#even if it’s somebody he knows for a fact would never put their hands on him

[spookyboywhump]

I like the idea of Zander flinching away from somebody too because normally he’s the one who’s ready to take any beating, any pain for somebody else, he’s more than used to that kind of treatment, and he always wants to look scary and look like he’s not bothered by the people around them and the way they treat him but,,,,, he gets scared too sometimes,,,,,

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts (update: part two is now out!! linked here 2 read) and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 ;)

[wifeofasith]

Warnings — SEX POLLEN, dub-con, Master x Padawan, power imbalance, intoxication, abuse of authority, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of pain, brief nipple play, brief fingering, degrading if you squint, pet names, praise, swearing...

Word count — 3.3k

Notes — Thank you, Anon for the request! This is the first time I write a fic this length, I hope it's enjoyable! I truly hope I didn't miss any warnings; it's currently past 3am and my head is fried.

“You know this is completely unnecessary; you are overexaggerating…” Anakin complains as you wrap a thick linen rope around his wrists, securing your master in place. “I swear, I’m fine. Look,” He leans forward, putting his face on display. So close, you could feel his soft breath on the tip of your nose.

You inspect his eyes, deep blue eyes with slightly dilated pupils; if it were somebody else, they wouldn’t have seen a difference, but you… Oh, you were different. You knew his eyes a little bit too well for just a Padawan, and you were certain: something was wrong. You could sense his heart pumping blood through his veins a little bit too fast, his irregular breathing, you spotted things he failed to notice about himself. Maybe all those stolen glances at his undeniably gorgeous face and broad body will pay off, giving you something else than just fantasy material for all the lonely nights.

“No.” You reply bluntly. “I’m sorry, master.” You tie a last knot around his wrists. You wanted to explain; tell him all the things you sensed were different: the way his gaze twisted when landing on your body, the way he squirmed just slightly as you bind his limbs together, the way he… Smelled. It wasn’t just a regular Anakin scent, no. It was sweeter, almost milky, and it made you want to burry your face into his skin, so naturally, you could never reveal your reasoning.

Anakin sighed, leaning his back against the remains of your spaceship, his tied hands resting on top of his lap, hiding the slowly-forming tightness you both failed to notice. He could swear everything was perfect. Well, aside from the fact that you both were left stranded on an unknown planet and after hours of wandering in search of life and help, you ended up back at the crash site. 

“You realize I would never hurt you, right?” He stares at you, visible annoyance present on his features. “There is nothing wrong with me, I didn’t even touch anything unknown.”

He was right; he touched nothing. He… Inhaled it. And (un)fortunately neither of you knew.

“I know….” You look into his eyes pleadingly, trying to convince him to stay put in case he goes on some kind of rampage that your whole body senses is coming. You wanted to deny your gut feeling, but the gleam in his eyes told you it was a bad idea. 

Time passes slowly, and Anakin is growing more and more impatient as he watches your failing attempts to fix the transmitter and possibly reach someone. 

“Give me that.”

You stare at him from a short distance, thinking whether it’s smart to approach him, but your doubts are quickly wiped away when that sweet scent reaches the inside of your lungs with the help of a soft breeze. You stand up and bring him the broken device.

Anakin grabs your hand instead and pulls you down to your knees in front of him. Your face meets his with a surprised stare, and before you can complain about the invasion of your space, he speaks. 

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Fast.” His stare is intense, and he holds your hand tightly in his restricted grip. “Got it?”

“Yes, M-master.” You stutter, stunned by his sudden change of demeanor; you can’t even move. And the worst part is that he smells even better this close.

“Good girl.” He keeps staring into your eyes, grasping your hand as if he doesn’t intend to let it go. “Maker, you are such a pretty thing, I could tear you apart…” He contemplates out loud, his words surprising the last part of his sane mind as he’s becoming more and more vulnerable to foreign planet’s drugs.

“What?”

He slowly frees your hand, swallowing a lump in his throat. He’s starting to feel it —  pants failing to hide a very prominent arousal, mouth watering at the sight of your cleavage, you look fucking scrumptious; and he needs to devour you. He snaps his head to the side.

“Sorry.” Anakin mutters, seemingly regaining some of his senses. He shifts on the ground as you stare at him dumbfounded, not only because of his sudden vulgarity but also because the outline of his dick was now very visible and your eyes couldn’t help but glance. 

“Master?”

He groans. “Don’t say that.” He shamelessly palms himself in front of your eyes as if he were in pain from how tight his underwear was. “Don’t call me master. Not now, sweetheart.” His voice softens just for a moment.

“Master, are you okay?” You deny his request. Involuntary. Maybe because it was a habit, or maybe because some part of you really wanted him to get unbearably hard for you.

He yanks you towards himself with his sluggish grip. Tied hands wrap around your throat, and he hisses. “I fucking mean it. You call me that again. I’m going to bend you over this wreck of a spaceship and bruise your insides until someone finally comes and gets us off this forsaken planet.”

If you weren’t surprised before, you are now absolutely bewildered. You pushed him away, landing on your butt and quickly crawling reversely to create some space between yourself and the animal that possessed your master’s body.

Anakin stood up and leaned himself against the wreckage as if trying to fight something that’s been trying to claw its way out of his body. His back turned to you, shoulders rising up and down repeatedly as he struggled to speak.

“Go. Now.” He groans, trying to hold his panting in.

“Anakin?” You rise yourself from the ground and take a step towards him, hesitating to move or speak more.

“Fucking RUN.” A growl slips from his throat; you’ve never heard such an animalistic sound coming from him. It wasn’t an order; it was a warning, a head start for you. And if there was a perfect time to listen to his advice about doing everything he’s telling you — that was it.

So you do.

You feel the wind blowing through your ears and burning your throat as you try to get away as far from Anakin as possible. Your pulse is thudding rapidly, your limbs are shaking, and yet your insides are throbbing, aching to have relief from the extreme arousal created by your master’s primal behavior and the image of his hardening cock imprinted in your head. 

You turn your head slightly, glancing behind you, expecting to see Anakin making his way towards you, but instead you are greeted with the sight of nobody. Anakin’s nowhere to be seen. You look around, panting heavily, trying to spot movement somewhere between the trees. You fear him and what he could do to you, but the fact that he’s gone frightens you even more. Your master could never hurt you, right?

“Master?!” Your voice echoes through what seems to be an empty grove of an unrecognized planet. The only sound you can hear is your own breathing, and you realize how loud it is, how easy it is for any predator to hear you. Anakin's hunt was simple when his prey served herself on the plate before him.

A gust of wind passed through your ears at the same moment as Anakin’s hands gripped you from behind and harshly pushed your quivering body against a tree nearby. His wrists bruised red from the rope, which he seems to have torn apart. Your vision blurs for a moment from the force he’s grabbed you with. His lips press on your ear.

“I told you not to call me that, you stupid girl. Now look what you’ve done.” He whispers into your ear as his bulge presses against your ass. 

“A-Anakin-” You whimper, miserably trying to push him off you but instead just creating more friction on his already painful core.

His hand snakes into your robes, grasping your breast roughly, making your back arch. It’s hot and desperate to tear your flesh apart. And it feels so so good. So pathetically good that you almost feel like you’re the one taking advantage of him and not the other way around. He toys with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingers as his free hand grabs onto your thigh and presses your body onto his clothed cock.

“S’ alright, sweetheart… Your body’s so perfect…” He sinks his teeth into your neck and pulls on your delicate skin. “I’m so sorry—fuck—Sweetheart… I can’t stop-” His soft voice was a complete contrast to his forceful grip on your curves. His hands boldly groped you, kneading every bit of your body he could reach — all while grinding himself against you like an animal in heat.

“No- You can’t,” You whimper, trying to fight him and your own desire. “Anakin!” You gasp in pain when he presses your body into the tree, bruising your cheek.

“Shhhh… ‘s alright, just let me—” He pulls your robes, his hand making its way down your stomach, cupping your dripping heat. He inhales into your neck. “Don’t be scared.” He shushes your whines.

And it’s not like you’ve never imagined Anakin fucking you; you have. Way more than you should have, and yet you were shaking in fear, especially knowing that he was under the influence of something wicked.

“No, master-” You gasp as he inserts a finger inside you, wasting no time before fucking you with his hand. “S-stop-”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” He whimpers into your shoulder as your walls clenches around his digit. He slips another in. “What a perfect cunt… I’ll fucking ruin it." It was almost as if Anakin’s alter ego was overtaking his normal self — the one who would never dare to touch his Padawan like that, to taint her precious body with his pathetic touch.

“Ah!” Your back arched into him involuntarily. It was wrong. So so wrong and yet deep inside you never wanted him to stop, not when your walls spasmed around him for a sweet release. 

“That’s it, good girl, come here.” He pulls his fingers out, making you pulse and whimper at the lack of pleasure. He quickly lands you both on the ground, spreading your thighs apart for himself. “Look at that,” He bites his lower lip. “And you say you don’t want it? You’re fucking soaked.”

“We can’t-” You whimper yet again. “You wouldn’t- Ah!”

He grins as he slaps his cock against your clit, rubbing it up and down your entrance as the wet, slippery sound reaches your ears.

“I’m going to fuck you one way or another, so you just might as well enjoy it, after all…” He leans on top of you, lining the crown of his cock with your hole. “…master knows best.”

He slides in with one swift movement, filling you to the brim as you claw his back with your nails. He’s big, way bigger than his fingers, forcing your walls to stretch wide open to welcome both his length and girth. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust much when he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, earning a loud whimper from you.

“Pretty girl…” He coos, stroking your cheek as he repeats the movement more urgently. “Master’s cock feels good, hm?”

It did, Maker; it felt amazing. Every vein bruised your gushing hole just right as he thrusted into you, long and powerful strokes, head hitting your cervix at the perfect angle to make your toes curl. Each time his sack slapped against your ass, an electric sting flashed through your cunt, forcing a pathetic moan out of your mouth. Your vision is so blurry from how hard you are rolling your eyes back, you don’t even see how Anakin comes forward and presses his lips onto yours.

His kiss is starving, depraved of you. He tries to say something, but it’s pretty incoherent, muffled by your saliva mixing with his. He tugs on your lips, sticking his tongue far up your mouth, smearing spit over your chin. His teeth clash against yours every time he attempts to reach into you deeper, as if trying to devour you from the inside out.

“Fuck,”—thrust—”So…”—thrust—”Fucking…”—thrust—-”Tight-” He moans into your mouth, and you swear you can feel his whimpers inside your body.

Anakin props himself up on his forearms — each on the other side of your face. He snakes his fingers into your hair, making you look at him.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me, and tell me you love it. Beg me to fuck you, come on, baby…” 

He’s a mess, and he’s messing you up too; he wants you to plead, but there is no reason to; he’s already balls deep in you, abusing parts of your body nothing and nobody has ever reached before. 

“M-master…” A feeble whimper is all your body can muster when your whole lower half twitches from pleasure. “…Stop...” You claw on his chest, trying to push him off, maybe because you know how sick it is to allow him to turn you into a drooling cockslut, or maybe because you don’t want to cum so fucking soon.

“What’s the matter, angel? You wanna cum, yeah?” A wicked smile spreads across his face, as if he were listening to all of your thoughts while you laid there spread open. “Yeah? Your little cunt can’t take master’s cock at all, hmmm?” He mocks you, and you know you deserve it, for one reason or another.

His filthy words and a couple of powerful strokes are enough to have your juices coating his whole shaft as your back arches and hardened nipples rub against his chest. The orgasm he’s giving you blinds your mind; it drowns out every other noise that’s not his moans of pleasure or your wetness spurting around him.

“Thought so.” He laughs in your face, gripping the backs of your thighs and pushing them up — his cock still inside you, soaking up all you had to give it. “That’s alright, angel, it’ll hurt less now that you’re all stretched out and drenched.”

“N-no…” You cry when he adjusts your position to reach deeper into you, seemingly not even caring that your soaked walls are still aching from him fucking you over the edge just moments ago. “A-Ani…” It’s a bittersweet pleasure — the way he keeps going through your body desperately, trying to push him out and stop the ache inside of you.

“Look,” He releases his grip on your thigh and grabs your chin. “Look how perfect your little cunt is…” He slides all the way out and slowly pushes back in, his pubic hair tickling your skin. “As if it’s made to take me.” He forces your head to look down between your bodies and admire the mess he’s creating.

The more he sees you struggle to look without squirming, the more precise his movements are. He angles his painfully thick cock to scratch your spongy insides, your throbbing cunt squeezing him enough to force delicious grunts out of his mouth. 

Your eyes are blurry from the tears you didn’t know formed; you blink rapidly, attempting to catch a glimpse of Anakin’s face. You were self-evident about the desperate mess he’s turned you into, drenched in sweat and cum, your body sore and bruised, it was obvious, however, you didn’t expect Anakin to be as disheveled as well. His lips were apart, soaked in spit, the blue of his eyes barely visible from the expansion of the pupils, dirty locks sticking to his forehead, your master looked and, quite obviously, behaved like a brute beast devouring his prey. And yet, he was angelic.

Your idealization of Anakin was the root reason why you resisted digging his eyes out with your nails and putting up a violent fight against him for corrupting your body inside and out. Because, essentially, Anakin is still your master. The one who teaches you, the one who tends your wounds, the one who is now currently fucking you over your second orgasm with no mercy in his bloodshot orbs. And honestly, you are starting to genuinely enjoy it. 

“Just like that, pretty girl, keep squeezing me…” Anakin presses his lips against yours, forcing his tongue in and making you answer his desperate kiss. One of your legs is stretched up painfully, foot dangling over his shoulder, while the other almost involuntary wraps around him and makes sure he’s plunging deep into you with no chance of escaping. “Good girl, that’s it,” He moans into your mouth, “I’m going to cum, yeah, s’ like that, let me fill that tight cunt.”

“P-please…” You reach for his head, grabbing him by the roots of his hair to lock your lips back together. “Master- fuuuuuck!” There it is again — you are cumming all over his cock, slurping onto his tongue while milking him to his own orgasm. You can barely see or make sense of your surroundings; all you know is that he’s pounding you into oblivion, and you love every second of being stretched out for your master to use.

Anakin is grabbing your body, toying with your flesh. Even when his dick starts to fuck long threads of his thick cum into you, he can’t stop frantically abusing your body in every way possible; grabbing, biting, kissing, and fucking all come at the same time, sending your body into a sensory overload, and you can swear you are about to lose your mind and die right there and then.

But there is no time for dying, not when you realize Anakin has emptied himself deep inside you and yet is nowhere close to stopping. His cock, still hard, surrounded by the mix of your and his cum, is slamming into you with sensual yet forcible strokes, making it seem like you can taste the sourness of his release in your mouth. 

“So needy, going to make sure to fuck it deep in you, angel.” He whispers into your neck, you can’t help but whimper and dig your nails into his shoulder blades in hopes of him easing up on you, but he only pulls his face off your shoulder and greets you with a filthy grin. “If I knew how beautiful your fucked-out expressions and little whimpers were, I would have devoured this pretty pussy much earlier…”

“M-master…” You cry out for help, for pleasure, for him. Everything ceases to exist except Anakin. His expression softens just for a moment. He settles his cock inside of you and reaches out to wipe the mess of drool and tears from your cheek.

“It’s okay, my sweet Padawan." He whispers, his hands gently caresses your hipbones in a subconscious attempt to soothe your aching muscles. Anakin leans down to kiss your lips one more time. You can feel his whole length throbbing and begging for friction while the wetness of your releases seeps down your cunt. “I know you can take more, yeah? Just like when we train, alright? You want to stop…”—Thrust—”But I’m the Master…”

Your eyes roll back when your sex is rewarded with a glimpse of more pleasure, a little promise of what he can give you if you just enjoy it like he’s commanded you. So you buck your hips into him, seeking yet another release.

“There she is…” Anakin’s deranged expression makes its way back between his perfect features. To your surprise, he swiftly pulls himself out of you, which makes you whine from the lack of fullness and feeling of the mix of liquids trickling down your body. “Let’s see how useful your other holes are, mmm?”

And with that, you know — whatever he’s infested with still has yet to wear off.

[caxde]

drunken confession | steve harrington x reader

summary you're Dustin's older sister, a night out with you're friends makes you see that here might be more between you and Steve (7.5k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff (a lot), mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, mentions of alcohol use, tabacco and anxiety (briefly). and eventual smut (p in v, hj unproteccted) english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

“So, are you going out tonight?” Dustin asked once again, making you center your attention on him, you stop daydreaming. 

“Um, I dunno. We’ll get some drinks, better if you don't wait up I think.” You answered, looking at him. Your brother always seemed like he had more to say, like there was always a puzzle, or an equation that he had to solve in the back of his mind. 

“You’re gonna have to talk to mom.” He scuffed, almost like a laugh. 

“What? Why?” Your eyebrows scratched as you asked, your shoulders got high, and so did your voice. 

“She’s not letting you the car again if you’re out drinking.” 

“Well, I’m not driving so…” You finished, letting the fork in your plate, the clinking of it ending the conversation briefly. 

It seemed like it was going to be a quiet night anyway. Just you, and your friends, nothing unusual. Though you still didn’t know if you’d be drinking in someone’s house or out out. 

Because those are two very different things. 

If you were in someone’s house, you’d be calm, the lights won’t annoy you, the music won’t be too loud, and there won’t be too many people. 

And you’d promised yourself that even if that happened, you weren’t going to overreact, because these things are normal, and it is okay. You're safe, in someone's house, and out in a club or bar. 

- 

Thankfully the bar was still empty when you arrived. 

And the first round of beers went down pretty quickly. 

So did the second one. 

Nancy was excited. You could tell she was really happy, finally having received her acceptance letter to the college of her dreams. She couldn’t stop blushing every time somebody new walked into the bar and said congratulations. 

Robin was as chatty as ever, as she normally was to be honest. You’d found out that Robin gets excited over other peoples’ excitement, and you often thought to yourself what a good cheerleader she would make if she wasn’t as clumsy as she is. 

Eddie was quiet. It wasn’t unusual, not this early in the evening. He always gets more comfortable once he gets used to the people that are wherever you guys end up, and once he realises that nobody looks at him like he’s a freak anymore, in fact, since Corroded Coffin was gaining a bit of a reputation people tried to get close to him, talk to him. He’d never say it, but he loved it. 

And, Steve. 

Well, he was just electric. Something happened whenever you two were in the same place. He’ll participate in whatever conversation is going on at the table, but for a moment, however brief, he’d look at you, and you swear time would stop. 

You didn’t know why that happened, you just enjoyed it. 

And it was happening right now, as you were finishing your second beer, and he was already asking for the third round, his hand up with the empty bottle, once the barman saw Steve, he putted five fingers up, Steve nodded. 

And as it always happened after two beers, you needed to go out, get some air and smoke. And as always, Eddie walked out with you. 

“You doing okay Henderson?” Eddie muttered as he offered you his lighter, smoke already escaping his lips as he talked. 

“Yeah, just thinking.” You answered quickly, just before lighting the camel you had in your pocket. 

“You need to stop doing all that thinking.” He laughed, trying -with no success- to make you at least chuckle. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“I think you already know if I’m being honest.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, pleading that he won’t make you actually say it. 

“For what it’s worth, I think he’s just as much in his head as you are.” He admitted, as he took one long drag of his cigarette, almost gone now. 

“You’re only saying that because you’re my friend.” You brush it off, not really ready to believe that he might be right, not wanting to believe him, in case he was actually right. 

“And I’m also his friend.” He added, looking into your eyes, a soft smile in his face, and something else that you can’t recognise now. “And honestly, you two… something’s going on, it’s not hard to see it.” 

“Nothing has happened. Nothing can anyway.” You add, as you throw your cigarette to the floor, stomping on it so it’s definitely put out. 

“Why would you say that?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows raised, curiosity filling his voice. 

“Because he still likes Nancy.” 

-

Everyone had paid for one round. And you were now debating if you should go home or stay for a little longer. 

Nancy wanted to leave, and so did Robin. 

Eddie didn’t mind.

Steve wanted to stay. 

And you weren’t sure why but so did you. 

So, the table only had three new beers now, and a louder conversation. 

The bar had filled up, and the music was louder now. So of course you needed to scream a bit to hear each other. Again you weren’t really talking about anything important, just enjoying the company they provided, and the warmth that you felt being in a space with your favourite people. 

“Edds, I’m going out for a smoke break, wanna come?” You asked softly, the yellow packet already on your hand, trying not to feel nervous as you feel Steve looking deep into your eyes. 

“Um, not really… I really need to take a piss.” He laughs a bit more than necessary, the alcohol finally taking him over. 

“I’ll come.” Steve's voice finally could be heard. That stupid smile in his lips anytime he gets to spend quiet time with you. 

“Come on.” You smiled shyly as you stood up, a bit too fast, feeling the alcohol all at once once you finally were out of your chair. 

The cold air was the first thing that you felt, hitting you right in the middle of your chest, though you did not feel its coldness, at least not now. Not when he was right there beside you.

You’ll deny it every time somebody asks, but the way he lights the cigarette was hypnotizing. 

His long fingers curving to stop the wind from blowing away the flame, his lips holding it tightly, his eyes looking down carefully so that he does not burn himself. And just the way his nose and parted lips would shine in a soft orange light once the flame was ignited, it made him look both peaceful and angelic. But honestly, that wasn’t the best part. 

The best part of his little ritual came when he’d scooch over you, his face still -even if it was soft enough that he wouldn't notice- scrunched up, concentrating so that the flame wouldn’t disappear. His hands covering the end of your cigarette now, and he would look at you attentively, holding the lighter until smoke came out of your lips. 

You didn’t pay attention to him in that moment -you never could if you didn’t wanna burn yourself- but if you did you’d see the way his eyes couldn’t stay away from the way your lips look. 

And then, he’d always say and do the same thing. 

First, he takes a step back, so he’s not actually so close to you in case it would annoy you, but his feet would stay pointed at you, just like his attention was fully with you, and the way you look up at him. her and her dove eyes. He thinks he could see them even if he closes his eyes. 

Then his free hand would travel to the top of his head, retouching his hair once again, he does that right before he tilted his head to the left.

Then he always asks the same thing. 

“So, how are you doing?” 

And you’d always say the same thing. 

“Good, I’m doing good.” 

But really, you wanted to say. 

“I’m always good when I’m with you.” 

But it didn’t matter how much you'd drink, you never find the courage. 

But for some reason, today, after he asked you how you were doing he kept talking. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you Henderson, I’m getting pretty drunk today.” And he laughed. I could listen that laugh forever, you kept thinking. Though you didn’t need to say it, he knew it as soon as you smiled up at him and bite your lower lips as you looked at him. 

It drove him mad. 

“Honestly?” You asked as he kept laughing. He nodded and scratched the bridge of his nose with his thumb, cigarette still in his hand. “I’m getting drunk too.”

“Can I tell you something else?” He demanded, his eyebrows raising for just a second, your cheeks starting to hurt from just how much you were smiling. As soon as you nodded he lowered his head, and his voice. “It’s a really stupid thing.” He added, his words slurring a bit. 

“It’s never stupid if you say it.” You say back. It always happened, when you were drunk you could not lie, and with that, you’d say things more sincerely, calmer and softer. Even more when Steve was the one listening to them. 

“You look really pretty today.” 

You were expecting everything but that. Your face lighted up, your eyes shined brighter and you didn’t even know your smile could grow wider. You shook your head and scoffed. A friendly and shocked reaction over such sincerity. 

“You’re an idiot.” It’s the only thing you managed to say back. 

But he knew you were happy. Just as much as he knew his heart had skipped a beat as soon as he saw your eyes squint for a second. It was becoming impossible to act normal around you, he realised. 

You stayed there, under the cold starry sky, not saying anything, and it didn’t matter. You didn’t need to. 

Once you finished smoking in such a comfortable silence it was hard to go back inside, but even if you wanted to stay in that quiet moment, you headed back, only to find Eddie deep in a conversation with a girl you didn’t know. 

Well, it wasn’t really a conversation, more so he had his arm around her waist and was following her out. 

Steve laughed in shock first, after looking at you. 

“Guess that means we’ll have to drink his beer.” You add in a chuckle. 

- 

Your body was all warm and fuzzy. You weren’t going to drink anymore. 

But Steve seemed to keep going, you weren’t sure why, probably just the habit, oblivious to you, it was to calm his nervous thoughts. 

The bar was about to close, and that meant that it was getting quiet again, no need to scream anymore. 

“Your ears get red when you’ve had enough to drink.” You point out touching the tips of Steve’s ears, brushing his hair behind them. You were giggly and touchy, even more so now that no rational thought was in your brain. 

“Well… so does your nose.” He replays back, his eyes softer, as he lets his index finger touch the tip of your nose. “bub.” He adds. You’re not sure if he says it as a reaction to touching it or as a pet name, but you don’t care either way. 

“You’re wasted Harrington.” You giggle as you say his last name, your hands travelling down his neck, into his chest, falling clumsy -but softly- into his lap. He loses his breath for a second as he lets himself enjoy the way your skin feels against his. 

“Like father, like son, right?” He half jokes as he raises the beer he still is working on finishing. 

“What?” You shake your head at him. “No, no way. You look just like your mom.” You add. Your voice feels like a soft song to him at that moment. People never tell him that he looks like his mom, even if he always wanted that. 

“You’re the first person to say that, y’know” He confesses, his hand now resting on his hand, his eyes looking deep into yours. 

“Well… It’s true. Your mom’s beautiful, and so are you.” Your cheeks go red as soon as you realize what you just said. Though you mean every word of it. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” He asks, for a second it seems like he’s mocking you, but you know him well enough to know that he’s just shocked at the way you say things, so truthfully, so honestly. You always have the ability to leave him speechless. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” You sound more sure of yourself now, as you snatch a little beer from his bottle, he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, surprised and in absolute awe of you. 

“Not handsome?” You shake your head no as you giggle a bit at him, “Beautifull” He elongates the last L, a grin appearing on his lips. 

That stupid Steve grin. 

“Beautiful people are soft and kind. Not just on the outside, but all of them. That’s you.” His whole expression softened, even more if it was possible. His eyes were a pool of honey and coffee, and they could not stop looking at you, with pure adoration. 

“You’re the one being an idiot now.” 

You giggled as you felt the last sip travel down your throat, you nodded before looking back at him. 

“They’re closing, we should go.” You point out once you see the lights of the bar light up. The universal sign that the night had come to an end. 

-

The ride home was always fun, and worth remembering, every single one. 

This one however, was special. 

Your hand rested on the back of his head, playing with his hair lazily, not really thinking about it. It felt nice, and it was the closest you could be to him. 

That’s what you thought anyway.

What you didn’t expect was Steve deciding to let his hand rest on top of your thigh, not striking it, not squeezing it, it just rested there. His thumb drew a repetitive pattern, a kind of gesture that to you meant I’m here, but to him it screamed I don’t wanna leave.

Once he stopped the car in front of your house, he whipped around to look at you. Once again, he said nothing. He just looked at you. You knew what Robin would say if he saw that, probably something like stop admiring at each other and go to bed, please?. Eddie would probably just laugh and give you a little shove. But right now, the only thing that escaped your lips (that might be trembling because of your nervous heart, or maybe it was because his hand was still in your thigh, and yours was still on the back of his neck) was a soft “Thank you” And he just shook his head, a its nothing gesture. 

Though you weren’t ready for him to get out of his car once you were already on the steps of your house. 

“You okay Steve?” You asked as you saw him approaching. 

He didn’t say anything. 

He just hugged you. 

It had never felt like this. His hands holding you closer than ever, his head resting on the nape of your neck. Of course you returned the feeling, holding him thigh, not wanting to let go. Your head rested on his chest, and you could smell every inch of him. Aftershave, a deep cologne, the beer that you had drank and cigarette smoke. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to memorise how it all felt, how his respiration slowed for that moment, how he took a deep breath before letting you go and how he looked down at you, his honey eyes shining. His cheeks a bit flustered, and you're guessing that yours are too. 

“Yeah. Good night honey.” 

honeyhoneyhoney. 

-

“It would just be a quick drop, you wouldn’t even be five minutes late I swear!” Dustin whined again. He knew he was getting you annoyed, and frustrated, he could tell by the way your eyebrows were scrunched up and your nails were getting buried into your waist, holding tight onto something so you wouldn’t snap at him. 

“It’s not about dropping you off, it’s just…” You always had trouble communicating when you were like this, when your thoughts were going faster than your actions, when you got overwhelmed by things that nobody seemed to get overwhelmed by. “I’m supposed to go to Edds show, and I really don’t want to be late, because if I am, I might not find them and then that would mean I-”

“They’ll wait for you.” He looked down at the floor, his hands had his fingers intertwined, the same anxious tick you had, it looks like he inherited that too. “Please? Will goes back to California in a couple days and we really want to finish his campaign.”

You nodded, you understood the need to see someone, a friend. You know how much Dustin misses Will when he’s not around. He nodded back, and he sat on top of your bed. Happy. Calm, not pushing your buttons anymore. 

“So… Who’s going?” 

“Where?”

“To Eddie’s show.” He gestured with his hands, a weird look in his face that you had no time to get into. 

“Um, Robin and Steve.” You add back, your voice a bit higher in pitch, turning your back so you can look into your closet, hoping to find something that might work. Your indecision -you often think- is the worst thing that happens to you. “Nancy was supposed to come but she said something came up, so…”

“She didn’t tell you?” The tone of his voice made you turn fast to him, a shocked honesty that makes you wonder. 

“Tell me what?”

“Her and Jonathan got back together.” 

“Oh.” oh. “How do you know?” Your ears were ringing, poor Steve you thought. Poor heart-broken Steve, the only thing you ever wanted for him was for him to be happy, it didn’t matter with who, as long as he actually loved the person and was loved in return. 

“Steve told me.” Even if your little brother’s voice was calm, he was still looking at you with that same look. The one he uses when he’s trying to gather information, seeking a reaction, and if you were being honest, he was getting one. 

“Is Steve okay?” You needed to know, because right now it was all you could think about, about the kind boy that deserves to be loved, even if it can’t be by you. 

“You’re kidding? He helped Jonathan get her back!” That confused you even further, why would Steve help him get the girl he’s in love, get together with someone else. You turned back and started grabbing different tops and shirts and laying them above the bed. 

“Why would he do that? Isn’t he like, in love with Nance?” The way he started laughing made your shoulders tense for a second, jumping at such a reaction. “What are you laughing for?”

“He’s not in love with her! Jesus, you can be blind sometimes…” The palm of his face brushes his face as he looks at you, a puzzled look still on yours. 

“I don’t know what you’re on kid, but I need to get ready and have no clue what to actually wear so…” He picked up the white tank top and threw it to you. 

“You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?” Dustins i’m much clever than you tone came back as he stood up. You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a petty smile. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told.” 

-

As you parked outside where Eddie was playing, a few minutes late, you grew nervous. The parking lot was full of cars, and finding a spot took longer than you anticipated, so by the time you found a spot and got to the entrance, the queue only seemed longer and longer. People standing in a not-so-neat line, chatting amongst themselves, shivering away the coldness of the night. Cigarette smoke and off-key lyrics filled the ambient of the people pulled away. 

You realise at that moment, you didn’t have a ticket. 

Steve and Robin had gotten in with Eddie. 

And you had no idea how to get in, so you took a quick lap to see if you found someone, anyone. 

Thankfully for you, Steve was by the entrance door, chatting away with one of the security guys. Even if Steve was tall, and had a wide back, the man talking to him toward over him, it almost made you giggle, seeing him as someone smaller, when he usually was the one that filled the room, even with just his presence. 

As you walked to him, smoke escaping your lips and a scent of burnt smoke following you, you remembered the conversation you had with Dustin. And still, you didn’t believe him, at least not until you saw the way his demeanor changed when you approached him, and a relieved “Steve” came out of you. 

Steve lost his breath for a moment. 

You looked truly angelic, and you didn’t even need to try. You in that white tank top that made your breasts appear larger, more exposed than they’re usually are, your hair down, letting the left side of your neck free, as the wind blew, and your jeans hugging every curve of your body. It drove him mad. Even worse, he always loved when you wore red lipstick, like tonight. 

Of course he wasn’t in love with anyone but you. 

But you didn’t know. 

The same way he didn’t know just how much it drove you crazy when his shirts hugged his arms like that, his veins more prominent when his arms were crossed on his chest. His hair always seemed to float, like it had a gravity of his own, but that single strand of hair that felt in between his eyes made you focus on him more. His soft honey dark eyes that were only looking at you, half lidded and full of adoration. It drove you crazy.

Of course you weren’t in love with anyone but him. 

But he didn’t know. 

Just like you had thought until a few hours ago that he still loved, or liked Nancy, it wasn’t until he had picked up Robin a few minutes ago that he didn’t find out that what you had with Eddie was purely platonic. Robin had laughed just as much as Dustin did, and called him an idiot all the same. But still, you both thought that your feelings weren’t returned, because that would be too perfect to be real. Impossible, just a dream. 

However, the way your name sounded when Steve said it made you forget about everything else, and just focus on him. 

A quick hug, not like the one he had given you that night he had driven you the night after you’d spent your entire night in a bar. You had come to realise, he became braver once some time had passed, and so did you. 

So you headed inside, where Robin was waiting for the both of you in the bar, a warm welcome and a big cheers with some beers that you grabbed as you moved further into the pit. 

The crowd was electric, everyone cheering for the show to start, eager to sing along with the band. You followed along, screamed when Corroded Coffin finally came on stage, whoo’d Eddie when he asked How are you doing Indianapolis and laughed when he admitted that he missed saying how are you Hawkins. 

Robin cheered the loudest and it made Steve laugh. One of those authentic, closing your eyes and holding your stomach kind of laughs. You thought that it was one of the highlights of the night already. 

But as these things often go, once Eddie’s band was over, and the next one came, the bar got even more crowded, and the lights felt brighter, and everyone seemed to be looking at you, judging or god knows what. Everyone seemed to bump into you, and you had already pulled the glue out of your empty cristal bottle on both sides. Breathing was becoming a hard task, and so did hearing anything that was being said to you. 

“Honey” You heard Steve as soon as you felt his warm hand on your shoulder. You looked up to him, a haze in your eyes.”Are you okay?” He halved screamed into your ear, his breath lingering into your skin. 

You pull him closer for a moment, afraid he might not listen. 

“Too many people.” You’re not sure if he could hear you, or what he could do. You try even harder to relax your breathing, to stop looking around. But it all ends when you feel his fingers intertwined with yours. 

You look up to him, he just nods to Robin who nods back at him, and he starts walking to the back of the pit, the lights seem to not burn anymore, and the people are few and far between. He just stays there, with you for a second before he opens his mouth. Looking at you and the way your eyes are scanning every single person in the room, looking for something that you don’t know what is.

“Honey?” There it is again, the soft worried Steve voice, his attention only on you. 

You look back at him, as you feel his hand grabbing yours thighter. He’s the only thing you’re looking at now. 

“Do you need to get out? Get some air?” He knows you won’t actually answer, but takes the nodding that you do as a clear enough sign. 

The creaking of the door and the friendly doorman brings you back down to earth, and so does the wind hitting your chest. 

“Better?” He asks again, desperate for some sort of confirmation from you. 

“Yeah, I just- Sorry…” You sort of mumble, more to yourself than to him. 

In that moment you realise that your hands are still tangled together, and the blood rushes to your cheeks as soon as you look down at them. They fit together so naturally, you think. Like a missing piece of a puzzle. 

“Don’t apologize. We’ll stay here as long as you need, ‘s fine.” You instinctively bite the inside of your cheek as you nod at him, a soft smile, a thank you of sort appears on your face, as does a grin on his. 

Without letting go of you, he reaches down into his jeans front pocket, and takes out a box of Camel, offering you to take one. Smoking might be bad for your lungs, but it does help with regulating your breathing, and he knew that’s just what you needed, and honestly, you were craving one, so you nodded again, searching for a lighter with the cigarette already in between your lips. Before you even find it, you feel the warmth of fire close to your mouth, and you just inhale the smoke. 

“Thank you…” He shakes his head, as he inches closer to you, the same strand of hair falling between his eyes again. 

“There’s no need for that.” He whispers, his words just as sweet as he is. His free hand pushes your hair behind your ear, and falls slowly to the nape of your neck, letting it rest there for just a second, his thumb stroking the end of your jaw in soft short motions, holding you up so you look at him, your doe eyes looking deep into his, he swears he could melt right here and there. You were driving him crazier everyday with the way you looked at him. 

For a second there, he thinks you might even love him back. 

“I just don’t know why I get like that, when there’s so many… I dunno” you scoff off, as your shoulders shrug ever so slightly, enough for him to catch, enough for your hair to move again and let the smell of your shampoo reach him. “I’m okay, don’t worry.” You say with a smile. 

He looks deep into his eyes, looking for any sign that you might be lying, he doesn’t find any. And he likes to think that you’re better because of him. It's funny how right he is. 

“We can stay here as long as you need.” Steve reasures you once again, getting closer again. Your body and his only a push away from touching. 

“You’re always so sweet to me.” You’re thinking out loud now, you bite your lower lip as soon as you see him mask his blush with a soft chuckle, as his grin deepens, and you stop for a second to look at his pretty pink lips. You even let yourself imagine what it would be like to kiss them. 

Steve debates what to do next. He knows you’re not lying, he knows that you’re being sincere and truthful. He can tell by the way your eyes are half lidded, looking at him like you’re in the safest space possible -even when you’re actually outside downtown Indianapolis- so in the end, he just wraps his arms around you. And he holds you even tighter when he feels you wrapping your arms behind his neck, and the way you stand on your tiptoes so you can hold him closer, your leg between his, his hands playing with the ends of your air. He breathes you in, intoxicating himself with the way you smell. You’re worried he’ll feel just how fast your heart is beating. But you’re too occupied smiling deeply and sincerely. 

He feels safe. 

Yes, there might be some butterflies, but they’re not nervous ones, it’s all just calmness. Love even. 

-

He ends up paying for your drinks, and you spend the night dancing at the back of the pit with Robin and eventually Eddie joins you. You laugh, and dance around, sing the songs off key with Robin making Eddie laugh as he joins you. Admiring the way Steve covers his face embarrassed, that the idiots causing the whole club to cheer you on as you move are indeed his friends. But what makes you have the deepest smile is everytime you catch Steve eyes, thay always seem to be on you. He even dances with you a couple times when Robin or Eddie go away to the bathroom or to grab more drinks. 

You don’t care because he is here and everything feels right. 

But the night was coming to an end, and you still were buzzing with energy. 

Even outside, where the cold wind wrapped around you you were still singing and dancing until Eddie started speaking. 

“Steve, can I take your car?” He asks, and it makes you all turn around and look at him. 

“What for? Where’s your van?” Robin followed, her voice raised a little too loud. 

“I think Gareth might have taken it.” Eddie explains as he points at his van driving away, with Gareth in the driver’s seat. You can’t help but laugh a bit, stopping slowly as you feel Steve laying his arm around your shoulders, you let yourself think of it as an embrace. Or maybe he was just cold. 

“Who’ll drive me home?” He mutters as he searches for the keys in his pocket. 

“I’ll drive you.” You say, looking up at him. Steve’s eyes shine brighter, with that look. A look you have only seen in him once before, long ago. 

“Sure.” He mutters, a grin in his face. “You won’t kill us?” He jokes as he pushes some hair away from your face with the hand that rests right where your neck meets your shoulder.

“I’ll come with you” Robin mumbles as she approaches Eddie, her eyebrows raised. 

Steve knows that if Robin could talk to him now she would plead with him, to actually make a move. He decides that she’s right. 

“Alright, let’s get home.” Eddie winks at you, a look that begs you to be careful. He grabs the keys that Steve throws him, the jingle of them making you realise that this was actually happening. 

You blame it on the alcohol. But you have to admit that holding his waist was something you have wanted to do for so long its feels fucking angelic once your fingers touch his skin, under his shirt, right above the seam of his jeans. 

Steve chews gum when he’s nervous, and the minty flavor, or maybe the amount of beer inside his system makes him say the most stupid thing ever. 

“Do you like gum?” 

“Yeah” 

“You want some?” 

“Sure.” You stop, expecting him to reach down his pocket and grab the small packet. You part your lips open expecting him to do so. Instead, Steve in a bold move opens his mouth and pulls you closer. 

Before you can even process what he’s doing, his thumb reaches your jaw, opening your mouth a bit more for you, and you see the way his tongue places the minty gum on your lips. You had closed your eyes. Thinking he was going to do something else. 

It had made you nervous and weak all the same. You can’t help but think, as you take a few steps, your hand holding even tighter onto him, that was one of the hottest things you had ever seen. 

It got better. 

After a few steps he talked again. His voice sultier, deeper. His eyes somehow were darker, but still looked like they were full of adoration for you. 

“Does that gum still have some taste on it?” 

“Yeah, minty” You manage to say. 

“Can I have some?” 

This time around, it's you who grabs him. And you can feel the way he smiles at that, and the way his fingers hold your face up again to meet him. This time it’s you who gives him the gum back. 

Only, you place it between your lips, and it's his tongue that gets it. 

In that moment you know, you’re fucked. 

And so does he. 

-

“Honey?” He asks as he sees you pulling into his street. 

The whole drive back home had been exactly like the last time. Except this time the way he would caress your leg felt hungry for your touch back, and your fingers would end up intertwined, singing the songs that came into the radio, not really paying attention, all of it focused on the way he was playing with your fingers. 

“Mmmh?” 

“My car keys may have been chained to my house keys.” He admits, embarrassed, as he covers his face. You can’t help but look at him and laugh a bit. 

“S’okay, you can sleepover.” He nods and you change directions. 

And before you know it you’re already parked, and he’s already following you inside. 

That’s when it hits you. 

Steve is in your room. 

Steve is sleeping over in your bed. 

Steve had practically kissed you. 

whatthehellisgoingon

You shake your head, not wanting to read too much into things that haven’t and might never happen. 

“I uh… I’m going to change.” You whisper, a bit of shame could be felt on your words, and Steve just nodded, lost in the sight that was you in your room. “Do you need anything?” 

“No, I… Usually just sleep with my boxers on.” That confession made you blush and bite your lower lip as you nodded. Not really knowing what to do or say. 

So you just turned around, you took off your bra, tossing it on the floor before you took off the white tank you had. You reached for your sleep shirt. An old grey shirt that was way overdue to throw away, but it was long enough and soft enough that you felt it was perfect for sleeping in. So, Steve just enjoyed the show. 

He stayed there, watching the way your body moved. He was the one that had his eyebrows raised, his chest racing and his cheeks flushed. He was lost in you. And you were painfully obvious that he was looking, maybe that’s why you take a bit longer to take off your tank top before putting on the gray shirt. Maybe that's why your heart skips a beat when you hear the sound of his belt hitting the ground at the same time that his jeans did. While you took your own jeans off, he took off his shirt. 

You knew you had to turn around now. 

And as you did you go lost in him. 

Him standing there, in nothing but his black boxers, framing all of him. Him and his chest with some hair, trailing all the way down to his waistband. That was an image you probably would never be able to forget. 

He took the first step. A soft grin appears in his lips once again. As he pushes the same flock of hair behind your ear, you can't help but tilt your head into his touch. He takes another step forwards, and just looks at you, deep into your eyes. You both chuckle, nervously at the situation, and like before, he holds you. Thight. Only this time, you can feel him against your leg. It makes you press your own legs together a bit more. 

Once he lets go, you slide into the bed, and he closes the lights, following you closely. 

“Is it okay if you hug me?” You ask. 

“Mmh.” He’s at a loss for words. 

He cuddles you, feeling you closer than ever before. And one of his hands gets lost into your thigh, right where your waistband meets your skin, tracing it. Softly. It drives you insane. Steve’s breathing into your hair, and you can feel how his breathing is fastening, just as much he can feel yours, by the way your stomach goes up and down. He can’t help himself anymore. He leaves a wet kiss on your neck. 

That’s all it takes. 

You turn around and you know you’re fucked. You can’t hold yourself anymore. You explote. 

You kiss him. 

The way his lips press against yours feels like he really wanted this, maybe even as much as you did. Your body pulls him closer, and his leg finds itself tangled in between yours. He’s lost in you and the way your mouth feels. He bites your lower lip, softly. And as soon as you feel the tug a soft whimper escapes your lips. Steve melts into you even more, his legs putting pressure in that spot between your legs that is already throbbing for him. Your hands find the back of his neck, and become buried into his hair. His soft chestnut hair. His hands begin to train up, inside your shirt. Holding your waist harder than before. Another moan escapes your kiss swollen lips, and he grunts in return. 

He tries to memorise you, and the way you look like now. To him, you’re a goddess fallen from the sky, and he’s the lucky one. 

He climbs above you, tracing kisses down your neck, as his hands travel up, up enough to meet your breast and press down, even carefully he’s strong enough and skilled enough to pinch your nipples, making them hard. And your legs wrap around him, and you can’t quite believe just how big he’s gotten just from kissing you. 

His hands take off your shirt and as soon as he looks at you he’s a goner. 

“Fuck, you’re beautifull honey.” He groans. A deep voice you’ve never heard from him. 

It makes you pull him closer. And he starts to move, his cock and your clit being only separated by the small fabric between you both. 

“Can I-” He cuts you off as he looks up at you, stopping the trail of kisses he wanted to finish on your left breast. 

“You can do anything you want to me honey” 

You can’t help yourself. The wetness patch only growing on your thong. You needed him, but you were so desperate to touch him, to see him. 

You flipped him around, leaving him laid on your mattress, his hands up in shock. He’s surprised by you in the best way possible. 

You were the one kissing him senseless now, as you grind on top of him. HE grew harder and stiffer with every time your clit pressed against him. His hands grabbed your ass in that moment, hard and burying his fingers as deep as he could. You wasted no time kissing every beauty mark that you could see, slowly going down his stomach, his breath shortening, sucking in and groaning your name in the most delicious way you have never heard anyone say it. 

Your hands found the hem of his underwear and pulled it down. He was so big. His pink tip already wet with pre-cum, and it was all because and for you. Your eyes widened with desire, you had to taste him. 

So you did. 

It only took a lick for Steve to shiver, and that made nothing but turn you on even more. His hand had now started to press on your clit through the fabric. It didn’t matter, it felt too good. 

So, as you looked deep into his eyes, you wrapped your lips around him, and you went down. 

Steve had never been more desperate, the eye contact, you and your pretty doe eyes looking at him like he was the only thing in the world. 

His fingers had pushed your thong to your side, and started messing around your entrance, it wasn’t until his waist flinched forward, making you swallow him whole, that he didn’t actually finger you. 

But once he did, he couldn’t stop, and neither could you. 

The way you moaned, with him still inside you, the way your waist moved, letting him get more aces into you, it drove him mad, he needed you, like really needed you. 

“Steve, please” You begged. 

That’s all it took. 

His hands took off your thong and pulled you up, he kissed you deeply, his tongue getting lost with yours. Your soft lips fit perfectly with his, and the wetness of his cock still in them. 

He was above you again. Three fingers in, your legs already up, he had you prepared you enough for him to enter, but anyway, when you felt the way his cock slided into you, your walls tensed up for a second, and you both moaned as soon as you felt each other. 

“God, you feel so nice honey” He whispered into your ear before biting it. 

Your legs wrapped around him, tightly, and your hands were on his back, pushing him deeper. He wanted to go slow, but seeing you so helpless, so needy for him, made him pick up the pace. With every thrust, your eyes rolled deeper into your head, your muscles relaxed, and your feet were pointed. 

The warmth of his skin felt so good against yours you felt as if it would never be enough, even if you wanted to scream his name, you couldn’t. Everyone was sleeping. So you did the only thing you could.

“I’ve wanted you for so long Steve '' You whispered into his ears in between thrusts. You felt how his head hangs lower after that, his back arched so he could reach even lower. And when you thought he was as deep as he could, he placed an arm behind you, reaching that place that even you couldn’t. 

“So have I honey.” He admitted before kissing you, a deep, wet kiss. Followed by many more repressed moans and loud groans. “I’m all yours.” 

“I’m all yours” You repeated. 

He grabbed your leg and pushed it up, he was so deep now you could feel him everywhere. You were lost in him. The way his hair bounced, the way his eyes looked at you, his lips swollen because he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop kissing you. 

He was a goner. And so were you. 

You hadn’t come this hard in so long. 

You melted into eachothers arms. 

You had a silent moment, where it was all soft kisses and caresses. You couldn’t quite believe that that had just happened. 

Or how good it had been. 

“I meant it.” You heard him whisper, his lips pressed against your ear. 

“What?” 

“I’m all yours.” He repeats. Leaving a kiss in your hair. “I’ve always been.”

“I mean it too.” You let him know, your nose brushing his, your fingers tangled with his. “I’ve liked you for so long, my love.” 

He laughs a bit. Maybe it was the confession he had just got out of you, maybe it was because you had just called him my love. 

“God, me too.” He finally admits, a weight being pulled away from his chest. “But I thought you had a thing for Eddie.” 

“And I thought you still loved-” He shuts you up with a kiss. 

“We broke up because I was falling for you.” He finally admits. 

You can’t stop smiling or kissing. 

You don’t think you ever will. 

-

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests are open

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! Fashion Designer

As a black hispanic writer, i thought that it was finally time to write a hispanic character. I hope you guys enjoy this piece, i'm much more confident with this post as it's a culture i'm familiar with. Please never feel afraid to talk/send requests in my ask box.

Matías has always had a crystal clear vision of what his future was meant to be. He knew he wanted to get an education in fashion, pursue a career in that subject, live in a townhouse in the middle of a metropolitan area, have two or so cats whose only jobs were to tear up his carpet. He's always wanted to fall in love, as well. But, for some reason he thought love would not fit with the career path he was choosing and he wouldn't have enough time for another person everyday. But, as he grew older from when he first started his career, he realized how disgustingly wrong he was. The poisonous thoughts in his head were, "well to be one of the greats I'll have to lay off of the need for love." All of the people who inspired him seemed to have gone down that road but he soon realized that didn't mean he had to aswell.

He was always portrayed in the media as a tortured artist that was depraved of love, but, look! He's an icon and he's fine with the lack of affection in his life. But that couldn't have been even more wrong. He desperately wanted for a person on the side of his painfully empty bed, someone to share thousands of mornings with, someone to go grocery shopping with, someone to warm him seats, somebody to love.

Eventually, he set his wide brown eyes on you. The two of you met at an event made for people with careers in the creative passage. His gaze settled on you explaining the backstory behind your ceramic sets, intriguing buyers with your magnifying words. He was struck with slight by your celestial appearance but he took his chance to speak with you and walked on over.

As the conversation progressed he realized you, surprisingly, didn't know who he was! And yet, you weren't condescending or disrespectful about it, you showed your feelings of interest and asked deep rooted questions about his work. This one interaction attracted him to you and he counted himself lucky that you wanted to continue talking, giving him your personal number.

Was he giddy about the fact it was your personal number and not your business number? Yes.

He called you at all times of the day in which you were available, asking you personal questions and crossing his fingers that you wouldn't get put off for his intense need for human connection, and guess what? You stayed.

He invited you to one of his annual fashion shows where tons of loved celebrities were present. In his thoughts, this was the perfect setting for him to ask you to be strictly his. After the two of you had a delicious dinner at the same table in which several movie stars were sat, he asked you to be his girlfriend. He had to suppress the urge to kiss you right then and there when you said yes. He could've since the both of you were now in a private setting, but, he needed it to be a separate and even more special occasion.

From that day on, he never faltered in his immense love and utter obsession he had for you. When he finished a fashion sketch and started picking out the fabrics for his project, he would ask you to be his model. Wrapping measuring tape around your waist, purchasing silks that complimented your skin tone. Magazine editors, journalists and critics found the fact that every original piece of his was so clearly modeled for + by you, the best romantic partnership story in the history of fashion.

At the end of every show of his, the both of you would walk out hand in hand. Except, you were wearing the one and only original clothing piece from one of his most popular fashion collections. Your job wasn't a professional model but that didn't stop him from treating you as such. In and out of work.

During interviews, he'd get questioned if he'd let anyone else be the model for his beginning sketches for the purpose of range.

"Well, I do have range. That's the main thing I'm known for, the complexity of my collections and designs. I'm the professional here so I'd rather listen to advice from me than you, thank you." The question he was asked wasn't necessarily harmful towards you, but that didn't stop Matías from fighting tooth and nail for you. Why? Well, put yourself in the shoes of a man head over heels in love.

Whilst on vacations together, you'd get self conscious of all the money he was spending on you. Did he really have to spend all that money on shopping for the highest quality clothing for you? In his mind, yes! It's his money so let him spend it the way he wants.

He makes clothing specifically for you, never letting you taint yourself with the filthy clothing made by other people. He takes great pride in seeing you decked out in the stuff he made while you were in his mind. Embroidery, colors, silk, chiffon, jersey, wool; he took all of your favorite things into consideration as he crafted his best work for you.

As the two of you drive around in the safe Cadillac he bought specifically for your honeymoon in Marseille, France, he can't help but think about how he's going to drown you with gifts and delicious foods before desserts later on that day. Will you get anxious of all the money he's spending? Yes. But he'll reassure you. He's THE Matías Herrera. He's spending money while his bank account is getting filled to the brim every second.

He's taking you to oyster restaurants, booking a private spa day just for you, getting down on his knees to put your shoes on your feet, feeding you tortellini, zipping up your silk dress from behind, putting the morganite-stoned necklace on you, quickly going for a coffee run and coming back up to your shared hotel room with your order before you wake up.

Before the two of you got married, he took you to meet his mother and father in the home he paid off for them. Not wanting to seem disrespectful and show up empty handed, you baked some sweets for them and wrote them a letter in your appreciation for their son. Because of that, they knew they were going to adore you as a daughter-in-law. As soon as you walked into their cozy residence, the aroma of freshly cooked food hit your nose. They prepared delicious traditional Mexican cuisine, consisting of menudo and mole with a side of chopped up onions, cilantro and tomatoes. That night, a shared love sparked between you and your soon to be in-laws. His parents shared words of appreciation towards you and you couldn't have been happier.

At your wedding, Matías couldn't help but sob at the sight of you as you walked down the aisle. The stream tears didn't falter even as he recited his vows that he had written a year ago. Your wedding was so emotional in the most beautiful way, causing people in the crowd to grab at tissues to hide their tears.

From all of the instances of him being a lovesick puppy around you, you wouldn't have even begun to think of him as a violent person. Of course, he would never be aggressive or violent towards you, but to others that he considered threats? Oh absolutely. His career gave him an understanding of the human body (all of its sensitive parts) and he's willing to use it to his sinful advantage when it comes to defending you.

Hello everybody! I wanted to thank each and every one of you for gifting me 100 followers. I apologize very deeply because I know this may not be my best piece of work, I didn't feel very good today but I still wanted to give you guys something for being so sweet to me. Have an amazing day and night! Also, just to ramble a bit more, my yan! scientist post was inspired by seeing Cillian Murphy as Oppenheimer in the movie trailer, I hope that doesn't make me weird. I'm watching the movie tomorrow and I won't be able to handle the immense amount of dread I'm going to feel after seeing it or all of the incredibly attractive actors on screen. Alright, enough about me, I'll post more tomorrow! ♡

[theemporium]

🧸 lando with his daughters first heartbreak? 💞

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“She’s been in her room all day.”

Lando frowned, his elbows leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched you make your way around the room. “All day?”

“She came in after school and just ran upstairs,” you nodded as you let out a long sigh. “She wouldn’t even say anything in the car. Just dead silent.”

His frown deepened. “Do you think something happened at school?”

“Probably,” you guessed before you turned to your husband, a sheepish smile on your face. “Can you please try talking to her?” 

Lando opened his mouth.

“Yes, I’m her mother but she adores you,” you interrupted before he had a chance, knowing exactly what he was going to say. “She’s been a daddy’s girl since day one.”

He puffed his chest out. “She’s my princess.”

“Go check on your princess then,” you said as you nodded towards the stairs. “And I’ll deal with the gremlins.”

Lando smiled cheekily. “Hey now, my boys aren’t gremlins.”

“They are, they take after you,” you retorted with a wink before you turned back to the dinner you were preparing for the family.

But you weren’t wrong. Since the day Evangeline Norris was born, she had her father wrapped around her finger. And just in the same way, she looked at her father like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for. 

She was your oldest child, the first one to have Lando Norris sobbing in the delivery room when they put his daughter in his arms and welcomed him to fatherhood. And for reasons unbeknownst to you, Lando and Eva got on like a house on fire. From day one, they had been practically attached to the hip and had a bond that nobody could ever compare to, not even yourself. 

So to come home and hear his little princess came home upset, Lando was more than concerned. He was holding himself back from spiralling, from burning down the world to know who made his baby girl upset. 

Knock! Knock!

“Go away!”

Knock! Knock!

“I don’t want dinner! Leave me alone!”

Knock! Knock!

“Mum, I said—”

“Eva, honey, open up.”

There was a pause before a timid voice whispered, “daddy?” 

“Yeah, I’m here, honey.”

It took less than ten seconds before the door to the bedroom swung open. Lando felt like somebody had caved his chest in when he caught sight of his daughter’s face, her eyes glossy and her cheeks tear-stricken. She had been sobbing. His little girl had been crying and now, she looked so lost and confused and upset and he just wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go. 

“Oh, Eva-Bunny,” he murmured before he wrapped his arms around his daughter and pulled her into his chest. It didn’t take long for her to break down into tears again. He guided her back into the room, closing the door behind them. He pressed his lips against the top of her head, his hands stroking up and down her back. “Speak to me, honey.” 

“It’s embarrassing,” she grumbled into his chest. 

“Nothing is embarrassing to me,” Lando replied, pressing another lingering kiss on the crown of her head. “Tell me.”

There was a brief pause before she muttered, “Jack broke up with me.” 

Now, Lando knew Jack. He was a good kid, but nothing special in his eyes. However, he knew his daughter was lovestruck the second she saw him. Eva had been over the moon to tell you and Lando about Jack, about the date he asked her out on, about all the kind things he said. Lando hadn’t liked it one bit but you always smacked his arm and told him it was bound to happen with Eva growing up. 

But now holding his crying daughter in his arms because Jack upset her? Lando was ready to throw his scrawny sixteen year old ass to the wolves.

“Then he’s an idiot,” Lando stated bluntly because it was a fact. Nobody would ever be good enough for his Eva, especially not someone like Jack. 

“It’s my fault,” she continued to cry into her father’s chest. “He wanted someone better like Stacy—”

“Nuh uh,” Lando quickly cut his daughter off as he pulled back, taking her face in his hands so she could look him in the eyes as he spoke. “Don’t do that. Don’t say stuff like that when it’s not true.”

Eva sniffled. “But it is.” 

“It is not,” Lando stated simply as his thumbs slowly brushed away any stray tears. “Eva, honey, you’re one of the most amazing girls in this world. It’s Jacob’s loss.”

“Jack,” she corrected with a small smile before she shook her head. “And you have to say that. You’re my dad.”

“Exactly. I’m your dad, not a liar,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Honey, I know it hurts. It’s your first love, it will always hurt. But you deserve so much better than him and you’ll find it. You know how I know that?”

Eve looked doubtful. “How?”

“Because I’m you dad and I know everything,” he replied, grinning a little wider when he heard his daughter giggle. “But also because I know there’s someone out there who is gonna see just how amazing you are, see the perfect girl that I see. And he would never break your heart like Jamie.”

“Jack,” Eva corrected again with a snort before she tightened her arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

“Plus, what did you expect from a J name?” Lando scoffed as he held her close to his chest, one hand protectively placed on the back of his head. “Scum of the Earth.”

Eva giggled again. “Is that because Mum’s ex before you had a J name?”

“Maybe,” Lando replied indifferently. “Don’t tell your mother I swore in front of you, but he was a dick. He was your mother’s Jack. You’re gonna find your forever boy, it’s what my princess deserves.”

“I love you, Dad,” Eva murmured softly.

“I love you too, Eva-Bunny,” Lando whispered back.

.

[henneseyhoe]

Still Mine.

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Tyrone being a slut, baby daddy drama, smutty flashback, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex(wrap it before you smack it!), abortion mentioned, pill mentioned, baby trapping, short, tad bit unedited.

SUMMARY: During Tyrone’s weekly pickup of his daughter, he tries to make his baby mama fold.

Ps. This was originally SO much longer but I didn’t like the way some parts were written so I cut it in half lolzzz

✮✮✮✮

“You know if I licked it, it’s mine, right?”

Your face twisted into a mug at Tyrone’s words while packing a diaper bag with all the necessary things your daughter needed for the weekend with him.

“Tyrone, please don’t start with that tonight” You couldn’t believe the extents he’d go just because you were seeing other people, it was crazy! Tyrone didn’t see it that way though.

The man was a tyrant. A danger to society and other men when he suspects you fucking with somebody who wasn’t him. Every single time he found out, he would let you know that you had limited days with that nigga, which he was always right about.

They’d either disappear completely or simply just stop responding to your texts.

One time you saw one of them at the grocery store and tried to say hi but he ran the other way, even left his cart stacked with groceries. You wondered what the hell was going on, and why they were so scared, but you knew there was only one person that could have them running for the hills like that, and it wasn’t you.

“I’m not startin’ shit, I’m speakin’ facts. You playin’, knowing them niggas ain’t shit compared to me”

Though the statement was true, it was bold of him to assume you wasn’t getting any good play. It was rare you did, but still! It’s the audacity.

You look at Tyrone up and down before bursting into laughter, making the infant besides you both slightly jump in her pack and play, looking around in confusion before flipping over on her stomach, a skill she just learned.

“Oop- I’m sorry, mama” You apologize to her, the baby just rolling back over and blinking up at you with a tether in her mouth. “Now, back to yo’ delusional ass!”

You thanked god the small child wasn’t old enough to understand words because she would have been cursing like a sailor by now. Pointing at Tyrone with the acrylic nails he paid for, that same signature mean look on his face that he always wore when somebody had him fucked up, you squint.

“Ain’t shit yours, and it hasn’t been yours since about a year now”

Tyrone sucks his teeth, still not believing anything you were saying to him.

“You shittin’ me, it’s always gon be mine!”

“Says who?! You crazy” You blow him off with the wave of your hand, zipping the diaper bag up and handing it to him.

He grabs it, then drops it to his feet without a care, crossing his arms. You look at him with a confused expression, your eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Why you like playin’ wit’ me?” He questioned while straight faced, but you stood your ground, unlike when you use to submit under him and his tone when you two were together. Truthfully, you use to be a bit scared of the nigga. He never gave you a reason to be personally, but he was a hard shell to crack, you rarely knew if he was happy or sad until he said something to steer you in a certain direction.

“Tyrone, quit playing and find you something safe to do, aight?” You fired back, challenging him. He moved not one inch. You knew he wasn’t scared of you at all, so this was no surprise, but you wasn’t gonna take him treating you like this in your own damn house.

“How many niggas you fucked since we broke up, Y/N?”

You shrug. “However many I wanted. I dunno, I wasn’t counting”

“Okay” He nods slowly, putting you on edge just a tad bit. You hum and study his reaction. He only did that when he had some shit up his sleeve. A simple answer, then a nod before he did or said some fuck shit. “And if I find them niggas and suddenly they stop callin’, then what?” Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“One less problem for me. You already pack up enough niggas in the glen anyway. Can’t kill ‘em all!” You giggle childishly after gaining your composure again, but as you found humor, the man stayed oh so serious.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what a nigga can do now”

“Lemme guess, you learned to read a no loitering sign? Or maybe a no trespassing one?” You continued to joke, him finding nothing funny, as usual.

“You think you so funny” He warns, but you brush him off again, picking the diaper bag up and handing it to him again, this time forcing it in his hands to keep it there.

“I’m fuckin’ hilarious, nigga. better ask bout me”

Tyrone rolls his eyes.

“…so you really tellin’ me youn miss me?”

You turn and walk away to ignore the man further, side eyeing him as he followed. “Get out my face, Ty”

“Stop playin…so youn miss how I use to beat that pussy till you cry?” He spoke, getting closer to your ear so you could hear every syllable there. See, if this was a year and some change ago, you would have folded yourself in on a couch and put your legs to the sky faster than a pin could drop, but you had a point to prove.

You inched away from him to your kitchen, but he followed behind like a hungry shark that smelled blood.

“Let daddy dig that pussy out again, baby. You know I do it better than any other nigga”

Just with those few words, it had you thinking of flashbacks, your eyes fighting off a roll inwards. You knew the power he held in those boxers, you knew all too well what he was capable of. When Tyrone got to the pussy, he made sure he wasn’t playing no games. The man would even pull your bed from the wall everytime he came over so nobody in your moms house could hear how hard he was beating it up, talking dirty to you like you was a random bitch from the club, and that was your favorite part. That’s how you got into this mess anyway. Stuck with him and a tiny human who stole your face.

✮✮✮✮

Tyrone was definitely a man of threats, but he had never fallen through with any of the non-violent ones till this.

As Tyrone bucked his hips wildly into you, your leg began to quiver in his hold. You had thanked the gods that he had opted to lay you down on your side instead of fucking you standing up like he loved to do. You were sure your legs would have gave out by now if you were upright.

“Imma nut in this pussy, baby. Can daddy nut in this pussy? You want daddy to get you pregnant?”

He asks, and you nodded gladly like a dummy. Whatever the female version of pussy whipped was, you were definitely long past it. Even in that moment, you thought he wasn’t serious about the whole baby thing. He had never talked about one outside of sex, and you honestly thought he was against the entire idea of kids with the way he’d run junebug out of his presence when he’d do normal kid shit. He just didn’t seem serious.

Hell, you knew you weren’t serious about it. What would you do with a baby in this economy? Most importantly, how the fuck were you gonna care for it? You were only 21 and he was 24, had no business being together, but obviously he wasn’t the type to follow rules of any kind, or let you go.

The more he promised to get you pregnant, the harder y’all fucked until you were on top, riding him like there was a prize at the finish line you called an orgasm. Your hands were placed on his thighs behind you and your back was arched in as you spread your legs wide and bounced that ass on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to see himself slip in and out of you.

“Shit…shit! I’m bout to cum!” He shouts while panting, a few groans exiting his mouth.

“Fuuuck! I’m bout to nut, bae!” You heard him announce once again, but that wasn’t what set off alarms in your head, it was when he held you down and continued thrusting upwards into your wetness, making you leak. You whimper and shout, toes curling into the mattress.

“Shit! Lemme get up, Ty!” You tap his hands, trying to get them off of your hips so you could move, but he continues to bounce you with his fingers gripping you tightly, bound to leave a mark. “Tyrone! lemme get up, please!” You shout with urgency, but it had already been too late. By the time you rose up off of his dick, he had been pumping out the last bit of his seed, the small amount just sliding down the shaft of his dick. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Tyrone was a shooter in more ways than one, but when it came to cumming, he was damn near like a loaded gun. You’d have to squeeze your eyes shut when giving him head because he liked to cum on your face, and the first time he did, he almost blinded you with how far he came, literally.

“My god…” You breathed harshly, looking down at his dick begin to soften.

When it was all said and done, you asked him for money for a plan B, but lo and behold, he already had a pill prepared. Right in the glove compartment of his car is where he kept it and gave it to you when he came to see you the next day. But, as the weeks went by, you started to feel like that pill wasn’t much of a plan B, or at least not your “plan B”. It was definitely Tyrone’s though.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nine of those later, you were popping out a little girl with a full head of hair and features just like yours. If you told somebody you made the baby alone, they’d probably believe you with how much you two looked alike. You were pissed off your entire pregnancy at Tyrone, but that didn’t stop you from loving your baby, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of her either, though the process wasn’t foreign to you. If the “plan B” didn’t take her out, then who says she wasn’t meant to be here? But, with that being said, as you came closer to your due date, you grew farther from Tyrone while he was trying to keep you close, you even moved out of the glen and into a whole ‘nother town over.

He was there through your entire pregnancy, or at least tried when you weren’t trying to kill him for getting into stupid shit and almost dying, but because he was still so supportive and caring for you, checking up on how both you and the baby were doing, you cut him some slack, letting him name the bouncing baby girl. He went with the name ‘Autum’ because you two met in autumn, to your surprise he even remembered that since it had been so long ago.

Fast forward five months later, y’all were still beefing on and off over stupid shit. You would curse him out over scaring away new friends and or lovers, he’d ignore it and continue, working extra hard to make sure all them niggas knew who he was. Oh, Tyrone was on a mission, and he would not be ignored by some lame nigga you wanted to fuck, or ignored by you.

✮✮✮✮

[disneyprincemuke]

our spot * ls2

a text from you is the last thing logan expects when he's back home for the holidays especially when it's your first text in almost two years

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of infidelity

notes: YOOO how is it that i've been screaming about oscar and sebastian for weeks yet i write about logan first anyway? hope u enjoy this bc i OFC enjoyed breaking my own heart while writing this &lt;;/3

super long read btw, it's like 3.7k words

(f1 masterlist)

(part two)

logan isn't back home very often. he doesn't exactly have the chance to, given his circumstances. so when he is, it's typically a nice breath of fresh air. because that's where you are.

or at least, used to be.

he doesn’t hear from you often anymore. since he’d gotten busier with his promotion to f1, it’s been a lot harder to keep in touch with you.

admittedly, he does miss you. but what right does he have to tell you that outwardly?

the only way he knows what’s going on with you are whatever you let the public know of yourself. your instagram posts and stories don’t come often, so logan might as well consider you a stranger.

he only knows one thing, that his mother let slip over the phone during their call, that you’ve started seeing somebody recently. he doesn’t know if you’re still together — the man his mother speaks of doesn’t exist on any of your platforms.

perhaps it’s because it’s only hearsay? but you’ve always been sort of a private person yourself, so he’s not exactly surprised.

logan sighs to himself, rolling his chair over to the window that faces what used to be your bedroom. the window is shut with its curtains drawn.

you moved out the moment you turned 18. he once had your address when you gave it to him, and he kicks himself over the fact that he never got around to visiting you and seeing how you’ve come into your own.

he never got to see the apartment you would talk about growing up and all the decorations you planned on putting up.

he wonders, did you ever keep the framed picture with him when you went to disneyworld as kids? did you bring it with you?

logan huffs and pulls down his blinds. he turns to face his room, leaning back into his seat. it’s the holidays, but there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do with absolutely nobody.

his friends have all gone back to visit and spend time with family. he spent his first couple of days with his family, but even they’ve got better things to eventually.

all he can do is train for his next season.

he decides to finally get up to his feet, grabbing the gym bag that sits on the edge of his bed. he’s just about to drive to the gym when his phone lights up his dim bedroom.

a notification from you that makes his heart race and hands shake. a text from you is the last thing he expected out of his visit.

he hasn’t talked to you in nearly 2 years.

heard ur back home

he raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. he doesn’t write a reply immediately, so much hesitation and confusion mixing in his mind.

it’s taken him so off guard that he comes to a realisation that he doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore.

just for the holidays, im headed back to the uk after new year’s

your response is quick.

our spot

logan’s got no idea what you mean by that. until another text from you comes in.

10 minutes. see u

oh. you’re actually asking to see him.

suddenly he’s got no idea what to do. does he actually go?

he’s pacing around his room, frantically searching for the things he’d need to go and see you. which, wouldn’t actually be much. just his phone, his wallet, and

his gaze lands on the sad pile in the corner of his room, trinkets he’s collected from traveling the world in his first season. collected just for you, like you’d always talked about growing up.

now begs the question: does he bring it with him or does he just forget it ever existed?

doesn’t matter. he grabs his phone and wallet, heading out the door. his history with you is never spoken about.

maybe once, on a drunken night in australia with oscar. when he asked logan why he’s still visibly single, logan explained his situation.

how you kissed him the day he was leaving to stay in europe to fully commit to his junior career. how you’d called him every single night when you were teenagers, waiting around months at a time for him to come by for a short visit.

how you told him you loved him one evening when you were 19, in london when you were over for a visit. and how he had to put it on hold for his junior career, and never had the chance to get around to it because of his commitments to formula 1 now.

he had put it on hold, thinking you’d be around forever for him to come back to. he knows now that he’s never been more wrong in his life.

oscar never brought it up again after seeing the american choke on his words and laugh nervously as he retold the story.

when he found out you were seeing somebody, his heart broke. but he couldn't get himself to ask you about it. he knows it's his fault that you're in somebody else's arms now.

he quietly pads through his home, trying to pass his family members who have all resided in their individual bedrooms. even they've got no idea what's gone down between you two.

as far as they're concerned, you just simply drifted apart with time.

he parks his pickup truck right between the methodist building and what used to be the school you attended together growing up. he sits behind the wheel, eyes scanning the dark for any signs of you being here.

it's not a very far drive, only 5 minutes from his house and yours. just a playground that you used to hang at when you were growing up. when the world got too loud, this is where you'd come to regain composure.

he'd caught you one evening sitting here all alone when you were 8, and it's become your spot for late-night talks ever since. right on that green slide is where logan told you that he wanted to be an f1 driver when he was older.

it was on that blue swing that you admitted the crush you've had on him your entire life, and he reciprocated.

his heart races in his chest, unsure if you'd meant what you texted him. what if you bailed and this was all some sick twisted joke you're pulling on him?

and a random car pulls up in front of the methodist. he anticipates the moment you'd crawl out of the driver's seat, looking different from the last time he saw you - which was about 2 years ago when he last talked to you.

but after about a second, the backseat door opens, your leg poking out with your hair dishevelled in a ponytail. you close the door as you step onto the sidewalk, tugging down your dress that's hiked up your thighs as the car drives off.

logan finally turns off his engine, stepping out shortly after you. your eye roams the quiet street, locking into his as he watches you take a deep breath.

he nods, pointing towards the playground. you nod. he locks his truck and slowly makes his way to the brightly lit playground between the two establishments.

you make a beeline for the swing, dropping yourself down and bending forward to unstrap the heels that suffocate your feet. logan's not even going to ask where you'd come from all dolled up.

he occupies the empty swing next to you, clasping his hands together and placing them between his knees. it's a lot colder than he initially anticipated and his sweatpants are barely keeping him comfortable.

you sit in silence for the next couple of minutes. there's chatter from the methodist building next to you. you pick at your nails, trying to soften your breathing.

it's only then logan notices that your cheeks are flushed and the smell of alcohol in the air. which is obviously not coming from either place that surrounds both of you.

"are you drunk?" logan starts in a whisper, craning his neck down trying to get a look at you.

you look at him from the side of your eyes, lips pouted out in a frown. "tipsy," you correct him, "not drunk."

he nods to himself, rocking back and forth on the swing. he leans his head on the chain that holds his body up. he doesn't really know what to say.

in fact, he doesn't think there's much to say. you were the one who started ghosting him all those years ago. he's not upset or bitter about it, but he completely understands why you'd done it.

if he were in your position, he can almost guarantee that he would have taken the same measures.

"how long have you been back?" you ask, eyes tracing the design on the rubber playground floor. "why didn't you tell me?"

logan raises his eyebrows. "uh," he stutters, "i didn't know i had to. i'm sorry."

you shrug. "you didn't have to," you trail off, dropping your head low to avoid his gaze. "i just thought you would've told me when you'd come for a visit. we haven't seen each other in a while."

yeah, 2 years, he wanted to say.

"it's cause we haven't seen each other in a while that i didn't think to tell you i'm back home," logan admits solemnly, pressing his lips together. "i'm sorry, though. if i knew, you would've been the first person i told."

"i'm sorry i stopped picking up your calls," you suddenly say softly. "and answering your text messages. and telling my parents to tell you i'm away on vacation every time you came to visit."

he just nods. it hurt when you first started distancing yourself from him. but, what can he do?

he sort of caught on in the second week after you let him facetime call ring twice without an answer. that would’ve marked the fifth call you ignored, and the twentieth text you left him on delivered.

so he dropped it. he thought that maybe you would come around when he comes back to miami. apparently not, because you were ‘away’ on a trip with friends. which, now he knows, could possibly be just a lie.

logan smiles, mostly to himself as you’re looking straight ahead at the playground’s structure. “i get it. it’s alright.”

“no, really,” you adjust yourself to look at him with a sigh. “i feel horrible every single day about what i did. but i just didn’t know how to cope with the fact that you put me in the backseat when i was right there.”

“hey.” logan slumps his shoulders. suddenly he feels a tinge of guilt in his chest, and no amount of quick convincing makes it go away. “i understand why you did what you did. you deserve to be with someone who puts you first. i didn’t do that.”

you shake your head. a small smile creeps up on your face, looking up as your eyes start to glisten under the lights. “you don’t get it.”

“what do you mean?”

“i miss you,” you say in a sigh. “i thought you said you loved me too?”

“i did,” logan nods. then he corrects himself: “i do.”

“i still think of you,” you admit with a small smile. you laugh dryly to yourself before looking ahead at the playground. “sometimes i wonder how different our lives would be if i’d just never… stopped waiting.”

logan rests his head on the chain that holds the swing up. “sometimes i wonder how nice it’d be if i’d just,” he sighs, “chosen you.”

“same.”

he can see himself on the playground with you all those years ago. sitting in the structure, giggling with one another as you talk about your separate lives.

your lives seem to come together when you’re on that playground, though you walk separate paths that would prove to be more detrimental to your friendship.

you’d indulge one another in gossip the other had no idea about, but tried their hardest to relate and mirror frustrations. more often than not, a notebook is laid down on the ground between you while you try to draw out the situation of said gossips.

it always makes logan cringe thinking of how invested he’d gotten in your drama with your friends.

“i’m seeing somebody,” you whisper.

“i heard from mum.”

“yeah.”

logan takes a few breaths. “is he good to you?”

you nod. he just smiles then plants his feet into the ground. “that’s good. i’m so happy for you.”

“he’s not you, though, logan.”

he turns his head, looking at you in shock. “what?”

“i want you to tell me i’ve made a mistake,” you say flatly, turning your head to look at him with a frown. “tell me i shouldn’t be with him.”

“i can’t say that to you,” logan frowns, eyebrows furrowing at your sudden request. “i can’t decide that for you.”

you take a deep breath, shakily letting it out. “tell me you still want me, logan. and i’m all yours.” you sigh. “but i need you to say it to my face. cause i won’t wait for you if you don’t ask me to stay.”

logan searches your eyes for any sort of hesitation, or signs of backing off. but he doesn’t. you’ve got that same glimmer in your eye that he’s seen over and over again.

“i do,” he sighs, shaking his head. “i really do. but i can’t promise you anything. i’ll only break your heart. you know this. we lead two very different lives.”

you shrug, dropping your head again. “we could make it work. you’ll never really know.”

“please don’t do this. you’re with somebody else who gives you the world, i’m sure,” he tried to explain to you. “better than i can. you know at least that for a fact.”

you finally stand up, fists clenched by your side. “i can see it in your eyes, logan. you don’t want things to be this way — i’m giving you a chance to change the course of things.”

he looks up at you, lips parted and mind running with thoughts that all contradicted one another.

not talking to you took a while to get used to. especially when he moved up to formula 1, it was hard to find someone to talk to who would listen to him talk without judgement.

he needed your presence the most when he felt so out of place in his environment; like he was an imposter who didn’t deserve to be where he did.

your sudden departure from his life took a harder hit than he cares to admit. he thought about you every single day: the one person who can tell which smiles he fakes on the daily.

the ultimatum you’re giving him is too tough to make a decision on the spot. in hindsight, he’s not only breaking your heart, but also his.

logan sighs, standing up to tower over you. he hovers a hand over your shoulder. “let me drive you home.”

“no, come on, logan!” you shove his hand away from you and stumble a step back. “do something for once! risk something!”

“it’s not that easy.”

“but it is,” you say, matter-of-factly, giving him a stare of indifference. you hold your arms up by your side and raise your eyebrows. “i know my pain is such an imposition. but i’m tired of feeling like this when i know how you feel for me!

“when i know how to make this pain go away. work with me here, logan.”

“i can’t do that because there are more important things on the line for me right now!” logan spits at you, throwing his hands into the air. “i do, okay! i do love you! i think about you every single day, but i can’t throw away everything i’ve ever worked for just to be with you!”

“who says you’ve got to do that?” you shout back, shoving him slightly. “i’m asking you to choose me alongside everything you’ve got, not drop your entire career for me!”

“i’m a fucking laughing stock, do you not see what’s circulating the internet?” he asks exasperatedly with an eyeroll. “you don’t want that going for you. i’ve got bigger things to work on.”

he turns on his heel and walks towards his truck. when he doesn’t hear your footsteps following him, he stops halfway and turns to you. “get in the car, i’m driving you back.”

“so this is how it’s going to be?” you laugh dryly, gesturing at your surroundings with a finger point. “you’re just going to push me aside because you think you can’t give me what i need?”

“i don’t think it — i know so.”

“and what exactly is it that you think i need?”

“somebody to show up for you when it matters,” logan huffs, slowly making his way back over to you. “somebody who can love you even on his worst days; who can take you out on dates, love you on your bad days, and just be there for you.

“i can’t even do that for myself. what the hell makes you think i can do all of that for you?”

he stops right in front of you, chest heaving from frustration and eyebrows furrowed as he towers over you. “i won’t be the person who can give you what you need. not now, i’m still working to be better.”

“you don’t know that.”

“i’m done with this conversation, (y/n),” he sighs, taking a step back. the smell of your perfume increases his urge to just pull you into his arms, but he can’t do that to you, himself, or the guy you’re with. “get in the car, i’m driving you home.”

"fine, whatever," you snap, folding your arms over your chest and stomping towards him to reach the white pickup truck by the corner.

when he planned on coming home for the winter break, you reaching out was never one of his things to expect. he thought that you were absolutely done with him, given that you hadn't talked to him in nearly two years.

his brothers giving him flack for his formula 1 season, maybe, but you confessing your feelings for him all over again? he hadn't ever thought about it in a million years.

when he climbs into the driver's seat, you've already fastened your seatbelt. your legs are crossed, like your arms over your chest, and your body is tilted towards the window.

logan sighs. "(y/n). please understand it from my side. i don't want to hurt you any more than i already have. you don't deserve this."

you still don't meet his eyes. your eyes are trained on the dark scenery outside with a prominent frown on your face. "just take me back to my parents' house."

"what about your apartment?"

"i put it out on the market a month ago," you admit softly as logan turns on the engine. "i'm moving out of miami."

now, logan is typically a well-tempered person. growing up with brothers, it's definitely one way to train that aspect of yourself.

but the last time he had asked you to reconsider moving to the united kingdom with him after graduation, you had refused. because your life is here in miami: your family, your friends, and everything you've ever known.

all of a sudden, you're moving out of here?

he hadn't faulted you initially, but he might just start seeing a change of heart if it comes down to this.

logan shifts in his seat uncomfortably, lifting his foot from the gas pedal. suddenly he's curious to know more about what's going on in your life: moving out of the house is one thing for you, but moving to a completely different place is something else.

"where are you going?"

"new york for a couple months," you say, staring at the street ahead. "just for some training. after that, i'm off to germany. i got a job offer."

"what about your boyfriend?"

"i haven't told him about it yet," you shrug, "i've been thinking of you too much to consider what is to come of the relationship eventually."

"you shouldn't do that. i'm not your boyfriend."

a dry scoff passes your lips. "thanks, i actually know that."

he pulls up to the front yard of his home. pulling up the handbrake, he turns to you with a hand on the backrest of your seat. "i'm serious. don't sabotage whatever you've got going on for you. embrace it."

"really?" you scrunch your nose as you turn to face him. "life advice from someone who keeps sabotaging all of the lifelines i keep throwing out for him to save what we had going on for years?"

logan sighs. he raises his hands to surrender. "fine. do what you want. i only want the best for you and i know it's not me."

"whatever, logan," you scoff, taking off your seatbelt. you throw it back into place and unlock the car door, pushing it open. "i won't be around forever: remember that."

you crawl out and slam the door behind you. all logan can do is sink in his seat and watch you cross the road, walk up to your front door and shut that behind you as well. you don't spare him another look, which is when it all washes over him like tsunami waves.

but as much as he wants you, he will have to stand true to his words. because he knows his truth: he isn't the person you deserve to be with.

[elixrr]

My love was mine, all mine.

You were supposed to be his.

He could've sworn that he just had you.

So, why?

Why weren't you his?

Your lips. Your lips pressed against another's.

Your arms. Your arms wrapped somebody else.

You— beautiful, glorious you— entwined and sparkling with somebody who wasn't him.

The sky above did not depict those dark, mournful sceneries that books and shows would often have. No. The clouds dispersed; the sun shone as if everything he felt was fake; the crowds around clapped and cheered for your kiss—for your newfound love.

It's almost as if none of his feelings mattered in the first place. You belonged to someone else now, and what was there to do about it? His eyes won't tear away from your smile, the same one that he adored so much. The way your eyes crinkled with love, the way your nose scrunched with pure happiness. It'd make him want to smile, too, and with all the same feelings.

But not this time.

Your smile was someone else's now.

Your smile belonged to someone else now.

It wasn't his. Never belonged to him.

Would it have ever been for him?

None of the material items that he possessed would've made him as joyous as you would. You, even as his friend, already gave him so much to smile for, so much to look forward to. Your heart was the biggest reason for his heartbeat.

So, why? Why couldn't he at least have you?

Did he possess too many items?

If so, then consider them freed from him. None of it will belong to him anymore if it means that you could just turn your gaze towards him. If you'd just let go of that person and run up to him instead, embrace him, kiss him like you did with the other, then his losses will only sum to the biggest gain.

Yet, you turn your head elsewhere. Your back faces his front as you cheer. You're the happiest version of you that he's ever seen. He's jealous, not of your happiness, but of the fact that he could've been standing there next to you, arm wrapped around your waist to hold you dearly, and he could be just as happy as you.

Your love could've been his. In his head, it should've been—

But it's not.

And then you— with your hand in someone else's— walk away from him. Your feet glide farther and farther away from him as the crowd follows in celebration.

Everyone left him behind.

You left him behind.

He wants to scream, run up, and cry— to beg you with his confession to be his— but he knows he can't. All he can do is extend his hand out to yours, that which remains empty, yet it disappears from view.

And eventually the crowd closes in, and you are nowhere to be soon.

Was this really the gift of love? Heartbreak?

His hopes; his dreams; his chances, were they all really for naught? All of that effort he put into trying to be yours, and all he gets is loneliness?

Maybe it wasn't enough.

Was it already planned by fate above that you were destined for another? That his love for you, a love that runs deep within his veins and flows straight to and through the beat of his heart, was already unrequited from the start?

He collapses. No one's there to see him fall onto his knee, hand grasping his head as the internal storm within begins to rain and rage. His tears finally form, and they pour like a faucet. The pain in him began to ring throughout his body, and he felt his heart fully sink.

In his mind, he had just lost everything,

And all of that loss reduced to no gain,

And all of that loss summed up to nothing.

[suzukiblu]

Tim’s my blorbo so I’ll always take more Tim content

Apparently Cadmus knew Experiment Thirteen was the one to invest in because Experiment Thirteen had a soulmark.

Apparently Cadmus also considered terminating Experiment Thirteen because Experiment Thirteen had a soulmark.

Tim knows this because he broke into the place and stole a copy of Superboy's file the day after they met.

He also knows what Superboy's soulmark looks like, because these absolute bastards not only took multiple pictures of it, they put those pictures in his fucking file. Not even, like, classified or tucked away behind a firewall or a password or anything. Not even in a seperate folder. Just right there in his standard file where literally any random scientist or doctor or goddamn intern could trip right over them without even meaning to.

Forget the fucking mind control; that's fucked up.

So yeah. Tim knows what Superboy's soulmark looks like. It's a stark, dark red, all sharp angles slung low in the V of his Adonis belt and cutting from one hip to the other, looking not unlike a stylized bird in flight coming at the viewer head-on. Bold. Undeniable. Very much like Superboy himself, really.

And exactly like the mark that came in on Tim when, he now knows, Superboy was first put together in a fucking petri dish. So that's . . . a whole thing, there.

Well. At least his soulmate is only literally fifteen years younger than him, not physically and mentally.

Although that doesn't really seem like a big improvement, to be honest.

Tim didn't even know he was into guys, actually? Definitely didn't know Superboy was into guys, all things considered. Like, he would not expect somebody like him to ever be subtle about who or what he was into.

Maybe they're platonics, Tim tries to tell himself. The fact that his first thought upon learning that Superboy was his soulmate was immediately questioning his own sexuality doesn't really support that theory, though.

Though it does help explain why Poison Ivy putting her hands on the guy had pissed him off so bad.

Like. It very much does.

Tim doesn't actually know what to do about this. Bruce still thinks he doesn't even have a soulmate, due to Tim previously really, really not wanting to deal with the absolute embarrassment of admitting that said soulmate was an actual fucking baby, so Tim never got the Bat-version of the soulmate talk. Bruce'd sat him down to give it to him when he'd first become Robin, but Tim hadn't had a mark then, obviously, so they'd both just assumed he didn't have to worry about it. Tim is pretty sure Bruce had been as relieved as he had to dodge that particular bullet, really. Apparently Dick had needed visual aids and hadn't understood the "gilly talk" version. And Jason had had questions.

Lots of questions.

Creative ones.

Sometimes Tim suspects Jason might've been an asshole. Like, just a little bit of one.

So no, Tim does not blame Bruce for deciding to skip that particular talk with him, especially when they'd both thought he wasn't gonna need to know any of it anyway.

So . . . yeah. He doesn't know how he's supposed to approach this situation. Obviously telling Superboy that they're soulmates would compromise Tim's secret identity and therefore Bruce's, and everybody and their damn mother knows Superboy himself doesn't even have a secret identity so it's not like Tim can figure that out and approach him that way.

On the other hand, not telling him that they're soulmates isn't a great start to being soulmates, now is it.

Crap, Tim thinks.

Then he calls Dick, because if he has to sit through the Bat-version of the soulmate talk, at least maybe Dick will be slightly less embarrassing to hear it from.

As long as there's no visual aids involved, anyway.

"Hey, Tim," Dick greets as he picks up the phone. Tim has a carefully crafted plan of attack, of course; several, in fact. He's got all sorts of subtle ways to lead the conversation without revealing anything too damning or too specific and while keeping everything in hypotheticals. Just making the whole thing either a quick thought exercise or casual curiosity from an unmarked kid who's heard one too many soulmate stories and wants to know more. So Tim's prepared. Tim's ready.

Tim panics.

"Poison Ivy kissed my soulmate and I want to burn down her entire life," he blurts.

"Uh," Dick says. "You're . . . gonna have to catch me up a little here, baby bird. For starters, I thought you didn't have a soulmate."

"I didn't," Tim says as he starts to pace back and forth across his bedroom, because he's already screwed this up so there's no point in playing coy now. "Then some dickheads in Metropolis decided to steal Superman's dead body and make a cocky asshole with douchey shades and a leather fetish out of it."

"Ohhhhh boy," Dick says. "What'd B say?"

"I found out like half an hour ago and you're the only person I've told, so nothing yet," Tim says. "What's the Bat-protocol for finding out your soulmate is somebody in the community, exactly? Specifically somebody in douchey shades?"

"Depends," Dick says. "How'd the kid react?"

". . . I don't know how to say this without sounding like a total creep, but he doesn't know," Tim admits with a wince. "I broke into Cadmus to make a copy of his file after I met him and they just . . . had his soulmark in it. Like. There wasn't even a password. It wasn't even in an isolated folder. It was just there."

"That is the most fucked up thing I've heard since the last time I had to talk to Jervis Tetch," Dick mutters in obvious disgust. "Alright, well, how are you reacting, then?"

"My soulmate is a baby," Tim grumbles disgruntledly, dropping into his desk chair. "A baby who is also a teenager."

"Tim, you're a teenager too," Dick reminds him wryly. "You are very much so a teenager too, in fact."

"Yeah, and it sucks," Tim says emphatically. "And I have, like, actual legal guardians and a home and a trust fund. Superboy just lives somewhere in Hawaii with a sleazy businessman and his kid and some random guy from Cadmus!"

"That's, uh, actually not great," Dick says, sounding a little troubled.

"You think?!" Tim demands. "He's a baby! An infant! And he lives with his frigging manager!"

"What the actual hell," Dick says.

"Just–is it ethical to kidnap your own soulmate and does that even matter if they're not legally a person and so you couldn't actually be charged for anything anyway?" Tim mutters speculatively, drumming his fingers on his desk for a moment and then booting up his computer. "I mean, B can't get mad at me for doing it if the courts can't get me for doing it, right?"

"Wait, Superboy's not legally a person?" Dick asks incredulously.

"Nope," Tim says. "Which neither Cadmus nor the sleazebag selling his likeness for a living has in any way tried to correct, for the record. Technically he's classified as intellectual property, but Cadmus forfeited legal possession when Superman turned up alive again, presumably to avoid Superman ever finding out that they'd had said legal possession, so technically if I went and kidnapped him it'd be more like . . . salvage, maybe? Like, in the eyes of the law, I mean."

"Yeah, okay, in that case kidnapping your own soulmate might be less an ethics question and more a moral obligation," Dick says.

"Good point," Tim says, frowning consideringly as he pulls up his browser. "Do you think if I just do it as Tim Drake I can avoid compromising my identity?"

"I have no idea but if I were you I'd already be booking my flight and thinking up a cheap excuse to 'accidentally' flash a teen heartthrob superhero my soulmark anyway," Dick says.

"I am already booking my flight," Tim says mid-click of said booking. "Although, uh, flashing him our particular soulmark might require, like . . . third base, and I don't even know if he likes guys. I don't even know if he knows if he likes guys, he's like five minutes out of the cloning tube and like, I'm literally fifteen and don't know if I like guys, so why the hell would he?"

"Okay, yeah, that could be an issue," Dick says. "Hm. Wardrobe malfunction? Slutty beach day? Wet T-shirt contest?"

"I'm not above any of those options at this point, frankly," Tim grumbles, even though those ideas are all very "Nightwing" and not very "Robin". Technically he shouldn't be approaching this like Robin would anyway, because god forbid Superboy recognize his methodology.

Slutty beach day might have to be a thing, Tim realizes with resigned dread. He is really not comfortable with slutty beach day being a thing.

. . . maybe if he just gets lucky, he can catch Superboy having his own slutty beach day. Not to make any assumptions, just Tim's pretty sure if either of them were ever going to be the type to wear a speedo or low-waisted swim trunks or just walk around with their soulmark out in general . . .

Which, in Superboy's defense, well–his soulmark is already on file with Cadmus, so yeah. He might not even care if other people see it or not, considering that.

Then again, if Tim knew that a bunch of random strangers who'd wanted to mind-control him had all seen and taken pictures of his soulmark, he'd never wear anything that risked exposing it again. Like. Ever.

Possibly he'd just live and die in a wetsuit. Or coveralls. Overalls. Or just–whatever. Something like that.

. . . come to think of it, Superboy's costume is all one piece, isn't it.

Cadmus is full of assholes, Tim decides as he confirms his booking, then gets up to throw together a go-bag. He has no plan whatsoever, but whatever; it's a twelve-hour flight. He's gonna have time to think something up.

One go-through with airport security and a twelve-hour flight later, Tim has not thought anything up.

Dammit.

[tommydarlings]

Scream! | s.v

pairing: dark!dom!rbr!seb x sub!reader

warnings: smut, dark, blowjob, dacryphilia, mentions of spit, gagging, hair pulling

w/c: 2.4k

summary: Running into somebody dressed up as ghostface at this Halloween party you were at was already scary enough, what was even scarier though, was the fact that your crazy ex boyfriend was hiding underneath the infamous mask.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +60 works) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

walking through the noisy house with your little, white dress and halo on your head, clearly representing an innocent angel as you pushed yourself through the other people that were dressed up for Halloween, was hard.

“God, where the hell is the kitchen,” you mumbled to yourself as your eyes scanned every room, quickly releasing a tiny gasp as you found it.

Slowly, you pushed through new people again, quickly refilling your glas before you turned around and bumped right into a wide, broad chest.

“Oh, s-sorry!” You loudly apologised over the loud music, hoping that the person you just bumped into heard you. But as you looked up and noticed who you actually bumped into, you gulped with wide eyes.

You bumped into your dear, ex — Sebastian, who was now standing proudly in front of you with his infamous grin, wearing a black pants and no t-shirt…ghostface mask that he previously had on his face, now him his hand.

“Y/n!” He spoke loudly with an evil grin, “Didn’t expect to see you here! C‘mere-”

“N-No, go away,” you nervously shook your head as tears immediately entered your eyes, hands trembling next to your hips as you avoided eye contact with the man who hurt you so many times in the past.

Sebastian frowned, slowly pulling his arms away from you, harshly squeezing his ghostface mask as he noticed your weird discomfort, “but why?” He smiled down at you, biting his lip as his smile slowly fell, “You do know that I always just wanted to protect you, right?” The German whispered as he walked closer to you.

You briefly glanced up at him as you backed away but you didn’t came far, you immediately hit the hard counter as you raised your arms and tried to cover yourself as much as possible.

You felt so naked and uncomfortable as his dark eyes stared down at you with an emotion you couldn’t name.

Your ex boyfriend frowned again and shook his head, “Oh no, no, no, angel,” you hated when he called you that, forcing fresh tears down your face as the young redbull driver called you the nickname he always used to call you, “don’t hide from me, liebling… you never have to hide from me,” he mumbled as brushed some hair out of your face.

You usually you would think that those words are very sweet and reassuring, now they just scare you, making your body tremble as you gazed down at his mask.

Of course he would dress up as ghostface.

Sebastian noticed the curious gaze you had on his mask, “You like it?” He asked with a smile before he put the mask on his face, leaning forward and caging you in between his muscular arms, giving you no option to leave him now.

You were trapped by your crazy ex boyfriend who was dressed up as a famous serial killer, something you definitely didn’t expect to happen today.

You turned your head to the side, gulping and taking deep breaths as he let his nose run along your temple, taking a deep breath now as well.

“Are you scared, liebling?” Sebastian muttered in a deep and intimating tone while his hands were slowly creeping closer to your hips, “Oh you’re so scared, aren’t you little one?” He tilted his head to the side, mask still covering his face, “I can smell your fear through my mask,” your ex chuckled as if this is all just a silly game.

Probably that’s exactly what it is to him, but definitely not to you.

He raised his hand and gently placed it on your cheek, so gently that you though that he was almost worried of breaking you if he touched you with his rough hands, “You were always a scared little bunny, weren’t you? Or should I say… angel,” the German whispered, probably wearing a sick smile under his mask.

You gulped, desperately trying to blink your tears away as you still avoided eye contact with him, “I think y-you should l-leave-”

“I think that you’ve got no allowance to tell me what to do, hmm? Wasn’t it always like that, angel — can’t you remember anymore y/n baby?” He mumbled beneath his scary mask in a hush tone as he wiped some of your tears away, suddenly grabbing your wrist with his other hand, swiftly leading you out of the kitchen.

You stumbled over your own feet as he quickly dragged you through the busy and noisy house, more tears shooting into your eyes as he walked towards a big wooden door.

Quickly, you realised that you were standing in front of the cellar.

“S-Sebastian, what-” you gasped as he opened the door and led the two of you down the stairs, quickly entering the dark and scary looking cellar with you, only briefly turning around to lock the door behind him after he pushed you towards the hard and cold concrete wall, making your body shiver as he positioned himself in front of you.

Your hands were shaking, so were your legs as he looked down at your trembling body, mask back in his hand again.

“What d-do you want, s-sebastian? We can t-talk about a-anything, really!” You immediately spoke up, backing yourself up even more against the wall since you really didn’t wanted to be close to him at the moment.

He chuckled down at you, squeezing his mask again before he sighed and licked his lips, “Talk? I’ve told you so many times in the past that I love you — and every damn time you just started crying-”

“B-Because you were t-threatening-”

“You shut the fuck up when I’m talking, got it?” He harshly spat at you in a much louder and rougher tone, slamming you by your shoulders against the cold wall, making you hiss before you turned your face away from him and softly cried.

He furrowed his brows a bit, “Don’t cry right now, angel,” he mumbled deeply, thumbs caressing your naked shoulders as he stared at your fluffy halo, “You look so pretty when you cry but I don’t want to see you in pain, okay?” He nodded along his words as he let his hands glide down your upper arms.

You sniffled, wiping some of your tears away as you looked down at the floor, “Fucking hell,” he murmured under his breath to himself, “you really do look absolutely gorgeous when you cry, little angel,” he bit his lip, trying to hide a smile but failing miserably.

He removed his gaze from your face and looked up at your halo, softly touching it with the tip of his finger while his other hand played with the strap of your white dress,

“Has anyone already told you that this costume looks magnificent on you?” The German redbull driver asked you with a wide smile, fingers slowly pulling the thin straps off of your shoulder.

You only gulped, staring back up at him again as your shaking hands reached up to pull the straps back up but he shook his head with furrowed brows and dark eyes, “No, no, no — don’t do this… you look way better without it, I know you do,” he whispered in a hush tone, ghostface mask now laying on the cold floor next to the two of you.

This time, you shook your head, “I-I think that I d-don’t want this r-right now sebastian,” you cried in a pathetic tone, voice barely able to be heard since you were talking so quietly as you still tried to push his wrists away but Sebastian was faster and stronger.

In a fast motion, he removed his black belt and wrapped it tightly around your wrists, forcing a loud hiss out of you before he wrapped his hand around your throat while the other one was already pulling your angelic dress entirely off of your body.

You felt so cold and helpless, something you often felt back then when you were still with Sebastian.

Then he decided to play with the straps of your bra, palms now placed onto your shoulders before he quickly bend down and picked the ghostface mask back up, slowly placing it on his face again.

Sebastian tilted his head slightly to the side, hands on your shoulders again, thumbs running along the straps of the only thing that is luckily still covering your chest as you looked down at the floor in pure fear.

Suddenly, without a word… Sebastian forced you onto your knees, one hand leaving your body while the other one was now being placed onto your head, forcing you to stay down.

Swiftly, he unbuttoned his black pants, freeing his hard cock and stroking it as he stared down at you with his scary looking ghostface mask, making you shiver even more.

You sniffled again, “S-Sebastian… you don’t k-know what you’re d-doing, please!” You wiped some of your own tears away as you begged your ex to just let you go but definitely that wasn’t his plan as he pulled your by your hair even closer to his dick, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh I know exactly what I am doing, kleines,” little one, he mumbled in a deep tone under his mask as he bushed your plastic halo a bit further away to get a better grip on your hair, “Trust me,” he finished his intimidating statement before he spoke up again,

“Open up or I’ll drag you up those stairs and show everybody up there that you’re actually a little devil and not an innocent little angel,” he threatened you as he pulled on your hair again after, briefly fixing your halo.

You gulped and whined before you very carefully and slowly opened your mouth, immediately gagging and squeezing your eyes shut as he shoved his big dick down your throat, not giving you any kind of warning.

The German threw his head back and groaned through the mask, chuckling as he heard your gagging noises, “Just Like that, god,” he mumbled deeply under his breath,

“forgot how good that tiny throat of yours can suck cock,” he said as he continued forcing himself down your throat, chuckling or laughing each time you loudly gag.

You wanted to place your palms onto his thighs for leverage every time your nose hit his abdominal, but you realised that you couldn’t since he tied your hands together with his black leather belt, squeezing the tears out of your eyes before you gazed up at him as you realised that you could do absolutely nothing right now.

Sebastian loudly moaned as he looked down at you through his ghostface mask, putting both hands on your face now, thumb wiping some of your tears away as he guided your head by your wet, cold cheeks,

“You look so pretty, fucking hell, angel,” Sebastian chuckled before he groaned, “don’t try to hide those noises — wanna hear how badly you choke on my cock, you understand me?” he nodded along his words.

You only squeezed your eyes shut and loudly whined before another gag was forced out of your again as he shoved his cock down your already sore throat, “P-Please, sebastian, p-please,” you helplessly whined as he stuffed your mouth with his big dick.

“Awww, poor baby can’t even form a proper sentence, huh?” Sebastian chuckled through the mask, “Why not, hmm? Is she to busy gagging on my dick like a little slut, yeah?” He asked you in a teasing tone, one palm guiding your head again while the other one collected some of the spit that was dribbling down your chin.

“We don’t want that to go to waste, now do we?” Your ex boyfriend mumbled in a hush tone before he briefly removed himself from your mouth, only giving you a few seconds to breath before he quickly smeared the handful of spit all over your mouth, cheeks and nose, quickly stuffing your mouth with his cock again after he coated you in your spit and ruined your angelic makeup.

Sebastian threw his head back again, raising his hand to brush some of your tears and spit covered strands of hair out of your face, looking down at you again, “I don’t know about you but I actually don’t think that you look like an angel anymore — and you also for sure are not acting like one, liebling,” he chuckled as if all of this is just a joke to him as you focused yourself on breathing through the nose since he didn’t stop forcing his big cock down your throat for one second.

Sebastian noticed how you desperately tried to breath through your nose, tilting his head to the side before he slowly brought his hands down to your nose, shutting entirely your air supply off by squeezing your nostrils together, making you scream on his cock,

“Yeah, scream for me little angel, scream!” 'Ghostface' laughed as tears ran down your cheeks and landed on his wrist.

Sebastian slowly removed his hand from your nose and let you breath again before he forced your back against the wall, fingers playing with the halo that’s sitting on top of your head as he balanced himself onto the cold concrete wall by his other hand, loudly groaning and moaning as he let his head fall forward.

“My god, angel,” he groaned loudly in a deep and raspy tone, mask slightly sliding forward, “knew that sooner or later I’m gonna be able to get you on your fucking knees for me again,” he shook his head and chuckled wickedly.

You only continued gagging and crying as you stared up at his mask, bounded wrists laying helplessly in your lap as you squeezed your fingers together.

“Fucking shit, don’t stop — I‘m gonna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours,” he whispered in a hush tone as he roughly placed his big hand onto the back of your head, forcing himself down your throat even more as he came with a deep groan and moan, briefly slamming his other hand against the wall with a loud thud, making you jump a bit.

Suddenly, he quickly threw the mask off of his face and pulled you up by your upper arm, forcing you by your jaw to look up at him, blue eyes now darkly staring down at you as his hand squeezed your wet cheeks together.

“Tears, spit and cum… my favourite combination,” he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs while you gasped for air and whined as he cupped your messy cheeks, “I love you,” he suddenly told you with raised brows,

“I love you so much and I’ll make sure that you will feel the same,” he slowly nodded along his words as he adjusted the halo on top of your head with a smile on his face, “I mean… c'mon y/n baby, don’t you wanna be in the sequel with me?”

[weird-is-life]

hii wondering if you could do hotch x younger!reader? where he's being insecure about the age gap and comforts him and says that she loves it and he makes her feel safe and stuff --thank you in advance!

Hii, ty for the request! I hope you like this, it's short but cute, well at least I hope it is.😅🥰warnings: angsty, fluff, pet names, age gap (reader is in her late twenties or early thirties), (0.9k)

It's your birthday next week and, if truth be told, Aaron has been kind of dreading it. Not because of anything to do with you, but because it's a huge reminder of the age gap between you two.

You've been dating for a few months now and the thought's always been at the back of his head, even if he doesn't want to admit it to himself.

And his strange behaviour gets your attention. At first you brushed if off as him being tired and stressed from work. But as he zones out around you even on his days off, you know something is up.

You are both sprawled on his couch, when you notice his mind is elsewhere. So you finally decide to ask him about what is bothering him.

"Aaron?" you call out his name.

He hums, acknowledging that he is listening, even though his eyes are on the TV.

"Can I ask you something?" this finally catches his attention, making him pause the film and look at you.

"Of course, sweetheart, what is it?"

"I just....- is something wrong, Aaron?" his face scrunches in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Is it work? Or does it have something to do with me, if yes you can tell me, because I won't mind-"

"Honey, nothing is wrong with you or work," he reassures you instantly.

"Then what is it?" you question with a slightly desperate voice.

"Nothing, everything is okay," he lies, but you see right through him. His very skilled lying from work not working, when he is with you.

"Something's been bothering you lately and we both know it," you point it out softly, even if your voice is a little bit stern. He takes one look at you and sighs, he knows, he has to tell you the truth.

"Okay, yes, you are right, sweetheart," he murmurs quietly.

"What is it?" You ask with a gentle voice, putting your hand behind his neck to play with his hair.

He doesn't know how to say it, so the words just spill out of his mouth," I don't think, it's a good idea to be together."

You look at him with so much hurt and move away from him, that he immediately wants to take his words back.

"W-what?" you puzzle, your lower lip slightly wobbling.

It takes Aaron every strenght he has not to take his words back," I mean, look at you and me, honey. You are so much younger than me, you should be dating somebody close to your age. Not somebody who already has a son. I mean, I'm not even home half of the time, what kind of boyfriend does that make me?" He is frustrated, but not because of you, never because of you, he just wants you to live the life you deserve and not waste it by being with him.

And immediately after he finishes his talk your whole face changes. You go from heartbroken to angry and you slap him on the arm (gently).

"You are being ridiculous, Hotchner," you argue. You are frowning so much at him, that in any other situation Aaron would have laughed at your expression.

"But I'm not, I'm being serious. You shouldn't be waiting almost every day for me to finally come home from work. You should be out going on dates, that you deserve, and I can't always, almost never do that-"

you put your hand over his mouth before he can continue. "Shut up, I can't believe you right now," you shake your head in disagreement,

"do you love me?"

Your question seems absurd to Aaron, because it is so obvious. "Of course, I do, sweetheart. But it doesn't change the fact-"

"But it does. You love me and I love you. I don't care, what other people say or think. And i don't care, that you aren't home as much as we would both like. But when you are, you always make it worth it, always. And I like being home with Jack, I don't even really like going out, I'd rather just be home with you guys."

"Plus, have you seen yourself? Guys around my age have nothing on you, handsome. You are too good looking to get rid of me this easily. " Your last sentence is teasing, but that doesn't mean your words are any less true.

"Really?" It's not often that Aaron feels uncertain about things as he does now. So your words are like a warm hug for him. Making him let out the breath, he didn't even realise he was holding.

"Yes, really," you scooch closer to him, caressing both of his cheeks," I love you Aaron. There is never a moment, that makes me doubt you or doubt us. What made you feel this way, huh?"

"I guess, it's always been somewhere on my mind," he confesses, as he completely melts under your hands.

"You should have said something earlier then, " you scowl at him," but I'm glad you told me now. We talk more about it later, yeah and work things out?"

"I love you," he doesn't know what else to say. He shows you his gratitude for you and your reassurance by kissing you, once, twice and more, until you loose the count of them.

There's still a little uncertainty about this for Aaron, but with you by his side, he knows, it will be okay.

[maxillness]

Happy Fucking New Years || T.W x rival driver!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap, alcohol consuming, praise kink, degrading kink, Toto is called a Needy slut🤭, handjob, oral (M reviving), over stimulation, sub!toto

Wordcount: 2k

New Years. Something she wasn’t looking forward to

She had been invited to a New Year’s party with the rest of the drivers, as well as the team principals

She liked partying and drinking, but the thought of that many people made her shiver and thought about just staying at home

Of course she wanted to spend time with her fellow drivers, but she did my want to spend time with them all at the same time

She knew it was wrong, but she had come to the conclusion she only went because he was gonna be there

The rival team’s Team principal. Toto Wolff

She had only ever told her best friend and fellow driver, Lando Norris. He was the only who knew of her attraction to the older man

She was afraid to ever tell somebody, but she had to get it off her chest, and even with doubt, Lando had promised to never tell anyone, and she trusted him

She had arrived at the party with Lando and Oscar by her sides. They all went to the other drivers, sitting at the couch area in a corner

From her spot on the couch, she could see the whole room. When she spotted him, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him

Her eyes lingered on the way his hand ran trough his hair, the way his other hand had a grip around his glass, the way there formed small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled or talked

Everything he did made her brain foggy. She stopped herself from biting her lip, choosing to bite the inside of her cheeks instead

He looked so fucking good like this. Surrounded by people, the different coloured light reflecting off of his beautiful soft skin

Lando sat down beside her, handing her a new glass with liquor “What are you looking at?” He asked, noticing she had stared into the abyss all evening

“Why does he gotta be so fucking pretty?” She asked, not answering his question

“I wouldn’t, would I? I’m not the one finding him attractive” He said, trying to ignore the fact his best friend was feeling this way about someone from her rival team

Even though they had their rivalry, she couldn’t stop her mind from picturing all kinds of inappropriate images in her hea

She would sit at a meeting, and she would imagine fucking that pretty smirk off of his face after one of the Mercedes drivers had won

She wish she could fuck him dumb. Making him forget his own name. Making him forget everything beside her and the way she would make him feel good

“Would you come back to earth, please?” Lando waves a hand in front of her face “I don’t want you to have an orgasm, not now at least” She rolled her eyes at his words, where after her eyes yet again turned to the man at the other end in the bar

“Enjoying the view?” She hadn’t realised the man she had eyes all night had come up to her

She stood by the bar, waiting for her drink. If she was any less drunk, she would have stopped her thighs from clinging together at the sound of his voice, but that wasn’t my the case

“What are you talking about?” She picked up her glass putting it to her lips, taking a short sip

“You’ve been starring at me all fucking night, Schatzi” His chest was almost pressed all the way on her back as she stared down into her glass

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re drunk” She sighed, taking yet another sip of her drink

“And you’re not?” He had leaned down to talk in a deep voice, just by her ear, making blood rush straight to her core

“I didn’t say that, but you’re more than I am” She chuckled, feeling the alcohol rushing trough her blood

“Fuck, you’re hot when you have a dominating voice, did you know that?” He said, his lips dangerously close to her neck “The things your eyes do to me” He groaned, his hot breath against her neck

She turned around in the bar stool, now facing him, making him take his head a few centimetres back “What are you doing?”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to fuck you” His lips were now only Millimeters away from hers

“Nobody’s stopping you”

The drive in the taxi was unbearable for Toto. Her fingernails dug into his inner thigh, just under where his cock was straining in his tight pants

He held his hand over his mouth, stopping any excess sounds from spilling out of him as she started making small circular motions on his inner thigh

They arrived at her apartment. She paid the driver and they walked toward the building. It was a rather tall building, and she did live in one of the top floors

As soon as she had pressed the floor button, she was pushed up against the wall of the elevator

He smashed their lips together, his hand behind her head so she wouldn’t bang it against the wall

The kiss was hot, messy, heated, and filled with saliva. Their bodies were pressed together, and she could feel his erection pressed against her stomach

The ding of the elevator didn’t startle Toto, it almost went unnoticed by him. It was only when she had pushed him off of her and pulled him by his wrist out of the elevator and towards the door

He interviewed their fingers as she pulled out her keys from the pocket of her jacket. She had barely closed the when she was yet again pressed up against the door

“I want you so bad, please” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers “Please, need you”

“God, Wolff. You act all bad shit and tough, but do you know what I think?” She forced him to look down at her “You’re just a needy slut who needs to get taken care of” She smirked as he whimpered at the nickname

Her smirk faded “Isn’t that right?” He nodded at her dominating tone “Use your words”

“Fuck, yes. I’m a needy slut who needs to get taken care of” He whimpered at the way her eyes look up yet dominating at him “Please, I need you so bad”

“I can tell” She gripped his cock trough he is pants making him moan low “God” She chuckled “Such a needy slut”

She backs him up, pushing him down to sit on the couch, his shoes gone as well “Take your shirt off” He doesn’t hesitate to obey “Good boy” She caressed his cheek before taking a pillow to the floor so she could go down on her knees

Her fingers went to his belt, unbuckling it. She zipped down his zipper, and tapped his hips, indicating him to buck for her to pull both his pants and boxers down slowly

She spit into the palm of her hand and started stroking him slowly, but it was enough for him to grab her wrists, arch his back, and throw his head back on to the couch

The grip on her wrists wasn’t tight; he didn’t want her to stop, but it was more to steady home self, and to have a place to have his hands

“F-fuck, please” He bucked his hips, fucking her hand, wanting her to go faster, but it only resulted in her stoping, not taking her hand away, but stoped her motions

“No, please, I’m sorry. Please, i need it. I’m sorry” He whined and whimpered as he look down at her

“God, you sound so good when you whimper” Her words made him whimper and she stared stroking him slowly again

“Please, I need your mouth around me. Please-“ His last plead turned into a loud moan when she sped up “Fuck. Making me feel so good” He threw his head yet again back onto the couch, eyes rolling into the back of his head as his back arched off the couch

She felt him twitch in her hand “Are you gonna come, Toto? Are the needy little slut gonna come?” He didn’t want it to be true, but yes, he was already gonna come, and her words did just that

His load landed on his abdomen and the part that ran down his shaft, landed on her hand

He started whimpering and whining when she did halter or stop her actions. She was sending him into over stimulation

“Think you got a few more in for me?” She asked teasingly, kissing the inside of both his trembling thighs

He made a sound, but she didn’t pick it up “What was that, baby?” She asked soothingly

“I don’t know if I- fuck. If I can give you more” He said, trying to look down at her, but his body was trembling, making it hard for him

“Well, you have to have more in for me I won’t stop until I get at least two more” She knew she was stretching it far, but she want to see how long he could last without falling completely apart

“I can t-try” He stuttered as she lightly licked up his shaft, taking all the droplets of cum with her tongue as she did so

He turned back to loud moans as her tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, collecting the rest of his cum

“Fuck, please. I want you around me, please, I’m begging you” His hand came to tangle in her hair, but he didn’t dare to push her down

“Be patient, Toto, or you might not get it at all” He didn’t want to risk it, but he really needed her around him

“Please…” He whimpered softly, his thighs shaking, trapping her body between them

“God, you’re so pretty like this” She said “Fucked out, post-orgasm, hair sticking to your forehead, all sweaty. So fucking pretty” Her words sent him yet again over the edge, yet again shooting his load on his stomach but less this time

“Such a good boy for me. I just want the last” She said, licking the cum off of her hand “Think you can do that for me?” She looked up at him

He only nodded, unable to form any words. Her lips wrapped around his tip. A second went by before she hollowed her cheeks, his cock hitting the back of her throat, making her gag, sending vibrations all trough his body

“F-fuck. You feel so good around me” He cursed something in German as she started bobbing her head, holding onto his waist, making sure to leave marks for him to see tomorrow

She hummed around him, sending even stronger vibrations through him, making him moan loud again, his body convulsing, yet not near his third orgasm

He was still sensitive, but he took it well, better than she thought he would “Fuck, you’re taking me so good” She said, pulling off of him, beginning to stroke him again

“Come on. Come for me again, baby” Her words and a few bites to the inside of his thighs made him come for the third time

He was exhausted as she stood up. Her knees felt sore, but it would have been worse without the pillow

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up” She pulled him off of the couch, holding him steady, helping him walk to the bathroom

He got into the tub as she opened for the water “Is the temperature okay?” She asked softly. He only nodded at her question

“Are you okay, Toto? I’m sorry” She kissed the side of his forehead “I really am”

“I’m fine” He looked up at her with the prettiest brown doe eyes she had ever seen

[bystarlightlore]

i've turned this scene over in my head so many times. it didn't settle right away. which is fitting because it takes them a moment to settle into each other here. & their moment is why it took me a moment. it wraps around itself like a dance. & the boys are dancing.

it’s perfect.

anyway.

before we get into the thick of it, i want to mention henry watching the artwork & alex watching henry because it's everything. he's so in love. he's a goner.

when i first watched this, i was so confused about its initial stiffness. i thought -- why is henry so rigid & apprehensive in the beginning when alex is fulfilling the dream he just described? a dream that he always thought would remain a dream?

shouldn't he be overjoyed? ready & willing to be swooped into a slow dance amongst masterpieces? isn't this what he's always wanted? & if so, why are his arms ramrod straight? why is he suddenly uncomfortable embracing alex?

but, in a rewatch (1 of like 40, i'm not kidding), i started to see the shift of his face & his hands. at first, his fingers are tightly wound, barely grazing the back of alex's neck & shoulders. & on his face, you can see it. that delicate, echoey expression of utter disbelief. & this is where i understood.

our precious boy has never been afforded happiness like this. it's so hard for him to slip into it.

& here comes sweet alex, sure & steady. this man's willingness to become any & everything henry needs is beautiful. -- you dreamt of dancing amidst all these statues with someone you love? here i am. we're in love. dance with me.

alex's sobering gaze, eyes fixed on henry with that truly lethal smile. he's solid as henry relaxes. he always has a different method to working henry loose & on this night, he knows he needs to be still & unshakeable -- to let henry slowly come to terms with the fact that this is real. that somebody loves him back & loves him enough to stay, to wait, to fight. that alex isn't going anywhere. that love -- real, true love, isn't as out of reach as he always believed it'd be.

sweet alex & those gorgeous dark eyes -- catching every detail.

he's so patient with henry. before henry even asks. alex loves him & he knows him well enough to meet that need before it's even presented as a need.

& as they dance; as henry settles & lets alex's gravity hold him to the earth, he rests his head in the crook of alex's neck. he places a hand on his shoulder, slowly slipping it into his hair. they get closer & closer until they're tangled up in each other.

alex & his giddy grins, henry with his soft smiles. alex running his hands along henry's back & arms, covering his hands, tracing the length of him over & over again. solid, assuring, & comforting.

they're so in love & im actually crying while i write this.

it's madness.

"because when they write the history of my life...i want it to include you, & my love for you."

the subtle shift in meaning & cadence here is beautiful. henry goes from a grand declaration to a quiet musing. from shouting his intentions into the centuries before him, to whispering his heart to the boy it belongs to. -- "i want it to include you, & my love for you." -- the slight incline of his chin as he speaks -- his little tell when he's ready to stick up for himself.

i think being around henry is teaching alex how to hold intimacy because he does it so well here. his gaze is fixed & wide, taking in henry's every word.

but he's still our alex, so he has to make a joke.

"history, huh? bet we could make some."

when they go back to dancing, alex twines his fingers with henry's & puts henry's fingers back in his hair. my heart.

them waking up together is my favorite genre. alex's hand wrapped around henry's wrist, his other arm stretched across the space between them. henry, our resident "world-class insomniac," waking up slowly & well-rested in his boyfriend's arms. the faintest smile & shutting his eyes once more.

sleep well, my sweet prince. you're right where you belong.

[luffyvace]

Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons

These are sfw and gender neutral

for Sanji’s big day! (I’m super late ik hush :3)

pt2 here my sillies :3 : Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons pt2

Dating Sanji includes royal treatment. We all know this. It’s so obvious. 😭 It’s in the manga, it’s canon, we all write it in our headcanons. We know this.

Royal treatment meaning sit back and relax dear, Sanji’s got this. Sea beast? He beat it up and is now cooking a delicious and nutritious sea beast stew for you, would you like that with a smoothie? Lemonade? Water? Ok water. Sparkling? Distilled? Iced?

oh your lost? Don’t worry he’s got bread and he’ll leave breadcrumbs where you’ve walked so you don’t go in circles :)

your clothes are wet? Take his. 💋

there’s mud up ahead and you just bought a snazzy new fit? He’ll carry you 🏋️‍♂️

somebody bothering you loveliest? He’s already kicked them to Australia (extra hard if it was Zoro)

Dating Sanji includes good communication.

If you feel anything but a positive emotion Sanji is on the case. And the first victim he’s pointing fingers at is Zoro 😼

”MOSS HEAD BASTARD!! YOU MADE THEM UPSET DIDNT YOU?!”

it’s not a person darling? Well what happened? What can he do to help? Did you loose something? He’ll turn into a mad man causing chaos around town looking for it! Did it drop into the ocean? He swims as deep as he needs to in order to find it.

Honestly he even babies you about little stuff :P you stubbed your toe? Want him to massage it for you? That’s it! He’s breaking out the foot spa! Take off your socks and shoes!

he did something that really upset you?! Tell him what it is right away! He’ll make sure he never steps outta line ever again! He *kiss* never *kiss* meant *kiss* to *kiss* upset *kiss* you *kiss*~

Never feel hesitation to tell him if something’s wrong with you physically “Chopper! Come check them out right now!! They say somethings’ wrong!”

Nor mentally! You’ve been going through some tough times these last few months?! Sit down and tell him everything!! Let’s get to the root of this! Together! Is it someone else?? Did it happen from something??

Even if you aren’t feeling negative emotions right now always feel free to rant to him about what’s making you happy! he’d love to hear it truly! He loves your voice even more~ 🥰 *nose bleed*

Dating Sanji includes 5 star meals.

another thing we all know. And in every headcanon- but seriously what’s all your favorite meals, snacks and desserts? Even if Luffy himself says to make one thing he might make another just because he knows you like it. That guy eats anything anyway so he might as well just make what you like! 🧑‍🍳

Dating Sanji includes overly cheesy confessions despite the fact that your already and only dating.

”My dearest..I would love if you would go out with me and make this evening the loveliest of my days! I’d wholeheartedly accept and put my all into cooking for our first date….My love and affection with herb and spice…the flavor of our intense compatibility will melt on your tongue every bite you take! Guaranteed!”

”Sanji….we’ve been dating for xyz months/years now..”

”ahhh~ Even to the blossoms of this beautiful spring day know we’re simply destined to be..! Getting married tomorrow..it’s been my dream since we’ve first met! I can see it already, smell it even..! The enchanting scene of you walking down the isle, putting your hands in mine…kiss! The happiest day of my life has officially been sealed! Everyone’s clapping! Cheering! Whoop woo’s arise in the air of our love!~ The 6 layer cake I spent every ounce of my time baking since I met you, on the side of us—predicting our perfect wedding kiss! An exact model of the scene~ It brings a tear to my eye! I hope I don’t keep you up tonight, my darling love! Because I certainly won’t be able to sleep when I’m much too busy imagining the scene over and over again until our big day tomorrow, the same one I’ve been replaying in my head since I first laid eyes on you~ 😚”

”what on EARTH Sanji. We’re only dating! Wha- What do I even say to this?!”

”you could say yes! My lovely future spouse!~ 😍😍”

”To what! You haven’t even properly proposed to me yet?! Let alone made it official⁉️“

”ohh my honey! I didn’t know you wanted to get married- the wind! The sea! The birds even know our fate! We-“

”ALRIGHT!”

”SHUT IT SEAWEED HEAD!! DON’T INTERUPT ME WHILE IM CONFESSING MY LOVE to the most wonderful soul to have ever lived~”

⚔️🗡🔥💥💥💥⚔️🗡🔥💥⚔️🗡💥💥🔥

(Sanji and zoro fighting :3)

Dating Sanji includes sure fire protection.

no one will ever lay a hand on you. For a man? Self explanatory. Blast that motha sucka to space.💥 For a woman?? Welll…he’ll take all the hits for you okay?! So run away and go get Nami or Robin!! Hurry darling!

Dating Sanji includes trust.

more than anything he trusts you with his deepest darkest secrets. There’s no front when it’s just you two around, purely him. Not telling you his lineage was because he wanted to put that behind him..it wasn’t supposed to come back up. And man is he the most sorry sucker on earth when he betrays the strawhats. Because that means he’s betraying you. Pleasepleasepleasetakehimbackplease.

Uh guys I ran out of characters I’m gonna do a part two I guess 😭… I didn’t want to thooo

[j4keluver]

is it okay for me to say i love you?

↷boyfriend! jake x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

⇢˚⋆ ✎ pure fluff for my readers who love some soft moments <3 i’ve been gone for so long since college has kicked my ASS😭 but i’m slowly coming back

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

jake sim never overthought his charm or his flirty ways with girls. he was a natural with women while his best friend, on the other hand, park sunghoon, couldn’t even make eye contact with a girl. sunghoon was busy blasting music in his airpods that were higher than the recommended volume and jake was busy chatting it up with his girl who’s a “friend” ("you don’t just casually make out with someone you call a friend” hoon) that was before he started dating you.

jake had taken a notice in you way before you even glanced his way. park sunghoon had dragged him to the baskeball game since their friend, heeseung, was playing. jake wasn’t a big fan of overcrowded place, more or so, a place that was filled with sweaty teens, painted in bright colors.

but there you were. 

you were part of the cheerleading team. jake mostly avoided the cheerleading team like the plague since they mostly kept to their “own people” and the jocks and only cared about shaking their pompoms obnoxiously in the air but you were different in his eyes.

your radient smile and positive aura caught his eye from the get go. he knew he was attracted to you but he gave up any chance to talk to you, seeing you give the basketball team side hugs and disappearing in the midst to their celebratory dinner.

the next time he saw you, you were putting up new posters for the bulletin board, a job that was the responsibility of the student council club. “a cheerleader and on student council?” he was standing at his locker, admiring you. as you placed a tact on the poster, the rest of the papers had managed to slip out of your grasp. you curse to yourself, trying to hurrily grab them.

without a second thought, jake jumped in to save the day, thinking this would be the only chance to talk to you. but that in fact, was not the last time you guys had talked.

you guys have now been dating for 4 months and park sunghoon is sick and tired of the both of you. correction; jake.

he was happy that jake had found somebody while he struggles to muster up the courage to look in his crushes eyes for more than three seconds (“you know she’s not medusa right? she wont turn you to stone if you look to her too long? “ jake), but he couldn’t take jake’s relationship “problems.” hoon was not fit to be a relationship therapist when he needed to seek an actual therapist.

“do you think it’s too early to say i love you?” jake ask and hoon groans, over exaggerating his actions and bumping his head against the locker.

“jake, you’ve been dating for four months. if you feel like it’s the right time to say i love you, say it. if not, don’t say it. logic,” hoon answers.

“hoon you’re my best friend for a reason. you’re supposed to give me advice cause you know i can’t decide for myself.” jake whines. hoon just shakes his head and walks to his next class, leaving a frustrated jake trailing behind him.

the next date you have, you are cuddling at jake’s dorm , watching a rom com on the TV. your head is on his chest while his arm is around your waist.

“hey y/n” you hum a response of “hmm” but before jake could continue what he was going to say, your phone buzzes.

glancing over the message, your eyes widen before you jump out of you seat and quickly hurrying to the door. flustered, jake follows behind you, questioning your sudden movements before you messily explain your best friends break up story. “i will be back, i just have to pick her up from that jerks house”

you quickly slip your shoes on. you cup jake’s face and give him a chaste kiss before muttering an “i love you” and running out the door.

did he hear you right? did you just say i love you to him? jake is dumbstruck in place with a lovestruck smile on his face. looks like he had nothing to worry about. (“fucking finally. this is why i like y/n more than you, she’s USES LOGIC” hoon)