laptop, their messy hair pulled back in a top bun just to keep their untrimmed bangs out of their eyes in the privacy of their dorm, eating another cup of noodle while reading all of their "fan mail". Samantha wasn't getting kicked out like they had hoped, but Professor what's-his-nuts did get canned, so hopefully when Samantha comes back to class she'll be too busy sobbing "woe is me" to find anything funny.

Ba-ding♪

A private message popped up from an account with an automated username.

(Reader) snorted so hard a noodle went up into their sinuses.

user01793664544001: I know who you are <3

"Ah-ow! God damn!"

anonymousXnightmare: Who the fuck is this?

user01793664544001: ur prince charming <3

anonymousXnightmare: Don't fuck with me

user01793664544001: come find me

"Watch me, bitch."

Looking up IP addresses is a lot easier than people make it seem. It doesn't take a genius hacker to doxx someone. Of course, (Reader) goes above and beyond, often following assholes for months to collect evidence of their douche baggery. (Reader) got an address in less time than it took to finish their noodles, and took down their hair, quickly setting out to start getting information on their newest "bully".

The address took them to another dorm across campus. How dumb are they? (Reader) faux chuckled, feeling superior to this newest dick. No one was quite as smart as them.

As they crept through the building, no one payed them any attention as they began taking notes on the residents. It had to be one of these losers.

They didn't have a chance to fight back, as they passed one of the rooms the door opened and pulled them inside faster than they had a chance to scream. The man who abducted (Reader) wrestled them to the floor, panting heavily.

(Reader) glared up at the handsome stranger, smiling down at them in a creepy way, his cheeks twitching like he had never smiled before, like his face hurt from the small action. His face was pink and he was sweating, panting with a feverish moisture glazing his eyes.

"Aren't you happy? You found me~"

"G-Get off of me, you pervert!" (Reader) attempted to kick the kidnapper off of them.

This wasn't the answer he was looking for. His smile fell briefly before bouncing back.

"You're just upset because you don't know me yet. Don't worry, it took me a while to realize you and I were the same species as well, so don't worry. I'll wait, I'll wait for you to realize you love me too..."

He rambled quickly, pressing harder against (Reader's) body. A strange noise squeaked out of his throat as he seemed startled, (Reader) feeling a bulge form against their upper thigh.

"Ah, I'll wait.. I'll wait for you to love me too.. but I need you to do something for me while I wait.."

Micky stuck his fingers in (Reader's) mouth, pulling their dry lips out till they bled across his skin.

"Smile for me..."

[justauthoring]

naturally [3].

you fit into their little family perfectly - naturally → in which you meet satoru gojo

a/n: yall this one was a blast to write.

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader, yuji itadori x f!reader (platonic), satosugu as well!

want to support your local writer? send me a coffee!

I won’t be able to pick up Yuji today from daycare, do you mind heading there alone?

No worries at all, Kento. You know I don’t mind. Is everything okay?

Yes. My boss is being particularly pushy about getting this project done by today. I’m sorry to leave you alone.

I’ll be fine. But please don’t push yourself too hard, love. 

Thank you, Y/N. I’ll try not to.

I’ll make your favourite for dinner, okay? Love you.

That would be wonderful, dear. I love you too.

When you’d received the text from Nanami, you hadn’t thought anything of it. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked you to pick up Yuji, and that was way before the two of you ever were in a relationship. It hadn’t been much of a hassle then, given that you lived next door to him but it was even less of a worry now since you’d moved in with Nanami and Yuji into their apartment. Often, the two of you would pick up Yuji together and since you’d started joining Nanami, Yuji had been ecstatic about the whole thing that you made it a goal to go every day.

You’d already been out doing some errands, just about to make your way to the school with the assumption that Nanami would meet you there, when you’d gotten his text. You’d shrugged the whole situation off, mentally thankful you’d gotten all the necessary ingredients for Nanami’s favourite dinner when you’d grabbed groceries with a light frown at the realization of how hard Nanami’s office had been pushing him recently. Luckily it was the end of the week and you could spend the weekend making sure he got the rest he definitely deserved.

Your walk to Yuji’s daycare isn’t long at all and your thoughts are filled with the wonderful and loving family you’ve found yourself. None of it was in your plans for your life but you couldn’t deny how incredibly happy you were. Yuji was an absolute bundle of joy that you loved like your own son, and Nanami was the best boyfriend you could ask for – understanding, loyal, and loving. He checked off any and all boxes that may exist and made you incredibly happy.

You wouldn’t trade any of it.

“Y/N/N!”

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the familiar sound of Yuji’s voice. You blink, not having even realized you’d reached the daycare until a blob of pink comes crashing towards you, slamming right into your legs as Yuji hugs you as best he can with his small arms, peering up at you with bright, shining eyes. You smile at the sight, crouching down to his level as you distantly catch his teacher’s eye and offer a smile when she waves at you, before putting your full attention on Yuji.

“Hi, Yuji-kun,” you giggle, ruffling his hair. You notice his eyes drift past you, and are quick to explain. “Your father is stuck at work for a bit but I was thinking me and you could make his favourite dinner together, how does that sound?” 

Yuji beams; “perfect!”

You let out a laugh, nodding your head. “How was your day?”

“Amazing!” Yuji practically cheers, and you blink slightly at the pure excitement in his voice. Suddenly, he’s letting go of your leg to take your hand in his own, his grip quite tight for such a small child as he starts pulling. “I want you to meet my friend, Y/N/N. His name is Megumi!”

You internally laugh at Yuji’s short-attention span. You’d thought he’d be more disappointed about Nanami not being able to show up, but as usual, the boy was effortlessly positive and didn’t seem to let himself get phased by many things.

That, or he was just happy as long as one of you came.

“Okay–just, slow down a little, Yuji, I–”

“MEGUMI!”

Your lips part as Yuji practically bellows the name, eyes drifting ahead of yourself to the direction Yuji’s yanking you towards. You see a small boy, just slightly taller than Yuji, with black, spiky hair (it’s quite amazing actually), in a similar uniform as Yuji but he looks a lot more neat and put-together than Yuji does–even though every morning, you make sure Yuji leaves with his buttons all done and his collar straight, something or another is amiss every time you come to pick him up.

The boy glances back at the call of his name, seemingly unphased by how loud Yuji was, and it’s then you notice the man standing next to him.

He’s tall. Very tall. He’s got startlingly white hair that falls effortlessly around his head, shaping his face perfectly and he’s wearing a pair of black sunglasses but yet as his eyes drift in the direction of you and Yuji, it still feels like he’s staring directly into you.

“Y/N/N! Y/N/N! This is Megumi,” Yuji tugs at your hands and you pull your eyes away from the man, moving to smile down at Megumi. “Megumi, this is Y/N/N. The one I was talking about.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Megumi,” you offer gently, smiling softly down at the boy.

Meeting your eyes, you’re shocked as Megumi bows, offering a small ‘nice to meet you’. You don’t think you’ve met such a polite young boy, even if he was a little quiet. It’s funny, you think, how Yuji could’ve made such a friend–someone so quiet and calm compared to your loud and boisterous boy. But then again, didn’t they say opposites attract?

“I certainly don’t know where he got that from.”

You glance up as the man with white-hair speaks up, grinning at you as he steps forward, ruffling Megumi’s hair. The boy instantly frowns as he does, batting the man’s hands away as he he grumbles to himself all whilst Yuji giggles, moving to point out Megumi’s frown and the two of them fall into a chatter amongst themselves as the man with white-hair sticks his own out towards you.

“Satoru Gojo,” the man introduces, “and you must be the famous Y/N Yuji keeps telling me about.”

Slowly, you let your hand fall in his, nodding. “Yes, I, um… I’m Kento’s–”

“Wife,” Gojo cuts off, smirking. “Yes, I actually work with your husband.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks burning red; “oh… oh no! We’re just dating, not… we’re not married, Gojo-san.”

“Ah, please, call me Satoru,” he brushes off, “and sorry. I just assumed Nanami would’ve put a ring on you already with the way he talks about you. He’s absolutely smitten.”

Your cheeks stay flushed, glancing at your feet. “Ah, well… you know…” desperate for the conversation to change, you glance back up at him. “Are you Megumi’s father?” You only ask because the two of them don’t really look all that related–of course, that didn’t mean much.

Still, it was a shift in conversation.

“Not biologically, no,” Gojo nods, “but I do take care of him.”

“Barely.” Megumi cuts in, glowering at the man.

You press a hand to your mouth to stifle your laughter–for such a young boy, he was rather quick-witted.

Gojo sticks his tongue out at the boy, and you find yourself unable to stop the giggle that leaves your lips at the sight. They were a rather odd pair, weren’t they? 

Gojo glances at you as you giggle and your eyes widen.

“Oh, my apologies, Satoru-san! It’s just–”

“No need to apologize,” he waves you off, stepping towards you. “Now, where is Nanami?”

“Oh, he had to stay at work to finish something up. Speaking of, Yuji and I should be heading home. We’ve got to start making dinner. But it was lovely–”

A huge gasp cuts you off. You blink, glancing down at Yuji who stares up at you with an expression like he’s come up with the best thing in the entire world.

“Y/N/N! Can Megumi and Gojo-san stay for dinner?”

-

After a long and grueling day, Nanami is more than excited to come home to you and his son and have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening.

At least, that was the plan.

Until he sees Gojo Satoru standing in his living room.

“What the hell are you doing here.”

He ignores his rather sharp language in front of the children. Never, ever has he ever wanted to see Gojo standing in his apartment, in his living room and least of all, has he ever wanted Gojo to be anywhere near you–talking with you, making you laugh, offering to help you with dinner–any of it.

Your wide eyes fall on Nanami the second you hear his voice, and Nanami feels a flash of guilt when he sees the panicked look in your eyes.

Gojo just beams. “Nanami! You’re just in time for dinner.”

Yuji comes bounding towards Nanami, hugging his father tightly and Nanami, despite the annoyance standing in front of him, of course returns the hug to his son, as Yuji beams up at him; “I asked Y/N/N if Megumi and Gojo-san could come for dinner and she said yes!”

Nanami’s eyes drift to you then, noticing the way you step towards him nervously. “I hope that’s okay,” you offer quietly and Nanami frowns at the look in your eyes. You look positively worried, and he curses himself silently when he realizes it’s because you think you’ve upset him. “Satoru-san said he was a friend from work and Yuji seemed super excited, so���”

Stepping towards you, Nanami gently pulls himself from Yuji, wrapping his arm around your waist to lean forward and press a kiss against your forehead. “It’s no worries, love. It’s not you I’m annoyed by,” he assures you, smiling down at you before his gaze hardens and he faces Gojo who continues to stand smugly in the living room. “It’s him.”

It’s then you learn that while Gojo may consider them friends, Nanami certainly doesn’t.

At least, not outwardly. You can tell Gojo definitely annoys your boyfriend, but Nanami still tolerates him nonetheless and it’s proven in the way he doesn’t immediately kick Gojo out. 

You also notice how Nanami is particularly clingy the entire night – he sticks by you, as if attached to your hip, constantly offering to help, barely allowing Gojo to step within a few feet of you. Gojo notices, of course, and he uses it to his advantage to constantly tease Nanami but you find you hardly care – Nanami was hardly ever possessive and it made you feel giddy that he was so desperate to make sure Gojo didn’t flirt with you all whilst making sure not to be too overbearing on you or do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

It was a feeling that had you tingling all night.

“The dinner was fantastic, Y/N/N.”

Nanami grunts at the nickname Gojo had decidedly started calling you halfway through dinner, a name he’d picked up from Yuji, but you just smile at the man. Gojo is standing by the door to the apartment, a passed out Megumi in his hands. Yuji’s already been tucked into bed by Nanami twenty minutes ago when the two boys had promptly passed out on the couch together. Gojo had moved to excuse himself shortly after, of course with slight pressure from Nanami, who continued to have his arm around your waist, you tucked into his side as the both of you stood across from Gojo, seeing him and Megumi off.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you smile, leaning into Nanami. “I’m sorry we kept Megumi up so late.”

Gojo shrugs, “nah, it’s fine. Suguru might be a bit upset, but…”

Your brows furrow, “whose Suguru?”

Gojo grins. “My husband.”

Your eyes widen and Nanami shakes his head from next to you; “yet you continue to flirt with my girlfriend.”

“Kento,” you mumble, turning to him embarrassed.

Gojo just laughs; “your girlfriend is very beautiful,” he grins over at you, and you glance down at your feet in embarrassment. “Besides, Suguru knows I love him.” Gojo rolls his eyes at Nanami, before turning back to you. “He’s actually out on a trip with the girls for the weekend. Left yesterday.”

Your lips part; “girls?”

“Yes, Megumi’s sister, Tsumiko, and two other girls, Mimiko and Nanako that we adopted.”

You let out a gasp, “oh my! That’s so wonderful,” you beam up at the man. “The six of you must be so happy.”

Gojo laughs; “I wonder about Megumi sometimes… He didn’t wanna go on the trip, said it would be boring but I think it was because he didn’t wanna miss seeing Yuji at daycare. The two of them are like two peas in a pod.”

Truly, you feel like your heart could melt. Turning to Nanami, you beam at him; “we’ll have to have Megumi over more often then.” Then, turning back to Gojo, you add; “and of course Suguru-san and the girls!”

Nanami frowns, but you don’t see it as Gojo grins back at you; “I’ll make sure to let Suguru know.” He assures, “now, I should go. I think I might’ve overstayed my welcome.”

You glance over at Nanami at that, noticing the frown on his lips and let out a light giggle as you nod at Gojo. With one final goodbye, Nanami opens the door for him, before shutting it the second he’s sure he’s gone. You watch as the man’s shoulders instantly sag the second Gojo’s gone and tilt your head.

“Do you really not like Satoru-san that much?”

His eyes widened; “no… no, it’s not that. I’ve known Gojo for a long time. He’s annoying, but he’s a… friend.” Then, stepping towards you, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love. I’m just tired.”

His hands fall on your waist, tugging you towards him and you fall into him with ease, letting your head fall on his chest as you hum out softly. “I know. Don’t worry about cleaning up, I’ve got it.” Leaning back slightly, you press a kiss to his jaw. “Just get some rest.”

Nanami shakes his head; “no, you already made dinner for me tonight. I can help clean.”

“But–”

“No buts,” he smirks down at you. “I want to help.”

With a moment more of hesitance, you nod. And the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you work to tidy up from dinner. With the two of you, it’s cleaned a lot faster and before you know it, the two of you are already tucked into bed, kitchen clean, clothes swapped for more comfortable attire and feeling ready to pass out completely.

Just as Nanami presses a final kiss to your cheek, arm wrapped around your waist with your back pressed to his chest, you can't help but ask; “were you really jealous of a married man? Married to another man, no less?”

There’s a pause. Then, “...maybe.”

[andrastepls]

A/SMR.

synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again

warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy

not proofread we die like men

Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.

The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.

Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.

A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.

The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.

It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.

He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.

It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.

• • •

She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”

She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.

“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”

Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.

He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?

He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .

There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.

She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.

Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.

Hm.

A/N: i dont know its 1am !!

[sentient-stove]

“I keep thinking that I could’ve been a meta when my parents first opened that portal. I was standing almost right on in it, got a full blast of ectomatter straight to the face.”

It shouldn’t be cold, it’s September and there was a warm front. But his hands feel like chips of ice, warm cider doing little to establish feeling there. Danny probably shouldn’t be sitting on the fire escape with how rampant meta trafficking is in Gotham but since, since his accident small spaces no longer brought the comfort they once had.

“I know.” Of course he did, Tim knew everything about Danny, and vice versa. They bore their souls out and were connected for it. This information doesn’t stop Danny from continuing to talk though, because some days, it feels like the fact that he can keep talking is why he hasn’t been stuck six feet under yet.

“I- me and Sam and Tuck, we were fightin ghosts as kids with nothing special to show for it. Just junky tech we scrapped together. Maybe we would’ve gotten less hurt for it.”

“I know.”

“I’m dead. I think. I don’t know if I’m actually alive.” Danny held the mug closer to his chest and Tim sighed, leaning his weight on Danny’s side, stealing some of the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders so they could share.

“By all medical definitions, you’re alive. There’s brain activity, a heartbeat, your cells are decaying and replacing themselves whereas a dead person would have none of that. Your heart would not pump blood, your brain would be devoid of electrical impulses, the cells would only die and rot. Polaris, my star, my love, you are alive.”

[demonpiratehuntress]

How would Ace react if his girlfriend, who he is so attached to, doesn't want any physical contact because it is so terribly warm in the middle of summer. But in the winter y/n clings to him all the time because it's so cold and he's practically a walking heater. [Hope you like the idea😄]

this is cute! hope you like the answer :) sorry it took so long!

touch

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - the ask above

warnings - none

Ace hates the warmer months. He swears summer and spring are his worst enemies, solely because they deprive him of the one thing he needs and wants the most. Your touch. He becomes a pouty baby during these seasons, because your need for his warmth decreases and your desire to hold him grows less and less because of how hot it already is.

"Aceeee," you groaned, rolling away from the commander in your shared bed. You were too hot, and as much as you loved him...he was making it worse.

He grumbled and tried to pull you back, "No, don't go anywhere."

"It's too hot!" You complained, trying to ease out of his grip.

Ace sighed and let you go, watching you as he opened his eyes. He knew his body heat could be too much for you in the warm months, but he still wished he could pull you close and snuggle you.

"This isn't fair," he whined, rolling onto his back.

You giggled at his childish reaction, "You're the one who ate the devil fruit babe."

"But-but-"

"No buts," you continued teasing. "Now you're too hot."

He grinned slyly, "That's not a bad thing."

Your eyes widened, "Oh my god, Ace!" You laughed and swatted his arm. "You're such an idiot."

"A lonely idiot," he complained, pouting.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, "Big baby."

But it's not just when you're sleeping that he misses your touch. It's also during the day, when he just wants to hug you and hold you, that you can't stand his heat and end up pushing him away.

"I'm sorry babe, but you're overheating my body!"

Cue another pout, "Can I at least hold your hand?"

"Fine."

You took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently to remind him that you didn't want to push him away like this, that you loved his clinginess and his touch but you were just too hot to take it these days. It was a silent reminder that you still loved him, and still wanted to hold him in some way. That made him feel much better.

Now, the colder months are a completely different story.

They might just be Ace's favourite time of the year. It's when he can be truly useful, and also when you cling to him the most. And he absolutely he adores it, because Ace would die for your touch.

You came out of your shared room one morning expecting more heat, but instead a harsh blast of cold greeted you. You shivered, hugging yourself and frowning as you immediately sought out your human heater boyfriend.

"Aww baby are you cold?" The fiery commander smirked, hands on his hips. His eyes were brighter now, mostly because he knew you needed him now.

"S-stop te-teasing," you managed, teeth chattering as the weather only worsened. "Just h-hug me al-already."

"As you wish."

Ace brought you close to him, wrapping his thick arms around you, shielding you from the cold. His body oozed heat, and you immediately relaxed and sighed contentedly as you melted into his embrace. You closed your eyes, leaning more against him as his body temperature helped even out yours.

"Thanks babe."

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. He held you like that for as long as you wanted to be held, or rather for as long as he could get away with before someone called either you or him for something. You followed him around, going wherever he went because you wanted to stay close to your personal source of heat. Ace had no issue with this, in fact he loved that you clung to him like your lifeline.

"It's so cold," you whimpered later that night, when you were both lying in bed. You were shivering, and no amount of clothes or blankets were helping. "I hate this."

"Come here," Ace pulled you against his body, "Just relax, baby." He rubbed soothing circles onto your stomach as he engulfed you in his strong arms, keeping you against his warm chest.

"Mhmm, this is better," you smiled, cuddling up to him more.

Ace couldn't agree more.

Even during off-ship endeavors, you would stick to Ace's side and grip his arm while leaning into him or he would have his arm around you, keeping you tucked into his side safely and warmly. He was always happy to do so, and dropped whatever he was doing whenever you came to him and complained you were cold.

Ace doesn't really believe in god, but he praises whatever divine being created the cold seasons and curses the one that created the warm ones.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

IT’S YOU, HAPPY ALL THE TIME ─── jonathan breech ✧☾𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I ask Jessica what drowning feels like and she says not everything feels like something else." — ‘Jessica gives me a chill pill’, Angie Sijun Lou.

pairing. jonathan breech x reader

summary. you’ve bared your heart to your bestfriend, jonathan, more times than you can count, whilst knowing practically nothing at all about him. what is friendship if it is not equal… what is love if it is not returned? can your relationship survive such one-sidedness?

warnings. swearing, TW mention & description of suicide/attempts & depression, very introspective/kind of a character study???, alcohol & drug use, pining, ANGST!!!!, crying, fluff, smut with feelings, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f), SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 10k (WTF??!?!!??)

a/n. the title is from “she won’t go away” by faye webster:) btw this is… rly angsty (and SO long omg im still in shock) so beware🫡 ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN WHILE!! SCHOOL IS KICKING MY BUTT & THIS FIC WAS AN ABSOLUTE MONSTER TO WRITE LMAO

i. 

There are very few words in your vocabulary you can use to accurately describe Jonathan Breech. 

The boy is an enigma, a matryoshka doll that never ends: he is witty and lighthearted and sarcastic, but you’ll always catch that edge, the air of malaise he carries around himself, the unspoken elephant in the room that screams WHO ARE YOU REALLY?

He had always been more of a figure, a landscape; something to witness, observe-- experience without letting it do the same to you. You don’t know if that’s something you want, either: there’s an imbalance in his hilarity, and he always takes things a step too far. Jonathan lights matches and lets them burn all the way down to his fingertips; he shaves and lets the blade leave stinging little nicks, rivulets of blood running down his neck; he chainsmokes cigarettes in his room and only opens the window when he feels his heart hammering in his chest, desperate for air. 

You meet him — or, first experience him in a similar fashion: he had been in the university library, standing on top of a creaky, old bookshelf, shouting something you couldn’t understand over the music blasting through your headphones. You could certainly see him though, gesturing animatedly, dressed eccentrically in his signature winter trapper hat and a velvet blazer. That thin, effeminate figure of his was making winding, marionette-ish steps along the wood, an action that had everyone readying themselves to catch his inevitable fall. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere and catching you completely off guard, you caught his eye. He began stepping from one shaky shelf to the next, a complete miracle none of them toppled over, before stopping on one close enough for you to read his lips. 

“Hi,” he mouthed, shifting uneasily on his left foot before regaining a steady balance, “you’re in my class, right?”

You nodded, hesitantly— yes, truthfully, you’d seen him in your Introduction to Literary Studies course a couple of weeks ago, sporting the same outfit as he did now, but you thought nothing of him. He’d been generally well-behaved then, asking slightly odd but in-tune questions that more or less answered all your inquiries, so you didn’t think the guy would have a penchant for, well… book-shelf hopping. 

He grinned, about to say something else, before something — or someone, made him flinch. A professor, probably, considering the unintelligibly muffled, booming voice behind you. However, Jonathan made quick work of the situation, sneakily climbing down and escaping out the door. 

The next time you see him, he’s sidled up beside you in your shared class. “Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice had asked, to which you murmured a non-committal knock y’self out, before realizing with wide eyes.  His presence had caught you off-guard, as he so often did, and you sensed a pattern blooming. 

Jonathan certainly made for an odd desk-partner; his personality warped the environment around you, and it was suddenly so much easier to tear your eyes away from the lecture and land on Jonathan’s own. It’s something you never thought you’d ever do, because you adore the material being taught. 

At the end of class, he asks you out for a drink: he’s just found the best Irish stout in the entire city, and what better way to make it known than to take anyone and everyone he knows there?

Rejection is written on your face clear as day— you have class tomorrow, an essay that needs to be finished, and honestly, pubs just aren’t really your scene. 

But in the end… you still bite. You can’t help it: he’s disarming and warm and looks like he should smell like a bonfire. Somehow, that just does it for your brain; it’s here you learn of the charm that is Jonathan Breech. 

That night goes everything and nothing like you expected: you expected not to be able to predict his actions, and that’s exactly what happens. When you meet Jonathan at the aforementioned pub, it’s not actually the one he’s meaning to take you to— it’s just the closest public place to the on-campus dorm, which is where he says he’s rooming. 

“‘ve got a neighbor m’pretty sure is trying to sleep with me,” he says absently, ushering you onto the back of his bike, which had been leaning against a NO PARKING sign. “He’s always toget’er wit’ our dorm advisor, so I should l reject him before I get kicked out, if y’get what I mean.”

Now, you honestly should’ve expected this from a guy who jumped from six-foot book shelves, but Jonathan’s biking is all swift turns and jilted stops, mere milliseconds from repeatedly running red lights. You want to ask if he just learned how to ride the thing yesterday, but can’t, not with how utterly reckless and shameless he is about it, his terrible steering making you instinctively wrap your arms around his chest. 

You clutch him tightly, making him hum in approval, and you feel your ears burn flusteredly. You would’ve pulled away, but then he cut from the right lane to the left in one swift move, barely missing several cars, and you practically shrieked instead. “Oh my god!”

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly. You can’t see his face, having shut your eyes in fear, but after hearing the blatant cheekiness in his tone, you can imagine clear as day how gleefully it contorts. You want to slap him somewhere, anywhere, but that’d defeat the point of being mad at his recklessness, so you squeeze him tighter instead, and he chokes on his breath. “Jesus-- m’sorry, really!”

When the two of you make it to the pub — alive and uninjured! — annoyingly all the way across town, your first few steps off his bike are stuttered, dizzy: “We are-- not going by bike next time,” you gasp, leaning against a random brick wall. 

“Next time, eh?” He grins, and this time you really do slap him— just on the arm, bless your self-control and niceties not to beat this oddly comfortable-to-be-around near-stranger to death. 

The pub, with its forgettable name and dingy stools, has a minimal, lackluster crowd. A kitschy neon sign flickers and dies as you walk in, making you raise a brow, but Jonathan merely drags you by the arm to a cozy corner table, then disappearing deeper within the venue before returning moments later with two pints of black beer in tow.

“Go on, then,” he gestures, setting the tall glass on the table, sitting down in the chair in front of you and taking a hearty sip of his own drink.

You let out a little hesitant sigh at his words, before relenting and taking in a long gulp of the liquid. “…Huh,” you remark, impressed. Jonathan smiled knowingly behind his glass, letting out a smug little ah, you see? 

“Worth the long ride?” he inquired innocently, as if that was the only thing wrong with the night.

“Worth the ride, but not worth almost dying for,” you rolled your eyes goodheartedly, knocking back the rest of the bitter drink and making him whistle. 

The rest of the night goes like this: Jonathan orders two more rounds of the quality Irish stout before the two’ve you are stumbling out of the pub, exploring all the nightlife there is to offer, like the crowd surrounding an out-door live comedy group performing down the street that has you and Jonathan giggling for hours after, or the underground speakeasy you accidentally find yourselves shoved into, a nasally guitarist singing on a smoky stage, several more drinks finding themselves in your system despite how nauseous you already feel.

“You-- d’you fancy him?” Jonathan slurs behind you, steadying himself by pressing his hands to your waist.

“F-fancy who?” you blink blearily, leaning into his warm touch.

“Who else m’I talkin’ about, girl? The singer!”

You shake your head no numbly, practically collapsing into his arms now, your head lulling on his chest. You’re so close you can smell the distinct scent of his skin, that unique musk everyone has, and it’s strangely familiar, like those smells that evoke old, nostalgic memories. It’s like how sunscreen summons the smell of the sun after a childhood beach day, or how vanilla extract takes you back to the smell of your mother’s baked goods on a specific winter evening.

“Reckoned you wouldn’t,” he assumes, hands coming away from your waist to wrap his arms around your shoulders, swaying to the music slightly in the crowded club, “looks like a -- right bleedin’ dope… wit’ that mop of hair.”

You giggle, alcohol riddled beyond belief, unable to formulate a response with the conflicting blurry thoughts in your head: it’s telling you Jonathan Breech isn’t the crowd you want, that you need to go home and work, that you let loose too easily— but it also tells you that you can see yourself becoming friends with him very, very quickly. 

It’s there, in that club, Jonathan Breech moves into your life and fills a gaping hole you didn’t know existed, like a hole in your stockings you only notice when you get home. You have friends, certainly, more than you can count on both hands, but they never get as close as Jonathan does. After that night, an unknown force pulls the two of you together, making you run into him everywhere, and a tight friendship blooms like a lilypad in a raging storm; beauty within the chaos. In the multitude of close friendships you’ve harbored, he is the first to see so many sides of you. The last thing that did was your mother; it had only ever been your mother. 

He is an endearing, amazing friend, both the intent listener and the charismatic speaker all at once; he knows his friends like the back of his hand, can recount their life like he can count the number of moles on his face-- but you, and everyone else, know absolutely nothing about him. 

At least, close to nothing-- you know he likes ice cream and hanging out and going to the pub; you know he likes biking and doing drugs and women; you know he hates the sea and his brother and his father, but you don’t know him. All you’ve ever seen him do is smile or laugh or shout in mock anger; there is a carefully glued mask on his face he takes meticulous caution in preserving-- he is terrified to let go, despite the blasé persona he lets on.

Or maybe the mysterious matter of your bestfriend is tripping you up for no reason; maybe you’re psychoanalyzing something that doesn’t need to be psychoanalyzed, reading between lines that don’t exist. But if you were asked to answer honestly, there’s just something about Jonathan you don’t get. There is a split seam in the tapestry of his life, missing pieces in the story he pretends to tell with utmost accuracy. There are things that he never talks about, that he recoils when asked like you’ve poked a tender wound. 

“So, what were you doing before… all this?” You ask him once, laying on his messy bed in his dorm-room and scanning the water-damage constellations dotted along his popcorn ceiling. By all this you mean going to university, being the resident party boy, aimlessly pursuing a degree you’re 99% sure he picked blindfolded (culinary science) and standing here, with you, snorting a line of something on his creaky wooden desk. 

Jonathan freezes, still hunched over. “What d’you-- what d’you mean?” he says, tone breezy but, uncharacteristically tense… jilted and preoccupied. You could’ve brushed it off as him being seriously focussed on his drugs, but the way he shifts, how his shoulders curl in like he wants to disappear, tells you otherwise. 

“I mean, before going to school here… y’know, what were you like as a dumb teenager?”

You two’re twenty, barely not-teenagers, but it still makes a world of a difference: you’re living away from home, doing what you want, experiencing (a juvenile, naive version of) freedom and adulthood.

“I dunno… kind of a tool, that's f’sure,” he chuckled, rubbing his nose roughly. He’s being funny on purpose, a jester’s distraction: he doesn’t want you to realize his answers’ not really one at all. 

You shifted on his bed, now leaning against his headboard. His answer strikes you as odd and uncharacteristic despite his attempts to evade suspicion: usually, Jonathan pounces at the chance to yap on and on. “What, the great Jonathan Breech doesn’t have any wild stories to tell? No bones broken, girls dumped, houses trashed?” 

He snorted at that, like some inside joke you weren’t privy to was brought up in your words, and he descended back down on a carefully partitioned line of white. “I broke my baby finger once,” he relented vaguely when he finished, dusting off the table and licking the remains off his hand. “I cried and I cried and I cried.”

“Did it hurt that much?” you grinned, mind trailing off to imagine a baby-faced Jonathan Breech, a juvenile highschool boy, doing something silly to break that finger. Maybe he accidentally flung off his bike, broke it because of a dare, or maybe it happened just by slipping and falling. 

“It - uh… didn’t hurt enough,” Jonathan smiled, tight-lipped and paltry. All at once the air in the room had changed, like someone attached a vacuum to the window and sucked everything out. 

Your grin fell, and you watched him carefully: perhaps, had you not been as close to him as you were, he’d have let something show. A twitch in the smile, a break in the facade. But you were, and his face stayed the same, and your thoughts ran circles around themselves. This was… something else, something belonging to the part of his life he didn’t talk about. 

The atmosphere had grown tense, taut, a rubber band twisted ‘round and round, threatening to burst, so you leave the matter of his injury alone; of his life alone. You go back to staring at his ceiling, he goes back to his drugs; Jonathan collapses within himself, and you don’t notice how badly he suffocates… how suffering in silence is also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found.

ii.

Sometimes, despite his self-imposed distance, Jonathan lets someone look inside his head. 

You are both the sometimes and the someone; you don’t know why it’s always you, but you chalk it up to the fact that beneath his unpredictable demeanor, the murky and unreadable feelings he holds for others, is this uncharacteristic constant: he holds a softness for you. It’s what lets you know there’s something haunted lurking beneath his happy-go-lucky surface. 

You don’t know where this softness comes from, either. But you know you see it, in lingering touches, tender duchenne smiles unlike the devilish tilt his lips usually hold, how he clasps his hand around yours after a night at the pub and walks you home because he knows you get paranoid. You see it in how he comes over to your apartment when you don’t answer anyone's calls during exam season, how he remembers what your mother’s name is and what your childhood pet was and what your favorite flowers are. How his lips brush past your cheek when he pulls away from hugs, his hands shuddering around your shoulders, like he’s afraid he’ll crush you.

You only wish you could do the same. You want to sit by his side and mend his heart, lend an ear to his most mundane fears, you want to take his hand into your own and kiss it softly, return all that he has done for you, take the same as you have given to him: what is friendship if it is not equal, what is love if it is not returned? It is something broken, unable; split halves of one heart, an imbalance in the scale, Bonnie without her Clyde, a fish out of water. 

Jonathan pours his heart into your own, filling holes you know you don’t have, and you think he may be overcompensating for something else, seeing things in you that really belong to him. It is maddening, and you just want to beg and plead he lets you in. 

But you settle for the gentle pokes, the prodding, and try to decipher the vague answers he gives you. Most days, you can’t really make sense of it. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, about to leave the outing you planned with Jonathan — studying, or, trying to study, at an intimate coffeebar the two of you frequented — “my dad’s gotten drunk with his lads and my mum needs help dragging him home.”

 “Hey, hey, don’t worry. I get it: my dad used to do that all the time,” he waves your words off casually, but you don’t miss how jilted he says used to and the pain in his tone at all the time.

“Oh, surely she was fit to go to the madhouse?” you laughed once, responding to Jonathan’s complaints about an eccentric classmate in his agricultural studies. He laughs back, he always does, but this one is hollow, forced; barely stopping a grimace from coloring his tone. 

You notice these things like it’s a shadow following someone in the sun. He is lying, hiding; about something you don’t know but it is happening. It is happening, and you are so very curious: you pick up on the littlest tendrils of him, fed wholly on any information you can squeeze out. He is a mystery you want to delve within completely; answer that question of WHO ARE YOU REALLY? and leave no room for error. 

You’d give yourself to him the very same if he merely asked; you’d whisper childhood fears and tell the origin stories of faded scars on your knees and why you check under your bed before sleeping. You’d detail your entire life from sunset birth to starry night end if he even made a passing comment about knowing; you would trust your love, your heart, your entire life in his beautiful, shaky hands. This is the relationship you have built around yourselves, and it is beginning to feel terribly one-sided. 

Alas, your curiosity overwhelms him, and you take it too far, just once. Only once. 

“Where’d this come from?” you murmur, brushing your fingers over a scar above his eyebrow. It’s something you see only now, his hair mussed and wild from the various blankets and pillows on your dinky couch. 

He’s crashing at your apartment tonight, an invited event, because you often miss him like you miss home; the boy is sneaky— he slinks away like a street cat and only comes back for food. It’s only fair he lets you wrangle him back like this, making him stay by your side at least once a week.  

Your words make him freeze, like he often does; it reminds you of hikers, who freeze when they see mountain lions— he thinks if he stops and stares and pretends to disappear you’ll look the other way, drop the question, forget him completely.

But you don’t. You don’t know what’s affecting him -- not that he wants you to -- so you just stare back into his cornflower blue eyes. You stop and stare and see right through him; you hold the question like a knife to his neck, and commit him to memory. 

“The scar?” Jonathan pales, shuddering despite it having long since been healed over. The aftershocks of an earthquake. 

You simply nod, fingers pulling away. You’re still closer than ever though, the two of you being the only things in your cramped concrete apartment, the chosen movie on your telly still running and long forgotten. 

Your attention remains on him, brandished into something dangerous, like you’ll carve the answer out of him if you have to— but the moment passes. He doesn’t say anything and you accept that as the answer. Gone is your razor-sharp focus, and there is nothing more to the matter. 

But Jonathan doesn’t register this, no, he’s thinking, gears in his head turning and creaking. His tongue grazes against the backs of his teeth, jaw chattering like it was as cold as it was when… as cold as it was back then, and he doesn’t want to tell anyone— but it’s you. You’re not just anyone. 

You’re the one he holds a certain softness for. The one he equally bares his heart to and holds the most secrets from. The one he’s most terrified to know. The only one he wants to know. 

So, he decides to tell a partial truth— something digestible. People adore that which can easily slide down the gullet: news headlines don’t detail the goriness of a murder, they give the “insider” scoop of the scared neighbor. To be able to digest information is what makes the world go round, and he does not think you could digest the full truth-- he does not think he wants you to. 

He feels ill at the thought of anything between you changing— oh, how ruined he’d feel if you began treating him like fucking glass.

This abhorrent social pressure is what makes Jonathan grit this sentence through his teeth: “I got into a car accident,” he gulps dry, “when I was nineteen. Was drunk… went fer a spin. I skidded off a -- um, an empty highway. The tall sorts; high up, y’know. Fell.”

His voice makes you look back up at him, and your eyes are beautiful and tense— it breaks his heart. He knows you’re probably thinking it was in-character, how expected that is of Jonathan Breech, how you’ll easily take this partial truth, how you’ll never know the full one until it comes in a letter under your door and he’s long gone. 

“Tell me,” you ask him, lips falling into a near-frown instead of laughing or grinning wider. It’s hushed, whispered like a secret, “What did it feel like? Falling, I mean.”

Jonathan licks his lips, bores his shaking gaze into your own, and tells you not everything feels like something else. That the word connotes all you need to know. Falling meant he was falling; his arms raised and the air took him and that was it. 

It makes your brows twist and your lips press into a thin line: his nonchalance is worrying, no more his signature characteristic— there is something wrong about this apathy toward injury, toward the potential death. 

“Is that how you broke your finger?” You murmur, and it startles him. How you pieced the two things together, how you weaved a web from what little you knew about him; how futile his attempts to hide could be.

“What?” he responds, hoarse. There is a lurking shadow in his bones telling him he’ll taint you, telling him to be ashamed, telling him how badly you will never be his. It is such a damning reality, that no matter how much he may yearn for you, he is too incomplete to meet your needs; he is too hurt not to hurt you too. 

“The car accident. Is that how you broke your pinkie?” you repeat, and you gripped his hand resting at your side, bringing it up to present the finger to him like he forgot where his pinkie was. 

Jonathan’s gaze darts from you to the finger, and he feels his insides quiver; so badly does he want to spill his entire soul to you. But that internal reminder -- hurt people hurt people hurt people -- makes him settle for nodding, parted lips locking closed. 

Nothing special happens that night, no shocking revelation or bombarded confession; Jonathan nods, keeps his lips sealed, and gets up from the couch, figure dreary and fatigued. He murmurs an incomplete excuse, something half-baked and blatantly unconvincing that he has to leave, and you let him go. You think you’re imagining the shudder in his shoulders, the shake in his voice as he says goodbye, and you let him go. 

It’s there, like that club so long ago, you discover another thing about Jonathan Breech: push too far and he shuts down, closes shop and puts up his guard forever. It’s the mere fact of how attentive you are to his words; you remember how he broke his finger, and he realizes he cannot hide from you any longer. 

You’re reaching a point in your friendship -- your relationship, no matter platonic or romantic for all lines have been crossed; nobody is so raw to one another with love not involved -- where you’ll bare your hearts on your sleeves, share your every thought and dream and fear. But Jonathan won’t be able to reciprocate, and the very thought of rejecting you, betraying you, makes his stomach twist in knots. That crestfallen face of yours would haunt him for all time, your every melancholy feature burning into his memory like the scars left by cigarettes on skin.

So he leaves, hurt people hurt people hurt people echoes in his ears all the way home; he turns into an alleyway shortcut and prays death swoops down and takes him right there. He leaves his consciousness curled lovingly in your arms; his shell walks home and prays you’re none the wiser. But you’ve already reached that point in your relationship; you already know. 

When people die, or friendships do, sometimes they end with just a goodbye, a mild, casual goodbye because you think there’ll be dozens, hundreds more-- but there won’t be. Suddenly, alone in that cramped apartment, the buzzing from the tv filling your ears, your couch still warm from someone long gone, you know.

You know you startled him, that he’s left your apartment and he’ll never come back. Your heart cools, and she whispers that you took it too far, that you crossed a line you were never made aware of, that when you see him in class tomorrow he might not sit next to you, he might not talk to you, that you might lose him forever because he is too stubborn to open up and you are too stubborn to let him go. 

Well, you were too stubborn to let him go. 

It’s three weeks before you speak to Jonathan again. Three long, dragging weeks, moments in time where he avoided your gaze, evaded your presence, slipped past you before you got too close. You certainly try, of course— you seek him out every chance you get, trying to get an I’m sorry, please talk to me out before he runs off, but it’s virtually impossible.

Once, after class, you’d caught him in the middle of a flurry of exiting students by the velvet blazer, your hands curled around the lapel. “Jonathan,” you panted, trying to drag him off to the side to escape the bustling activity around you, “please, we need to talk--“

But then Jonathan had faced you, eyes widened and spooked like he’d seen a ghost, a never-before-seen-by-you fear covering his gracefully cut features, before he tugged off the black blazer and escaped into the crowd. He had seen you, widened his eyes, left. Such a simple action tore your heart in two; it had confirmed your suspicions— you’d gone too far, he was never coming back, and you were all alone. There you stood, fingers wrapped around one of his favorite articles of clothing starkly without its beloved owner, completely alone. 

In three measly weeks, he has put up a biting winter of distance between you two. 

Your feelings are unable to comprehend themselves— they fight and sob and run circles around your mind, they make you doubt, crumble, devour yourself from the inside out; they make you ask yourself what you can do to salvage this, what can you do to fix this? What is there to make of him, of his behavior; what do you do with yourself and this guilt?

If you could imagine time was a construct, you were certain you could convince yourself this stretch of time was nothing… propel yourself into a present where Jonathan does not afflict your mind, take over your every thought— does not ruin you like so. If only you could do that, you could close your eyes and reopen them when you’ve let go. But you were always too stubborn to let him go, weren’t you?

It’s three weeks to the day before you speak to Jonathan again, and it happens through the crack of his dorm door, your arm wedged through it because you know he is not cruel; he will let you in without a doubt.  

“Please,” you plead to Jonathan, “just— I just want to talk. Please?”

He stares at you straight, expression cold and reserved, before he breaks and pulls away; bites his lip, lets you in his room, doesn’t look you in the eye. Looking around, you sense something in his dorm has changed; it had gained a bereft quality, like it was attuned to Jonathan’s state of mind and felt depressed beyond your comprehension. There was a cold air to the place, an utmost frigid demeanor to a room incredibly warm just weeks prior. In your absence, the dorm had been neglected, gutted, abandoned. 

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that tumble out of your mouth. “I- I know you don’t like… talking about -- about your life before here, and I’m sorry. But please, Jonathan, just talk to me. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

He sits down on the edge of his weak bedframe, pulling his knees up and pressing his face into them. “You don’t need to-- don’t… don’t apologize. You don’t need t’make it better, either. All’s grand.” he promises, words muffled and shaky. It’s a weeping kind of tone; you could just as easily imagine him sobbing with that voice. 

Your brows knit. Your emotions are wavering, treading brutally between disbelief, despair and rancor. “Then -- then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you avoid me? Why did you - why did we spend these last three weeks playing cat and mouse, if you weren’t mad at me? Is this your sick idea of a joke?”

“No! I-- jesus christ,” Jonathan looked up from his hands before immediately pressing two fingers between his eyes, “I wasn’t … avoiding you.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks!” you point out painfully, exasperated. “You know, you’ve been avoiding me for longer than this. You— you push me away any chance you get. You’re afraid. I don’t know of what, but you’re- so fucking secretive, and it’s tearing me apart.”

“I’m not - afraid of anything. I’m just a private person— you know this. Would you, if I ‘pushed you away?!’” 

At his denying deflection, something within you snaps: “Why won’t you - fucking let me in? I’ve — I’ve bared my soul to you; you know me from the inside out. I trust you with my life— why, why can’t you do the same?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that! And I didn’t — I didn’t mean t’get so close to you, okay?!” He bursts, and you flinch. His hands shakily come up to his face once more; he wipes roughly but it’s no use— you’ve already seen his delicate tears threatening to spill, and it burns more holes in your heart than you thought his suffering would.

“What are you talking about?” you pry, now without any cautious reservations about his demeanor.

“I didn’t mean to get so fucking attached, because - ‘cause I…” Jonathan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “fuck.”

“What?” you repeat, but it’s softer, concerned; how quickly his body language shifted from irritated to terrified has you scrambling to support him. “Talk to me,” you ask, taking nervous steps closer, like you were approaching a wounded animal.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and holds it, like he did cigarette smoke, before exhaling heavily. “Okay- okay. When I was - nineteen, I drove a car… I drove off a cliff and tried t’kill myself. I was-- admitted to a psychiatric hospital for a year, and when I got out I moved here f’school. I- I… promised m’self I wouldn’t let anyone get too close.”

The confession hangs in the air, a lonely little thing; it’s a bleeding piece of his own heart he’s plucked and placed in your palms. He shudders, and you want to nurture it like nothing else. This is a culmination of a year’s worth of evasion coming to a close; you’re seeing him completely, rawly, for the first time.

“But- but why? You don’t have to— Jonathan, you don’t need to do that just because you - you… y’know.”

“I’m- I know that,” he starts brashly, defensively. “It’s b’cause I am very, very aware of my - of m’own self destructiveness…” His words taper off into something of grief; the Sisyphean struggle of wanting to live, while that depressive boulder pushes him back, colors him completely. “I just… I didn’t want to - t’hurt anyone in case I -- in case next time I succeeded.”

“Next time?” you repeat, and your voice broke in a way you wish was less vulnerable, less blatantly miserable.

“This is why I didn’t want to—“ Jonathan sighs, deflates, “I’m not telling you this because I want you to - t’fucking save me, okay? I’m telling you this because you wanted to know, and I couldn’t hide from you anymore. Because you asked.”

“You didn’t need t’hide it in the first place!” you exclaimed, coming closer to him. “You’ve never had to hide a fucking ‘ting from me.”

“You wouldn’t have understood!” He said back, volume nearing a shout. “You’ll treat me differently now, you see, you’ll look at me fuckin’ different—“

It made your heart sink-- how sure his words were, how certain he was of your rejection. How little trust did he have in you? 

(You remember he wanted to sink, too-- lose himself in the baby blue sea; let it swallow him whole and never be seen again.)

“You - you really think I’ll treat y’differently because of this? You know my every crevice, my every thought-- I have never once doubted that you’ll accept me.”

“I-I… why should I - expect any of this to stay the same?”

Suddenly, you took his face into your hands. “Because I-- I fucking love you, okay? And it’s not just friendly, or romantic, even if it’s both— I’m… I love you like nothing I’ve ever loved before. I accept and adore your every skill and flaw and antic; you wormed your way into my heart and I want to worm my way into yours.”

“That doesn’t mean—“ Jonathan tried to interject, a noise all utter disbelief. You cut him off, though, continuing your sudden confession; you hadn’t been privy to these own romantic feelings of yours till moments prior, but everything being said just felt right. 

“Jonathan, I don’t care if you drove a car off a cliff or cyanide-poisoned our professor or blew something up, because I love you. You, with all your problems and great, big, beautiful life. All I want is for you to want that life; I want you to want me in it. I feel it in my bones that I’m meant to love you; you are meant to be my home, you are everything I am supposed to know. It won’t fix you or fix anything at all but I just need you to know-- I need you to know the why to my every action. It’s because I love you.”

He looked up at you, wide-eyed, head resting in your gentle hold. “I - don’t know what to say… are you - for real?”

“As real as can be,” you smiled back at him, tracing circles along his smooth skin; you could’ve drank in that attentive stare of his for hours upon hours. “I love you, and nothing and no-one, not even you, can change that.” An aching grip had clenched around your heart at his words, that blatant disbelief: are you for real? God, had you ever been-- had you ever fucking been. 

Jonathan’s mouth opened to speak, but instead, he let out an agonizing sort of cry; an exclamation of utter surprise at the loving acceptance. Then, he hesitantly leaned into your touch, as if he’d never hugged before, wrapping his arms around your waist to snatch you as close to him as possible. He held you tighter and tighter as the seconds went by, like this was all a mocking dream his yearning mind had made up; that if he closed his eyes now he’d wake up desolate, alone, without you for eternity. His worst nightmare. 

“…God, I’m so - fucking stupid,” he grumbled, sounding angry, but you could feel vulnerable, hot tears soaking into the fabric of your shirt. “To assume you, of all people, would act that way… you of all people.” He said that tenderly; you of all people certainly meant miles more things you weren’t explicitly aware of, but you still felt the sentiment. “I’m not -- poetic or anything like that… but I love you, too.”

You chuckled a beautiful, wet laugh. “You don’t hafta’ say anything sweet or special. You’re everything to me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling you onto the mattress with him. He flipped you beneath him, and held himself up by the forearms laying on either side of your head. “Fuck, I love you. I love you.” Jonathan repeated the words several more times, strange and foreign but right at home being said to you. Like his mouth was made to only ever say I love you to you. 

Suddenly, you pressed your lips to his, shutting him up momentarily. You could still feel the vibrations of I love you rumbling in his throat as you kissed him. Your tongues danced along one another, an all consuming waltz; you wanted to know everything about him, down to the taste of his tongue, memorize how sweet his mouth felt on yours. Oh, how you longed for this moment; how could you ever think about love again, and yearn for it, without thinking of Jonathan?

You reckoned that’s what this had been the whole time; your love started as a little flame, something under the guise of friendship, but the two of you had fanned it, nurtured it-- all of a sudden the miniature warmth of platonic love burst into a raging, adoring fire. You’d fed this flame with tenderness, and it responded in kind; you could never again look at Jonathan without a certain intimate reverie. Perhaps that’d been why Jonathan found it so hard to cut off this relationship as he had dozens others: something primal and unconscious within him had begged him not to let you go— some higher being knew his home was only ever in your arms. 

Jonathan deepened the kiss hungrily, pressing his weight onto you and pushing you into the mattress. Your head was spinning from the lack of air, and one of your hands had to sneak beneath his hat and tug at his hair to get him to stop. “Hey,” you panted, looking worriedly into his eyes, “what’s up?”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, hanging his head lowly for a moment before meeting your gaze once more, batting his long lashes. “Jus’ missed you. Thas’ all.”

“Missed y’too,” you murmured, pulling him back down to kiss you again. Your hands left the crown of his head and trailed down his backside, tracing over the curves and bumps of his frumpy yellow v-neck sweater. 

That touch of yours seemed to spur him on even more, and his kisses began to travel; along your jaw, to your pulse, down the long ravine of your neck, tongue darting out to lick the hollow of your collarbone, making you squeal. He chuckled against your skin, a genuine amusement rather than the mocking one you two so frequently practiced, and it all went downhill from there. His hands skillfully tugged off your tank top, knee between your clenched thighs, more teasing kisses being planted along your now bare -- save for your bra -- chest.

You didn’t mean to come over, profess your love and suddenly jump into a steamy, yearning makeout session (which, you were pretty sure was venturing off into sex…) but you supposed that apologizing— arguing, whatever —meant your relationship went back on track to wherever it was heading… which may have been set to end with an ardor romance anyway. This love of yours would’ve bursted at the seams of friendship; it could not be confined by such mere things as labels. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, arching into his teasing kisses along the peaks of your breasts, his hands ghosting around your clothed chest but never touching. “Please, Jon.”

You could feel his cheeky grin on your skin, “Tell me what you want, love.”

“…Take this off,” you demanded gently, referring to Jonathan’s sweater.

“Your wish is my command.” he snickered, obliging and removing the yellow knit-- as well as his white undershirt and pajama bottoms. He was left in a pair of boxer-shorts and that silly, silly winter-trapper hat, his fingers sneaking up to your supple thighs and tickling the edges of your jean-shorts; a silent plea. 

“Eager,” you mumbled, noticing his over-compliance in completely stripping, smiling and guiding his hands to the waistband of your shorts to tug the tight article off. 

When he did so, you shivered, both at the feeling of being only in your underwear, as well as Jonathan’s sharp, attentive gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he panted, eyes exploring your every sweet feature. 

He was enamored with your bare body, not in a sexual way despite the blatantly sexual situation, but rather in a worshiping, religiously devoted way. It may’ve been blasphemous to think so, but Jonathan’s sudden chaste kisses along the curve of waist only seemed to prove you right; his mouth on you was gentle, like he’d held you before, except now without any guilt or hesitation. It was a holy way of loving you; something all-consuming, becoming the epicenter of a life, becoming the purpose, motivation, and belief all at once. 

That familiar broiling in your gut occurred as he made his way closer to the pulsing, lace-covered place between your legs; your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in pure anticipation, his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “Don’t be such a tease,” you pouted, legs fumbling for purchase along his body, trying to pull him closer to you.

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he hummed, but his fingers still curled into the band of your baby-blue panties and dragged them down in one desperate go, “but I do wanna taste you….”

Jonathan’s veiny hands pried your quivering thighs apart, murmuring an offhand already stole y’panties, don’t get all shy on me now when you whimpered flusteredly, before he descended on your dripping lips, licking a flat-tongued stripe up to your clit. 

You gasped at the sudden action, but it quickly morphed into a choked moan when he pressed himself further and parted your lips, nose to your pelvic bone; he made quick work of you, artfully curling his long tongue into your hole and slurping your slick. 

“So sweet,” he praised, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs clench around his head. He hummed in amusement at your reaction, lapping you up quicker; he kitten-licked and slobbered, feeding on your sticky cunt, tongue darting in every direction, feeling your walls and prying deeper into your hot hole, which ached for the cock straining against the mattress now. The bottom half of Jonathan’s face was now positively soaked, glistening with his own drool and your needy wetness, all of it mixing dirtily and sliding down the length of his neck. 

“Jon!” you mewled, hands tearing off his trapper hat and flinging it elsewhere before curling your hands into his mousy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy, desperate to come. You were riding his face now — or, attempting to, more accurately bucking up into him — adoring his unceasing ministrations. He was basically fucking you with his tongue, overstimulating your clit with teasing licks then pulling away, feeling along the ridges of your walls.

“Pick m’hat up later, love,” he tutted, pulling away slightly to see where you’d haphazardly thrown it, and your desperate whine neared a sob. He breathed in sharply, taking in how quickly he’d undone you: in a matter of minutes, your expression had grown wanton, eyes blown out, drooling, hair askew, bra riding up your tits and revealing your sweet, puffy nipples. 

Jonathan quickly forgot about the state of his beloved hat, and went back down on you, mouth devouring in full force once again. You rolled your hips forward, and when he pulled his tongue out of your wet hole to suckle softly on your fleshy nub, your eyes rolled back into your head and your legs shook around his face, toes curling tightly. A choked moan left you alongside the sudden climax, sounding a hundred percent pornographic and all for him. 

You panted, silent and unmoving for a moment, and Jonathan began moving to get up and let you take a breather before continuing, absolutely terrified to push you too far or do anything you didn’t want to do— he was the spontaneous one, and you were the responsible one, but that didn’t mean he ever wanted to force anything upon you. His simultaneous decisions were made mostly in part with your interests in mind; he made the decisions you were too nervous and over-thinking to choose quicker. 

However, you took a long breath, then trailed your hand over the painfully noticeable bulge within his soft boxers. “Wan’… make you feel good,” you murmured, flattening your hand against his erection. 

Jonathan inhaled sharply, pitifully affected by the minor touch but holding back with an incredible amount of self restraint. “I can wait,” he offered sweetly, one of his hands coming up to your flattened hand’s forearm to rub the skin. 

You shook your head foggily, cupping him through the fabric, slowly adding friction by sliding your hand up and down. 

“S-shit,” he bit his lip, “you want this now, baby?”

You nodded vehemently with a whimper, and to make more of a point, you reached behind and unclasped your bra, tossing it elsewhere on his dirty dorm floor, before beginning to slip off his underwear. 

The hand on your arm stopped you, though, in favor of doing it himself and pressing his weight further onto you, your chests flush with one another. You were only able to take in thin breaths, making your head spin, but it also amplified the  arousal blooming in your cunt when Jonathan slotted himself at your soaking entrance, collecting his saliva and your slick on his tip. 

Before he pushed in, however, his head dipped into the hollow of your neck, plush lips brushing past the shell of your ear. “Is this okay?” he murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your temple. 

“Please,” you whined, hands pushing flat on his back to bring him closer to you.

With that, Jonathan slowly buried his length within your cunt, making your breath hitch. “I love you,” he groaned, entering you inch by inch, relishing how your warmth swallowed him whole. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your hole was stuffed beyond belief, but Jonathan was gentle with you, caressing your waist with the rough pads of his fingers and massaging you, trying to ease his entrance into something painless. Obviously, with that length and thickness it couldn’t be painless at all, but his attempts helped your mind drift off elsewhere and take some of the attention off the stinging stretch. 

After a long moment of ragged breathing, Jonathan cooing words of praise into your neck as he kissed you without moving, you dug your fingers into the skin of his back: “More,” you choked out, the fullness in your cunt now feeling delicious rather than cringeworthy. 

He smirked against your skin, “Looks like you’re t’eager one now.”

“Oh, get on with it,” you rasped and he let out a low chuckle, sliding out of your hole before thrusting back in. That first movement already made your hips jerk up into him, back arching. It was like all the warmth in your body had collected in your cunt, leaving you freezing from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, but still with a needy, burning fire in your insides. 

Jonathan’s pace was affectionate and rhythmic: you could feel the tenderness in his each and every gentle roll of the hips. It made you feel like the sun, how attentive he was, but he was also so fucking slow. If anything, that had your walls clenching onto him harder than if he hammered into you— that slow build-up of friction was dizzying. You squirmed, cunt clenching and contracting around his smooth thrusts— you wanted to take him within you completely, cause more friction for you were going stir-crazy with this lazy speed. 

“F-fuck! Faster, please,” you cried out, unable to take his sensual movements any longer. Your legs were twitching with his patient movements, and you could’ve sworn you saw a cheeky grin on his lips. The bastard— even in sex was he teasing you, wanting to torture you until you gave in to the pleasure and begged him to ruin you.  

Sure, this was your first time together, and was going extremely pleasantly and sweetly, but you were actually pretty fond of the idea of letting him pound into you like there was no tomorrow… 

At the lewd thought, your walls pulsed around his cock, making him buck up unintentionally, hitting that sweet spot within you. He grunted at the feeling of your tightened cunt, while you cried out his name, pleasure running like a current through your body. Your face was on fire, reminiscent of a raging fever, and your insides were coiling— god, how did his cock just feel so perfect within you?

“Oh,” he grinned in a pant, “found y’spot, didn’t I?”

Jonathan didn’t give you a chance to speak before he pulled out so far his tip was the only thing in your hole, before slamming back in and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Props to him-- he hit your g-spot with utmost accuracy, and you let out a long, stuttered mewl, scratching at his freckled back, legs twitching. Your wail was almost catatonic, loud and cock-drunk, dripping unabashed, filthy pleasure. 

“Makin’ such sweet noises f’me,” he praised huskily, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, “fuck, ‘ve gotta hear that again.”

He must’ve noticed your neediness earlier, when he was slow and languid, for the new speed he set was double- no, triple that: his hips were snapping against yours, balls smacking filthily against your lips, left hand pinning your hips down and letting him sink into you faster. Shocks of pleasure tore through you at the sudden increase in speed- he’d inured you so well to the torturously slow pace from earlier that this new frenzied one felt like getting hit by a bullet train. You were overstimulated and needing more of him all at once, practically vibrating with need under his touch. 

“I’ve- hnngh- wanted this…” you gasped between moans, “f-for so long…”

“Wanted m’cock?” Jonathan questioned in a hiss, feeling with his every inch how your walls absolutely soaked him. His tone was, obviously, sarcastic, but it still made you feel incredibly lewd. 

You shook your head numbly, “Wanted you… I love you, Jon!”

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he purred, fucking you faster and making you writhe beneath him, “love you s’much.”

Jonathan targeted the spongy, swollen spot deep within your cunt, suddenly filled with a renewed vigor and motivation to make you come as quickly as possible, and he pounded into that one, specific spot, watching how you twitched and squirmed, heavy moans exiting you. He was relentless, hands reaching to hook under your knees and spread you wider. 

At the new angle, his cock penetrated you even deeper, fuller, which you thought wasn’t possible with how goddamn full you already felt, but when his thick cockhead brushed up against your cervix you thought you were going to burst. Then, one of his hands came up to your tits to knead the flesh, and you squeaked when he tweaked your soft nipples. He was pawing at your sweet tits, fondling you in a needy, boyish way, like yours were the first pair of boobs he’d ever felt. 

“M’close!” you gasped, mind going fuzzy with pure ecstacy. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, cold  sweat running down your spine, a terribly stark in contrast feeling to the warmth buzzing under your skin. 

“C-can’t last much longer either,” he choked, still pumping in and out of your sticky hole and savoring the feeling of your tight warmness on his long length. He looked absolutely exquisite above you, and you lost yourself in the ethereal picture. Maybe you were in love, or maybe he really was just an empyrean beauty; you took in the sight of his focussed iceberg blue eyes, the cute flush spreading along his pale cheeks and bare chest, how he bit his pink lips to muffle his needy grunts and moans. 

Then, you mewled and convulsed around him, your walls spasming and contracting as you came undone, reaching the precipice of your pleasure. That made him fall off the edge— you had tensed all over- all over, and Jonathan couldn’t help how his hips stuttered, knees buckled, cock twitched; he only gave one last, powerful thrust into you before spilling himself inside of you. He painted your soft walls white, and you felt that familiar heat spreading within you; you welcomed it completely, and wanted such warmth to be there forever. 

You milked him for every last drop, cunt like a vice grip, and Jonathan gave you another wet kiss, this time on your lips, and your hands wrapped around his neck, allowing you to kiss him back. Your brows knitted at the sour taste of yourself on his lips, but it just made everything feel so real— Jonathan and you had “made love”. It was a phrase you always wrinkled your nose at, feeling uncomfortable and juvenile at the intimacy it entailed, but now you understood it completely. 

“I love you,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, unable to say anything else that conveyed what you felt for him. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure anything could accurately do so— you felt infinitely about him, your love touching all edges of your mind, heart and soul, filling you completely. You supposed you felt about Jonathan how the sun felt about the moon— without one, there could not be the other. 

“I love you-- too,” he responded, pausing in the middle at the aftershocks of your orgasm, which had caused you to tighten around his softening, sensitive cock for a second. 

You peered deep into his baby-blue eyes, watching the utter love that coloured them; it was like submerging yourself in a great blue ocean, except you didn’t want to come out, because you knew you wouldn’t drown in those eyes. No, you knew Jonathan would always be there to pull you out. 

Speaking of pulling out… Jonathan slipped himself out of you softly, careful not to agitate that first stretch any more than necessary, before collapsing back into your arms. The two of you tangled yourselves in a messy flurry of limbs on his cushy mattress, sweaty and breathy, something that should’ve been terribly uncomfortable but just wasn’t— you swore you could fall asleep anywhere, no matter your own state or the circumstance, as long as you were with him. 

Blearily, both your eyes began to droop, until you gave into the familiar presence of deep, dark sleep. It was a dreamless sleep for you, but you had an ever present comfort at his weight on yours, something you could feel even in unconsciousness. 

Hours later, in a brisk, shuddering early-morning that you felt all over due to Jonathan’s unruly habit of opening his window at the peak of the day’s hottest weather and forgetting to close it before cold nightfall fell, you awoke to Jonathan watching you carefully, so close you could feel his warm exhales of breath on your cheek. 

There was no goodmorning or anything like that, just pure, uninhibited being, reveling in the space you two occupied together. Like you two were the only things left in the world. 

When Jonathan noticed you woke up, he shifted, presumably to extract himself from your grip. You stopped him, though, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him closer to you.

“What did it feel like?” you asked instead, for the last time. You brushed your fingers over his scar, and, knowing exactly what you were asking, this time Jonathan doesn’t flinch away. This time, he leans into your touch: it doesn’t burn, not anymore, and he wants your tenderness to swallow him whole. 

You didn’t mean what it actually felt like, of course. You meant, what were you thinking? What have you done, and what will you do to yourself? You meant, I love you.

“It felt like,” falling; not everything feels like something else; I raised my arms and the air took me and that was it-- “it felt like… giving in. Letting my desperation find its purpose. It felt like I’d reached a point of peace… gained clarity after a long stretching, wounded moment came to an end. It felt like becoming something only meant to be talked about in past tense.”

You don’t say anything to that; you know he doesn’t want you to. There’s no need for you to hush or plead or make better, you just need to listen, and love him. He knows you accept him for everything he is, all his flaws and his strengths; he knows your love is all accepting- it veers on saintly. 

At your silence, he melts into your arms and you can finally relax; there is an admission in the action, a release, an acknowledgement -- is suffering in silence not also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found? -- you have found him, at last, and you will never, ever let go.

You take it too far, just once. Only once. And you let him go just once, only once; never again. 

[munsons-melody]

putting the x in sixx

summary: you and eddie go to a party in LA where your old celebrity crush, nikki sixx, starts to hit on you

pairing: rockstar!boyfriend!Eddie x female!reader

cw: mentions/insinuates sex, mentions of alcohol, etc, established relationship w eddie, little smutty towards the end

recommended song: girls girls girls by mötley crüe

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i wrote this after i watched the dirt last night, also not proofread at all :)

requested? no

masterlist

part 2 can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

——

you looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring your new outfit... leopard print pants with a black corset top, your hair teased and hair sprayed to the gods, and your usual makeup, only with a little extra here and there

"hey babe we should probably get a move on cause-" eddie stopped in front of the bathroom door, giving you a look up and down and finishing with a wolf whistle

"jesus" he breathed out, leaning on the door, staring at your outfit causing a small blush to creep up on your face

"you like?" you asked sheepishly, already knowing his answer

you often didn't wear scandalous outfits like this, opting for the most basic t shirt, jeans, and your lived in reeboks that never got a day off but now that you and eddie were out of hawkins for the week as corroded coffin were playing shows at the sunset strip in LA, you figured you'd get less stares wearing an outfit like this

"i love" he purred, stalking closer before locking his lips with yours into a passionate kiss, his hands gently cradling your face as his tongue slipped into your mouth and your hands snaked up to his neck

he started trailing down your exposed neck, and you smiled, knowing what he wanted to do instead of heading to this party gareth heard about and was very persistent in everyone attending, hearing rumors of other rock gods showing up

"eds, as much as i know you'd rather stay here and do this, we really have to get going" you giggled, and he stopped kissing, leaning his head on your shoulder

"do we have to?" he mumbled, his voice vibrating into your chest

"gareth wants the whole band to go with just incase anyone cool happens, hey who knows maybe you'll run into mick mars or kirk hammett" you laughed

eddie moved his face to meet yours, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you in, almost like he'd lose you if he let you go

"already checked, metallica is playing in ohio tonight so slim to none chance I'll see kirk" he said, leaning in for one last kiss before he unwillingly pulled away, walking over to his bag and slipping on a old cut up band shirt and fixing his studded belt

"eddie" you groaned, checking yourself one last time in the hotel mirror, seeing your lipstick smudged

"what" he replied with the same annoyed tone you had

"you ruined my lipstick" and he let out a small laugh

——

the car ride from the hotel to a massive mansion was fairly short, and you, along with the rest of corroded coffin, stumbled out of the car onto the driveway that you were sure could fit 10 of you and eddie's shared apartment

the music from the house was blasting and you wish you knew half these people, or whos house this even was but alas, you were just as clueless as the boys as you walked into the mansion

people were everywhere, you couldn't walk more than 2 feet without seeing a drink or bottle of alcohol, music was blaring, the lights were nice, adding to the ambience of a party

eddie grabbed your hand, lacing together your fingers as he motioned a "come on" and you followed, leaving jeff, dougie, and gareth to themselves

you and eddie walked to the giant kitchen, where you heard a voice yell "oh my god, are you eddie munson?" eddie immediately turned to where the voice came from, seeing tommy lee and nikki sixx leaning against a table, drinks in their hands

eddie looked at you with wide eyes, suppressing a giant smile which showed a mix of "oh my god they know who i am" and "oh my god they know who I am"

"go" you whispered, lightly nudging your boyfriend towards the two rockstars

he let go of your hand and headed towards them, and they greeted eddie like they were old friends even though they'd never met before in their lives

they immediately started into a conversation, you only heard bits and pieces but it was all shop talk about guitars solos, tour dates, etc.

you took this time to get a drink, walking deeper into the kitchen

you saw an opened pack of beers, and grabbed one out, opening it on the side of the counter (a helpful trick eddie taught you a few years back), and took a few sips, admiring the amount of people at this party and listening to the songs that were playing in the background, barely heard over the amount of people talking

you went to take another sip when you felt a presence next to you, and you look to your left to see none other than nikki sixx

dumbfounded that your old celebrity crush of a few years was standing next to you, you stuttered out a hello and he smiled

"y/n... right?" he asked and you nodded, a taken aback and confused look writing onto your face as he held his hand out to shake yours

"eddie told tommy and i about you just now, thought i'd come say hello" he said with a smile, leaning against the counter and inched closer

"well hello," you said, however, your voice moved faster than your brain processed, and it came out more flirtatious than you intended

maybe it was the subconscious part of your brain that was excited the guy you fantasized about before you met your boyfriend was in front of you, but now all you could think of now was showing him you weren't interested and that eddie was all you cared about

"so eddie's a pretty cool guy.." he said and you looked over at eddie who was engaged deep in a conversation with tommy, a drink in both their hands

you looked back at nikki who took a swig out of a jack daniels bottle he held in his left hand

"yeah, he's so cool i've been with him almost 4 years" you joked, awkwardly taking a sip from your beer

"you ever think about expanding your horizons?" he asked, the flirtiness in his voice increasing

"expanding to what?" you laughed, brushing off the awkwardness and hoping your heart rate would slow down

"to the room upstairs, there's a perfect little balcony overlooking the beach where no one can hear us...." he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck

"or see us... me fucking you senseless, my grip on your waist as my thick cock pumping in your tight little pussy, making you scream my name" he finished, leaving a hot, open mouth kiss on your neck under your ear

you felt a few shivers go down your spine, along with heat traveling to your core as a blush spread across your cheeks as you turned to face him

if this was a few years ago, before you met eddie, you wouldn't care that you'd be just another girl in the millions of his roster, you'd be halfway naked in the kitchen on your knees by now

but it wasn't a few years ago, this was now and even though you had the one man you had the biggest crush on literally beginning to have sex with you, but you also was dating someone you had an even bigger crush on

"i- i can't" you stuttered out, looking up at eddie and moving alway from the grip he had around your waist

it was like eddie could read your mind cause he turned around to see you with nikki, and him and tommy came sauntering over

eddie immediate wrapped an arm around you, pressing against your back and pulling you close, causing nikki to stand up straighter next to tommy

"what were you two chatting about?" eddie asked with a smile and nikki shrugged

"not much, just getting to know one another" nikki said, sending you a wink

"holy shit you're mötley crüe" you heard jeff say as him, gareth, and dougie walked up to tommy and nikki

"well half, you guys must be the rest of corroded coffin, right?" tommy asked, extending his hand to fist bump the boys and they all nodded excitedly

"hey while we're all here, let's talk tour dates, we've seen a show or two, and we need an opener" tommy said, extending an arm around nikki and gareth, walking off to where there was an opening on one of the couches, leaving you and eddie by yourselves in the kitchen

you turned around to look at his face, gently holding it with your hand as his arms wrapped around your waist

you kissed him gently and he kissed back, eventually pulling away with a smile

"uh, i just wanted to tell you, nikki hit on me... just now... when you were talking to tommy..." you told him

"oh wow..." he said, trailing off, looking over at nikki then back at you

"well, they always say don't leave your girlfriend alone around motley crue... i guess that actually is true" he chuckled

"yeah, but... he did tell me about this private room upstairs, incase you feel a little jealous and want to take it out on me" your voice again travelled faster than your brain as eddie's eyes darker, a smirk crawling up his face over his lips

"well what did he say exactly?" eddie asked, pulling you in closer and slowly moving his hand down your lower back

"something about screaming his name while he's fucking my tight little pussy-" you cut yourself off, kissing eddie

he pulled away, your foreheads touching

"did he get you all worked up? huh pretty girl?" he asked, staring to move his hips against yours and you whimpered out a yes when he suddenly stopped his movements

"i can't have you hot and horny for some other guy now can we? i guess i have to show you who can make you feel really good not some doped up rockstar who can’t please you the way i can..." he said again

you just nodded at him, staring, feeling like if you take your eyes off him, you wouldn’t get your release

“let’s take this upstairs, shall we?” he asked, extending one hand to yours and his other to one of the bottles of alcohol sitting on the counter opposite of him

you started to head upstairs when mick mars walked up to the two of you, stopping your path upstairs

“hey eddie, right? nikki was telling me all about you!” he said enthusiastically

“later mars, i gotta please my girl” eddie said in a rush, and the two of you ran upstairs to the bedroom

fin.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ The Way I Am ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing ♥︎ fiance!seonghwa x gn!makeup artist!reader

♥︎ Genre ♥︎ fluff/angst

♥︎ Summary ♥︎ Your fiance's been successfully keeping his love of makeup hidden from you. That is until you come home early from a trip and find him using your things. Your reaction is (of course ♥︎) the exact opposite of what he feared.

♥︎ Word Count ♥︎ 1.6kish

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Hwa does express his worries about being vulnerable with his identity so if that's sensitive to you that's super important to note. Other than that, nothing. Just fluff and reassurance ♥︎

♥︎ A/N ♥︎ I hope that if you're reading this and you feel nervous about expressing your gender identity out of fear that people won't accept you, you know that you're totally worthy of love and acceptance no matter what. Love you ♥︎

"'Cause I love you more than I could ever promise and you take me the way I am" - Ingrid Michaelson (The Way I Am)

Seonghwa hopes that you don’t notice. A few drops of foundation here. A swipe or two of eyeliner there. Maybe some lipstick or blush if he’s feeling adventurous. He wishes he had the courage to ask you to do this for him. You’re the most talented makeup artist he’s ever met. Watching you work is like art. How wonderful it’d be to bare the most vulnerable part of himself to you. To be your lover and your canvas. But every time he tries to open up the fear creeps in and the words won’t come out.

So this is the way it is—the way it’ll always have to be. Your wedding’s less than a month away and the thought that he might lose you makes his soul ache. He can’t risk losing you. He won’t risk losing you. 

Tonight he’s raided your makeup supplies for everything necessary to create the soft, romantic look of his dreams. With the warm air of a summer night blowing through the bedroom window and Spotify’s best Taylor Swift mix blasting in his over-ear headphones, the vibe couldn't be more perfect.

He’s been like this for at least an hour, seated at your vanity trying to get his foundation to match. You have every shade imaginable but none are what he wants. And mixing them? Well—

“Fuck” Seonghwa huffs, staring at his reflection, frustration and two pale layers of foundation painted all over his face. He scans the meticulously organized desk for the makeup wipes and gets to work cleaning it off. It takes everything in him not to throw something but he manages to suppress his violent urges long enough to pick up a brush again.

Thank god he has all night to do this. You won’t be home from your trip until tomorrow afternoon. By then he’ll have put everything back in its place and you’ll never know a thing. At least that’s the way things were meant to go but the unexpected glimmer of your reflection lingering by the bedroom door destroys that in an instant.

You thought it’d be sweet to surprise Seonghwa by coming home early. The event you were hired for had been canceled and you always missed each other so much. You figured it only made sense to come back home. You even stopped at his favorite takeout spot on the way from the airport to pick up dinner.

No one’s ever come close to treating you with as much love and care as Seonghwa has. Everything he does makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Just glancing down at the sparkly ring on your finger is enough to make your face light up. Any chance you have to make him feel the same way isn’t one you’re willing to pass up.

But, for the first time since you met, his face doesn’t light up at the sight of you. It darkens as if the world has ended and you can’t help but feel like you’re the one who ended it. 

“Hwa—” you sigh softly, approaching the vanity where he sits nearly catatonic. Tears collect in the corner of his deep brown eyes, his fingers beginning to shake around the makeup brush. “It’s okay” you promise, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Seonghwa pulls away from you, tearing the headphones off of his head. His dark hair hangs in his face giving him a safe place to hide from the disappointment he knows is waiting for him if he dares meet your gaze.

Only there isn’t any...

This isn’t what you expected to come home to but it’s far from a surprise for you. One of the things you always loved about Seonghwa was how comfortable he seemed to be in his own skin. While other guys saw every little thing as a threat to their masculinity, he treated femininity as something beautiful. You can’t even count the amount of times you’ve wanted to do his makeup. Those eyes. Those lips. That killer bone structure. He’s perfect for that kind of thing. You wish now more than ever that you’d said something.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t—I’m just—I’m so sorry” he mumbles, choking back tears. You outstretch your arms to wrap him in a hug but he slips away again, rushing to the closet to grab his gym bag. “Hwa, what are you doing? Can you stop for a second? Please?” you beg, following him around the room as he blindly tosses things into the bag.

You’ve never felt more invisible. Your words fall on deaf ears and each time you reach out to touch him he recoils. Seonghwa grabs his phone from the dresser, snatching free of the grip you have on the sleeve of his shirt. This is his worst nightmare. In the blink of an eye he lost everything, he’s convinced of that. He doesn’t know what to say or what to do. All he can think to do is run. 

“You can’t do this!” you shout, trailing him down the hallway, “You have to talk to me!”

Seonghwa breathes in, beyond pissed off at the few tears that manage to escape. “I have to leave. I have to—to protect you.”

Hearing the pain in his voice, you nearly trip on your luggage to throw yourself in front of the door. “Is it to protect me? Or to protect yourself?”

That stops him in his tracks, his foot already halfway into a pair of sneakers. Who’s he running away for really? It’s a question that only makes the pounding in his head worse. He knows that you love him. You tell him every morning, even when you’re apart, how special he is to you. You’re begging him to stay but he can’t. He can’t. Why can’t he?

“Move please” he asks, his hand tight around the doorknob. 

You fold your arms across your chest, back pressed to the door, “No.” 

“Move…please” his voice is deeper this time, the request sounding more like a demand. 

Slipping your hands beneath the curtain of jade hair, you rest them on cheeks that burn hot enough to heat your palms. Your fingers are stained with tears and what makeup remains on his cheeks. “I love you so much” you whisper, refusing to let him get away this time, “I need you to look at me.”

You hold your breath in the silence that follows, exhaling only when his mascara smeared eyes meet yours. “I. Love. You. So. Much” you say but slower this time, putting emphasis on every word. Your heart breaks for him, for how terrified you can tell he’s been of this happening.

You raise one of your hands to show him the makeup covering it. “I don’t care about this, Hwa. I care about you.” The faint smile on your face speaks of comfort, a truly safe place for him to be if he wants it. His hand falls away from the doorknob as he lets the gym bag hit the floor with a thud.

“I would’ve told you before but I…” he pauses to summon the courage to go on, “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore.” You let out a sigh of relief at the sensation of his arms easing around your waist. He holds you so tightly that you’d swear you were the one trying to run away. 

“Oh, my love. I wish you could meet yourself so you’d know how amazing you are” you sniffle, only now noticing the trickling of your own tears. “I want to be with you—all of you—whatever that looks like.”

Seonghwa uses his hands to wipe away your tears, leaving them tinted in the light makeup you threw on before your flight. “And see, we’re twins now” you giggle, desperate to lighten the mood. Seonghwa stares at you longingly, the light gradually reigniting behind his eyes. “I love you too” he smiles, his lips brushing yours, “So much.”

He kisses you in the most innocent way and it’s like your first kiss all over again. Packed with nerves and excitement that melt away the longer you linger here. It’ll take some time to fade—the fear of being vulnerable—but it will fade and you’ll be there for it all. 

“Will you help me fix it?” he asks, nervously fidgeting with the waist of your paints, “You don’t have to but I have a picture on my phone and—” You cover his mouth with your hand before he can say anything more, “Of course I’ll help you. Shower first though?” Seonghwa suddenly becomes hyper aware of the slight mess on his hands—in his hair—on both of your clothes. “I’d really like that.” 

Kissing him on the forehead, you push his hair back to get a good look at him, “We’re doing dreamy summer vibes? Something soft?” 

“How’d you know that?”

“I don’t know” you shrug, “Maybe I’m just that good. You were also going super hard on the Taylor Swift so I kinda assumed. Just blasting. I didn’t know it was that real for you.” 

“Shut up” he laughs, squeezing you so tight you can’t breathe. 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry!” you giggle, trying to get away. But he won’t let you. Instead he lays his head on your shoulder, willing to tolerate being a total mess for a bit longer if it means holding you. The way that things have been...it doesn’t have to be like that now.

And it never will be again.

[stop-talking]

J-hutch Characters on a road trip... together.

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

Futturman: "I... uh, I think you missed the exit..."

Mike: *straining to hear over the loud-ass music Clapton is blasting* "WHAT?"

Derek: *scrolling through his phone* "Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you to turn. My bad."

Mike: "GODDAMN IT. What the hell are you even doing on that thing? I thought you said it had a map?"

Derek: *scoffs and waves his phone in Mike's face while he drives* "I'm checking the current value of dogecoin! It just went up 8%!"

Clapton: "No fair! You only got shotgun because you were supposed to navigate!"

Derek: "I got shotgun because I'm an adult, brat."

Mike: *increasingly agitated* "What the FUCK is a dogecoin?"

Futturman: "Guys, PLEASE. Stop yelling. I'll check where the next turn is..."

Billy: *kicking Derek's seat* "No, the kid's right. This bastard should do it."

Clapton: "I'M NOT A KID!"

Derek: *turning in his seat to glare at Billy* "What did you just call me?"

Mike: "All of you SHUT THE FUCK UP."

Clapton: "...yes sir."

Futturman: "Oh, that's it! That's the exit!" *Points to a spot less than 50 feet away*

*Mike swerves harshly, cutting through three lanes and getting honked at by at least two cars.*

Billy: "FUCK! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US, MAN??"

Mike: "This is why I wanted to use a goddamn paper map."

Derek: *trying to compose himself after nearly pissing his pants* "What is this, the 90s?"

Clapton: "H-hey, the 90s were pretty cool..."

Billy: "Kid, you weren't even alive in the 90s."

Clapton: "Yes I was! I was born in '93!"

Futturman: "I'm supposed to believe you're a year older than me?"

Mike: *Glancing back at Futturman in the rearview mirror* "You're seven?"

Derek: "CAN NONE OF YOU DO MATH???"

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

I just couldn't get this Idea out of my head... but I didn't want to write an entire fic about it, so enjoy this little blurb. (This is assuming that they are all in the year 2024, but still from their respective time periods.)

Also this is how I imagine they would sit. Clapton in the middle because he's the smallest, and Derek up front because he's a brat. (Also because Mike had to forcibly separate him and Billy...) Futturman spends the whole trip trying to de-escalate everyone.

[botboots]

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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

Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :] 

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Crying on your birthday

Summary: You’ve been best friends with the triplets since you were born and your boyfriend of 2 years broke up with you on your birthday and chris confesses his love to you in an interesting way;)

Warnings: Smut!! P in V, Dom!Chris, Sub!reader, choking, hair pulling, use of Y/N, unprotected sex (wrap ur snickers), Oral (fem reviving), fingering, cursing, alcohol consumption, cream pie, cursing, lowkey possessive chris?, (lemme know if i forget anything)

A/N: not requested but i had this idea cookin in my head for a WHILE!! this is a long one so be prepared!!

:¨ ·.· ¨:

`· . ꔫ

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

i’ve known the triplets since i was born. our moms were best friends since they were 9, Marylou and My mom went to college together and even had me at the same time Marylou was pregnant with the boys. i’ve thought nothing more then the triplets as my brothers, but chris… Christopher owen.. that boy has his ways with me about ever since we hit puberty together and learned we didn’t have the same body parts, now we never showed each other we liked each other so i never knew he liked me back. marylou always told me she’d seen me with either matt or chris. once matt started dating i KNEW i was never his type.. not in the slightest. nick and i were always just besties, once he came out it made more sense why he never attempted to “flirt” with me, so we were strictly just best friends or siblings. but chris? oh no he was a huge player, he treated me like a sibling but there was something about the way he “joked” with me i knew it was something more, but none of us ever talked about it so i ignored it, and just assumed that’s his way of joking. i’ve been dating my boyfriend, Cooper, for 2 years now, things were amazing, the triplets and their parents, were super supportive of me and him considering how we were raised as siblings. my mom liked him but i knew she never loved him.

today was my 21st birthday, i was actually about to have my ‘first drink’. at least to my parents knowledge. the boys and i would always sneak alcohol behind mine and their parents back all the time from the ages of 15-19, that was till they got themselves a house in boston, and i got an apartment close by in boston as well.

i spent about an hour and a half getting ready. i wore a black tight dress with little pink bows connecting to my middle breast, pushing my breast up and against each other making them look nice. with the dress i put on some thigh high leather boots with a slight heel on them.

cooper had finally texted me saying he was at my apartment to drive us to my venue i had booked for about 300 people. i knew my 21st had to be huge. i walk

down my stairs of the building leading to coopers car, but as i’m walking to him i’m expecting his usual flirty compliments such as, ‘hey sexy u come here often’, ‘can’t wait to rip that off you tonight’, ‘gimme a twirl lemme see that ass’, but strangely, it’s like i was a ghost to him, i ignore it thinking he just had a bad day at work or something.

“Hey coop! you ready” i say getting in the car closing the door smiling.

“hm? oh yeah i’m ready” he shoots me a fake smile before flipping his phone over face down and under his thigh slowly backing out to drive to the venue.

he’s never done that before? why did he hide his phone like that? why under his leg? i wonder so many things in my head but im not gonna let it get in the way of my birthday.. not happening, been waiting on this day for YEARS, today was about me!

the drive was silent and lifeless, never in the 2 years we’ve been together had our drives ever been less then filled with laughter and jokes, or blasting music and singing along to our shared playlist together. i plug my phone up to the aux cord and start playing our shared playlist thinking maybe i could lighten the mood but that doesn’t work. hes distant and it’s irking me, but again i brush it off cause its my birthday of all days.

i text chris a simple text telling him i was close to the venue hoping he’d be there and not take his princess ass his sweet time. as we pulled up to the venue i’m all smiles and giggles and as im walking towards cooper to hold his hand as im walking into the place he drops my hand, ive officially had enough of this i stop in my tracks.

“nu uh what the fuck is ur issue, first u hide ur phone, next ur completely silent, and now u drop my hand?” i slightly yell trying not to cause a ruckus infront of the venue

“just not feeling the party mood Y/N” he says almost uninterested in my feelings

“cooper marshall?? not in a party mood?? i don’t believe it.. not for a second, u literally have ‘party monster’ tatted on your thigh.. you NEVER turn down a pary, specially for your GIRLFRIEND of 2 YEARS, might i mention” i yell pretty sternly at this point not caring who hears

“yeah Y/N i’m not in a party mood, it’s not that hard to believe.. plus ur too clingy sometimes expecally when you can’t take a hint when someone’s upset you’re still fucking attached to me at the hip, i’m not always feeling you” again uninterested in how i feel

“Cooper what the fuck? i’m too ‘clingy’ where is this coming from?” using air quotes to emphasize my words.

cooper rolls his eyes “Y/N you’re causing a scene at your party you so desperately wanted to have, let’s just go” he attempts to grab my hand to drag me inside.

i drop his hand “no, your not just gonna ignore whatever issue you have with me, ESPECIALLY on my fucking birthday cooper”

again he rolls his eyes “i’m not doing this Y/N”

my eyes widen “doing what exactly? the party? me? what?”

he sighs before running his fingers through his hair “everything Y/N.. just leave me alone, don’t text me, don’t call me, just don’t worry about me and have fun at your pitty party”

my jaw dropped, if my jaw could break, my jaw would be in hell for how low my jaw hung. “your seriously breaking up with me?”

he presses his lips together and nods “yeah i guess i am i would say im sorry but im not.. bye sav-“ he stops abruptly before trying to fix his mistake of calling me the wrong name “bye Y/N”

tears start forming in my eyes “you were cheating on me? now ur breaking up with me on my fucking birthday? i truly thought better of you..”

he turns around “it’s not like you probably aren’t fucking chris behind my back anyway, it’s only fair” he shrugs

tears streaming down my face trying to comprehend what he just said.

“fuck off cooper” i storm inside the venue and as i walk in im greeted by the three same face people i grew up with.

“i uh- we uh-“ matt starts

“yeah we- you see” chris try’s to save matt

“oh my god you guys are fucking idiots.. Y/N we saw the whole thing.. what they’re trying to say is we’re sorry” nick finishes his brothers sentences and brings me into a tight bear hug.

i sniffle into nick as matt and chris both hug me, i pull away softly.

“i-it’s okay.. let’s just party, there’s 300 people here for me, i’m 21, finally we’re all 21 together, let’s just party and get drunk” i say promoting a half assed smile

“love ur attitude Y/N but let’s actually have a good time! also you look wayy too hot to be crying on your fucking birthday” nick says with his positive energy he always promotes

“you do look good sassy” chris says with his infamous smirk.

‘Sassy’ a nickname chris gave me when we were 8 and i was starting to get into my personality being sassy and not taking bull shit from anyone.

“thank you bubbles” i say with a smile. bubbles was a nickname i gave to him when we were 5 cause he was the bubbliest boy of the three.

about an hour went by, i lost count of how many drinks i consumed that night, on average id say about 8-10, i was the drunkest here, my words were slurring, i was full on shakin ass on the air, and my vision was blurred.

“oh chrisssy pooh” i slurred as chris came up behind me helping me walk around.

he chuckles “hey sassy, you’re a little

too drunk”

“whattt” i act shocked in my drunken state “nu uh, am not”

maybe these were my drunken thoughts but his smile could lighten up hell, the way his cheeks puffed up as he smiled, the way his blue eyes sparkle.

“mhm sure, why don’t we get you in the van and take you home and call it quits hm?” nick follows chris and holds my arms up to try and attempt to hold me i lean towards chris almost falling down as he caught me like one of those corny romantic movies.

i glaze into his eyes “you’re so pretty Christopher”

he laughs and picks me up and carrys me bridal style “oh yeah you’re done for love”

i nuzzle into his neck as nick, matt, chris and i walk to the van smiling like a kid in the candy store.

i randomly start busting out into drunken laughter as chris attempts to buckle me in “you wanna know something funny? cooper told me that i was fucking chris behind his back? pft he’s like my brother”

chris laughs and closes the door on the passenger back seat as nick takes the front passenger side and runs to the driver back seat to sit next to me.

“CHRISSY” i say a little louder

“i’m here sassy” he places my head on his lap and starts playing with my hair like he used to when we were kids.

i look up at him as his blue eyes glisten against the moonlight shining into the car window as matt drives to the triplets house “your so sweet to me.. can you braid my hair”

he looks down at me and smiles “yes i can” he takes my head and turns it to the side and starts french braiding my hair like i taught him years ago.

i softly hum before drifting off to sleep until i was woken up to chris carrying me to his bedroom and i groan as he sits me down on his bed “mm chris-“ before i could even warn him im running to the bathroom and puking up every ounce of alcohol in me.

“Y/N??” he says barging in the bathroom immediately holding my hair back to help me and rubbing my back softly saying ‘it’s okay sassy’ ‘i’m here’

i finally stop puking and am just leaning my back onto chris’ chest as he runs his fingers in my hair “you feelin any better”

i softly smile “i’m pretty much sobered up now”

“you ready to get into bed? you can wear some of my clothes and stuff since you weren’t prepared for anything tonight given the circumstances of your recent breakup- oh my god im sorry i shouldn’t have mentioned that im so-“

i cut him off “chris it’s fine, i promise, if anything im already over it… i know i shouldn’t be but i pretty much am” i smile turning my body to face him now

he returns the smile at me “good, let’s get you up and changed” he helps me up off the cold bathroom tiled floor as he guides me to his bedroom and lays out a pair of ‘Fresh Love’ sweatpants and one of his ‘Lyrical Lemonade’ T-shirts for me.

“here you go sass, i’ll be outside the door just let me in when your changed, you can throw your clothes in that hamper over there and i’ll wash em in the morning” he states before attempting to walk out of the door

“Wait chris” i stop “please don’t leave, it ain’t like we used to bathe together” i continue adding a small smile to my face

“okay.. but i’m turning around” he chuckled using his pointed finger to point at me

i smile at him “okay okay..” he turns around and i take my shoes off putting them to the side carefully and taking my dress off leaving me in my bra and underwear which was a matching orange set with little to no coverage on either my breast or ass, i was gonna suprise cooper with tonight but since coopers no longer in the picture it’s just another set in my collection. i throw on chris’ clothes which were a little too big on me but alas they were comfy.

“okay goober you can turn around now” i laugh and he slowly turns around and walks his way to me grabbing my hand and spinning me around like some disney moving looking at me up and down.

“my my my, i thought you looked beautiful in that dress but my clothes looks 10x better on you” he chuckles

i’m a giggling mess “oh stop it chris, you’re just fuckin with me”

he shoots me a smirk “eh maybe i am, maybe im not..” his voice trails off almost nervously

chris? nervous? never, i’ve warned his clothes thousands of times and never once has he showered me with affection the most id normally get is ‘i better see that hoodie back in my closet’ jokingly of course.

but alas a blush creeps on my cheeks giving away i liked his compliment, i can’t deny ive always had a thing for chris, i USED to only look at him as my ‘brother who’s not actually my brother but is my brother’ but that was before i knew what boys actually were. chris and i had/have never hooked up before, granted we were each others first kiss because we entered middle school together and Marylou gave them a talk about girls that somehow interested chris and he wanted to ‘get some practice’ as he says. but we were 11, we never kissed again cause we thought it was awkward, that was until i had my first date and didn’t know how to make out, chris, the player of course, was the one i ran to to teach me. cooper knew how close we all were, i told him i’ve only ever kissed chris twice but it meant nothing, it’s not like we hooked up before.

“ma?” chris attempted to get my attention but i was LOST in my thoughts about wanting to kiss chris’ soft lips again… was it wrong to want that?

“hm? oh yeah sorry i was uh just thinking” i laughed my nervousness away

“about what?” he said walking over to his bed, i followed sitting next to him

“nosey.. but mostly just us as kids.. i still think it’s funny cooper thought we hooked up, but it brought me to the memories when we were 11 and had our first kiss” i giggled softly

“OH I REMEMBER THAT ONE” he exclaimed “we were in my bedroom at the old house and” before his attempt at telling the rest of the story i joined in

“we didn’t talk for 3 days because we thought it was weird” we said in unison

we both laugh but slowly we just start looking at each other in a not so friendly way.. more of a romantic way, now i know i just broke up with my boyfriend of 2 years and the last thing i should be doing is looking at chris wanting his nice plump limps on mine.

before i knew it chris’ lips were attached to mine but i didn’t hesitate once, i immediately kissed him back but what was weird is that he pulled away… i thought i would have pulled away.

“i-im sorry i shouldn’t have done that” chris attempts to apologize

“no you should have… i know im recently single but… i want you to kiss me again…” i attempt to make him feel better the thought of his lips on mine and everywhere else on my body just came flooding down and creating a sense of heat in between my legs

chris leans in using his hand to caress my cheek before pressing his lips on mine this time in a more passionate manner, but with a hint of sexual desire in his lips, he wanted this just as much as i did, maybe more.

i softly moan into his lips as his hand travels down to my hips and up and down my upper thigh before slowly pulling away

“is this okay…?” he looks nervously down at his hand on my thigh

i nodded but that wasn’t enough for chris

“i need to hear you say it ma, tell me if i can do this” he looks at me deeply in my eyes.

“yes chris, this is perfect” i smile

“god i’ve been waiting for this my entire life” he kisses me again while using his hand to move into the waistband of his sweatpants i had on and taking off the pants laying me down on my back and pulling away from the kiss to admire the orange set of underwear i had on.

“such a whore for wearing such slutty underwear like this like you’re asking to be fucked…” he growled placing himself in between my legs and pulling my underwear to the side and admiring the glistening from my wetness coated on my pussy almost drooling and using his finger to collect my wetness on his finger.

“fuck you’re dripping…” his finger was drenched in my arousal he took his finger in his mouth to have a taste and his eyes lit up with desire and hunger for me “cooper would be shitting himself… i bet you’ve never been this wet for him eh? only for me?” he states cockily

“mhm” i smiled and nodded before adjusting myself to take off his shirt i had on showing him the rest of the matching set i had on, both being in his favorite color and little to no coverage for my hard nipples.

that’s all it took and his mouth was attached to my clit placing open mouth kisses on it eating me like his life depends on it, eating me like a gun was placed to his head for his last meal.

a loud moan escaped through my lips as my jaw when open “chris!” i yelped “fuck you’re too damn good at- at this” i state with a shakey breath.

he moaned against my pussy sending a vibration through my body feeling his smirk against me, he lifts up to speak “i bet ur sorry excuse for an ex couldn’t treat this pussy like it deserves” he smirks

“shut up christopher and use that mouth for good use” he didn’t look to happy

“i didn’t say you could speak back to me” he lightly slaps my clit, causing my hips

to jerk forward and a soft whimper let out my lips.

“oh? you like that?” he slaps it again and another whimper softly comes out me

he dips his head down in my legs again adding a finger and curling upwards to hit my spot just right and my toes began to curl and my back arching off the bed and moans leaking from my mouth, he adds another finger curling both upwards with ease.

“oh- oh chris!” i hum softly “d-don’t s-stop please s-s-so close” my legs tremble lightly

“don’t plan on it ma” he muttered against me occasionally looking up at me supporting myself with my elbows dug into the mattress, head thrown back, with my nails twisting the sheets between my fingertips

“fuck chris i’m ab to cum” i moan out

“do it, be a good girl and cum all over my fingers” he spits moving his body upward to watch me come undone on his fingers his eyes piercing in me keeping his fingers curling up at a constant speed

“mpft- FUCK” i cursed a constant string of ‘fucks’ and ‘chris’ as my legs tremble even more and i came absolutely all over his fingers as he slowly pulls them out with a huge grin and licking my cum up on his fingers

“mmm fuck you taste amazing.. i’ve waited a long time to taste you and i’d have to say it’s the best thing that’s touched my tongue” he grins

i roll my eyes playfully trying to come down from my high “now let me suck tour dick or you fuck me into tomorrow, ur choice” i smirk

he hums softly “now i’d love to watch you suck me off but tonight is all about you sassy, so we’ll save your mouth for another night” he shoots me a wink

“there’s gonna be another night?” i ask smiling and cocking my head to the side.

“i hope you didn’t think this was a one time thing.. im gonna need your pussy in my mouth every night” he smiles pulling his pants down and his boxers down in one swift motion and taking his shirt off leaving him bare… my jaw dropped, his dick is huge… thick and LONG… the sweatpants don’t do him any justice.

he obviously catches me staring “you like what your looking at sass?”

i nod HARD… it’s so much bigger then coopers…

“good” he smirks leaning over me and pressing a passionate kiss on my lips before lining his dick up with my entrance and sliding in with ease inch by inch, i pull away moaning as he bottoms out and starts thrusting his hips at a steady pace to begin with

“oh my god, you’re so fucking tight.. and wet… fuckk” he leans his head back beginning to thrust into me a little faster

“mpfh- h-harder chris” i moan out

his hips immediately went harder hitting my spot every time again. he grabs my neck softly choking me as i’m a bigger moaning mess then i was on his fingers.

“i bet cooper could never fuck you like this… he wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy like yours” chris whispers almost growling in my ear while pounding into me causing the bed to repeatedly hit the wall

“oh chris” i groan out arching my back

“i can fuck you better then that sorry peice of shit… mmm” he groans in my ear

a loud pornographic moan escapes my lips as his tip kisses my cervix over and over again leaving my legs shaking violently beneath him.

he flips me over so my back is arched and my ass is in the air, he begins thrusting in me at a domestic pace as if he can’t control himself with me anymore he’s groaning to the point it’s almost a whimper as my ass repeatedly clapping on his pelvic bone.

“Fuckkk chris… i can feel you in my fucking throat… you’re so deep” i moan out

Smack

he lets a HARD smack on my ass before grabbing a wad of my hair and lifting me up to whisper in my ear

“you’re such a dirty whore” he says nibbling at my neck leaving dark circles on my neck “you’re mine now… no one else’s” he grunts “mine to mark” thrust “mine to fuck” thrust “mine to destroy” he lets go of my hair and pressing my head into the mattress “mine” thrust “mine” thrust “mine” my moans turns into whimpering as i become overstimulated

“c-close” i choke out, i could barely form a coherent sentence.

“mmf- me too ma… just keep taking me like a good girl you are” he groans throwing his head back, maintaining his constant hard and rough thrusts.

my legs now fully numb and shaking violently, “c-cumming” i whimper out as im releasing all over his dick leaving a white ring of cum on the base of his dick.

his thrust became sloppy as he paints my walls with his ropes of cum and slowly pulls out trying not to hurt me he rubs my lower back as i turn over and lay on my back.

“hang on ma, lemme go get a towel to clean you up” he exists the room and i hear nick from downstairs cheering

“YESSSS FINALLY YALL HOOKED UP!!! IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! but next time be quiet or wait till we’re not here yall freaks!” nick yells causing a smile to appear on my lips as chris walks in with a warm rag to start carefully wiping my legs and carefully rubbing my pussy off trying not to hurt me.

“happy birthday sassy” he smiles at me as we’re now laying down next to each other bare, skin to skin.

“thank you bubbles” i smile over at him.

“where does this leave us Y/N?” his smile drops into a nervous expression

“let’s just cuddle and we’ll talk about in the morning okay? i’m too tired” i smile at him reassuringly

he kisses my forehead bringing me closer to his chest “thank you” he whispered

“mhm” i mumbled falling fast asleep with the real man of my heart next to me.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

IDK HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THIS ONE??? it’s a long one but i had fun writing it! ALSO ILY GUYS!!! lemme know how yall enjoyed this one!!

[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 1

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, light smut. alcohol mention, masturbation (f). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.6k

a/n: IT'S HERE AHHHH hope y'all like this one :)

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God, I need to get a job.

The afternoon sun filters in through the blinds as you scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the reality of your future. You graduated college months ago and still have no idea what you want to do or how to do it. Application after application, shitty interview after shitty interview, and you’re still no further into the career that’s supposed to be the rest of your life.

Sighing, you prop yourself up on your elbows in bed to take in the space around you - clothes were strewn across the floor of your studio apartment, dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty takeout containers from restaurants you certainly couldn’t afford to be eating at. It was all just too much.

Eh, I’ll get around to it, you think, laying back into the pillows and returning to your phone. You navigate to check your bank account, just to see the damage that months of unemployment have done.

“Balance: $68.06”

Shit. That’s not even enough to make rent this month, and even if you did have a job lined up you’ve already asked your landlord for one extension on your payments and he did not seem very open to the prospect of doing it again.

Trying to shut out the thought of possibly losing your apartment, you move over to Instagram to quiet the dread building inside of you. Scrolling through posts of your friends on yachts, traveling the country, eating expensive dinners with expensive-looking people, you only feel like more of a failure.

How are they able to do it? I mean, sure, they at least have jobs, but none of them pay well enough to do this, right?

You hover over one of your friend’s pictures, trying to recognize the incredibly well-dressed, albeit much older, man she’s seated across from. As you zoom in, it suddenly clicks - her new jewelry, the expensive bottle of champagne, fresh nails, styled hair - and you remember your conversation with her the last time you saw each other.

You were both out at a bar and she kept buying rounds of shots for you and all your friends.

“Dude, not to be a total dick, but how are you able to afford all this?” you shout over the music blasting through the speakers.

“Oh m’god, you aren’t gonna believe it” she slurs slightly, “there’s this app where rich guys pay you to just go on dates with ‘em, I jus’ gotta keep lookin’ pretty and they pay me so much.”

“Don’t you have to, like, fuck them though?” you ask, curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Only if y’wanna! You’re not really supposed to, but they pay you a lot more!” she grins.

At the time you pushed the conversation to the back of your mind and promptly forgot about it after a few more drinks, but now the realization crashes over you.

No, there’s no way. You try to shake the idea out of your mind - were you seriously considering getting a sugar daddy before getting a job?

She did make it sound pretty easy though…and I mean, it’s just dates, right?

You hesitantly pull out your laptop to search for the website she had mentioned. There’s no harm in just checking it out, you try to rationalize. Before you know it, you’ve set up a profile and have picked out a few pictures of yourself that make you look particularly hot - you out at a bar, you on the beach, you with your friends.

After you finalize your profile, the screen suddenly fills with pictures of, frankly, less-than-attractive older men. You roll your eyes and scoff at your own stupidity for even considering this idea, starting to shut your laptop before something catches your eye in the corner of the screen.

Bright white hair and piercing blue eyes look back at you through the computer. Holy shit, he’s hot, you think as you move your mouse to click on his profile.

Bio: “My name’s Gojo, but you can call me yours 🥰 23, casual only”

Okay, so he’s hot, rich, and practically the same age as you? You feel like you’ve struck gold. Besides, he only wants something casual, which is all you’re interested in anyways since you still need to focus on finding a job eventually, but this could at least help you financially bridge the gap between then and now.

Swiping up, you decide to just send him a message and hope for the best; after all, the worst he can say is no.

You: Gojo, I need you to be fr with me - does that pickup line in your bio ever actually work?

Sighing, you move to close your computer as you wait for him to respond, but a message pops up almost instantly.

Gojo: Why don’t you find out tonight over dinner - 7:30 work for you?

A smile starts to form on your lips - this was almost too easy. The two of you briefly confirm the details of your first date before you finally shut your laptop and start getting ready.

–

Standing outside of the restaurant, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness as the reality of what you’re about to do sets in.

There’s no way this is a good idea - maybe I should just go home. No, no, I’ve made it this far, and I really do need the money.

You inhale a shaky breath as you try to steady yourself before reaching for the door and walking inside. The restaurant is beautiful, the scent of fresh bread and herbs hitting your nose as soon as your feet step onto the dark wood of the floor. The deep red walls make the space feel cozy, intimately lit with candles and a chandelier hanging overhead. You glance down at the burgundy dress and black heels you decided on since they were the nicest clothes you owned, yet you still feel slightly underdressed.

Glancing around the restaurant, the white-haired man is nowhere to be found. “Hi, um, I’m here to meet someone,” you hesitantly explain to the person at the host stand.

“Ah yes, you must be with Mr. Gojo. Right this way,” he gestures for you to follow him. He leads you through the restaurant to the far back corner, unveiling a small room that was initially hidden behind a curtain.

As you adjust to the dim lighting, you glance around the new space in front of you: a single table with roses placed in the middle, and on one side sits perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He smiles at you as those bright blue eyes meet yours before they slowly move down and up your body, taking you all in.

“Well, aren’t you a treat,” he grins before getting up to pull out the empty chair for you.

When he stands up you allow your gaze to cover him as your eyes shift up to his white locks then down across his black suit, adorned with a dark red tie that somehow perfectly matches your dress.

“You aren’t half-bad yourself,” you respond as you move across the small space to sit down.

“Careful now, don’t flatter me too much or it’ll go to my head,” he smirks as he returns to his seat across from you. He places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm, staring at you.

Trying to break the silence, you murmur, “This place is nice.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“So, um, what do you do?” you continue, desperately trying to loosen the pressure you feel from his gaze.

“Do you care?” he taunts, tilting his head to the side with that same smirk on his face.

“W-well, I-” you stammer.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m not offended. You’re here because I’m paying you, and I’m here because I wanted to sit across from a beautiful woman. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that,” he smiles.

The combination of the pet name and him calling you beautiful suddenly makes your cheeks flush and you look down at the table, trying to hide your reddening face.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your chin as Gojo gently tilts your head back up. “Eyes up here, princess,” he purrs. “After all, what’s the point of this little date if I can’t even look at you?”

Something about his touch, his voice, his words has your heart fluttering in your chest. You’ve never been nervous like this over a guy before, and you’ve barely just met him.

You swallow, trying to keep your eyes on his but it almost feels like he’s seeing into you, somehow able to view the depths of your soul. You feel naked in front of him, like he’s looking at your very essence.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the eye contact with a chuckle. “Sorry, I know I can come off a little intense sometimes. You’re just so gorgeous it feels like I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t try to take it all in.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you finally tear your gaze away from him, softly laughing at the compliment.

The rest of the date goes smoothly - he orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu and tells you to get whatever you want, since it’s obviously his treat. The conversation flows easily between the two of you, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time with him. When it comes time to leave, he thanks you for spending the night with him and gives you his phone number in case you ever want to go out again. As you part ways to walk towards your car, you get a notification from your bank.

Holy. Shit.

Your eyes widen at the screen. Gojo sent you $2,000.

You almost feel dizzy, not having had this much money at once in nearly months. Now you can pay rent and buy groceries and do all the other stuff you were too broke to do. Sitting in your car, you let out a squeal of excitement.

Unfortunately, your joy gets cut short as you go to turn your car on, the key turning repeatedly in the ignition as it stalls out.

Of course, you think, the one time I don’t put gas in this goddamn thing. To your credit, you really couldn’t afford it, and it had lasted longer on empty before. You had also neglected the oil change, and the tire rotation, and the other maintenance the mechanic kept emailing you was overdue, but how were you supposed to pay for all that anyways? Not knowing what to do, you pull out your phone to call someone to help you. As you unlock it, you’re met with Gojo’s contact information he just put in.

I mean, he would definitely help me. And I know he can afford gas. Sighing, you call him.

He answers almost immediately. “Miss me already?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you really do need his help. “My piece of shit car won’t turn on, and I figured you’re probably still close to the restaurant, could you help?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even after just one date, it’s like you can practically hear his smile through the phone.

As promised, he arrives a few minutes later. He drives up in a sleek, black Porsche that has windows so tinted you wouldn’t be able to see inside if he hadn’t rolled his window down. Of course he drives a nice car, you think to yourself.

“Your savior has arrived,” he smirks, leaning his head out the window at you where you stand against your car. Opening the passenger side door reveals the interior of the vehicle, which is just as nice as the outside, with black leather seats and an all-black console. “You know, this is usually the part where you say thank you.” He turns to face you as the scent of his cologne hits you, something woody and crisp.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you settle into the comfortable seat. “You can just take me home.”

“On it,” he responds with a salute.

The drive is quiet as you spiral into your thoughts. How am I supposed to get a job now if I can’t even drive to an interview? How am I even supposed to get groceries? Can I just leave my car at the restaurant? Where else would I even take it? How am I supposed to afford this? Fuck.

Gojo clears his throat next to you, pulling you out of your mind. “You alright over there, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” you stutter, “just stressed.”

He glances over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, what if I could help you be a little less stressed?”

“Oh yeah, and how would you do that exactly?” Looking down, you suddenly notice his hand on your thigh, his thumb moving in slow circles along your skin. The gentle sensation makes you feel flustered as heat begins to pool between your legs.

Am I seriously about to fuck this guy I just met?

Before you can say anything else, Gojo continues. “How about you use my car while I get yours sorted out for you, hm?” A look of surprise flashes across your face at his kindness and lack of sexual proposition. “What, not the offer you were expecting?” he smirks.

“Gojo, I-” you start.

“Look, princess, I want to do this. Let me help you, please?” he pleads.

“Fine,” you relent, “but I owe you one, seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it. But, if you really insist, I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to repay me at some point.” You tilt your head to look at him as his eyes meet yours, a glint of mischief in his blue irises.

After a few more minutes of him flirting with you, his hand never leaving your thigh, Gojo finally pulls up to your apartment building. Stepping out of the car, he hands you the keys and reminds you not to worry, that he’ll take care of everything. You thank him again as you walk inside - he insists you don’t wait outside while he waits for his ride home - and he sends you off with a wave.

Walking into your apartment, your thoughts swirl in your mind as you replay the events that just transpired. How did you manage to find this rich, handsome, courteous man? More importantly, what’s the catch? If he’s truly as good as he seems, why was he on that website in the first place?

Sighing, you flop onto your bed and peel off your dress, tossing it into the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. Your skin feels warm where he touched you, a part of you wishing he had inched higher. Before you realize you’re doing it, your hands traverse down your body between your legs, gently pulling your panties to the side.

As you rub over your clit, you picture how his soft fingertips would feel against you, how good those long fingers would feel inside you, beckoning you towards your release. Your other hand traces up your chest, gently cupping your breast as you toy with your firm nipple. His name escapes your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer, eyes shut as you picture him. “Gojo,” you can’t stop yourself from moaning into the empty room as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking, the thought of him the only thing on your mind.

Your breathing slows as you come down from your high, heart still pounding in your chest.

Well, that settles it, you think as you sit up. I guess I am going to fuck him.

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