#he has been NOTHING but cuddles this week

[shootingstar-scuderia]

shoot an arrow through my heart

max verstappen x reader

there's something you need to hear max say, but you're not sure if he's actually going to say it. you do know one thing though, it was always gonna be you and max.

a/n: started this longer ago than i'd like to admit but here we are! a big thank you to my fave beta reader K and to @scuderiahoney who helped me figure out all the banner image stuff. based on prompt #966 from this list.

masterlist

It starts with Lando. Because doesn’t it always? 

Lando says shit he doesn’t mean, Lando says things just for the sake of saying them. Lando says things as if they are fundamentally truths when they are in fact are lies.

And so, one moment you’re hanging out with Lando, letting him talk you down from buying the little trinket of the week you’ve fixated on, and the next he’s saying that Max is in love with you, saying it like it’s a truth, and then moving on as if he hasn’t just tilted your world on its axis.

And then, before you know it, you’re banging on Max’s front door trying to figure out if it’s true or not. 

Trying to figure out if your best friend is in love with you.

“Max! Open the door.”

He doesn’t.

You honestly don’t know if you want him to, or what you’re going to do when he does. Or if he even will, Max doesn’t know you’re here and you don’t even know if he’s home.

You’re just about ready to search for the spare key, the one you told him to hide in the firehose down the hallway because having a fake rock in front of his door makes no sense when he lives in an apartment building, when the door is flung open and a very grumpy looking Max, headset in hand, is giving you just about the most fed-up, unimpressed, stare you’ve seen in your life.

“Are you in love with me?” You can’t help it, the words foreign on your tongue but there’s an urgency to get them out and into the space in between you. You’re so desperate to hear him say it back.

Max blinks at you, bewildered at your words. You can see the gears turning in his head trying to work out what you just said and if you’re being honest you don’t know if you should be offended at the fact that the answer isn’t an immediate yes.

His brow furrows and his lips purse, “what?”

A beat passes, and then another, and then the idiot actually has the audacity to close the door.

You roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it you know that he knows that you’re doing it. As you push the exasperation out of your lungs you knock again.

“Max, nuh-uh, that is not going to work, open the door and answer my question.”

Nothing.

You bang your fist on the door one more time for good measure, “Max, you know I know where your spare key is and we both know that I’ll let myself in if necessary.”

It’s true and he knows it. 

There have been many nights where you’ve verged on the edge of too far gone and walked from the club to his apartment. Nights where you didn’t want the fun to end so instead of going home you go to Max’s where you can cuddle and coo at Jimmy and Sassy and sit around in comfy clothes and watch as Max putters around doing whatever it was he was doing before you came over.

It’s true. He knows it. But still, he doesn’t open the door.

You sigh and softly thump your forehead against Max’s front door, through the absence of your knocking you can hear his nervous shuffling on the other side. The inquisitive meows from the cats, the faint scrape of the peephole cover as Max checks to see if you’re still there, if you’re still waiting for him. 

You would wait for him for forever, but that’s just for you to know really.

Max opens the door again, just the barest amount. Just enough so his eyes, wide and disbelieving can lock onto yours. 

They’re so blue, you don’t know how you never noticed it before, so classically storybook blue that you’re really starting to wonder if this is all some kind of weird dream where you’re standing at his doorstep begging to be loved by him, like some kind of cheesy romcom star. Because after all, aren’t you just a girl standing in front of a guy?

“You’re in love with me.”

The words stretch the impossible distance between the two of you. Even when he’s halfway around the globe he’s never felt this far away.

And still, somehow, you feel too close to him. Like somehow all the other versions of you and him have been false proxies to what you’re reaching for right now. Like all of a sudden, somehow, he’s been molded into your every contour of your soul and you don’t want anything else

The door edges open a little wider.

“Are you asking me that or are you telling me?”

He’s stalling, you both know it. But, you can’t really bring yourself to do more than give him a fondly smile and roll your eyes at him. Because you know, if the roles were reversed, if he was the one throwing pebbles like some kind of suave Dutch romeo, demanding to know if you were in love with him, you would be doing the same thing.

“You and I both know how much you like being told what to do.” With a sigh Max opens the door to his apartment a little wider once more to let you in, “and yet, you’re still here telling me to open my door.”

You can’t really fault him for that one can you?

You make your way to the living room where you settle down on your spot on the couch while Max flits around the living room. Sassy is meowing at Max, desperate for a taste of the outside she only ever gets when the front door opens, and even though he knows she’s not going to make a run for it he still takes the time to half-heartedly shoo her away.

Max does this, dragging his feet, until both of the cats have curled up next to you on the couch and it is only then that he makes his way over to you. Coming to stand behind the armrest on his side of the couch, putting a little too much distance between the two of you for you to not feel spurned by him.

You can hear it in silence between you, you can feel it in the way your body seems to ache from having him in the ways you have him now and not in the ways you want to have him.

You’re not ready to have this conversation.

There’s a part of you that almost wants to say nevermind and forget that you even said anything in the first place. But deep down you know that the two of you have been putting on this elaborate dog and pony show for far too long. You’re only delaying the inevitable.

“So,” you say, nervously running your fingers over the fabric of the couch. “Is it true?”

You try to catch his eye as you say it, not only to try to make sure he doesn't chicken out but to see the reaction he gives. You want to see his soul and know that he means whatever he says.

But Max doges your gaze at every move in a way that makes him look like a kicked puppy. And you’re not really sure what it means but you can feel the way the dynamic has shifted. All of a sudden the two of you are on shaky ground, not sure where you stand with each other. Even though two hours earlier you would have called him your best friend with your entire heart.

“Well?”

“Please,” he says your name, strained and with a weight to it that you don’t quite want to acknowledge, “don’t make me say it.”

You’re not above begging, you really aren’t, but something about the way he sounds makes you falter. Just a little.

“Max,” you say his name softly, “I think you and I both know what your answer is going to be.”

“Then why do you need to hear it so bad?” His words bite, tinged with an anger that you know he doesn't really mean. “So, I can say it back!” Your words match the sharpness in his and you can see how much they throw Max off kilter.

He blinks at you and then rocks on his feet, first a step forward and then a step back like he’s blown away by the force of what you said. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

You cross your arms and shrug your shoulders, “it was a personal issue.”

“You being in love with me kind of also involves me.” 

You really don’t want to admit that he’s right on with that one.

You huff and shrug your shoulders again, “well it goes both ways, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I asked first,” Max shoots back.

You groan at his response and launch yourself up towards Max in a play attempt to strangle him. “Argh, you’re so!” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you slump against him, head resting in the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, “God I hate you.”

Max laughs underneath you, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist, “you evidently don’t.”

“You're so silly,” you sigh, tilting your head up to look at him. "You want to hear me say it so bad."

Your nose nearly brushes against his, he’s so close you think you could count every single one of his eyelashes if you tried.

Max makes a noise that’s somewhere between exasperated and surprised and you know that you’re toeing the line with your teasing

You always know when to give in when it comes to him.

“Okay, yes, I love you! I love you,” you say, “do you love me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Max says as he moves to cradles your jaw in his hands. “I love you.”

You grin, “good. Now kiss me please.”

And he does. He does and it feels like all the cliche things people say. It feels like coming home, it feels like fireworks are going off in the background, it feels like you were meant to be, that he was made for you just as much as you were made for him.

And you just know. You know that there can never be anyone else but him. That there was a version of you before Max and now there’s going to be a version of you that’s with Max, but there’s never going to be a you after Max.

“I love you.” Softer, quieter this time.

You don’t dare look him in the eye, instead choosing to press your cheek against his and stare out the window of his apartment. Your gaze settles somewhere in the distance as you try to memorize the feel of his body pressed up against yours.

You curl your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging absentmindedly as you say, “I’m glad that worked out, I didn’t even know you were home.”

He pulls away from you to fix you with a look that is so quintessentially Max, “you have my location on your phone, you’re always stalking me,” he says, punctuating his words with little jabs to your shoulder.

It’s true, and you honestly don’t know why you didn’t try to check his location in the first place, your logic getting lost somewhere in the panic of knowing that he loved you. 

“Mhmm.” You shrug noncommittally, trying very hard to ignore the rushing feeling of warmth in your chest that comes with the realization that Max was so ingrained in your life and you in his from the start. 

You try not to think about the fact your toothbrush sits next to his in his bathroom, about the fact that your hand automatically gravitates to his favorite spoon in your cutlery drawer, the one you can identify solely based on the weight of it in your hand. You try very hard to think about how you couldn’t separate the love from the friendship.

It was always gonna be you and Max. 

There’s a silence between you for a moment. You try to match your breath to his and let the sounds of outside filter through your ears. And for a moment you can hear how the rest of the world keeps turning, even when your world has stopped spinning on its axis.

“So, what now?” Max asks, turning his head to press kisses to your hairline, his hand squeezing your waist. You can feel his nose brush against your temple as he makes his way down, lips featherlight on your skin. The intimacy of it makes your blood sing with electricity. 

You pull “Mhmm, you could take me to bed?”

It’s half serious, half a joke. You’ve waited so long to have Max like this that now that you finally do you want him in all ways possible. But still, there’s some young and girlish part of you that wants it to be special.

Max pretends to think about it for a little bit and it’s so impossibly silly that you have to resist the urge to strangle him again for it, “it’s three in the afternoon, I think it’s a little early for sleep.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, stop being a smartass.”

Max smiles, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “Well,” he says, “how about I send you home so you can get all nice and pretty for me and then I’ll come pick you up and take you to a nice dinner, hmm?”

You flush, not just from the way he pours honey, slow and sweet, into your ear, but from the way it feels like this was always meant to be. Like you were always meant to have this, always meant to have him. 

“And then,” he says, dropping your hand to pull you in by your belt loops so your hips are press flush against his, “after dinner, that’s when I’ll take you to bed.”

[qveerthe0ry]

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect. 

He’s your dream man. 

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place. 

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees. 

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally. 

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit. 

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own. 

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it. 

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too. 

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight. 

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things. 

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him. 

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing. 

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow. 

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore. 

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training. 

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager. 

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated. 

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed. 

“What do you want?” 

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in. 

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.” 

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine. 

“You’re lying.” 

You sigh and close your eyes. 

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.” 

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty. 

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers. 

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.” 

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment. 

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?” 

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction. 

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?” 

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little. 

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs. 

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation. 

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not. 

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him. 

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?” 

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead. 

“Everyone?” 

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you. 

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up. 

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at. 

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you? 

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.” 

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze. 

“Really?”

You scoff. 

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth. 

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine. 

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment. 

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back. 

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone. 

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted. 

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again. 

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs. 

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.” 

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth. 

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you. 

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction. 

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long. 

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs. 

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt. 

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking. 

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved. 

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” 

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest. 

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?” 

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter. 

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod. 

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience. 

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt. 

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?” 

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss. 

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head. 

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you. 

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before. 

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers. 

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch. 

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck. 

“It’s just you.” 

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief. 

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans. 

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess. 

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips. 

“That’s all for me?” 

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again. 

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip. 

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you. 

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes. 

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs. 

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face. 

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control. 

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him. 

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest. 

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels. 

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.” 

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest. 

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure. 

Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else. 

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers. 

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face. 

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side. 

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles. 

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself. 

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together. 

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing. 

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids. 

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours. 

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder. 

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?” 

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs. 

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction. 

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants. 

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.” 

You huff. 

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it. 

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours. 

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe. 

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs. 

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out. 

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation. 

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again. 

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you. 

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold. 

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs. 

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever. 

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.” 

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust. 

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there. 

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake. 

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.” 

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping. 

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue. 

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him. 

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach. 

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers. 

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that. 

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is. 

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him. 

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat. 

“So… How’d it compare?” 

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question. 

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them. 

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?” 

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up. 

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are. 

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs. 

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs. 

“Better,” you whisper. 

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back. 

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver. 

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips. 

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants. 

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension. 

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. 

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little. 

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard. 

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up. 

“Will you let me suck it?” 

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods. 

“Please.” 

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction. 

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough. 

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go. 

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you. 

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel. 

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock. 

His little cock. 

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess. 

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing. 

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this. 

You’ll make him look, one way or another. 

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention. 

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head. 

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth. 

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him. 

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show. 

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to. 

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more. 

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool. 

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere. 

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock. 

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself. 

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds. 

He says your name. 

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls. 

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked. 

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face. 

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.” 

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?” 

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question. 

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe. 

“Yeah? You still want it?” 

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. 

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away. 

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?” 

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of  amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later. 

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body. 

He’s so hot. 

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed. 

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling. 

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time. 

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense. 

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you. 

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him. 

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles. 

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm. 

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out. 

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh. 

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up. 

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist. 

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you. 

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them. 

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?” 

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit. 

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight. 

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy. 

There’s screaming. 

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts. 

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene. 

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks. 

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps. 

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again. 

“Huh?” 

God, how are you ever going to move again? 

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words? 

“What are you talking about?” 

He clears his throat. 

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly. 

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright. 

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out. 

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?” 

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver. 

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees. 

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you. 

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body. 

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high. 

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle. 

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach. 

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do. 

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest. 

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth. 

“When can we go again?”

[waldau]

I cant insert a photo here on your ask but it goes something like

"Do whatever you want!!!" X said out of anger then character Y kissed him gently. "You said do whatever i want, right?"

whatever — choi seungcheol | 1,821 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this prompt was really cute!!!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out? and in need of a hug?

you love the sounds that make the house you share with seungcheol your home.

you love hearing the door creak when you open it at that specific angle. you love the sound of the clock ticking in the living room that seungcheol himself picked out. you love the sound of him walking on the wooden floor of your house, the sound of his glass when it clinks against the marble of the kitchen island, the birds chirping in the evening when you take out time to just relax against him and watch the sun set, and the sound of his quiet snores when he insists he wants to watch you watch your favourite shows, only to end up falling asleep.

there’s none of that here, in this moment.

you take off your shoes and kick them to the side, not bothering to open the cabinet to put them inside because the doors make a particularly loud sound when they snap shut, and you don’t want to risk waking seungcheol up again.

it’s been an odd couple of weeks, with you staying out late because of more work and seungcheol staying in because his workload has been relatively less for the beginning of the new year. him being at home would’ve made you happy if you didn’t have to apologize for cancelling and rescheduling dates, or for being left with energy enough only for a bath and a quick dinner, movie plus cuddling sessions replaced by cuddling in your sleep. if you were lucky to get back home in time, that is.

you stop and listen for a few moments. there’s no sound to be heard. the door to your bedroom is shut, which means that seungcheol must have already gone to sleep.

a little pang of hurt stabs your heart. it’s not like you want him to keep late hours for you, but you’re not exactly doing well in these trying times, and you’d really love to have his voice wash out your worries.

a resounding bang from the kitchen startles you. before you can even think of the worst possible scenario that could’ve just transpired, seungcheol walks out of the kitchen, a rolling pin in one hand and some flour on his hair and his rolled up sleeves. the literal definition of a hot mess.

“hey, baby,” he says, eyes widening when he sees you. “i was expecting you to be back in an hour or two.”

so it’s that bad, huh? it’s become normal for him to expect you to come back even later? you focus on the stains on his clothes instead, and the rolling pin that seems so out of place in his hand. “what exactly are you doing?”

“nothing! well, nothing much. yet. maybe you should stay out of here for a while.”

one thing about seungcheol is that he never keeps secrets. he can’t tell you a white lie to save his life, much less a black lie. “cheol,” you say, frowning, “both of us know you don’t even cook. are you baking? and why’s there flour in your hair?”

“sieving accident,” he mumbles, so quiet that you almost don’t catch it.

“should i be afraid?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. you feel like your tears are a short distance away, and you really, really hope he’s done nothing more. something tells you that isn’t it, however.

“not really!” says seungcheol, but you can read him like glass at this point. the little nervous laugh and the way his nose twitches when he tries spinning facts makes you dread what you’re going to find inside. “maybe you should have a nice bath before you sleep? did you have dinner yet?”

you try to move past him into the kitchen but he blocks the entrance with his broad frame. the one time this isn’t sexy.

“cheol, let me in.”

“not until you tell me the password.”

“there’s a password now? what, something like choi seungcheol is the best?”

he giggles. “close.”

you sigh. “cheol, i’m really not in the mood to play games right now. please tell me what’s going on in there?”

he tries pulling that face, the one with the puppy eyes, where he looks at you so pleadingly that you’re generally ready to fold and do whatever he asks of you, but right now it just doesn’t work on you. the more evasive he is, the more worried you get. before he can react, you duck under his outstretched arms and into the kitchen.

rather, into the mess he’s made of the kitchen.

you’ve heard stories about junhui trying to bake. they sounded absolutely hilarious, and you’ve always wondered how he could mess up so bad that he managed to land waffle batter on the ceiling. especially when he didn’t even own a ladder to try and clean it.

it’s not funny when it’s your house that has some batter on the walls. at least it’s not the ceiling, you think, a bit hysterical, until you see flour on the…everywhere. it’s just everywhere. the counter, near the sink, in front of the oven like it’s a modern day trail of breadcrumbs that hansel and gretel would’ve followed. there’s also baking supplies scattered all over, an extremely huge sheet of baking paper lining a tray that’s sitting next to a bunch of bowls.

it’s a mess, to say the least.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol says, gently turning you away from the sight of it. he winces when he sees your face. you don’t even know what your face looks like. all you know is that you’re tired, that you need a break, and that the last thing you would have liked to see today was your boyfriend’s face while he was peacefully asleep, and not…this.

you shake your head but no words come out.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol repeats, setting the rolling pin down on the counter. a comical little cloud of flour rises and settles. what kind of accident even was that? “i was just…trying to bake.”

“cheol, you didn’t even know why we use baking soda till last week!”

“hey!” he says, defensive. “i asked you so i could learn. and i know this isn’t great, but—” his words dry up when he notices where your gaze lies — on the batch of cookies that are burned beyond belief.

you can’t believe your eyes, either. you’re not the biggest baker in the world, but you’ve never burned anything you’ve baked. especially not in your first attempt. maybe you’d have given up the courage to bake again if that had happened, but seungcheol clearly isn’t that bothered by it.

you don’t know if it’s because of how pitiful they look, or how long your day has been, but you feel a lump rise in your throat.

“you never even do this,” you whisper, only focusing on his face and not the mess around you. “why did you think you had to do this today?”

“am i not allowed to try things if i want to?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“it’s not that, cheol,” you say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “i’d ask you for some help before trying something i’ve never done before. you never, ever do this. only when i ask you to help me. why today?”

“because i wanted to,” he says, almost flippant. “i’ll clean it up before you know it.”

but it’s not about the mess. it’s not about the burnt cookies. it’s not about the way he tried to block you from seeing the state of the kitchen. it’s the finality in his tone. it’s the fact that it’s not a big deal to him because he hasn’t had the day you’ve had.

seungcheol’s eyes widen when he sees your lips tremble. “are you seriously mad at me? for baking?”

“do whatever you want,” you hiss, tired and angry, feeling a single tear slide down your cheek. “i shouldn’t have looked inside.” you turn to walk away before it becomes a full fledged cascade of tears, but you don’t go far because of the hand holding on to your wrist.

“stop,” he says, holding you strong enough that it becomes futile to try and escape.

“let me go, seungcheol,” you say, avoiding his face.

“oh, no,” he breathes out, and the next thing you know is that your face is cradled in his hands and there’s a warm kiss pressed to your forehead. and your nose. and your lips. and it keeps repeating till you push him away, your face in his hands. you can feel the ugly emotions inside you ebbing away slowly, reducing to small embers that prickle the slightest bit.

“what are you doing?” you ask weakly.

“you said do whatever i want, right?” he asks, a smile on his face.

that gets you to break, for some reason. you would’ve forgiven him even if he’d gotten batter on the ceiling, because this — the sight of seungcheol with flour in his otherwise perfect hair, wearing an old shirt and beaming at you even though you’ve snapped at him — kills even those small embers.

you press your face to his chest and let the tears out silently.

seungcheol rubs your back. “hey,” he says softly. “let it out, okay? and i’m sorry about the mess. i meant it when i said i’ll clean—”

“it’s not that,” you whisper. “just…hold me?”

seungcheol complies, and you find yourself swaying in his hold in the silence of your house.

“want to talk to me about it?” he offers when you pull away, feeling slightly better. “i’m—”

“stop apologizing to me, cheol,” you say, laughing a little wetly. “it’s not the kitchen. i’ve just…i’ve been missing you like crazy and i miss just being with you without doing anything. i hate coming home late and seeing you asleep by yourself in our bed. i want…i want things to go back to the way they were.”

“so, a bad week?”

“more than one.”

“but you have me here at the end of every single day, right?” seungcheol says, pushing up the corners of your lips to make you smile. you do smile, but it’s because of the cute grin he has on his face. “we’ll get through it before you know it.”

you sigh. “it sounds good when you say it like that.”

“because i mean it. also, one more thing.”

“yeah?”

“please don’t ever call me by my whole name again.”

“only if you mess up the kitchen that bad again.”

“hey!”

“also, why were you baking in the first place?”

“because i wanted to cheer you up,” he says, sheepish, and you want to do nothing more than hold his face and kiss him silly.

“you’re an idiot, baby,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “but you’re my idiot. and i love you.”

seungcheol’s blushing face is quite possibly enough to get you through tomorrow.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[shares-a-vest]

Just a Shirt (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.9k | Rated: T | cw: Mild descriptions of Steve's s4 injuries (mostly the scar on his neck), Hospital mention, Brief mention of nightmares

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Post s4 Fix-it (Everyone Lives), Hellfire, Fluff and Angst (Happy Ending), Love Confessions, Injury, Cuddling

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him. Based off this ficlet/headcanon. But the BIGGEST thank you goes to @tangerinesteve (formally babydollbaron) for their incredible tags below. They gave me the biggest and softest brainworms. I hope I did your wonderful ideas justice!

“Here-p,” Eddie mumbles, pushing a too-neatly folded shirt into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, thanks,” his boyfriend hums, quirking a brow in confusion.

Eddie shrugs the whole thing off for good measure because it’s just a shirt – that’s all it is.

... But not really.

Like, at all.

He looks away, avoiding Steve’s gaze. While their relationship isn’t too new for gifts, it might be too fresh for a t-shirt that screams, ‘You are part of me and I can see that you are in pain and I think I can fix it. Nay, I need to make you comfortable’.

Yeah… it’s perhaps a little too premature for something that says all that.

So Eddie looks at the floor, his beige sock blending into the similarly-coloured carpet that lines Steve’s bedroom. His foot really only looks like an actual foot and not a patch of carpet thanks to the hole in his sock that is currently exposing his pinky toe.

It’s just a shirt, he desperately reminds himself as he catches Steve unfurling it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s just a shirt.

A customised Hellfire shirt he made especially for Steve.

One that is two sizes too big, made of the softest cotton and led to an emptying of his wallet to obtain. A Hellfire shirt that has short sleeves and a loose, scooped neck Eddie fashioned himself after borrowing a sewing book from the library. A neckline he sewed on Mrs Pemberton’s machine after crossing the trailer park and answering a slew of questions from an all too inquisitive Max Mayfield.

It’s a Hellfire shirt in its logo only – despite what his friends might think. Or the fuss all his pea-brained lost little sheepie buddies kicked up along the way.

They have been a total nightmare these past few weeks, scheming and plotting and sabotaging like a little hoard of gremlins. But Eddie supposes he can really only blame himself.

He should have never said anything, never asked Gareth for the original master copy of the Hellfire logo he knows his best friend keeps filed away in secret on the rare occasions they let in new members. Or to get new t-shirts printed in instances of spilled beverage-based stain emergencies. But then Gareth of course squealed to Jeff, who teased Eddie mercilessly before blabbing to Freak, who, well… Freaked about the possibility of a jock joining Hellfire.

The shock. The horror! Oh, the humanity!

And then came what was nothing short of a campaign via Dustin, Mike and Will, all collectively working to not only prevent Eddie from something he wasn’t even going to do in the first place but to also create a drama so seismic that rumours got around the whole of Hawkins that one Eddie Munson would no longer be running his little ‘demonic’ social club.

Or at least that’s what Wayne said Ernie at the plant had told him that his son had said.

The only thing is, Eddie feels more than a little sorry for Lucas Sinclair, a kid now sulking around, utterly crestfallen that his favourite Laundry Basket Friend isn’t also secretly a full-blown nerd.

It’s just that Eddie wanted to give Steve a nice, soft, comfy shirt he had hoped he would look at just like he is right now.

Besides, Steve had admitted that he liked the Hellfire logo months back when they first started dating. Told Eddie it was, “So creative, man”, after expressing some mild disappointment that he hadn’t shown up for their first date wearing it.

He smiles at the memory, Steve’s eyes lighting up as soon as he hopped into the Beemer, far too eager to head off to Benny’s Diner that he hadn’t even bothered to let Steve chivalrously walk up to the front stoop of the new and improved Casa de Munson.

“Eddie…” Steve says, his voice just above a whisper and sounding just as soft as the too-important shirt in his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he snorts, “I’m not making you join or anything it’s just… You said you haven’t been sleeping well…”

He gestures with his hand, searching for the right words. Better words that won’t sound so monumental and weighted as Steve’s eyes trail right along the shirt’s scooped neckline.

The hem is probably a little flimsy, but hopefully, Steve won’t fucking claw at it like the old Tigers gym shirt he almost tore in two a few weeks back after bolting upright in a sweat after a nightmare. That is what did it – really set Eddie on his mission. Seeing Steve’s sniffles turn to tears and how he tried to hide them away, shrugging Eddie off before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

He had come back a few minutes later, eyes red as he hugged his arms across himself, appearing small and frightened but acting cold as ice.

“Yeah…” Steve nods before mouthing what appears to be the word, “soft”, as he balls the fabric between his fingers.

“Hell, I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Eddie continues to ramble, “Just… tossing and turning. Also your… Y’know…”

He gestures to his own neck, referring to the still-reddened scar around Steve’s. One that Eddie knows leaves his throat scratchy and hoarse at the slightest provocation. A mark that nosey townspeople gawk at when Steve is at work, leaving him all embarrassed and well, not like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington at all.

And Steve hadn’t even told Eddie about that part. Nope. He found out from Robin, who swung by the mechanic one afternoon, inconsolable about her best friend spending their shift at Family Video hidden away in Keith Anderson’s stinky loser palace of an office.

“Mhmm,” Steve nods, pursing his lips.

Eddie knows he isn’t mad – it’s just something his boyfriend doesn’t talk about. That he doesn’t like talking about.

He needn’t ramble anymore, really – fill the silence between them or attempt to explain himself because, in a flash, Steve slips off his tight-fitting navy polo and replaces it with his new Hellfire shirt.

And Eddie can’t help but beam at a job well done.

It hangs nicely. Loose enough to sleep in, but not billowing so much to swallow that physique entirely. The neckline sits just where he had hoped too, much lower than the regular Hellfire shirts, scooped below Steve’s collar bones so that even if it stretches in his sleep, it couldn’t possibly pull and tug at his scar.

It’s perfect.

Exactly what he wanted to give Steve, who looks down at the devilish, very metal logo – a sight that is sure to scare off his snooty parents for good if they ever see it.

Before he knows it, Steve lunges for him and Eddie feels his cheeks squish against his boyfriend’s hands as he is kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kisses that last for long enough and grow softer with every peck that Eddie soon feels his legs buckling and he forgets altogether what they are even doing up here, in Steve’s bedroom, in the middle of the day on a warm summer afternoon.

It’s just the he –

“ – I love you,” Steve smiles when he comes up for air and – 

His eyes blow wide in an instant.

And Eddie is sure his own do too – maybe even pop right out of his goddamn skull with an audible gasp in there somewhere as well as they both fully realise what has just been said.

Steve loves him?

Just the same as he loves Steve. So much that he is blurting it out now, in the middle of his bedroom on a warm, mid-summer afternoon – perhaps months too early when they are probably, most likely still in the honeymoon phase.

All because of one perfect t-shirt.

Steve’s brow pinches together and his jaw goes slack as he looks away.

“I…” he trails off, drumming his fingers on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Stevie...” he tuts, smiling back at him.

He steps closer still, closing any remaining space between them as he loops his arms around his partner’s middle and squeezes him tight.

Eddie backs them a step back, then another. Then another until he is at a safe enough distance to rock Steve back and collapse onto the bed.

They fall with a conjoined, “Hmphf” – one that knocks the wind out of Eddie’s already breathless lungs and has Steve momentarily distracted away from whatever inner turmoil he had going on a moment ago. As he lands on top of his boyfriend, Eddie gets a feel of the shirt, now warmed by Steve’s permanently hot body temperature. A feeling that makes it seem even softer.

Like it is already worn in and loved.

He wants to ball a handful of it up in his fist and never let go.

But Eddie forces himself to sit upright, settling down in a straddled position to hover over Steve’s clothed form. He smiles down at the sight beneath him, his giddiness short-lived and quickly fading as a big, brown and now glistening set of panicked eyes return.

“Stevie,” he whispers, running his hand up Steve’s torso.

He ghosts his fingers with a featherlight touch over the printed logo, an illustration he had first scribbled on the back of his math book in his junior year.

Eddie leans forward and takes Steve’s hands, clasping them tight and one by one, he brings them to rest above his head where his super-soft signature swoop is sticking every which way, mussed by the bedspread.

He can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight – momentarily giving into the greedy feeling he gets when he thinks about how this Steve is the one he gets all to himself.

But Steve frowns, those expressive brows looking positively pained now as if only one thing could possibly soften them.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, freeing a hand to delicately pluck at Steve’s loosened neckline, “Obviously.”

“You do?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods as a visible relief washes through Steve’s eyes, leaving his brows to soften up so much he wonders if his boyfriend might now cry.

And before he can say or do anything more, Steve bolts upright, once again leaving Eddie feeling winded and more than a lot flushed this time as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck, snuffling close like the world’s cuddliest puppy.

They stay like this for a long while, simply breathing in sync as they hold each other. And soon Steve begins to sink, his body going lax as his head slips down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I really wanna sleep,” he hums as tears seep through Eddie’s own plain black t-shirt.

“You wanna try now?” Eddie offers, pulling back enough to give an encouraging little smile.

Steve nods, refusing to let him go as they lower down together as one, his eyes fluttering shut when his head meets the bedspread.

“Wanna get all cozy under the covers?” Eddie continues, nudging at the bedding.

He really doesn’t want to move too much more – not when Steve looks like this.

Relaxed.

Loved.

Comfortable and wrapped up in a softness Eddie would like to keep him cocooned in forever.

But as he always does, Steve moves for them and rolls to the side. He snuggles in close, burrowing his head between the crook of Eddie’s neck and the mattress all protected and safe. Eddie palms around for the blanket and haphazardly wraps what sliver of it is free around them, shielding his partner a little more for good measure.

It’s good like this.

Calm. Warm.

Soft.

[houseofevanbuckley]

So I’m back with more Daddy!Evan and Papa!Tommy and baby Kinard, that I decided to name Noah

The adventure of Clipboard!Daddy and Helicopter!Papa

Continuity of this post : https://www.tumblr.com/houseofevanbuckley/748826226503843840/not-even-going-anon-for-this-q-please-give-us

Noah has been with them for 7 months already. They celebrated his 11th months the week prior, and he’s been babbling non stop. He’s the happiest child Buck and Tommy have been around, and no, they’re not biased, thank you very much.

And a little competition has started between them about who will be Noah’s first word. They both would be happy, whatever the word is, of course, but they’re nothing if not competitive in the most ridiculous ways sometimes.

So each time one of them is feeding Noah, changing him or just playing with him, they repeat their own word. Sometimes Buck says daddy so many times that he loses every sense of the word and he doesn’t know how many times he called somebody daddy because the word is running around in his head.

Everyone at the station just teases him, but they all love that new version of Buck, Daddy!Buck is something else that none of them were prepared for.

And the stations start to join in too. Anytime Noah goes to the 118 or 217 for any reason, people there would be whispering “papa” or “daddy” to Noah each time they are around him.

Of course, there is one word that they should have seen coming, one that has been said around Noah so many times that, of course, he would pick up on it, their clever little boy.

Since Noah arrived, they were able to sync their off days more. They were mostly in sync already since the wedding and filling their marital status to their respective stations, but with Noah now they made sure that except for emergencies they would share them, not willing to have Noah grow up with only one parent at a time.

They’ve spent the day relaxing at home, playing with Noah and cuddling on the couch while a documentary played in the background.

It’s snack time now and Tommy is feeding Noah some pieces of banana, the only fruit Noah has accepted all week, whispering “Papaaa” each time he gives him a piece while Buck watches and snorts at how ridiculous his husband is, not that he’s better.

Noah just smacks his lips, little bits of banana sticking to his lips, looking at his parents before he points to Buck and goes: “Buk!”

They both freeze and look at each other.

“Did he …?” starts Tommy

Buck bites his lips to try to keep the laugh coming inside.

Tommy groans, “of course our son's first word would be Buck."

And as usual, hearing “our son” coming from Tommy’s mouth makes him giddy and he kisses the pout off his husband’s lips, both smiling into the kiss.

“You’re so clever Noah! Say it again!” encourages Buck.

“No, no, now he says papaaaa,” says Tommy before giving him more of the banana he was feeding him.

“Buk!!”

Buck’s laugh could be heard from the street.

[darthfrodophantom]

Friendship Blossoms (in the wake of shared trauma)

Summary: Nobody Knows AU. A week after the asteroid nearly destroyed the world, Sam is back at school trying to adjust to daily life after a traumatic worldwide event. That adjustment is hard enough, but the presence of her former best friend who was just revealed to be Danny Phantom complicates it even further. After not speaking for two years after he seemed to give up on their friendship, how is she supposed to act around him now? And why does she keep running into him around the school?

Phic Phight Prompt: AU where no one knew Danny was Phantom until PP (or some alternate big reveal of the author's choice). Sam and Tucker are sure that a famous hero like Danny Phantom is too cool to be their friend again, especially since they haven't talked since before freshman year of high school. Danny just wants to be part of the trio again and has no idea how to ask - for Pax

AO3: Link

Going back to school after an asteroid nearly destroyed the entire planet felt so anticlimactic. It felt so banal and normal. In some way it felt good to go back to a routine. The planet kept turning, so civilization kept moving on. People went back to work, cars returned to the roadways, prices for items returned to normal, and now school was back in session. It felt comforting that society could bounce back after such a terrifying tragedy, but it also seemed like no one had really recognized the collective trauma felt by the entire world. 

In a way, a week was not enough time to deal with the emotional ramifications that the entire world had almost died. That an unexpected asteroid had almost obliterated their entire planet and everything in it. That attempt after attempt to destroy or avoid the asteroid had failed. That their only saving grace had been a last ditch attempt by the Fentons of all people and the ghosts that had terrorized the city to turn the world intangible. It was a crazy idea. No one thought it would actually work, and yet the world threw so much effort into this insane plan because it had nothing else. 

She could still remember clear as day (too clearly - probably some newly acquired PTSD that refused to let her forget any moment of it) sitting with her parents, her grandma, and the Foleys in the safe room (of course her insane parents had a safe room) watching the news feed of the crazy attempt to turn the world intangible. She sat and prayed with them and actually cuddled with her mother for support as they waited with bated breaths to see if Phantom’s crazy plan would work. 

She forced herself out of her thoughts and back onto the cracked faux-leather of the bus seat in front of her. If she let herself, those memories of the day would consume her, and she knew that wasn’t healthy. Did she need a therapist? Probably. Could she get one now? Nope, because there weren’t enough of them to go around. Her parents agreed that going back to a routine would be good, that it was proof that the world kept spinning and kept moving and that life could get back to normal. She could see the logic there. Getting back on the bus felt familiar in a reassuring way, but it still felt too soon. It had only been a week, and she felt like she hardly had enough time to deal. Even the ghosts had been quiet and hadn’t attacked, so it was too soon even for them.

The bus slowed to a stop and Sam felt her stomach lurch with nerves. What could she possibly be nervous about? The school day would likely be pretty easy since it was everyone’s first day back. 

“You think he’ll be here?” Tucker asked from beside her. They spent most of the trip sitting in the comfortable silence of two friends who spent far too much time together, but the finality of the bus making its final stop outside of the school seemed to pull his internal thoughts out. 

She didn’t have to ask who he meant, because Sam had been thinking the same thing, and as her stomach churned again she realized the source of her nerves. “Does it matter if he is?” she replied plainly as she gathered her bag and got ready to file off the bus. 

“Well…yeah. Shouldn’t it?” Tucker pressed.

Sam shrugged. “Even if he is, it’s not like he’s going to talk to us.” She stepped off the bus and gazed upon Casper High. A strange sense of security washed over her that the school still looked exactly the same despite everything. She had complicated feelings about public schools, especially her time spent in one, but it felt reassuring to know that it still stood strong. Darn, maybe her dad had been right about her needing a routine again. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him he was right at least.

“Well, no,” Tucker said with a sad sigh. “But it feels like it would be good to know. Just so we could like, prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” Sam barbed as she turned to give him a hard look. She could see that hope blossoming in his eyes and she had to squash it before he was hurt again by their former friend’s behavior. “Prepare for him to ignore us? Prepare for him to avoid us? How would that be any different than any other day of school?”

“Yeah but–”

“No, there’s no ‘buts’ here Tucker,” Sam interrupted. “He’s ignored us for two years. Two years. And you think that now is the time he’d talk to us? Now, when he’s apparently a superhero of all things? No. He’s a celebrity now. He has even less reason to talk to us now than he did before.”

Maybe that’s why she’d been struggling so much. She wasn’t just working through her own trauma, but she had to somehow acknowledge and accept that one of her former friends was a superhero. The superhero. Her former friend Danny Fenton, who had been thick as thieves with them throughout middle school before he ditched them, was Phantom: the ghostly superhero who protected the town from other ghostly threats.

That realization had left her spinning, sometimes into dangerous and dark places. How did this happen? When did this happen? Had he always been like this or was it a recent thing? Was her friend dead? Sure she had been mad at him, but she never actually wished him dead! That thought chilled her to the bone. Had her friend died and none of them even realized it? Did he die and she just continued on with her life as normal? Is that why he pulled away? Did he pull away because he died and none of them even noticed? Was she more to blame for Danny ditching them than she ever let herself believe?

That was absolutely a road she refused to mentally traverse. He pulled away. He stopped talking to them. He kept running away every time she tried to talk to him. He avoided texting until she finally realized that a string of fifteen unanswered texts was a sign enough that she needed to stop. If he was going through something he should have said something. If he died he should have said something. She would have understood. She could have helped him. He did all of this, not her.

A group of students rushing past them pulled her out of her maddening thoughts. A moment later another group ran past. Excited chatter echoed down the hallway and seemed to reach a fever pitch as sunlight streamed down the hall from the outside doors opening. The excitement of the student body charged the hallway around them with an uncomfortable buzz. Sam instantly knew what happened: their local celebrity had arrived.

As if confirming her thoughts, excited murmurs of “he’s here!” or “it’s him!” fluttered around her as students pushed in closer to the doors. They flattened Sam and Tucker against their lockers as more and more students flooded the hallway. Tucker was so close she could feel his breathing grow shallow, and she reached over to squeeze his hand because she knew he got claustrophobic. She was fine - enjoying tight spaces was almost a requirement for being a goth - but being surrounded on all sides by hard metal and smelly teenagers wasn’t the kind of tight space she enjoyed. 

A bubble of unoccupied space formed in the middle of the crowd of students. In the center of the bubble a familiar tuft of black hair caught her eye. Danny walked purposefully through the swarm of students with his hands tucked into his pockets and his head down. The students naturally parted around him as he moved through the hall, like water naturally parted around soap. Or how fish part around a shark. Everyone wanted to gawk at him, but no one wanted to risk getting near him.  Sam felt a twinge of sorrow for her former friend because no one ever wanted to be avoided like that. Well…no one except Danny. He seemed to love avoiding people. Maybe this was actually what he wanted?

As soon as he broke even with them, he looked over in their direction. Their eyes locked for just a moment before Danny quickly averted his gaze. He sunk deeper into his hunched shoulders and walked faster down the hall. The students clamored to part around him faster to still keep that natural distance. He moved out of sight as the student body followed from their safe distance, taking the crowd with him.

Tucker breathed in a couple large gulps of air. “Was that really necessary?” he complained as he stretched out and tilted his head towards the ceiling to bask in the open space around him. “I mean, yeah it must suck for Danny, but did they really have to force us into the crowd too? Horrible.”

Sam didn’t even listen to half of his complaints as she silently fumed. Why did he look away so quickly? Was he worried that their mutual acknowledgement of the existence of the other would somehow obligate him to talk to them? He’d learned a long time ago how to avoid that. But then why did he even look over at them in the first place if he wanted to avoid their gaze? It didn’t make any sense.

“Come on, let’s go to class,” she decided. She wanted to take advantage of the clear hallway while she could.

“Are you sure?” Tucker hesitated as he looked down the hall that Danny and his new throng of terrified admirers disappeared down. “It feels weird to–”

“No,” she snapped, still sore from the reminder that her friend had been through some shit and hadn’t even bothered to reach out. “It feels exactly the same way it’s been feeling. He’s avoiding us again, like he always does. Come on.”

They packed up their things and trudged off to class. The routine felt deceptively normal, even though they knew nothing would be the same.

~

Just like the rest of the student body, Sam’s thoughts throughout class focused on Danny. Not intentionally, but they just kept drifting to him. He sat in class with them, towards the back like normal. She purposefully refused to look at him, but she could swear that sometimes she felt his gaze on the back of her head. At one point she entertained the thought that he might be trying to get her attention, but that was silly. He didn’t want their attention and nothing he’d done in the past two years had changed that, and it certainly wouldn’t change now.

As soon as the bell rang for class Danny practically shot up out of the room. She couldn’t really blame him. People in class knew him well enough that they tried to talk to him. Ask him questions. Pester him with comments. Paulina tried to flirt with him, and Sam didn’t know why that bothered her as much as it did. She rarely heard him talk, so either he answered in a quiet voice or he avoided their questions. Well, he was good at avoiding, so that made sense. And as soon as he got the chance, he avoided them all again by fleeing the classroom. She didn’t know what salvation he expected to find in the hallways because it didn’t seem any better outside of the classroom, but the strange bubble must have seemed preferable to the questions.

She met up with Tucker next to their locker to switch out their books when the mass of students flooded past them again. This time they knew what to expect and waited it out as Danny walked past them again. Sam found it odd to see him in this hallway again because she knew that his locker was much closer to their next class and he didn’t actually need to go this way. Maybe he just enjoyed the walk?

“I kinda wish he’d talk to us,” Tucker lamented as their local celebrity disappeared around the corner. 

“I don’t,” Sam snapped, and she slammed her locker door for emphasis.

“Really? Do you really mean that? Or are you saying it as a way to act out?” Tucker pressed with a knowing look that Sam did not appreciate. She’d been friends with him for too long. 

“Shut up. I mean it.”

“But don’t you have questions?”

“Of course I have questions,” she countered. What kind of question was that? “I have so many questions. But I’ve had questions for two years and he hasn’t bothered to answer any of them, so why would he start now?”

“Well, I was kinda hoping that this,” Tucker gestured to the hallway like it was all the explanation he needed, “was the reason for a lot of it. And with that out of the way, I dunno, maybe he’d be more willing to answer them?”

“That sounds like wishful thinking,” Sam dismissed.

“Well…yeah…maybe it is. But I can still hope,” he shrugged.

Sam didn’t quite have it in her heart to tear down his hope even further, even though she knew it would crush him later when he realized it was forlorn. She liked to think of herself as a realist, and everything Danny had done since high school showed her that nothing would really change. The news coverage of his transformation and maybe an expose news article in the future would be the only answers they’d get about what happened to their friend, and she knew better than to hope for something more. 

Danny had shown them time and again he was unreliable: that when they needed him, he wasn’t there. When he promised to do something, he didn’t deliver. And he had no excuses or explanations ready, just a hollow apology that meant less and less every time he used it until he just stopped apologizing altogether. She could see now that some of that was probably because he was fighting ghosts, and she could be gracious enough to allow that as a good excuse, but he should have told them. He should have trusted them. He didn’t, and he let their friendship degrade to the point where even the shell of their former friendship crumbled into dust. She knew better than to expect anything to change or for some friendship to rise from the ashes, because those ashes had been swept away by the wind long ago. Hadn’t they?

She growled and walked off towards class without even announcing it to Tucker. He seemed to get the hint and rushed after her, but both of them remained quiet.

~

“Do you think he’s trying to talk to us?” Tucker asked as they scoped out an empty table for lunch.

“Again Tucker, that’s wishful thinking,” Sam sighed.

“But he seems to keep popping up around us,” he pointed out. “Usually we barely even see a glimpse of him.”

She had to admit that she’d had the same thought. She’d seen Danny’s face more today than she had the last full week of school. He kept walking by their lockers even if he didn’t need to and she kept feeling his eyes on her. He also sat closer to them during one of their classes, but she also had a feeling that was out of necessity to avoid the prying eyes and attentions of the class. Was he trying to see how they were reacting? Trying to gauge how they were handling the news by stalking them? Well if that was the case, then she was happy to see that her poker face of generalized displeasure seemed to be doing its job because it looked like he was still looking for an answer. A small part of her felt satisfied and preened at his uncertainty - about time for him to be left in the dark about something for a change. 

“It’s coincidence,” she dismissed. “He’s trying to avoid everyone else, and since everyone else avoids us, it’s putting him into our path.”

Tucker shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”

Sam plopped her lunchbox onto their usual table and sat down. She actually felt excited about her lunch today; ever since the asteroid her parents made a concerted effort to embrace her as a person more and started buying more vegan-friendly food. She appreciated the gesture, even if it took literally the end of the world for them to finally see eye-to-eye. 

Tucker sat down across from her absent-midedly, and she followed his distracted gaze to see Danny enter the cafeteria. Immediately all the other eyes of the room fell on him and a strange hush settled across the large room. That was a bold move, entering such a crowded space. Danny must have also realized the error of his ways because he stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of whether he should press on or run. She noticed a lunchbox in his hands, so the need to buy food clearly didn’t drive him to enter the cafeteria, so she had to wonder what insanity drew him in here. 

She would have found some secluded spot and ate lunch there. She knew he preferred a spot on the edge of the campus under a large tree because she’d seen him eat there far away from them time after time. She and Tucker tried to approach him there once, early on in their crumbling friendship when she thought they still had a chance to patch things up. He practically ran away from them when they approached. He yelled at them to take a hint and to stop bothering him. She never tried to seek him out at lunch again. It really had been the beginning of the end.

His indecision on what to do seemed to be his downfall. After a morning of keeping a safe buffer around him, the student body grew more brazen. Emboldened by the fact that Danny really hadn’t done anything ghostly or aggressive the entire day, they risked getting closer. And closer still. They closed the gap around him slowly. The volume of chatter in the room grew into a crescendo of questions and calls and shouts aimed at the ghostly celebrity.

Danny must not have realized what was happening until it was too late. They lurched forward as one unit until they were on top of him. Surrounding him. Touching him. Pulling him towards their table or their conversation. He held his hands up in defense, pleading with them to let him go, but none of them listened. He wasn’t a person anymore. He was a celebrity - an object that existed at the beck and whim of the population to fulfill their needs and desires.

Sam watched as Danny’s individual rights as a person disappeared under the horde of students. Anger boiled under her skin. No one deserved to be treated that way, but Danny least of all. Sure they had their beef. Sure he treated them horribly. But he was a hero. He had saved them and the school and hell even the world and he deserved better than this. 

She stood up and pushed her way aggressively through the crowd. She had no problems throwing the full weight of her combat boots onto the feet of people who refused to step out of her way. She fought through the masses as she screamed at them to leave him alone. She shoved people out of the way, kicked at their shins, and stomped on their feet until she reached the center. Surprisingly, Tucker followed after her. She couldn’t imagine how claustrophobic he must feel willingly plunging himself into this mob of students, but he pushed his way in nonetheless.

As soon as they reached Danny they formed a circle around him. She reached her arms back around to grab Tucker’s hands as they formed almost a protective cage around him. They couldn’t give him much of a buffer and she felt people press on her arms, but she tried. 

“Get away!” she yelled as she lightly kicked someone who got a little too close for her comfort. “You can’t just mob people! He has a right to his own personal space!”

The crowd didn’t seem to have any care for her protests and only pushed in harder. The sound of their cheers and questions almost deafened her and it swallowed up her verbal protests. This really wasn’t getting them anywhere.

“Danny, just get out of here!” Sam ordered as she craned her neck to catch a glimpse of him behind her. “Do something ghostly and get out of here! We’ll hold them off!”

She stood firm as she waited for Danny to save himself, but she didn’t notice any change. What was taking him so long? Why was he hesitating? Everyone already knew so there was no point in continuing to hide it. 

Finally she heard the students around her gasp and they stopped pushing against her. Danny must have finally used one of his powers to escape. About time. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold them off. But what the hell was he waiting fo–

A tingle followed by an unnatural chill raced through her body starting from her arm. Her stomach dropped as she fell, and she yelped until the ground swallowed the sound. She only saw soil around her, but she couldn’t really feel it. If she focused on it she maybe felt like a gust of wind passed through her when she fell, but it felt so faint and non-specific that she had to wonder if her brain just thought she felt the breath of wind because she knew she should feel something when passing through solid matter. 

Something tugged on her arm as she traveled quickly through soil and rocks and tree roots. That tugging sensation pulled upwards and she emerged from the ground and into the air. She felt weightless hovering above the ground for just a moment before Danny’s hand let go of its tight grip on her arm and she dropped down onto the padded grass. 

She clasped a hand to her chest and clenched onto the now solid material of her black shirt. Her wide eyes looked around and noticed the school in the distance - the building they had just been in before she traveled through the ground. She also noticed a large tree beside them - the same one that Danny always took refuge under. The same one where he told them to leave him alone. And yet this time he brought them here instead of chasing them away.

She finally noticed Tucker sitting in the grass next to her, so he must have brought him here too. She also caught his wide-eyed stare as he looked at his new surroundings with shock and maybe a little awe, but mostly shock. He clearly needed a moment to gain his bearings, and honestly she still did too, because they had just traveled through the ground. Not over it or above it, but through it. Something that should have been impossible for anyone except…well a ghost.

Danny must have picked up on their shocked expressions - in fact he seemed incredibly attuned to their reactions - and he immediately backed up a few steps and blushed. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized. His wide, panicked eyes looked desperately between the two of them as he tried to gauge their reactions further. “I probably should have asked and not just assumed I could–” He ran a hand nervously through his hair and ducked his head. “I just didn’t want to leave you there.”

“It’s okay man,” Tucker finally said as he fisted his hands in the grass below them. “It was getting a little cramped in there, so it’s good to have an out.”

She should have felt grateful he thought about saving them because otherwise she and Tucker would have been left in the middle of a dissatisfied crowd with only them to blame for Danny’s disappearance. And she was, but his stupid antics put them in that situation in the first place!

She stood up to glare at him properly and he recoiled slightly. That recoil gave her pause for just a moment. He fought monstrous ghosts. She’d seen pictures of some of them and they were horrifying or incredibly powerful. Phantom always stood firm against those ghosts. So why did he back away from her of all entities? She pushed on and gave him a light shove. “What the hell were you thinking?” He shrunk further against her onslaught. “Going into the cafeteria? That was stupid!”

Danny blinked slowly. If he had been building himself up for a response, he clearly did not expect that one. “What?”

“You’re getting swarmed everywhere you go, so you decide to go to the most populated room in the entire school? What kind of idiot does that?!”

“Oh. Um…” He grabbed at his arm and ran his hand along the hem of his shirt. “Well I…I was looking for you guys,” he admitted quietly. 

Sam dropped all her bluster as she regarded him with confusion. “You were looking for us?” He hadn’t actively sought them out since high school started, but now, today of all days, he finally decided he wanted to talk to them?

“Yeah I…I kept trying to talk to you. Don’t know if you noticed. It just never felt like the right time. Too many people or not enough time or you guys just looked mad. And you have every right to be mad!” he added quickly as if trying to preemptively stop an argument. “But then Jazz told me there would never be a right time and it was always gonna be awkward and boy was she right about that, so I just decided to go for it. Didn’t really think that one through though.”

“I don’t understand,” she admitted bluntly. “You wanted to talk to us? After everything now you want to talk to us? Did you want to make sure we saw the news? Because don’t worry, we definitely did.” That came out harsher than she intended, and even Tucker gave her a warning glare.

“No! Nothing like that! I just–” He let out a huge breath as his shoulders dropped in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry I pulled away. I didn’t really know what to do. All of a sudden all this…stuff started happening and I didn’t know what to do. I thought about telling you, all the time, but I didn’t know how to explain it. And then I worried maybe you’d freak out or think I was some kind of freak or something and I just got scared. And then it just kept snowballing and I felt you getting more and more annoyed with me so I just pulled away.”

“You should have said something,” Sam snapped as she crossed her arms over her chest. Yes it felt good to have an answer. Yes it felt good to have a reason, but she realized that none of that actually mattered when faced with the fact that her friend knowingly hurt them because he didn’t trust them.

Danny winced, but he took the blows without argument. “I know.”

“You lied to us! You abandoned us! And with zero reasons!” she yelled as she lashed out against him with two years worth of pain and suffering that she’d kept bottled up inside. “You were afraid of us abandoning you? Well you abandoned us! You told us to never bother you again! How do you think that felt, huh Danny? Because it sucked! It hurt! And we had no idea why!” Danny winced at her onslaught, but she didn’t intend to stop. “And I think it’s rich that you could do it to us because you were too scared that we would do it to you.”

“Sam, come on,” Tucker spoke up as he tried to play the role of the peaceful negotiator. “Some of that isn’t fair.”

“No, it’s okay,” Danny said as he looked sadly between his friends. “What she’s saying is fair. I deserve it.”

Something about being given permission to rage angered her even more. “Damn right you deserve it! Friends don’t keep secrets Danny! And they especially don’t keep big secrets like this! You should have trusted us!”

“I know,” he sighed.

“I mean do you think so little of us that we would have disowned you or treated you any different because of this?”

“No! Of course not! I just…I didn’t want to take the risk. I thought I’d lose you,” he admitted quietly as he looked down at the ground.

“Yeah, well you lost us anyways,” Sam snarled. He looked up at her and she could see the hurt etched across his face and the rejection glimmer in his eyes. She’d gone a little too far there, and she recognized that, but he had! He kept this secret from them so he wouldn’t lose their friendship, and then he sat by and let it happen anyways! The only difference was he got to control when that happened. He got to do the breaking up instead of the one being broken up with.

“Ouch Sam,” Tucker remarked from the side.

She rounded on Tucker this time. “Oh no, you don’t get to act like you’re the level-headed one. You’re just as mad at him as I am! I know you are!” How many times had they sat and ranted in her room? How many times had Tucker been the first one to curse Danny under his breath because he ditched them again? How many times had Tucker gone on text rants about losing his best friend and Sam could only listen and try to help him vent as much as he could? No, he didn’t get to act all angelic about this when she knew that fury and that hurt burned in him too. 

Tucker didn’t back down against her ire and stood his ground. “Yeah, I am. What you did sucked bro,” he seconded as he turned to face his friend. Danny dropped his gaze back down to the ground. “But is this really the time? All day I was hoping maybe now we could talk. And hey look, we are. I don’t really want to spend all that time yelling at each other. That’s not gonna get us anywhere.”

Sam’s anger deflated because Tucker made a valid point. Did raging at Danny make her feel better? Absolutely. Did seeing that hurt on his face fuel some horrible vindication in herself? Unfortunately it did. But none of that would actually fix anything. None of that would give her or Tucker the answers they wanted and maybe even needed. And if Danny wasn’t going to argue and engage in a good knock-down argument where they both screamed at each other until neither of them had anything left, then she’d have to calm herself down to engage in a civil talk. 

“No, it’s okay,” Danny allowed. “I deserve the insults and the yelling. I was a jerk. I abandoned you, I shut you out, I lied to you, and I didn’t trust you. That’s not what a friend does, and I know it. That’s why I stopped trying to be one.”

“We could have helped you, Danny,” Tucker said sadly. “With all of this. You had to be going through a lot. We could have helped.”

“...I know,” he sighed as his shoulders sagged. “I wanted to say something. I kept hoping maybe you’d just figure it out. Not like this obviously. This is literally the worst. But by the time I felt like maybe it could be okay, we already weren’t talking and it just felt like it was too late.”

“Is it?” Sam asked with a much calmer voice.

Danny looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Is it what?”

“Is it too late?”

Danny shrugged as he scuffed his heel along the grass. “I guess that’s up to the two of you. I just…I really miss my friends.”

His voice broke a little on the word friends, and despite how angry Sam felt at him for the past two years of treating them like gum under his shoe (a nuisance he couldn’t get rid of fast enough until it finally dried up enough to scrape off and discard), her heart broke a little for him. She truly thought about his situation for a moment. How scared he must have been to tell them. How physically different he had become and the fear that would impact the way he related to everyone else. How alienating and isolating it had to be now that he was somehow a ghost and a person at the same time. Her stomach twisted and she felt so sad for her friend in that moment and the emotional turmoil he had to be experiencing. 

Yes he should have trusted them, but maybe she and Tucker didn’t do enough to show that he could trust them. Maybe they didn’t make the friendship seem safe enough that he could tell them anything? She hoped she did, but if she didn’t, then that was on her just as much as it was on Tucker. And despite offering to talk and promising to understand numerous times over text, if he didn’t actually trust that to be the case, then she could understand his hesitation. This was a big secret because it basically changed Danny into an entirely different person, and she had to accept that he wasn’t obligated to share it with them until he was ready.

Sam wrapped her arms around her torso and gave him a small smile. “We miss you too.” Her voice cracked a little too with emotion, but in this moment she didn’t actually care. This was a good emotion, and she didn’t have to hide it behind some tough exterior, not right now. 

“Yeah man, it hasn’t been the same without you,” Tucker echoed.

Danny smiled weakly as he wrapped his arms around himself in a self-hug. He gestured to the shade under the nearby tree. “Look can we…I know I have a lot to make up for, but can we talk? Like really talk?”

“I think we’ve all been needing to talk for awhile,” Sam agreed. And she’d do her best to stay calm and not let her own emotions cloud what needed to be said. She’d try to remember that she may not be blameless for the deterioration of their friendship, and she needed to be okay with that. And at the end of it, she probably had to be ready to forgive. She didn’t know if she had been quite ready to forgive him when she started the day, but she had a feeling she’d be a little more open to it now. 

“And then dude, I have so many questions.” Tucker’s excited voice broke the somber mood for just a moment. “Because this whole ghost superhero thing is awesome and I want to know everything!”

Danny chuckled a bit and ducked his head as a blush spread across his cheeks. “Really? It’s not like weird or freaky or anything?”

“No man, it’s so cool,” Tucker affirmed as he pulled him into a one-armed hug from the side. “And I’m dying to know more.” He paused for a moment with a wince. “Okay, poor choice of words there.”

“Or the best choice of words,” Danny offered with a laugh. 

“Yeah yeah, not all of us are insane and love puns,” Sam sighed as she shook her head, but she also smiled because it just felt so easy. Sliding back into the puns and the light teasing and the fun. It felt so natural and right and even though she knew so much bitterness existed between them, it brought a lightness to her heart to have that again. 

“Or are you just not used to them after I ghosted you for so long?” Danny asked with an exaggerated wink on the emphasized word.

Sam forced her lips into a scowl as she tried so hard not to laugh. She hated Danny’s puns, always had, but that one was legitimately clever. As Tucker cackled from the side, she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from curling into a smile. 

“Are we here to talk or make stupid puns?” she finally asked when she knew she could keep a straight face.

“I mean, I can be here for both,” Danny suggested with a smirk. There, right there she saw Phantom. That confident, fun smirk. She didn’t know how she didn’t see it before. Well, probably because she hadn’t seen that smirk from Danny in over two years. She pushed that bitter thought out of her mind because that didn’t help their new mutual goal of clearing the air. She gave Danny an exasperated look and didn’t even acknowledge his statement before she sat down pointedly under the tree. The other two joined her on the pleasantly cool grass.

“Oh man, we left our lunch on the table,” Tucker groaned, but his stomach groaned even louder.

Normally she’d give Tucker a hard time for always thinking with his stomach, but her own hungry belly thought back to her abandoned black bean hummus wrap with resigned disappointment. She had been looking forward to that, but she didn’t think any of them should go back into the cafeteria right now.

Danny shifted nervously in the grass, a marked contrast to his previous joking nature. “...I can go get them,” he said, barely louder than a mumble.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Danny, you’re literally the last person who should go back into that school right now.”

He sighed. “No I mean…I can sneak in and get them.”

Right. Ghost powers. Somehow she kept forgetting. That realization had been on her mind so much since she saw the news report. It consumed her thoughts all morning and really, that realization was the only reason they could talk right now. How she hadn’t put the pieces together astonished her. 

Tucker also finally realized what he meant and his eyes grew wide. “Oh my god yes! Oh this is so brilliant. Yes yes, go get it!” he encouraged as he practically vibrated with excitement.

Danny hesitated for a moment as he bit his lip. He looked so nervous, and Sam’s heart went out to him that he was so scared to show this part of himself to his friends. Finally he nodded and stood with some renewed internal resolution. He took a deep breath as two rings of light appeared around his waist.

She saw the opposite transformation on the news footage. She’d replayed it over in her head multiple times since she saw it because her mind struggled so hard to accept it. But seeing it on a screen and seeing it in person were two very different things. One moment her friend stood there, and then the next there was Phantom. But this time when she looked at the face of their ghostly protector, she could see Danny in there now. That strange glow that emanated from his skin hid those familiar features before, but she could see them now that she knew to look for them. A strange energy lingered in the air after the transformation, one she could swear she remembered feeling around Danny before. It left the hair on her arms standing for just a moment, but it wasn’t unpleasant. She could get used to it. 

She was proud to say she only jumped slightly, but she made it a point to put on a reassuring smile as his glowing eyes searched their faces desperately for a reaction. Tucker looked about ready to vibrate out of his skin with excitement. “So cool,” he breathed out in awe, and Danny blushed.

She remained calm and just gave him a supportive nod. He smiled weakly back. “I’ll uh, be right back.” He disappeared from sight, causing Sam to jump again. A breeze blew past them, and she had a feeling that meant Danny had flown off.

“That was a test right?” Tucker asked after a moment when he was sure Danny was gone.

“Oh yeah, it was definitely a test,” Sam confirmed. He was making them prove they could handle this. Those fears of rejection still clearly gnawed at him, and before he threw himself completely into talking everything out and building a new foundation for friendship going forward, he needed to ensure this pillar was strong. Well she could do that. She didn’t care about him being a ghost or part ghost or whatever he was. She didn’t care about the powers or the ghost fighting. She only ever cared that he abandoned them. So if he needed proof that she was a solid pillar he could lean on, she could give him that.

“Do you think we passed?” he pondered with a slight frown. 

“Yeah, I think we did,” she said as she tucked her knees to her chest. “But we’ll know for sure if he comes back.”

It didn’t take him long. Danny made it to the cafeteria and back with impressive haste. Maybe he wanted to get back before they had the chance to leave, or maybe he wanted to maximize the amount of time they had to talk before lunch ended. Maybe he was just hungry. Sam really couldn’t say why, but she was grateful they didn’t have to put the talk off for too much longer. She spent a good amount of time blowing up at him (she refused to say she wasted that time because she really felt like she needed that), but she also needed the time to really talk with him. 

He appeared suddenly beside them, still floating in the air. Even though she knew he would be arriving at some point, his sudden appearance still caused her to jump. Tucker not only jumped but let out a slight yelp and placed a hand on his heart. “Danny! God you can’t–we are not making this a trend. My out-of-shape heart cannot take that. We need to figure out like a warning or something.”

Danny laughed as he sat cross-legged in the air. That flash of light transformed him back into himself - or rather the other form of himself - and he plopped down onto the grass beside them. He passed out their lunchboxes while a slight smile played across his lips. He seemed more comfortable with them, more like his older self. If he hadn’t just turned visible, floated in the air, and summoned a ring of light around his waist, Sam would have thought it was two years ago by how easy it felt to sit together as a trio again. They must have passed the test.

With a deep breath Danny looked at both of his friends. “Alright, let’s talk.”

It wouldn’t be perfect. It wouldn’t be easy. A lot of bad blood still existed between them, and one conversation wouldn’t wash away all of it. But it was a start. Maybe they could get back to where they were before, or maybe that friendship could blossom into something even better now that they had a shared understanding between each other - that remained to be seen. But knowing that they had a chance to talk, really talk, and air out their grievances and misunderstandings filled Sam with a warmth she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe she could finally have her friend back. And for the first time since the threat of that deadly asteroid shook the very foundation of the world, Sam actually had a feeling things would be okay. Life would move on, life would get better, and she would get better with her friend back at her side. Because sitting in the shade of the same tree in a circle with her two best friends made everything feel right in the world once again. 

Note: Thanks for reading everyone! I had a lot of fun with this one. It's my first foray into a Nobody Knows AU and I really enjoyed it! Also there's no way you could dangle a prompt that's a post-reveal and allows me to show the student body's reaction to Danny post-reveal without me latching onto it.

[sainz]

a closeted 20 year old that comes from a conservative rural family falling in love with a openly gay 18 year old on spanish prime tv

[floralsapphics]

.

[leviiackrman]

So I actually love my part time job atm but one of the best things that I’ve experienced so far, is showing the kids my OC drawings and having the few with box braids etc BEAM WITH JOY when seeing Asami !!!

[ridingthatd]

✧༺ CRAZY CHOSO

chosoxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, possessive choso, crazy choso, choso eating it out

choso stare down at his phone, his heart is empty, he feels like it isn't even here anymore- you stole it from him. you stole it from him a week ago, the day you decided to break up after a heated argument, and what bothers choso the most is that- he knows, he knows it his fault, you have always been patient with him, you have always showed your love to him- showered him with it.

even when- choso heart tightened, even when he never did- tears swell his eyes, even when all you received was a cold hearted jerk who doesn't know how to love, choso choke on his breath, tears running down his eyes- it finally hit him like a truck, after he finally lost you, after you finally realized he isn't worth your love, reality hit him.

he can't breath, fuck he can't breath, choso grab a hold of his dark locks, tugging them hard, fuck how could he- how could he treat his baby like this, how could he never say a simple i love you, even when you said it hundreds, thousands, millions times to him, even as- he chokes on his sobs, even as you left this door, your final word was "I love you, choso" and he didn't even go after you he just stood there, staring at you dumbfounded, why couldn't he just return your i love yous, is he this fucking much of a loser to be embarrassed to show his love to you?

the house was so quite without you, the only sounds that filled it was his choked sobs, he feels like he'll throw up, choso hurriedly made his way toward the kitchen to grab a cup of water- but what catch his attention as he was opening the freezer, is the sticky notes- your sticky notes, that you never forgot to leave for choso everytime he left to work, his hands shakily grabs into one of them.

"hope you enjoy the lunch i made you love ya :p".

a tear runs down his face.

"i left you some sweets today, even if you don't like them eat them love yaaaaa >:(".

another tear roll down.

he clenchs them against his heart- the heart that is bleeding sorrow, he slides down the fridge, hitting the cold kitchen floor.

it's been a week since you left choso, for a break as you're calling it, you sigh even though it's only been a week you miss your grumpy man. even though he might be cold in front of other peoples eyes- to you he was just a comfort person- a comfort pillow, cuddling him every time you can, choso was like the comfort blanket that people keep with them from childhood- no matter what other people say, you still love your little comfort blanket- your choso.

you look outside the window, it was raining, you couldn't help but think about how you would be cuddling with choso right now in this rainy day- while you tell him to read you whatever book he has in his hands, you listen to his rough voice, while he gently stroke his hand down your spine, putting you to sleep.

you wipe your tears immediately once you hear a knock on your door, you frown making your way to see who is it, at such weather, you were stunned to see chosos wet figure at your door, his clothes were snugged into him from being wet, his hair was dripping a few dots of water down his face, and your heart clenchs as you stare at his blood shot eyes.

"choso-"

he didn't mutter any words, he just simply held you up by your hips grabbing you so hard that you're sure that it will leave red marks on your sensitive skin later on. placing your heavy thighs on his board shoulder like they weight nothing, his face making direct contact with your bare pussy- regretting masturbating and forgetting to put your panties on.

"what are you doing?"

you couldn't finish your sentence because he's already shoving his tongue up your pussy, sucking, licking the juice from the orgasm you had an hour ago, an orgasm you had thinking about him, he clearly wasn't here to talk- he was here to do a lot more than talking.

it's been a week since you had something this good on sucking on your clit- something as good as chosos tongue, suckling on your clit like it's a nipple- like he's trying to get milk out of it- but the only difference is that he isn't trying to get milk, but he's trying to rip an orgasm out of your cunt.

and of course he did, you grasp hard on his long black hair, gasping out to the ceiling, arching your pussy into his mouth, making sure he drinks all of your juice and he glady do. like a starved man who hasn't had water for day, and your pussy was a river of water for him.

you look at him, thinking he will let you go by now, but he didn't, he keeps his face shoved into your pussy, it drives you crazy the way his nose brush against your clit everytime he breaths.

"could put me down, please?"

he clearly had no intentions of putting you down anytime soon, because he selfishly licks, slurps at every drip of arousal that leave you. you weren't sure what to do, you always knew that choso was obsessive in his own way, but you only got to experience a bit of it, but now that you left him you're sure it triggered a part of him that you've never seen before. he keeps sniffing, trialling his nose on your clit, wetting his face with your wet cunt.

"darling" you moan out.

he simply lock his lips on clit again sucking on it, his eyes are closed as if he's a youngling sucking, his long eyelashs tickling your belly, ripping a giggle out of you, making him finally look at you, with his red-puffy lips wet from your juice.

"can you put me down now?"

he pulled you from his shoulders but kept you in his arms. as he led you into the bedroom, glancing at your underwear that you left on the floor. choso placed you on the bed and pressed you against it with his body. he was cornering you, engaging in some primal display of possessiveness that he never showed you before.

his hands were roaming around your body, he was clearly trying to in print you again, feel your warm skin against his hands again, he keeps his face inside of your neck rubbing his face on it, as he stroke his hand from your thighs to your ass, just to make his way to your breast, as soon as he feels the fabric of your bra- he doesn't like it one bit, so he simply rip it off, out of his way.

cold air hit your nipples making them harden, he trails his face from your neck slowly to your breast, brushing his lips softly against your nipples, breathing in but not taking it inside of his mouth. he just wanted to feel you, feel your skin against his again, because he clearly thought he won't get to feel that ever again.

your heart clenchs at the thought of what he might have felt, the feeling of being left all alone, choso never acted like this before- right now he's acting like a baby he never was able to act like, he was always putting a hard on act.

you quickly snatch his head closer to your body, holding him close, so close that you can listen to his pluse "it's okay baby, I won't ever leave you again."

you can feel it pick up, quick, clearly affected by your words, you smile knowing it always made him shy whenever you called him baby no matter how many times you say it, he still gets frustrated. he doesn't say anything, he just look up at you, before he opens his mouth that was brushing against your nipple and place it inside his mouth, his tongue was quick to circle the bud.

"we- we should really talk about..."

he makes sure to coat both of your nipples with his silvia, leaving your nipples all swollen and red, before he picks you by your hips again and placing you on his, clearly didn't have enough.

you were suffocating his face. again. choso was a 6 feet big guy, so that clearly didn't bother him.

he kept on slurping on your pussy, till it's silk with your orgasm and his silvia, making sure to print your taste against his tongue so it will last for weeks.

"okay," you panted, your sweaty forehead now resting on the cool sheets, while your defeated cunt hovered over his mouth.

"we need to talk now. you've spent half the day licking me."

but the only words choso mutter out were- "sleep now" he horsely says. as he snuggle his face into your boobs, you were about to complain till you felt wet drops slide down your cleavage, you shut your lips together, gently stroking his hair pushing him further into you.

but choso didn't have any intentions of sleeping because you feel his rough, huge hands make their way toward your wet pussy drenched with your orgasm and his saliva. he slowly warped his lips around your nipples, drawing circles with his tongue.

you felt him tug his pants down, as he frees his huge leaking cock out of it, he slowly shove his cock inside of your tight cunt and he couldn't help whimpering on your nipples, missing your warm, wet pussy.

"shh it's okay baby, I'm here- I'm here" you whine out, drunk on the feeling of being stuffed with his cock.

it only takes him a few rock of his hips before he's spilling his hot cum inside of you, you thought he was gonna pull out- he didn't he kept his cock inside of you all night, while your nipples brushed against his lips as he softly breath out, sleeping in your embrace.

you can feel him get hard again inside of you every once in awhile so he just jults awake, stare at your nipples with hazy eyes before he takes your fat hard nub into his mouth, suckling, biting on it while he start rocking his cock into your already cum filled pussy, till he fill it again, fall asleep and the process repeat till the next morning.

[yxami]

happy nut or not November day 9

desc: yandere puppyboy x gn reader, mentions of nsfw, obsession, marking, breeding, stalking, obsession, perverted habits, I dunno what else

Golden retriever boyfriend who perks up at any chance to please you, loving every-time you run your fingers through his hair, you’ve accustomed yourself to rotting in bed after work so you could cuddle with him all night.

He’s always whipping something up in the kitchen when you get home so you’re happy and full. He always has it written down on the whiteboard magnetically held on your fridge.

If you recall correctly you think it might’ve been a soup of some sort, he was always switching it up every week so nothing was ever repeated unless you liked it and asked for it again. Today was a special occasion since you were bringing a friend over but that was a surprise for him.

“Hey, welcome home!” He happily says, tail wagging as he sees you stepping inside the apartment, he’s about to run up and hug you until he sees a figure behind you. He already doesn’t like the look of this.

“Hey babe, I’ve told you about Erin right?” You introduce your coworker, letting him pop up beside you as you scoot to the left. “He’s over for dinner!” You smile, but it doesn’t help with his boiling jealousy at all.

“Maybe.. I don’t remember” He brushed off your coworkers presence and goes off to the kitchen, making you miss out on his daily affection when around this time.

“He seems nice!” Your coworker laughs awkwardly, wondering if you also picked up on the switch after seeing him.

“Yeah, he is”

As you and your coworker sit on the couch chatting your boyfriend is left grumbling to himself about this stupid visitor, and how he was ruining everything just by being here.

He was never this salty but the fact that someone was invading his territory, his own house, is bewildering to him. You didn’t even ask him if it was okay to bring someone over.

He sulks with his tail and ears low while stirring the tomato soup he made. He brings the bowls to the dinner table and calls you over, failing to have enough care in the world to address your friend as well.

“It’s really good! Did you add anything new this time?” You grin, dipping a quarter of your bread into your tomato soup before chewing then gulping it down.

“Yeah, some new seasonings” He mumbled unenthusiastically as he plays with his food, uselessly moving his spoon in the tomato soup he served himself.

His mood only sours further when he hears the wretched voice of your coworker trying to pipe in about how savory his cooking was. It only made him growl more under his breath.

Yandere puppy boy that cleans up after the two of you finish and wonders if your coworker is going to leave yet, dinner was over so what purpose did that guy have left to be here?

He’s so tempted to bite and punch him until he leaves but he knows he has to behave.

He’s so ecstatic when the idiot finally leaves and goes to his own home, where he should’ve had his dinner in the first place instead of interrupting the romantic dinner he could’ve had with you!

Yandere puppy boy that not only has jealousy problems but attachment issues specifically during his heat. He honestly can’t help it when he raids your underwear drawer looking for his favorite pair as soon as he starts feeling heat rise throughout his body.

It’s just so calming whenever he’s able to have your underwear with him as he pumps his cock with it until you finally come home.

He’s so needy that he’ll tear your clothes off so it’s easier, he can just buy you new work pants tomorrow anyways. He’s been meaning to buy you a new pair!

He can even make it up to you as he bends you over the couch armrest, lining up the head of his cock right against your hole before pushing slowly inside of you.

He gives you about 5 seconds to get used to his cock before he’s moving his hips, going at a slow pace at first. He loves how you already writhe at his touch when he runs his hands down your sides before using your hips as a handle.

He’s never usually this in control but during his heat he can’t help but want to provide everything for you. Especially when he can fuck these cute little moans out of you.

Yandere puppy boy that marks you with kisses and nips at your neck after bringing you close, turning those nibbles into love bites until he’s needily lapping at your skin. He knows you prefer when it’s not in obvious places but he can’t help but want to show people that you’re already taken.

His cock bumps up against a sensitive spot inside of you so many times while his balls slap against your squeezed thighs and your legs feel like jello even with the armrest that you used for support.

He’s bullying your sensitive hole with his fat cock making the regular skin slapping sound until you’re cumming around it, still getting fucked while a plap plap plap sound echos through the room. You dig your nails into the couch’s skin while you pant and hear his moans.

He pays no mind to the sounds unlike you, grunting as he continues his feverish thrusts into you, you just feel too good to stop now. Especially when you keep tightening against him like you want to suffocate his cock with your insides.

He’s able to handle another minute of being inside of you until his vision blurs as he reaches his high, spilling his seed inside of you as he blabbers about how much he loves you, tail wagging at speeds you only see during times like these.

Yandere puppyboy who’s so love sick he’ll run over during his break to your workplace to see what you’re doing. He won’t exactly directly visit but he’ll try to see what’s going on from the doors of your workplace.

He’s always been too nervous to come in without an excuse since you’d probably send him back to work. So he usually settles with the peeping at your office window until his breaks over.

And if he has an excuse it’s food related, bringing you lunch that you might’ve forgotten or just giving you more since he wanted to see how cute you looked focused on your work before noticing him.

Yandere puppy boy who’s just too obsessed with you <3

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[pierregazly]

tying you to me ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x reader

warnings: sweet max, random coincidences to lovers trope, happy ending [wc: 4.3k]

[4 times] in which something coincidentally led back to max, and the [1 time] it turned out nothing was just a coincidence (in which everything has always tied max to you).

Time, curious time  Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs  Were there clues I didn't see? 

It felt like a never-ending nightmare. 

One thing after another, one bad day after another, one bad week after the next. It felt like it was never going to end. 

The person that was supposed to be that person, the man that was supposed to be forever, the person that was going to be standing at the end of the aisle... leaving with a simple apology and a ‘I’m sorry, it’s me, not you’... it was incomprehensible.  

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t wrap your head around what had gone wrong. Was he telling the truth? Was it really him? Or was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the blunder? The inevitable demise?  

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you, it was so evident it wasn’t meant to be. Nothing connected to him, there were no signs pointing to him being the one, there was no inevitable connection. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the internal heartbreak that felt like it was never going to end. 

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling, that pulled you to another person, that proved they were the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know that it was so obvious, he just wasn’t that person. 

The coffee shop you currently sat in had become a morning staple after the last few weeks. After coming back to Monaco for a much-needed reprieve from the rest of the world, the little coffee shop nestled into the charming walls of Monte-Carlo had become a necessary distraction to the outside. 

The employees all knew you by name now, often passing by the table and inquiring about your day, inquiring about the book you were reading, or the work assignment shown on your computer screen. Always engaging in polite conversation back, it was one of your favourite places to be. 

People-watching was the only negative of it. The loving couples who passed through, all cuddled up together as they ordered their drinks for their walk throughout the city, the older couples who sat just tables away and reminisced on their lives together. It was the only thing that drove you crazy about the charming little shop.  

Watching them occupied your thoughts more time’s than you cared to admit. Daydreaming and losing focus on the outside world was a commonality, especially in the little coffee shop. 

It was exactly where you found yourself currently, your eye’s peering to the left as you watched an older man place his hand over who you assumed to be his wife’s hand. Their wedding bands shining brightly in the Monaco sun, soft smiles on their faces as they peered at one another, your heart begging to be let out of this turmoil, begging you to turn away and focus on something else, anything else. 

Its wish was granted when you felt the cold of a drink begin to sink into your shirt, instantly soaking your skin, a gasp of shock falling from your lips. 

“Oh god, I am so sorry. I just turned around and you were right there, let me grab some cloths, please.” 

You knew instantly it was your own fault, you hadn’t been paying attention, more focused on the elderly couple, prompting the person in front of you to spill their... was that Red Bull? On your shirt? 

“Is this Red Bull?”  

The man in front of you grimaced as he handed you the dry cloths, a small smile falling across his lips while his eyes crinkled with the movement of his face. A bit of a cute look, you thought to yourself while beginning to dab at your shirt as the smell of the energy drink wafted up your nose. 

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I don’t drink coffee often, but my sister wanted to stop here because she had heard good things, I was just waiting for her drink while she took a quick call outside. I really only drink Red Bull in public when I have to, or when I’m getting paid to. I thought it was her behind me when I whipped around like that, I’m so sorry. Please, can I buy you a coffee as an apology? Or a tea?” 

You weren’t entirely sure if the rambling was out of nerves that you were going to overreact over the spilt drink, or if he just simply felt like he owed it to you to explain the entire incident and how it came about in full description. 

The frustration that was brewing was not at all a fault of the cute man in front of you, but an accumulation of days of sadness, an irregular appetite, and just a combination of heartbreak. 

Trying to keep the tears of frustration at bay, you instantly shook your head towards the cute man in front of you. “Thank you, but no. Obviously this is a sign I need to go home, sorry for spilling your drink.” 

Before he could get the chance to say anything back, you were forcing yourself to rush out of the coffee shop before an outburst could erupt from inside of you. You hadn’t even noticed the look of intrigue that the Dutchman gave you. 

Bad was the blood of the song in the cab  On your first trip to LA  You ate at my favorite spot for dinner 

The memory of the handsome Dutchman in the small coffee shop left your mind not long before the happy memories of your ex-boyfriend finally forced themselves out of your head. Things had finally begun looking up, the more time you spent with your friends, the more time you spent focusing on work and the hopeful promotion that would come with it. 

Although, your boss had insisted you take a few weeks off, citing the fact you were there more than anyone she knew, and that burnout was inevitable if you didn’t take the much deserved and obligated time off. The amount of overtime and banked hours allowing you to take the time off with full pay just made it easier to agree. 

Which was exactly how you found yourself just south of Zurich, the snow whipping past your face as the ski lift ascended higher and higher up the mountain. Your friends giggled beside you, smiles lighting up everyone’s faces. 

Winter break, although cold and snowy, was always a fan favourite amongst your friend group. It was exhilarating, you hadn’t had the chance to attend the annual ski trip while you were with your ex-boyfriend, he hated skiing and anything including winter sports.  

It’s what made the trip even better, getting the chance to catch up with your friends and their partners, the chance to laugh, and drink, and just smile again. It was all worth it.  

The group of guys in the ski lift behind obviously had the same idea, hooting and hollering at each other as the ski lift continued its ascent. You couldn’t decipher what they were saying, the words in a different language, but the name ‘Max’ seemed to be a commonality. Maybe someone was missing their dog while on vacation? Who knows.  

After hours of skiing, the alcohol in the ski lodge was flowing. The laughter and happiness from every group was prevalent, everyone there was so obviously happy to get away from the real world. It’s what places like that were for. 

“That guy over there can’t stop looking at you,” jostled out of your thoughts by one of your friends, you followed her head inclination to one of the tables a few rows down, a familiar face looking back at you inquisitorially.  

It took you a second to place his face, the day in the coffee shop floating back to your mind prompting a small laugh to fall from your lips.  

“That’s the guy who spilt the Red Bull all over me when I ran into him in the coffee shop in Monaco, remember?” 

It had been a running joke, a typical meet-cute in a coffee shop, but instead of spilt coffee... a spilt Red Bull.  

“That’s the guy who spilt the Red Bull on you?” 

One of your friend’s boyfriends gaped at you, as he continuously maneuvered his look between you and the man in question. Nodding your head, he continued to gape at you. 

“Don’t you know who that is?” Giving him a look, you shook your head. 

“That’s the Max Verstappen. Three-time Formula 1 World Champion? Dutch God? Second-coming of the Formula 1 Jesus?” 

You recognized the name, having heard it at the few races you had attended, but you never would’ve been able to place the name to the face otherwise. 

A laugh erupted from one of the other members of the group, a shove directed at the other man. “I think you've got Verstappen mixed up with Lewis Hamilton.”  

“He’s kinda cute, huh?” One of the girls pointed out to you, a small giggle falling from her lips as she looked over towards the man in question, his eyes meeting yours as you looked in his direction again. 

His hair was flopped over, obviously a combination of a long day wearing a ski helmet and a hat, mixed with the combination of the sweat and heat that engulfed the inside of the lodge made him look even more attractive. Windswept, tipsy, and overall, just happy. 

“So much better than that last loser.” A mutual agreement of ‘yes’, ‘obviously’, and ‘fucking no wonder’, floated throughout your group at your friend’s words. 

Shrugging them off, you just laughed and pushed the conversation in another direction and away from the man sitting across the room, who seemed as if he couldn’t take his eyes off you at all. 

As the night started to dwindle down, you bid goodnight to the remaining group of friends and started your route back to your room. 

“At least I have nothing to spill on you tonight.” 

Directing your gaze to the voice at hand, your eyes made direct contact with the blue irises of Max Verstappen.  

Quirking an eyebrow at him as a small laugh left your lips, “I’m sure the bars fully stocked with drinks you could spill on me. You’re just not trying hard enough.” 

A loud guffaw fell from the man’s mouth, his hands instinctively covering his mouth as he laughed. You couldn’t help the heat that grew on your cheeks at his reaction, his smile directed towards you when he finally moved his hands from his face. 

“I’m so very sorry. Next time I run into you, I’ll try to make sure I have a full drink in hand to spill on you.” 

“Oh, you plan on running into me again?” 

Shrugging his shoulders with a small grin, the Dutchman just laughed. “Well, I ran into the person I spilt a Red Bull in a coffee shop on in one of my favourite places in Switzerland, I’m sure I’m bound to run into you again. Things happen in three’s, don’t they?” 

Max ran a hand through his hair as he smiled at you, before either of you could get the chance to say anything else, one of his friends was clapping a hand against his shoulder with a boisterous laugh. 

“Time to get out of here, mate. Say goodnight to the pretty girl,” he said. 

You felt your cheeks heating again, as Max smiled at you in farewell, a small wave from both of you any indication of goodbye as you both walked away. 

Time, mystical time  Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine  Were there clues I didn't see? 

F1 race weekends were as fun as they were busy. Any race you had attended since you were an intern was always focused primarily on working. Getting the opportunity to attend a race with your friends, in Melbourne, without having to worry about work or advertising, or anything else, was obviously the best way to spend it. 

Lou, one of your friends linked her arm with yours as she basically skipped through the hospitality area, pointing out the different garages as she got a glimpse of them. Her boyfriend, Nick, had gotten both of you passes through his own work, a long-term employee of McLaren meant that the both of you had been spoiled for the weekend. 

"Maybe you’ll end up running into Max again, imagine? A third little meet-cute,” she said, with a giggle.  

Rolling your eyes at her, you just laughed as she grinned back. “Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s totally possible, I’m sure Nick could totally convince Lando to convince Max to pass by the garage or the hospitality. We could totally orchestrate it.” 

“Babe, it’s pure coincidence I’ve run into the guy more than once. I’m not like... going out of my way to run into Max Verstappen.” 

Huffing back at you, Lou sent a mock pout in your direction as she continued to drag you through the hospitality center. Passing a stand full of travel cups of coffee, you were eager to grab one as you walked by. 

Before you could even press the lid of the cup to your lips, you were interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice, yet again.  

“Is it your turn to spill something on me, then? I’m having a pretty bad day, and I don’t know if I can handle that.” 

Both you and Lou whipped around to the sound of the man’s voice, the man who just a short time ago had been forced to retire his race due to a faulty and on fire brake. You could practically feel Lou humming with excitement as she looked between you and Max. 

Shoving her hand out in his direction, Lou introduced herself to Max who did the same back. 

“With that, I’m going to see how everything’s going in the garage. Call me if you get lost, yeah?” Without giving you the chance to argue, she bolted away.  

Silently groaning, you looked back towards Max. For someone who just retired from a race he was probably going to win, he seemed relatively calm and relaxed. 

“So, are you?” 

“Am I what?” You questioned back, confused. 

“Are you going to spill your coffee on me, in retaliation for the Red Bull?” Instantly shaking your head, obviously the retirement from the race couldn’t have affected him too negatively, if he was already cracking jokes in your direction. 

“You don’t even know my name, and you’re accusing me of wanting to go out of my way to kick a man when he’s already down?” 

Watching his face fall, you could tell he was about to defend his words. A smile began to cross your face, his eyes jokingly narrowing in your direction. 

Sticking your hand out towards him, you finally introduced yourself, your name falling from his lips as if it was a beautiful word from a testament as he took your hand. It would be embarrassing to say a small spark shot up your arm, but the racing driver had inevitably shocked you, an apology dropping from his lips almost immediately. 

“Terrible race to stalk me at, though. You couldn’t have at least made it a race that I actually stood a chance at winning? Pretty embarrassing to have to retire for such a stupid reason, in front of such a pretty girl.”  

If there was one thing other than racing that Max was good at, it was making your cheeks warm and the butterflies in your stomach spike.  

“Well... I am here as a guest of McLaren... maybe I was just really hoping for a Piastri win. Gotta root for the hometown boy, right?” 

Shaking his head, Max mockingly pressed his hand to his chest and looked at you like he was internally wounded. 

“You’d support McLaren over me? The man who runs into you in the weirdest of places? Who gave you a free Red Bull without a can?” he said. 

You could barely help the small snort that fell from your lips at his words, your hand instantly slapping against your lips in horror. Max openly laughed at your reaction, arm gently hitting your shoulder with a grin. 

“Just for that, I’ll support Ferrari before I support you and your Red Bull’s. I don’t think Charles Leclerc would spill a Red Bull on me.” 

In response, Max grinned and pointed in the direction of the Ferrari garage, the red and yellow prominent amongst the stone. “Shall I go introduce you to Charles, then? He’d probably spill an actual hot coffee on you, at least I didn’t leave any lasting damage.” 

“The trauma of smelling like an original Red Bull for more than 2 hours isn’t enough damage?” you questioned, your eyebrows quirking up at him. 

Max looked at you in horror, “You can’t possibly be saying you don’t think the smell of an original, cold, fresh out of a fridge, Red Bull isn’t just simply lovely. This is potentially the biggest red flag about you.” 

You were quick on your feet, the words dropping from your lips before you could contain them. 

“I guess we’re all on fire today, then. Red flags left and right.” you said with a smirk. 

All Max did was laugh at your words, his head rolling back while his hands placed themselves on his hips.  

Just as he had been the last two times, Max was interrupted before he could continue the conversation, a lady in a Red Bull sweater tapping him on the shoulder to let him know he needed to make his way back to the garage for some interviews that had been requested of him.  

“Nice seeing you again, I’m sure next time I see you, you’ll probably heal more of my Red Bull soaked shirt trauma.”  

The only response he gave was a loud laugh and a wave, as he walked away. 

Time, wondrous time  Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies 

The FIA year-end Gala was exquisite. Everyone was dressed to the nines, the lights were twinking, the service was lovely, and the atmopshere was electric. 

Even though, for almost all of the people there, it was a requirement of their jobs, everyone seemed as if they were having a wonderful time. Mingling with those around them, actively engaging in conversation with co-workers, friends, long-time acquaintances.  

Your boss had elected that you and a fellow co-worker attend in her place, admitting that although she loved the excitement of the night, she needed a break from the glitz and the glam of Formula 1 for a tiny bit. She knew you were more than willing to take her place and do an incredible job.  

Which is exactly how you found yourself at a table with Jack, one of your co-workers, a wide grin on his face as he observed everything going on around him. He was new to the company, just having recently completed his internship and been offered a full-time position with the organization. It was his first time at a Formula 1 event of any kind. 

“Isn’t this brilliant? I’m a huge motorsports fan, I wanted to get into karting when I was a kid but it was just too expensive, my parents couldn’t afford that. I’ve never even had the opportunity to go to a race, and now I’m in the same building, the same room as literal race drivers. Have you been to a race before?” 

You forgot how much he could yap, an almost over-eager human equivalent of an excited golden retriever. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer to his question. 

“I’ve been to a few races for work, and a few privately with some friends. They’re always a great time, you’ll have lots of fun when you start going for work.” you said. 

Grinning at your words, you began to tune him out as he launched into another rant. You were pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of someone saying your name, your head swiveling in the direction of the voice. 

You were almost positive Jack was squealing out loud, as Max Verstappen once again entered your view. Smiling up at him, you stood up to greet the Dutchman, which resulted in him pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, his hand gently patting you on the back as he did so. 

“I just wanted to come by and say hello. You look very beautiful.”  

Unable to contain the anxious laugh that fell from your lips, you immediately smiled at him. Accepting compliments was obviously not your forte, especially when they were coming from Max, who looked more handsome than ever in his suit, and the wide smile on his cheeks pulling everything together. 

“Never thought I’d see you in anything other than jeans and a Red Bull shirt, Max. You look lovely, as well.” 

“Making fun of me, and a compliment all in one? I will say, I probably would’ve worn jeans if I could, but my public relations manager likely would’ve murdered me and I quite enjoy being alive,” he said. 

Shaking your head in silent laughter, you barely even noticed as Jack thrust his hand out to introduce himself to Max.  

“Your girlfriend is lovely, mate. This is what, the fourth time I’ve run into you?” Max said in greeting, a somewhat tight smile on his face. 

Jack instantly shook his head, “Oh god no, we’re co-workers. I don’t mean she’s not lovely, she is. I’m not her type, or actually she’s not my type. I’m yapping, this is embarrassing. Mr. Verstappen, it was really nice to meet you. I need a drink. I’m sorry.” 

He practically sprinted away, both you and Max looked on with amused grins present on your faces. 

“So, if he’s not your boyfriend, does that mean one of the guys you were with in Switzerland are?” 

Shaking your head, “God, no. Those are friends I’ve known for years. I’m very much single, right now.” 

Max looked like he was in complete contemplation as he debated what to say next. You were secretly hoping he would take the bait, maybe ask if you were free after the gala, or ask how long you were going to be in town for. 

Running into him again once was by chance, twice was a coincidence, and thrice was obviously a sign. The universe was obviously trying to tell you something, there was a reason this man, who had first shown up in your life just after one of the worst heartbreaks you had ever experienced, continued to show up. It was hard to not get your hopes up, to not get ahead of yourself. 

It was hard to keep the butterflies at bay, truthfully.  

“Hypothetically, does that mean you’re free after the gala?” 

“Hypothetically... I man be free after the gala,” you responded. 

Nodding his head, Max smiled in your direction. “I think it would be a crime to let this beautiful dress, and my efforts to wear a suit for something go to waste. I’d love to take you out after.” 

And isn't it just so pretty to think  All along there was some  Invisible string  Tying you to me? 

Max had been transparent from the beginning; he wasn’t overly affection nor was he a fan of excessive cuddling. He got warm often, and the moment he got too warm when he was in bed, he got miserable. But when he wanted to cuddle? You had to take what he would give you.  

Which was exactly how you found yourselves right now, Max playfully attempting to whack your phone out of your hand, his other arm wrapped around your waist as he burrowed his head into your neck. 

“Schatje, I just wanna cuddle for a bit. Give me a little attention.” 

Slapping gently at his arm, you looked at him in mock exasperation. All you ever did was give him attention, he almost took the words out of your mouth when he muttered, “I know you give me plenty of attention, don’t yell at me.” 

You just shook your head silently as you used your free hand to gently twirl small tuffs of his hair, a small hum of content falling from his lips at your movements. 

“What are you looking at?”  

Attempting to look over at your phone, you moved the screen so he could see it better. It was a video from your first ever Formula 1 race, back when you were still a little intern and your boss had wanted you to gain some exposure to the sport. 

“I’m just looking back at some videos. Found this one from my first ever race. I didn’t even know I still had this.” 

Max instantly perked up and looked at your phone, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher something in the video. 

“Do you remember which race it was? Looks like it’s a few years old, yeah?”  

Nodding your head, you tried to do the math in your head, thinking back to what year you first started your internship. “I think it was 2016? It was definitely in Spain, but I’m pretty positive it was 2016.” 

“Do you know what that means?” Max questioned, a soft smile on his lips as he pressed a small kiss to the junction between your chin and throat before looking back up at you. 

Shaking your head in confusion, you tried to determine what he could be talking about, giving him the chance to continue.  

“My first ever win in Formula 1, for Red Bull, was the 2016 Spanish Grand Prix. Isn’t that so ironic? Guess things were always meant to be.” 

Maybe he was right. 

Maybe there was always a string, a small, invisible string, tying everything together, tying you to him.  

genuinely i got this into my mind and felt like i was legally obligated to write it asap. i hope you LOVE it and i would so appreciate it if you told me if you do. thank you, love you all 🫶🏻

[astonmartinii]

a case of the cuddle bug | logan sargent social media au

pairing: logan sargent x fem!piastri!reader

someone check his temperature, he's got a serious case of the cuddle bug

author's note: thought we could all use some logan content to get us through the weekend

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 201,445 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: he's not racing :( more time to cuddle :)

view all comments

user1: if i find out that that t-shirt was made by them i may need to be shot in the head

yourusername: sorry to be the bearer of bad news 😕

user2: y/n where do we find a logan?

yourusername: date your brother's best friend - the romance books did NOT lie

logansargent: hard to be too sad when you're around

yourusername: awwwww logie bear 🐻 i love youuuuu

logansargent: i love you too come back to the motorhome the hospitality coffee is not worth it

yourusername: not even if i swipe you a cupcake?

logansargent: okay..... maybe ....

alexalbon: i'm sorry buddy, i promise i'll do us proud

yourusername: yOU BETTER 👹

alexalbon: i'm soRRY are you like a gremlin? did someone spill some water?

yourusername: i'm gonna ignore most of that cause gizmo is cute

logansargent: she loves you really alex

alexalbon: do you still love me logie?

logansargent: yes?

alexalbon: I' SORRY I HAVE.A GUILTY CONSCIENCE I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE BEING MAD AT ME

user3: lol mood ^

oscarpiastri: you could support your BELOVED BROTHER NOW (AT HIS (OUR) HOME RACE)

yourusername: ugh i guess

oscarpiastri: you literally said you'd support me any time logan wasn't racing :(

yourusername: unless he can come with me, we'll be supporting you from the williams garage

oscarpiastri: better than nothing i guess

logansargent

liked by oscarpiastri, alexalbon and 459,046 others

tagged: yourusername

logansargent: no way around it, this weekend has been the hardest of my career. however, i'm thankful for alex for picking up a couple points for the team and for having y/n with me to support me this weekend, enjoy the cute picture of her (but not too much)

also i guess congrats to oscar on a podium at his home race 🤷🏻‍♂️

view all comments

user4: hardest weekend ever... here's a pic of my. hot gf :)))))

user5: he's real for that, just reminding us that he's still winning off track

alexalbon: thank you isn't enough logie, love you man, can't wait to see you back in the car next week x

yourusername: you're so lucky you got points otherwise your ass would've been grass xoxo

alexalbon: Y/N I SAID I WAS SORRY PLEASE STOP BEING MEAN YOU'RE MEANT TO BE THE NICE PIASTRI

oscarpiastri: you stole my soon-to-be brother-in-law's car and called me a shit padel player 🖕🏻

alexalbon: why is everyone ganging up on me :(

logansargent: you gotta take it for at least this weekend bro

alexalbon: i guess...

user6: they're so cute, but who is taking these photos of them?

yourusername: oscar makes himself useful sometimes

oscarpiastri: ugh i get NO CREDIT IN THIS FAMILY

logansargent: i at least appreciate it oscar 🫶🏻

oscarpiastri: that's all well and good and i love you, you're my bff but sometimes i don't want to see you be lovely dovey with that hellspawn

fredvesti: let it be known i will no longer be sneaking out with you guys for ice cream on a race weekend, the risk was not worth the third wheeling

logansargent: i paid?

fredvesti: thank the lord you did otherwise i'd raise an official complaint

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, alexalbon and 793,209 others

tagged: logansargent & yourusername

oscarpiastri: got a podium at my home race and i'm still not my sister's favourite

view all comments

user8: have we considered that y/n and logan have attachment issues?

oscarpiastri: she sat at the window like a woman waiting for her husband at war when he DARED to go home for christmas when we were 16

yourusername: as if you haven't cried over lily 🙄

oscarpiastri: i ACTUALLY don't get to see her very often, i can't separate you and logan

yourusername: LEAVE ME BE

user9: oscar says this as if y/n wasn't crying her eyes out at the podium

user10: and logan wiping her tears to prevent smudging her eyeliner - sigh

logansargent: don't hate the player hate the game

oscarpiastri: what happened to blood being thicker than water

yourusername: you know what else is thicker than water ... 😩😩😩

oscarpiastri: okay you can sTOP RIGHT THERE

landonorris: they're really one being huh?

oscarpiastri: believe me the dinner at mine? they were being TAME

yourusername: okay for the audience we are not that bad, we're just affectionate we aren't like making out in front of everyone

landonorris: .... shame

oscarpiastri: yOU HAVE SHAME THAT'S MY SISTER

logansargent: THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND

yourusername: AND THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND

landonorris: damn tough crowd

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 212,934 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: a wee break before my boy is back to knock your socks off

view all comments

user11: they're so cute your honour

alexalbon: dating a racing driver and not wearing a seat belt? interesting.

yourusername: dating a professional golfer and still shit at golf? interesting.

lilymunhe: she did get you there alex, soz.

yourusername: also we weren't even driving, that hair acting is all a fan

logansargent: practically a professional photographer now (the model definitely helps, she looks perfect doing anything)

yourusername: hehehheheheheheheheheheheeh

user12: y/n really just gagging alex at every corner

user13: she saw logan wasn't holding a grudge and decided to double down on hers

user14: and we respect that

logansargent: you knock my socks off everyday babe

yourusername: as long as it's only me 😘

logansargent: i've been in love with you since i was 13 👍🏻

yourusername: SNAP🫰

oscarpiastri: once again left out of the photodump

yourusername: you are not 'my boy' that would in fact be inappropraite

oscarpiastri: you couldn't just change the caption?

yourusername: you're not cute enough to be a lannister (cersei and jaime call me)

logansargent: ????

yourusername: *call us 😉

logansargent

liked by lilymunhe, alexalbon and 592,309 others

tagged: yourusername

logansargent: glad to be back in the car this weekend, though if alex could stop terrorising y/n that would be great

view all comments

user15: were oscar and y/n's parents in the williams garage?

user16: so oscar wasn't lying about him basically being family already 🥹

alexalbon: i was not TERRORISNG I WAS ENGAGING IN SIBLING LIKE BANTER

oscarpiastri: hold on buster, that's MY sister 🤨

alexalbon: i can't win with any of you three 😭

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO EAGLE BOY GOD BLESS AMERICA 🦅🇺🇸

logansargent: i'll let you have this one for once

yourusername: as an aussie that was very hard to say, please appreciate it

logansargent: thank you my little kangaroo?

yourusername: kinda offensive they're scary

logansargent: koala?

yourusername: YOU SAYING I HAVE CHLAMYDIA?

logansargent: well i've ran out of australian animals now :(

user17: thanks for the violent reminder of chlamydia being rife in koalas :(

oscarpiastri: gonna have to beat you this weekend to win back my parents' favour it seems

yourusername: let's be real, they prefer logan over both of us :(

oscarpiastri: true 😔

logansargent: i can't help the southern charm

williamsf1

liked by yourusername, alexalbon and 1,034,672 others

tagged: logansargent

williamsf1: LOGAN POINTS, I REPEAT LOGAN POINTS 😤

view all comments

user20: TRUST HIM, I REPEAT TRUST HIM

yourusername: THAT'S MY BOY LET'S FUCKING GO

oscarpiastri: you never get this excited for me?

yourusername: FUCK OFF THIS IS NOT YOUR TURN, IT'S LOGAN'S DAY

maxverstappen1: pretty sure i won the race

yourusername: FUCK OFF ALL OF YOU

user21: y/n crying her eyes out she's so real

user22: based on the faces in the garage i think she may have let everything out lol

user23: as she should

user24: can't expect two people to be attached 24/7 and not be ride or die for each other

logansargent: thanks for the support, glad to pick up some points for the team

yourusername: I'M SO PROUD OF YOU

logansargent: i know you've shouted it in my face since i got back from media

yourusername: you need to know it :(

logansargent: i love you so much

yourusername: i love you even more

user25: the whole piastri family going wild in LOGAN'S garage was not on my 2024 bingo sheet

user26: but it was cute as fuck

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 287,045 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: we're down bad with a case of the cuddle bug

view all comments

user27: the CUDDLE BUG?

user28: i need to be taken out of my misery

logansargent: i've got a high fever, a love fever

oscarpiastri: THAT WAS CORNY AS FUCK

yourusername: i thought it was cute :(

logansargent: and that's what matters

yourusername: exactlyyyyy

oscarpiastri: so fuck me, right?

yourusername: yes!

logansargent: yes!

user29: this whole interaction makes it so obvious oscar was the only boy growing up LOL

alexalbon: i'll concede, you guys are cute

yourusername: we been known

logansargent: no one does it like us

alexalbon: erm alex and lily erasure?

yourusername: lily cute, you not so much

alexalbon: stop being SO PROTECTIVE WHY ARE YOU A GOLDEN RETRIEVER WITH EVERYONE ELSE AND A RABID JACK RUSSELL WITH ME IT WAS JAMES' DECISION GO FOR JAMES' ANKLES

williamsf1: ???

yourusername: i thought it was friendly sibling banter (also james is logie's boss of course i'm not gonna go for his ankles dummy)

logansargent: she's my little guard dog 🫶🏻

yourusername: anything for you, come back to cuddle :(

logansargent: on my way cuddle bug!

fin.

note: i understand why williams made the decision they did, but i've had such a soft spot for logan since he admitted he's lonely in the paddock :( i hope he has a good next race to really prove himself to everyone xx hope you enjoyed! xx

[stylesharrys]

special brownies [weedrry]

summary: harry and y/n accidentally eat their roommates special brownies.

warnings: mentions and use of weed (edibles), being high, swearing, kissing, biting, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk.

word count: 2,396

a/n: i came up with this idea very randomly and i have written it as fast as i possibly could lmao anyway, the whole thing is about accidentally getting stoned, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read! if it doesn't, enjoy <333

//

It’s been a long week and Y/N is feeling it. Between classes and shifts at the cafe, her feet are sore and her mind is tired. She wants nothing more than to cuddle up on the sofa with a good tv show and pass the fuck out.

And tonight is supposed to be her lucky night. Tom has a night shift and Harry has a hot date. No boys, no roommates, no interruptions.

There’s just something about knowing she’s got the flat to herself all night long, and she can lounge about like the lazy girlie her heart yearns to be.

She starts with a long, relaxing her aching body in the hot soapy water until her skin begins to prune. Y/N takes extra time to moisturise her body and brush her hair. Even treats herself to a face mask while she does so.

When she leaves the bathroom, it’s almost 7 p.m. and Tom has already left for work. The apartment is clean, and most importantly, quiet.

She’s a bit too excited in her movement to the sofa, a squeal slipping from her lips. Too caught up in her head, she doesn’t notice Harry leaning against his bedroom door, arms folded across his chest.

It’s not until he clears his throat that Y/N jumps out of her little happy dance with a scream. A smirk sits on his lips, amused by the way she scowls at him.

“What the hell are you doing here! You’re supposed to be out on a date!”

Her tone is accusing, pointer finger jabbing at the air in his direction. She notices his attire; grey shorts and a white hoodie. Y/N’s shoulders slump.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she huffs.

“What? I thought you liked hanging out with me?” Harry follows her to the sofa, sitting on  the opposite end of her.

Y/N crosses her arms furiously. “I do! But I was so excited to have the flat to myself for just one night.”

Harry’s brows are raised suggestively, that sick fucking smirk on his lips again. Y/N lunges a pillow at his face. “Not for those reasons, you perv.”

He barks out a laugh, hugging the pillow close to his chest as he props his feet up and on Y/N’s lap. He watches how her bottom lip pouts out and his face softens.

“Look, if you want me to fuck off out for the evening, I can.” Harry offers.

She scoffs. “That is what you were supposed to be doing.” A moment of silence passes and she sighs. “Sorry, that came out rude. I'm not about to kick you out of your own flat – though I am going to force you to watch the last three episodes of The Rookie with me.”

Harry makes no attempt to hide the groan that follows her words. It’s not that he doesn’t like the show, it’s that he hates the show. He’ll never understand Y/N’s weird obsession with emergency services.

First, it was Criminal Minds, then a month later she binge watched 9-1-1 Lone Star in six days. Now she’s on the newest season of The Rookie and he’s sure she only started season one at the beginning of the month?

“Do we have to?” he grumbles.

Y/N throws another pillow at him. “Yes. You’re the one interrupting my night, you could at least do it quietly… and with snacks.”

Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence and Harry has to bite back a grin. She could never be mad at Harry, she loves him and his company far too much. Tom, on the other hand… yeah, she would definitely be mad if it was him crashing her lazy girl night.

Harry stands from the sofa, wandering through to the kitchen. He grabs two bottles of water in one hand and scans his eyes through the cupboards in search for a suitable snack.

They’ve not been shopping for a few days, so there’s only some dry crackers, a half-eaten bag of cashew nuts (ew, Tom), and granola. Harry contemplates ubering some cookies and milkshakes when his eyes land on a bakery box on top of the microwave.

He squints as he reads the writing on the top of the box.

Tom’s. DO NOT EAT!

Harry flips the lid, six thick slices of dewey chocolate brownies. They’re like fucking slabs… he’s sure Tom won’t mind if he and Y/N share just one between them.

He pops a (massive) slice on a plate and toddles back to the kitchen. The show is paused on the opening scene, Y/N shuffled to get comfortable on the sofa. She raises a brow at the snack in question.

“We’re sharing a brownie?”

Harry huffs as he sits. “S’all we’ve got in the kitchen, and they’re Tom’s. Didn’t wanna take the piss when his little sticky note clearly says DO NOT TOUCH!”

Y/N snorts, breaking the brownie in half and handing Harry the bigger slice. She takes a bite, face screwing slightly.

“These taste a little funny… nutmeg, maybe?”

She turns to Harry who doesn’t say anything and still hasn’t taken the brownie. The look on his face irks her. She huffs, swallowing. “I feel bad that your date cancelled on you.”

His eyebrows almost raise to his hairline. “And what makes you think she was the one to cancel?”

“Was she?” Y/N asks.

Harry takes the brownie with a sigh. “Yeah.”

//

They can’t stop fucking giggling.

The show is long forgotten about, has been for the past thirty minutes. They’re both feeling warm. Harry stripped from his jumper and Y/N changed into some little shorts and one of Harry’s baggy t-shirts.

Neither of them know where this amusement came from, but there is absolutely no calming either of them down. They’re sneakily sharing a second slice of Tom’s brownies; eyes on the door in case for some reason, he comes home an hour after his shift has started.

“They taste so weird, but I can’t stop eating it.”

Harry chokes out a laugh, eyes welling with tears because he just finds Y/N so fucking funny tonight.

She’s a mess too, eyes squinted and shoulders hunched as she laughs uncontrollably. They’re both crossed-legged on the living room floor, knees knocking gently.

The more she chews, the more she begins to recognise that unfamiliar taste… the way it lingers on her tongue. Her laughter slows for a moment, as if realisation is beginning to dawn on her.

She stares at Harry with wide eyes and parted lips, mouth still full.

“Oh, my god.”

“What?”

“They’re fucking weed brownies!”

Harry can’t breathe, struggles to look away from the fear and shock on Y/N’s face. His whole body begins to shake with laughter and Y/N finds herself following.

“Harry, it’s not funny!” she shrieks. “This is so bad, Harry.”

She’s laughing through her words. Even she can’t take herself seriously in this state.

“D’you wanna play Just Dance?”

Harry’s words only make her laugh harder. The remainder of her brownie is thrown at his naked torso. Harry wastes no time to tackle her to the ground, hovering between her legs as he tickles her sides.

He's blowing raspberries on her neck, eliciting loud cackles from her mouth. Y/N tugs at his hair, her legs flailing around his hips when he nips at the skin on her throat.

They don’t say anything. She continues to chuckle, and Harry continues to bite.

Their laughter has fizzled out into breathy giggles. Neither of them are sure when Harry’s bites turned into kisses. When their fingers became intertwined. When her legs closed around his middle.

And neither of them say a fucking thing about it.

Harry’s lips travel up her neck and across her jaw. She finds his mouth feverishly, nothing but tongue and teeth but to the pair of them, it’s the best kiss they’ve ever had.

They’re needy, hot and wanton all of a sudden. Like a switch has been flipped and they’re clinging to one another like lifelines.

Harry holds her hands above her head, fingers tangled. He’s hard, rock hard. Pressing into Y/N’s tiny fucking shorts so much he’s sure he can feel her arousal through both of their clothes.

He ruts against her, testing the waters. The moan he receives sends all blood down south. He’s always known sex to be incredible when you’re high. The thought of him sharing it with her? God, he could bust there and then.

He releases her hands so he can feel up her thighs, skin hot and smooth. Their lips don’t separate, not once. She lets her hands fall into his curls, nails scratching at his scalp and she tugs at the roots.

Harry’s moaning into her mouth, eager and desperate for more. He takes her shorts off quickly and strategically. So quickly that she doesn’t notice until she feels a cool breeze between her thighs.

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, more than ready for whatever the fuck he wants to do to her.

They haven’t hesitated, not once. Not until Harry's hands are at the waistband of his shorts and he wonders if he should grab a condom or just go down on her. He knows she’s on the pill, just like they both know they’re both clean.

Harry gets tested once a month and Y/N doesn’t sleep around.

She answers his inner turmoil for him and tugs his shorts down the best she can. Harry breaks the kiss for a split second to tug his shorts to his knees. He’s back to kissing her as quickly as he pulled away, tongue against hers. Hot and messy.

Y/N feels his tip twitch against her clit, an airy sigh echoing into Harry’s mouth. He lets his fingers swirl around her wetness, smearing it across her smooth cunt and coating his thick shaft in her arousal.

They’re panting messes, eager, desperate and horny.

When he lines himself at her entrance, she locks her legs around his waist. Harry bumps forward, a shrill cry slipping from between their lips at the sensation of one another.

Harry wants to give her a moment to adjust, but Y/N doesn’t. She wants it hot and hard. She wants the pain. She wants to feel every fucking inch of him.

She probably should’ve warned Harry how she gets when she’s high. How much of a whiny, cock-hungry whore she can become. Then again, how was she supposed to know they’d accidentally eat their roommates special brownies?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry chokes as he bottoms out.

Y/N’s struggling to catch her breath but she’s never loved the burn in her lungs more. “Fuck me, H.”

He twitches inside her. “Fuck me hard.”

His hips begin to roll, cock nuzzling itself deep inside her. He can feel everything. Every bump, dip, swell. God, she’s fucking soaked, leaking down to the floor but neither of them care.

Harry slowly begins to quicken his pace, arms bent at the elbows either side of Y/N’s head to prop himself up. She doesn’t loosen her legs around his hips. She needs him as close as he can possibly get.

Even his cock buried to the brim in her cunt isn’t enough. She needs his soul touching hers.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” she breathes. “You gonna fuck my tight cunt, baby? Fuck me like you own me.”

He can’t believe his fucking ears. He’s always found Y/N attractive, but never in his wildest fucking dreams did he expect her to be this goddamn filthy.

Harry loves it.

His thrusts grow harsher. She has no time to catch her breath between hits, her mouth in a constant state of slack – eyes rolled back and eyebrows pinched.

“My perfect little cunt.” Harry seethes.

The noises of her pussy are like electric waves in Harry’s ears. He feels them in his soul, like sparks and jolts. He’s never felt more alive.

He’s fucking into her manically. Behind closed eyes all he can see shapes and colours of need and desire. Sex has always been good, always been great high. But this? Fuck, he’s never felt something so otherwordly.

He never wants it to end, wants to spend the rest of his life fucking her like a whore. She’s tugging his hair, likely making his scalp bleed but he loves it. He’d bleed a fucking river just to feel her cunt around him again.

“I’m gonna come!”

Her words awaken something animalistic within Harry. Like his life depends on feeling her release around him – like it’s what he was born to experience.

He chases her high, nipping and suckling on her neck, fucking into her cunt as fast as his restrained hips will allow. Y/N’s a blubbering mess, a sight Harry never wants to forget.

Fuck, he doesn’t think he could if he tried. This will forever be etched into his mind – her face, her body, her perfect cunt. Jesus, he’s never been so into sex in his life.

Her body begins to tremble uncontrollably, legs locked tight around his middle as she cries his name and pours over him.

Harry’s gruff and desperate moans mix with hers. She’s impossibly tighter, squeezing him; begging him to never let her feel anything but full ever again.

Harry wants to die buried in her cunt.

It takes every single fucking ounce of willpower he has to pull out and release across her thighs – painting the filthiest picture anyone could imagine.

It’s a struggle for either of them to catch their breaths. Hot and heavy panting that soon turns into light laughter, that even sooner, turns into contagious giggles.

Their bodies shake with every chuckle, Harry’s mouth ghosting hers until he nips on her bottom lip.

“We are never to talk about this, understood?”

He grins widely. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

She hums, eyes full of lust. Harry’s still achingly hard, despite coming more than he ever has before. He dips his head to her neck, sucking at her soft skin. His cock twitches against her thigh and she breathes deeply, blinks slowly.

“You wanna go again?” his voice is muffled by her neck.

She grins, legs wrapping back around his middle.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

[catboyieejeno]

seventeen reaction ₊ ༊ ˚｡⋆˚

➸ the seventeen members as boyfriends.

alt title: seventeen are boyfriend coded—that's all.

cw: mentions of food, sfw, cheol's & hao's are suggestive if you squint, they’re all a little long… i was very invested

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungcheol

talk about a dude who is boyfriend coded fr

if he wakes up at any point during the night and realizes you happened to roll away from him in your sleep, he'll reach out across the sheets in search of your warmth, pulling you tightly into his chest before falling back asleep

and he's pressed into you so, so snugly, trapping you in his hold and tickling your neck with his shallow breaths

if you even attempt to shift away, he'll scold you in a gravelly, slurred voice or hum in protest (even if he's half-asleep) until you stop moving and accept your fate

anything you want, just say the word and it's yours

you mention that you like a specific type of flower? he's getting you a bouquet every week so that your vases are never empty. he overhears you talking about an item you've been wanting? by the very next day, it's yours, in different versions/colors cause he wasn't sure which one you'd like

treats you to frequent date-nights at high-end restaurants because you deserve nothing but the best... and he uh, has a bit of a ulterior motive haha....

these dates are a necessary staple in your relationship because he can't ever get enough of you when you get all dressed up for him

thanks his lucky stars for the patience he's been granted because you look too good and he almost can't wait until after dinner to have his way with you

whenever he kisses your cheek, he practically smashes his lips into you until your cheek is smushed and pushing your eye closed and his nose is digging into your cheekbone

whenever he has an early practice the following day and can't sleep over, he still insists on passing by your place to take you on walk or something where the two of you can catch each other up on your day and spend some time together between his busy schedules

i cannot stress this enough: you will never have to touch a steering wheel ever again

prepare to be passenger prince/princess forever. you will not need to drive anywhere when he's with you bc he insists on taking you everywhere

'hand on your thigh with your hand over his' type of guy

it’s second nature for him to scoop your legs onto his lap when the two of sit together on the couch + he’ll subconsciously start massaging your calves, rubbing at them and squeezing them in his big hands after a long day

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jeonghan

the type to randomly kiss any bit of your skin that's exposed to him, and his kisses are so light and soft and sweet

on the other hand, he's also the type to bite you

like he'd start by softly nibbling and then his impulsive thoughts will take over and he'll bite you a bit too hard

echoes your "ow!" as if he also got hurt

but he can't watch you scowl or be mad at him for too long so he'll coo at you and apologize while holding your face in his hands (i know you've seen a clip of him going "aigoo" (아이고) when someone falls/gets hurt... it's exactly what he would say —its one of the expressions he uses very often and i can't picture anything else no matter how hard i try)

oh, he's a cheek kisser for sure

that tiny little smile that he does (see here and here for reference)... he'd do it and proceed to smother you with kisses on your cheeks because he's so obsessed with how soft they are

and no, you cannot move until he's completely satisfied and has given you as many kisses as he deems necessary

similarly, get ready to lay around in the morning until he decides he's had a sufficient amount of cuddles from you and can get on with his day

but to be honest, he's insatiable so you very well may end up lying around for an hour or two

during these cuddle sessions, jeonghan clings to you in a hug, hands softly rubbing your arms and traveling over your waist and thighs—it's not even sexual, he's just soaking up the feeling of touching you because it's something he can never get enough of

and if you did the same with him, letting your hands wander, his cheeks might glow a soft pink. that combined with the sleepy look on his face makes him look that much more riveting

he's already so pretty, you didn't think he could get any prettier but he can and he does every single day

and now it's part of your daily routine to hold each other and enjoy the comfortable silence/very light conversation about what dreams you had or what errands you have to run later

it's his absolute favorite way to wake up he literally can never get enough because he's greedy

you'd brush your hands over his shoulders and chest or softly trace his facial features, laughing when you're at his lips and he catches your finger between his lips in a soft bite (that he pairs with a little "aang!" sound effect)

and no because he's literally crazy enough to get mad at you for spoiling him with affection

sends you texts complaining because now, whenever he has to sleep away from you (bc of tour/schedules and whatnot,) he wakes up in a sour mood, missing the smell of you on his sheets and the feeling of your skin on his

and somehow that's your fault

immediately takes it back when you threaten to stop

"fine, jeonghan. i'll just make sure i get up every morning before you and that way, you don't miss me when yo-"

"what, nooooo! how could you even say that to me!"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ joshua

i'm a supporter and enthusiast of the joshua gentleman agenda

but let me go into detail on what that really means

opens the door for you, pays for your meals, walks on the outside of the side walk,

yeah yeah yeah he does all of that but those are just the basics

joshua is a romantic, okay? this man goes above and beyond make you swoon and to ensure you feel so overwhelmingly loved and cared for all the time

knew from the moment he met you that the best things are worth the wait, so he took his time, romancing you with thoroughly planned out dates where his effort shined through, so that you'd know how much you mean to him from the start

for example: on one date, he took you rollerblading first—he put your skates on for you and strapped up your laces before helping you onto the rink where he'd stroll behind you, patiently waiting for you to gain the confidence to let go of the wall so he can take your hands in his

next, he takes you to the cutest little place that serves your favorite food (he researched it extensively and reserved the table a week and a half in advance)

found that there's a record/vinyl shop next door so you go there, and he gladly listens intently as you rave about your favorite artists and genres and songs

oh, and he's not done.

because finally, you're seated on the hood of his car, star-gazing at the top of a hill with a great view below and the two of you talking just about anything for hours on end and just as you're starting to realize how easy it feels to be around him—he's dropping you off and walking you to your door, leaving a kiss on your hand and leaving you wanting more

be serious. you're telling me you wouldn't fall in love?

fast forward, and he's still the epitome of boyfriend material

brushing your teeth next to each other and looking at one another in the bathroom mirror

skin care nights where he's picking you up so you can sit on the sink

and he's standing in front of you, one hand on your hip, the other smearing some pink goo on your cheeks as he's telling you how pretty you look

and you're so close that he can't help but softly kiss you, so slowly and tenderly until you both pull away and laugh as you realize you look ridiculous with fluffy headbands and face masks on

he holds you so close to his chest at night and will remind you that he loves you during pillow talk

quietly hums a melody when he senses you're beginning to drift off, thumb soothingly swiping your cheek as your eyes flutter shut

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ junhui

definitely does that cheesy thing where he swings your hands between your bodies as you guys are walking

likes coming up to you whenever he hasn't seen you in a bit or you’ve been doing something for a while

and he'll just throw his arms over your shoulders, resting his chin on top of your head and muttering “what are you up to?” in the tiniest voice

pet names, pet names. pet. names.

he might as well have forgotten your real name because to him you are honey or bǎobèi (宝贝) or bǎobǎo (宝宝) or baby or some other nickname he’s come up with during the duration of your relationship

even when he’s mad he doesn’t call you by your name and... you already know his temper’s pretty short... so it’s endearing to see how adamant he is about referring to you strictly as one of the soft nicknames he's assigned to you

so adaptable and mirrors all your emotions, especially if you’re excited about something or feeling a little bouncier than usual, he’s right there with you

also he thinks it's so cute when you happen to get excited about things. he's a sucker for that happy look on your face, so expect a few random gifts or surprises from him just so he can watch your eyes light up

cooks his favorite meals/comfort foods that remind him of home so that you can try them, and would be so proud if you like them

will 100% be so willing and eager to try dishes that are comfort meals for you, too (might even learn to make them just how you like them for days where you're down/sick)

nose kisses!

when he wakes up in the morning all warm and tucked up into your side and he sees the way your tired eyes blink back at him, lashes curling and eyelids heavy with sleep, he’s instantly inching closer and leaving the lightest kisses on the tip of your nose, nuzzling his own nose into your cheek and croaking a very sleepy 'good morning' into your skin

constantly plays with your hair

like, he’s not usually fidgety but if he can’t find anything to do to busy his hands, they’ll find themselves twisting and braiding your locks and it makes chills go down your spine every time

i can very vividly see jun being the kind to want to lay around with you on rainy days/his days off

watching movies, napping, talking for hours— he just loves quality time and being lazy and comfortable in your presence

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ soonyoung

lives and breaths for seeing a smile on your face, and that's not an exaggeration

will drop everything he's doing if there's a pout on your face for even a split second, and he won't stop until he finds out what has upset you

constantly babies you and expects you to baby him, too

if you had a cut or scrape, soonyoung would mirror your pout as he carefully starts cleaning and bandaging your injury

when he's done, he's pressing his lips to it because he insists his kisses have magical healing properties

also insists that your kisses are the same when he's got a cold

so naturally, when you refuse to kiss him in his snotty and sneezy state he's soooo offended

will sass you for approximately 20 minutes and refuses his medicine until he realizes you can still cuddle him

and all of a sudden he's forgiven you and settling for having you hold him instead

but seriously, soonyoung will love you so purely

his kisses are always so eager, hands clinging to your hips to pull you closer to him

if you're apart, he really loves falling asleep on the phone; it makes him feel just a little bit closer to you even when he's so many miles away on tour

and you can bet that when he's away he'll be calling you about every tiny little thing

"hey, i found a new toothpaste that's really good i think we should get this one-"

"hi baby, i just wanted to let you know that i ate the best kimchi jjigae-oh, but it's not better than yours!"

"no, no! you still don't get it. basically, the joke is: i told seungkwan he can't have coffee before a show because-"

if he gets home and you're napping he'll get all giggly and jump in bed beside you

will cuddle up to you so noisily, apologizing profusely if he happens to when he inevitably does wake you up and making it all better by wrapping his limbs around you and nuzzling himself into your neck where he unironically shushes you

"shh! you're too loud! i'm trying to sleep!" and you're looking at him because there's no way he's serious (he is)

this boy is fast asleep before you even start to drift off again

likes laying his head on your stomach so that your nails can rake up and down his back and through his scalp

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wonwoo

he's careful and thoughtful with just about everything, and that extends to you and how he treats you.

as a boyfriend, wonwoo is so caring and unbelievably considerate of you and your well-being

honestly, he would be able to go the longest without clinging to you, but that's only because he gets his fill of your affection at very specific times and moments throughout the day

the two of you would wake up and get out of bed on your own time, whether the other is awake or not (though you usually wake up around the same time, relatively)

in his case, he'll leave a kiss on your head before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face and stuff

if you got up first, you'd would kiss his bare shoulder and go do the same and once both of you have made the bed, you're ready to start your day

and here, this moment, is one of the times of the day that wonwoo will so lovingly smile down at you, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your face up

and he'd place, on your soft lips, a kiss so lingering and slow that by the time he pulls away to wish you a good morning, his voice is hoarse and it's not because that's the first thing he's said today

you'd settle on the couch for a quiet morning with tea or coffee and maybe some reading

and, in the evening, as soon as you get out of the shower, he's waiting for you with his arms open in a wordless invitation to finally join him

and so you crawl into his lap, holding his face and kissing him, swallowing every little breath and hushed sound he feeds you as your fingers disappear into his hairline to tug on the strands

would never admit it out loud but god, does he love kissing you

he could do it for hours on end and even then it might not be enough

his proclamations of love are quiet and mumbled against your lips after he's been kissing you for a few minutes straight, both of your lips plump and red and wet

any time you call him handsome or compliment him, you get one of two reactions: he's either shooting the smoothest compliments right back at you, or on the rare occasion that you catch him off guard, you get the pleasure of seeing the tips of his ears go red

a flustered wonwoo is delectable, and you're just about the only person that can elicit this reaction from him

even when the members provoke him or tease him about how infatuated he his with you, he can easily brush their comments off

if you rub his shoulders while he games, you've got him wrapped around your finger. will 100% stop what he's doing to spin around to tend to you, even if you weren't necessarily there to ask for attention

he's immediately smiling at you in that way that he does, ie: ˘ᵕ˘

and grabbing the back of your thighs so that you can't move away

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jihoon

i just know jihoon would be so good at massages/back rubs

you probably don’t even have to ask for one, either. you’ll just be minding your own business and his warm hands will start tending to your neck and shoulders

would probably tilt your head back with his hands half way through just so he can give you kiss as you gaze up at him

at first, you were a little apprehensive about joining him at the studio, fearing you might distract him from work

and he’d ask you to accompany him on a few occasions, never insisting beyond his first request because he respects that you’ve said no, but if you happen to share your concerns, he's so quick to reassure you

"ah, you should have said something earlier! and here i thought you just weren't interested in my job. i've been wanting to show you what i've been working on for ages!"

when you finally give in... you realize what you’ve been missing out on

there’s just something about seeing him in his element, experimenting with different sounds and techniques

he's so focused and passionate and hard working and so good at what he does that your heart leaps in your chest when you see him !!!

and you’re not distracting him at all! he’s asking for your input and your thoughts and he’s just rambling on about different musical things. even if you’re not a musical person, this is the most you’ve ever seen him talk and it’s completely infatuating to hear him speak about something he loves

loves to fall asleep to your voice

he’ll be wearing the most infectious smile from ear to ear, shivering as your finger draws random shapes on his arm or chest and your honey-like voice lulls him to sleep

i think he’d have to have at least one meal with you every day

quality time is probably a love language that he never really knew he liked until he realized how important it is to him when you guys sit down for a meal together, chatting and appreciating each other's presence

it's really about the simple things with jihoon

would get home from the gym and give you a pop-kiss before hopping in the bathroom for a shower

his gym pump…. that’s all

so, so good at comforting you or just having difficult conversations in general

very good with his words so he knows exactly what you need to hear and how to say it

will forever be willing to talk out your doubts and problems—and although he's not vulnerable too often, he might open up and share his feelings with you because he values your perspective/point of view

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seokmin

would die a happy man kissing your lips

such a tender, thoughtful kisser; his hands are holding you, drawing you closer to him with each passing second as he loses himself in your embrace

every kiss with him is so full of intention and emotion (cut to that one time he kissed jihoon’s cheek when he was crying, see link 1 and link 2)

and he will kiss you until both of you have to pull away for air, catching your breaths and giggling a bit amidst recovering

an absolute sucker for you playing with or tugging on his hair—not just during a kiss. at any point throughout the day, run your fingers through his locks and his knees will buckle

loves planning exciting dates and outings to take you on because his memories with you are so valuable (arcade games, sunsets at the beach, picnics, mini golf, bowling, etc.) and i don't doubt he'd like matching outfits...

it would be low-key though, like if you wore a blue top and white bottoms, he'd match you with sneakers in the same shade of blue and white t-shirt or something

i picture him wearing the stupidest little smile when he shows his outfit off to you, too

will be taking plenty of pictures to store in an album he has dedicated to you on his phone, and you already know it has some cheesy title

i think seokmin is such a sentimental guy that anything that involves you or reminds him of you in any way holds so much importance in his heart

the type to keep a post-it note you left for him when you stepped out of the house one time to do a grocery run

if you use hair ties he’ll always wear one on his wrist in case you ever need it, and the day you actually do because you forgot yours, he’s so proud that he had it at the ready!

constantly sends you songs/compiles playlists of songs that make him think of you or your relationship

similarly to jun... do not call this man by his name if you don't want to break his heart. he is baby, or babe, or love, or sweet angel, or darling, or pookie, or baby cakes, or literally whichever pet name you like the most—just don't call him seokmin

as a matter of fact, he will not answer to his name. can and will ignore you until you address him appropriately and even then he might still sulk for a bit

is one of the few members that i think would encourage you to build/develop a friendship with the other guys, and there would be no jealousy at all because he enjoys seeing his favorite people getting along

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mingyu

has to have some form of skin ship with you at all times

he’s gotten so used to it at this point that it’s almost disorienting to not have a hand on your hip, lower back, thigh, knee, or hand

if you’re wearing jeans… mingyu will have his hand tucked into your back pocket

8/10 times he’ll insist on being little spoon or being the one who goes to sleep with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped snuggly around him instead of the other way around

i mean… what even is there to complain about other than the fact that he’d definitely press his cold feet onto yours and pout when you yell at him for it

gives the most addictive, warm hugs where he completely engulfs you, arms wrapped around your shoulders and yours around his middle (bc he’s so tall) and when your cheek presses against his chest you can literally hear how his heart starts beating faster before it ultimately calms down in your embrace

the first time you fell asleep curled up on his lap, mingyu swears his world stopped

he made sure to stay completely still for the entire duration of your nap

his arm fell asleep and his shoulder was slightly sore for like an hour after but that didn’t stop him from insisting this is how you should nap every time

will lay his entire body weight on you with no remorse

or will scoop you up and lay you completely on top of him so he can stare at your pretty face

needs a hello and goodbye kiss every time either of you are leaving/arriving somewhere

not a light sleeper but wakes up as soon as he feels you pull away from him or move to get up because he’s especially clingy when he’s tired

like, if you wake up in the middle of the night to pee, he’s the type to follow you to the bathroom and hold your hand from outside the door because he doesn’t wanna be away from you

and his eyes are still puffy and closed because he’s half asleep

probably stumbles the whole way there and back but he does it every time nonetheless

it takes him significantly longer to fall asleep when he’s away from you

likes sending you mid/post workout pics so please be proud of him bc he’s so eager to take them and send them to you

another man whose gym pump is insane….. brrrrr

loves showing you new songs he’s been listening to and singing the soft ones to you in a low voice, close to your ear where he can easily kiss your neck right after

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ minghao

oh he's so sneaky and slick

despite how many times you insist on him waking you up before he leaves for practice, he literally can't and won't

when he wakes up and sees you all curled up beside him with your eyes half open and your lips parted, his heart aches at the thought of interrupting your rest

so instead, he just slips out stealthily and gets ready without making any noise, constantly peeking over his shoulder if he hears you shuffle around under the covers

before he leaves, he'll plant a small kiss on your cheek and leave you a sweet note on his side of the bed instead of a text so it feels a little more personalized

but if you do stir awake and whine or call out or something because you've noticed he's gone! he's running over!

might even crawl back into bed to hold you until you're asleep again, even if that means he's running a few minutes late now

the type to handmake you things all the time, whether it's a painting or a scarf or a bracelet or a clay mug

and oh, the lazy kisses with this one. oh, my

they start at your lips and whether or not he intends to take it any further, it always escalates a bit because i truly think minghao would just love kissing in general and he may not be able to stop once he starts

he'd like sucking your bottom lip between his (specifically because he gets turned on by he loves how swollen and puffy it is after he pulls away) as his hands disappear into your hairline or under your shirt to bring you closer

he slowly trails down to drag his mouth along your jaw and neck

mind you, this is all while you're both laying in bed, and he's somewhere between hovering above you and cuddling into your side so his warmth and proximity is dizzying

and on days off where he has nothing he'd rather do that indulge himself in you this is favorite way to pass the time

he lets his warm tongue wander freely over your throat, teeth occasionally grazing the skin

long talks as you guys are readying for bed where he caresses your skin and kisses your fingers

always look so deeply into your eyes whenever you're talking

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungkwan

seungkwan is your boyfriend, best friend, and biggest headache all in one

conversations with him would be so, so undeniably entertaining

he absolutely loves telling you stories and they're so captivating because he's such a great conversationalist and everything he says is interesting

he'll talk your ear off. you guys would start talking at approximately 8pm, and suddenly the sun has come up and you're still talking ?????

something i think would be very common is bickering

it's always light hearted and never ends in a real argument, but it usually starts when one of you just feels bored and wants to get the other's attention

definitely ends with the victim sulking and pouting and the other having to make it up to them with plenty of kisses and apologies

probably fusses about needing his space to sleep and shoos you away

and by the morning he's completely wrapped around you, snoring softly and peacefully and all you wanna do is kiss his puffy lips because why does he have to be so stubborn all the time

complains if you wanna try his food but he’s always eyeing yours

will do the thing where he opens his mouth for you to feed him a bite and you just have to roll your eyes before giving in

only then will he willingly let you try his

seungkwan's face gets so, so red when you kiss his jaw or neck

he’s ticklish so he’ll gasp or form his lips into an ‘o’ when he feels your mouth there and maybe even start complaining even though he a, doesn't even mean it, and b, is tilting his head up to give you more space

isn’t too affectionate all the time but he does like leaning his head on your shoulder, especially on the couch as you watch a movie

his cheek is pressed into your shoulder blade as he's fidgeting with your fingers

kisses your arm repetitively !!! leaves a bunch of little smooches behind while he’s there

would also kiss your beauty marks/freckles

seungkwan memorizes your orders at restaurants and coffee shops so that he can surprise you with them when he comes over

would love going on walks with you during all the different seasons and talking to you about the changes in the trees and the weather

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vernon

finds literally anything you say funny

will follow you around the store if you go shopping just carrying what you pick out/would carry your bag or purse for you most of the time

you may have to initiate a lot of the affection at the beginning of the relationship until he gets comfortable with it

it’s not that he gets flustered or anything, he just might not take the initiative at first

but once he does, his go-to is looping his pinky around yours and just holding it in a resting state, regardless of what you’re doing

in the morning, he wakes up before you and just goes on his phone until you wake up

and as soon as he notices you’re awake he’ll tilt the phone to you, showing you a tiktok he found funny

and i just KNOW his brightness is maxed out, too

you guys end up taking accidental naps all the time

he’s in bed on his phone when you come in and when he sees you, he lifts up his arm so that you’ll come and lay with him

and the two of you are just scrolling through videos on his phone until you both somehow fall asleep for the next three hours

your family and friends would absolutely love him :(

kisses with him start off as lazy pecks, lips smacking a few times before one of you gets the urge to deepen it and then his hands are slowly coming up to cup your face or hold your jaw

would also kiss the corner of your lips

favorite cuddling position is the generic ‘your head on his chest’ because when he feels you look up at him he’ll glance down to meet your eyes and pucker his lips to request a kiss

that, or just spooning because he likes curling up into your back for warmth

leaves a kiss on your hair while he’s there

i’m sorry but he WILL fall asleep while you’re talking

he doesn’t mean to but your voice is so soft and nice to listen to that he’ll try resting his eyes and end up up knocking out

vernon carries a picture of you in his wallet

it’s the first picture he remembers deeming as his favorite of you, and he printed a copy of it so he could carry it around when he was traveling or touring

and he doesn’t just have it there for show or for whenever he pulls out his wallet to pay for something

he will frequently pull it out so he can gawk at the picture of you when your time zones are different and he can’t call or text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ chan

your hand might as well be permanently attached to his because he is always intertwining his fingers with yours

kisses on your knuckles and soft proclamations of love as he ogles you with the softest, most heartsick look on his face

will kiss your temple as his arms wrap around you, one hand coming up to gently caress your cheek

makes such an effort to learn about/show interest in the things that you like

even if he doesn't know anything about it, he will sit and watch you, pondering the techniques out loud as well as other questions he may have

could listen to you talk absolutely forever. literally anything you have to say is automatically the most interesting thing ever

he is 100% whipped for you and he doesn't even care if the other members poke fun at him for it. will never feel even a sliver of embarrassment because what is there to be embarrassed about? he bagged you... that's the biggest win in his book

even if they poke fun at him, they'd never poke fun at you. in fact, the members are so fond of you + they're so grateful that chan has someone like you who makes him so happy

and he knows they love you, which is why he tolerates their jokes

nibbles on your neck in the morning/before bed as he breathes in your scent

always making you laugh. at all times, in both unserious and serious situations, at the best and worst times... ever since you met this boy, you're always laughing

he's so quick witted that even when you guys are arguing about something, he'll end up cracking some wise ass joke and suddenly you're both doubling over, the topic at hand vanishing at once

any and i mean any act of service you do for him will not go unappreciated or unnoticed

you've cooked him a meal or folded his clothes? he's melting, pouting and whining at you because you didn't have to do all that :(

he's just constantly reminded how lucky he is to have you

the most supportive boyfriend ever

also your personal hype man

not only will you always feel so beautiful around him because he makes sure to tell you just how amazing you always look, but any and all doubts you have are gone

with chan, you feel like you can tackle absolutely anything because he gives you so much confidence and reassurance; always knows exactly what to say so that you feel loved and assured

and you figure, if he believes in you that much, there's no reason you shouldn't believe in yourself

⋆ ★