#love how these two songs have almost the same name lmao

[deus-ex-mona]

happy xmas party guys!!!!!!!

[sceletaflores]

isn't it messed up how i'm just dying to be him?

pairing: stanford!art donaldson x stanford!fem!reader

summary: and there it is. there’s that glimmer of attention, that hint of acknowledgement of him. the heavy look of rage taking over your features, the bite in your tone, it’s what art’s wanted for months. your undivided attention.

—or: art tries to get through to you about patrick, it doesn't go how he thought it would.

word count: 6.2k (i'm so sorry lmao pls still read it's good i promise)

warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), switch!art a little bit, creampie, kinda hate sex but not really, more like angry sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, art is lowkey a little gay for patrick (it's literally canon), tiny bit of manipulative!art, art is just kinda an asshole in disguise honestly, hints of mean!reader cause i live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties, art being a bad bro, porn with too much plot, no use of y/n.

authors note: so this is basically a re-worked version of art and tashi’s dining hall scene when he’s trying to convince her that patrick isn’t in love with her. it’s really similar just way more messy and angry and with sex. this is literally just a tiny thought i had that somehow spiraled just a little bit, but i needed some lowkey asshole!art in my life. i had so much fun writing this, like way too much fun lmao. title is a lyric from fall out boy’s "sugar, we're going down swinging" cause that song fucks so hard and it's soooo art coded. okay bye! mwah xoxo

psst! tftw series masterlist!

Art Donaldson is a patient guy. He's nice, understanding, empathetic. It's something he prides himself on, lots of guys on campus are pricks, but not him. He's "the sweet blonde guy that plays tennis, like, really well!" according to most people who've met him.

That being said, he's not blind to the fact that you frustrate him to the point of wanting to shout himself hoarse and rip his hair out.

It's been a while since he and Patrick met you for the first time at the Open, and Art has been through hell and back about a million times over by now.

He still so vividly remembers watching you step onto the court, the almost visceral reaction he had. The crowd was cheering and clapping nearly as loud as they were for Tashi. There were even a few signs made in support of you scattered throughout the stands. Big poster boards plastered with your name and your winning streak and pictures of you playing, tennis balls and rackets drawn from markers decorating them.

It was obvious you were a favorite, and it was more than obvious how much you lived for it.

Smiling and waving to the crowd, fully basking in their respect and adoration. You were nearly glowing, Art couldn't take his eyes off you. He could tell that Patrick was thinking the same thing, if the way his thigh tensed up where it was plastered against Arts was any hint, his breath slightly catching as you started stretching.

"Goddamn..." Patrick had muttered under his breath. Art could distantly see his hand clench on top of his thigh when you bent over to tighten your laces. He always tries to be less shameless than Patrick but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just as affected by you, fighting the urge to shift in his seat.

After you and Tashi walked up to the net with matching smiles and shook hands for a little longer than usual, it was time to start. Art watched as both of you got in position on the opposite ends of the court. Both of your faces lost the easy-going, excited expressions you’d shared when you first walked out, hardening in concentration as Tashi got ready to serve.

Patrick and Art openly gawking at the two of you would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking justified.

You and Tashi made magic happen on that court. 

It was powerful hit after powerful hit. Tashi’s backhand was out of this world, your overhand was a monster. Every rally, every volley, every serve was pure perfection. Art had never seen tennis played like that before in his life, he couldn't help but get sucked into your world the longer he watched.

The match was close, completely neck-and-neck throughout each set, neither of you willing to give an inch to the other. Tashi won by a single point, hardly wasting any time before she vaulted over the net to come barreling into your open arms, crashing into you so hard it knocked the two of you to the ground.

You both grasped at each other like lifelines on the hard concrete of the court as the announcer crowned Tashi the 2006 girl’s U.S Open champion.

Art let out a long breath and deflated a little deeper in his seat. His mind racing, he didn’t need to look at Patrick to know he felt the same. They sat in silence like that until the stands were practically empty. 

“What time did you say the party was again?”

Art pointedly ignored Patrick staring at him with a shit-eating grin on his face, stretching his arms out in feigned nonchalance. Patrick just snorted, shaking his head and squeezing Art’s thigh.

That was then, now Art sits across from you in the Stanford dining hall at the same table you two eat lunch at everyday, trying to stay cool as you complain about the latest biology lab you’re doing. 

He’s hardly listening to you, too busy trying his best to not glare too obviously at the hoodie you're wearing. One that he knows for a fact belongs to Patrick. You must have kept it the last time he was in town. The Nike swoosh embroidered to the front almost mocks him. Art puts his water down with a little more force than necessary.

Patrick and you being…whatever the two of you are now was something he tried his best to be okay with in the beginning.

Patrick’s his best guy, Art should have been so stoked that you were into him as much as he was into you when the two of them walked up to congratulate you and Tashi at the Adidas party. Only being able to steal you away from the house after you said your goodbyes to Tashi and her parents, inviting you to join them down at the beach.

It was obvious you were playing into Patrick’s attempts to get in your pants. Not blushing or averting your eyes shyly when he blatantly checked you out, throwing out smart comebacks to his sleazy lines, looking up at him through your lashes and biting your lip.

It would have been soul-crushing if Art wasn’t such a good friend. So, he stifled the rising feelings of jealousy and plastered a smile on his face as he watched Patrick shamelessly flirt with you.

It wasn’t like it was your fault. Art didn’t come on as strong as Patrick, he never did. Plus it wasn’t like he and Patrick had talked about who could try and score with you prior to the party, anything was fair game.

Besides, you were nice enough to Art that night. Chatting about college admissions and smiling at him over your coke bottle. Sure, it stung seeing you laugh at Patrick’s stupid jokes while the two of you smoked off the same cigarette, but there was nothing he could do about it.

You choosing Patrick had nothing to do with him. Everyone always chose Patrick, he was used to it by now.

At least he thought he was, but the longer it was just you and him, the more angry he felt each time Patrick would visit and steal all your attention. It wasn’t just jealousy or frustration anymore; it was a gnawing, consuming rage that twisted his insides every time he saw you light up around Patrick.

Patrick didn't fucking deserve you. You were too good for him. Nothing like all the easy, ditsy girls he fucked his way through at the academy. You were special, unlike any girl Art’s ever met. Patrick would just take you for granted. He'd grow tired of you, completely dismissing you when he got bored enough. Any day now he'd call Art to spill on his latest hookup with some chick he met on tour. 

But Art didn’t want to sit around and wait for that day to come. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt by Patrick’s inevitable indifference. The idea of you, heartbroken and discarded, made his blood boil. You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who sees you for who you truly are, not just a trophy. 

Art knows he could be that person for you if you’d give him a chance, if for once you’d look at him instead of Patrick. He just has to find a way to get you to understand that.

“Pat texted me this morning,” you say from across the table, boredly poking at your pasta. “He’s gonna be here later this week, says he wants to go see 30 Days of Night. You and Tashi should come with us.”

Art hums noncommittally, not looking at you as he takes another bite of his salad. You do this a lot– extend invites to Art and Tashi when you and Patrick go out.

Art knows you think you’re being nice by trying to make them feel included, but getting invited usually means having to watch Patrick touch you and kiss you and walk around with his hand in your back pocket.

Art’s fork stabs into his salad roughly. He takes a slow breath, trying to calm the emotions starting to swirl inside him. “Yeah, sure,” he says eventually, forcing a smile. “Sounds fun.”

He sneaks a look at you from under his lashes. You’re already looking at him, brow raised at his clipped tone. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Art shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, still watching him with a hint of skepticism. “Are you alright? You’ve been weird all day.”

Art lets out a small laugh, but it sounds more sour than sweet, and finally looks up at you. You look back expectantly, concern lingering in your eyes. “Nothing, it’s just…” he pauses, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the table, “the fact that you two are still going out surprises me. That’s all.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it, words sounding way more patronizing than he wanted. His chest immediately tightens with guilt, but he doesn’t wince or shrink back like he normally would, just keeps his eyes on you.

Your brows furrow, a tiny frown pulling at the corners of your lips. “What?” you ask, fork stilling in your hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Art just sighs, putting his fork down and leaning towards you. “I know Patrick better than you do,” he says with a tiny shrug, “he’s always had a hard time with…commitment.” He says slowly, searching for the right word.

You don’t say anything for a couple seconds, eyes scanning over his face slowly like you're examining him. Art forces himself to not start squirming under your intense, studying gaze.

You don’t seem to like what you find, eyes narrowing as you push your tray away from you and lean back in your seat. “Are you seriously shit talking your own best friend right now?”

Art’s brow raises, that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, at all. His jaw ticks in annoyance, his hand balling into a fist on the tabletop.

“I’m not trying to shit talk him,” he says calmly, voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve just seen how things go with him. I’m looking out for you.”

Your eyes harden, disbelief mingling with irritation. “So, what? You think you know what’s best for me or something? Are you my keeper now?”

That pisses Art off, now you’re just being an asshole. His brows furrow, arms crossing in front of his chest defensively. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He says, tone harder than before.

You scoff, anger spilling over your face. “Well what the fuck do you mean then, Art? Because you dancing around whatever it is you obviously want to say is really starting to piss me off.”

Irritation flares in Art’s chest, piercing and sudden. He swallows it down, breathing out his nose slowly to try and calm himself. The air between the two of you is tense now.

You’re loud enough that a few people sitting at tables nearby start to quiet down, discreetly trying to listen in.

“Patrick doesn’t love you.” Art says spitefully, his fingers grip the muscle of his arms tighter. It’s childish, but he doesn't care.

Your eyes widen, clearly caught off guard. You recover quickly, letting out a disbelieving laugh as you push away from the table with a harsh scrape of your chair. "Excuse me?" Your voice cuts through the air, sharp and incredulous.  

He stays silent, letting the weight of his words hang heavy in the air. Your eyes narrow, searching his face for any sign of retreat, but Art meets your gaze head-on, jaw set stubbornly.

You stand with your arms crossed over your chest as you stare down at him. “Why are you telling me this? Why do you care if Patrick loves me or not?”

Why do you care? The question makes his heart drop down to his stomach. Dread mixes with the anger in his chest. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he doesn’t want to make a scene in the middle of the dining hall. You’re just being so difficult.

You’re jumping to defend Patrick, not even trying to hear him out, just like you always do. Still refusing to give Art the attention he deserves. It’s fucking infuriating.

“I’m just saying,” he says, voice distant and cold, “he hasn’t been in love with you for a while. He’s told me.” 

It’s a lie, he’s hardly spoken to Patrick recently, but he’s in this now. He may as well go for broke, he always plays to win after all. 

Your face contorts grimly, another disbelieving laugh punches it’s way out your chest. You don’t seem to notice the amount of heads turned in your direction, or maybe you just don’t care. “Oh, he’s told you that has he?” you parrot back mockingly, head cocked to the side as you stare daggers at him, “That’s fucking bullshit Art!”

Art clenches his fists, jaw flexing in anger. He’s never seen you this mad before, never expected to be the cause of it. But at the same time he’s fucking angry too. Angry at you. Angry at Patrick. Angry at himself.

His eyes narrow, holding your own heated gaze without backing down because if there's one thing he hates most, it's losing. “You don’t get it do you?” He mutters quietly, shaking his head in dismay. 

Your jaw tightens, eyes blazing as you lean forward, bracing your hands on the table to get up in his face. He can smell the familiar fruity sweetness of your perfume.

“What’s there to get? The only thing I’m getting right now, is a front row seat to you being a vindictive little prick.” You bite out, breath fanning over Art’s face. “Who even said I wanted Patrick to be in love with me? Who said I gave a fuck about any of that?” You question sternly, brows furrowed as you scowl at him.

Art scoffs loudly, his face twisting in disgust as he rolls his eyes. His blood boils at having to sit here while you bitch him out. He wants to strangle you, to take you by your shoulders and shake you so that you’ll listen.

To make you see what he sees. To make you love him. “Please,” he hisses through gritted teeth, shifting so he’s leaning across the table just as you are, his eyes dark. “Everyone wants Patrick to love them. Everyone wants his attention. You want it.”

You just blink at him, taken aback by his outburst. You stare at him, not budging as your eyes scan over his face for a second time. And there it is. There’s that glimmer of attention, that hint of acknowledgement of him.

The heavy look of rage taking over your features, the bite in your tone, it’s what Art’s wanted for months. Your undivided attention.

After a few tense seconds you just laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You might be the worst fucking friend in the world.” You say simply, like you're reading off this week's forecast.

Maybe he is.

Art can feel the heat rising to his cheeks in anger, in embarrassment, in hatred, in lust. The way you’re looking at him makes something stir deep in his gut. His heartbeat echoes in his ears.

You’re so mad, but in that you’re giving him a hint of your attention, giving him the time of day, and you’re still fucking defending Patrick. Rage seethes in him, hot like fire. Yet even in this moment, you’re the only person that really matters. The intensity of your gaze pulls at something raw inside him.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” His voice is lower, pinched with thinly veiled frustration threatening to boil over.

"And you think you're the expert on what I deserve, Art? Last time I checked, your own love life’s track record isn't exactly stellar."

It’s a low blow, bringing up how Tashi rejected him a while back. He hadn’t told you about that, so Tashi must have. He laughs, but his lips are pulled up in a sneer.

"Don’t start deflecting,” Your name falls from his lips sharply, stabbing through the thick tension in the air. “This isn't about me, it's about you. You're setting yourself up to get hurt, and I'm just trying to warn you–"

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for your fucking opinion," you snap, "maybe you should focus on your own damn problems.”

Art’s jaw tightens further, his frustration finally getting the best of him. "Fine, do whatever the hell you want. But don't come crying to me when Patrick does what he always does— leaves you for someone new."

You stare at him incredulously, shock and anger warring in your expression. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Yeah, well," Art mutters bitterly, looking away. "Believe whatever you want. Just know that he’s playing with your feelings.”

You huff, throwing your arms out at your sides in frustration. “What fucking feelings Art!” you say loudly, not quite shouting but you’re getting there. “Sure, Patrick and I fuck but that doesn’t mean we’re playing husband and wife with each other!” 

You’re definitely way too loud, voice steadily rising in volume the more you talk. Seemingly not caring about who’s around to hear you yell about fucking Patrick. “In fact,” you continue, shaking an accusatory finger at Art, “you’re the one trying to get in my head and play with my feelings, you fucking hypocrite.”

His mind whites out, filled with blinding jealousy all over again. He wants you so fucking badly, he could be everything you needed. Why can’t you see that? How could you be so blind? How could you not see that Patrick was using you, just like he used everyone else?

Art leans further across the table as you speak, his hands coming up to grip the edges of it tightly. “You’re so fucking naive, you know that?” He snaps in a biting tone. It’s harsher than he’s spoken to you during this whole fight.

Your voice drips with sarcasm as you lean forward, eyes locked on his. "Oh, well forgive me for not seeing the truth according to Saint Art."

“So fucking naive.” He repeats, spitting the words across the table meanly.

“And you’re a fucking pussy.” You bite back, leaning in even closer so Art can see your lips form around the words maliciously. You sway close enough that the tip of your nose bumps against his. His breath catches, going ragged in his throat. You’re so close to him. He can smell you, can practically taste you on his tongue.

He wants to take you in his arms, to hold you and kiss the anger off your face. The only thing keeping him from lunging out is the way you look. Your whole body is rigid with anger, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. You’re so beautiful. He has to remind himself that he’s supposed to be pissed at you and fight the urge to pull you in and really taste you.

But then you're backing away completely, “I won’t waste my time on stupid shit like this,” you mutter, turning to pick your bag up off the floor. “Thanks for lunch, Art.” You say sarcastically, not even looking at him as you turn on your heel and walk towards the dining hall’s exit before he can respond.

Art’s heart lurches forward at your words, not with pain, but with want. He watches you leave, the regret quickly setting in once you’re not here to play into his resentment. It hits him like a cold shiver, he wants to feel good for speaking his mind, for telling you how it is. Maybe on some level he does, but it’s overshadowed by how awful he feels.

Art stares down at his unfinished salad, appetite gone. He sighs loudly, standing up to toss his own tray plus the one you left behind. He tries his best to ignore the stares he can feel following him as he walks out.

ᯤ

Art wallows in misery for the rest of the day, skipping the practice he had planned after lunch. He just locks himself in his dorm, laying on his mattress and staring at the ceiling as he replays the fight in his mind. Replaying every word you said to him, every word he said back to you, every angry look you gave him. 

He thinks about texting you a thousand times. Typing and deleting different messages until he eventually gave up. He knows you’re beyond pissed, that him reaching out will only piss you off more and he wants to try and salvage this before you completely shut him out. The thought of losing you is why he never wanted to bring it up in the first place, regret settles in his gut like a ball of lead.

And yet, there was a small part of him that hoped, despite the shit show in the dining hall, that you’d see the quiet care he showed, the way he was there for you, and choose him for once. But hope was a dangerous thing, and Art wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

Hours go by with nothing from you, it’s the longest you’ve gone with talking since the semester started. He forced himself to study for his biology final in a lazy attempt at taking his mind off you. You’d usually be in his dorm room right now, all spread out on his bed like it’s your own as you talk his ear off about something like your asshole psychology professor. 

The longer he sits at his desk the longer the ache in his chest consumes him. Art would do anything to know what you were thinking right now. He’d grovel for your attention, he’d fall to his knees and beg and plead if that’s what it took for you to forgive him. 

He’s getting ready for bed when his Blackberry pings on his night stand, it’s almost embarrassing how fast he rushes over to it. His heart stutters in his chest when he sees it's a text from you. It’s only two words, a simple ‘come over’. 

Art’s never moved faster in his life, rushing out of his room with only his phone, wallet, and keys. 

He makes it to your dorm in record time, nearly sprinting across campus to hurry up and get there before you change your mind. All that needy rushing completely vanishes once he’s actually outside your door. 

Art hesitates, staring at the little door decals taped on with your name written on them in black sharpie. He rests his ear against the door, but he can’t hear anything. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched as he wrestles with himself.

“C’mon Donaldson, don’t be such a little bitch.” Patrick’s voice rings out in the back of his mind. He takes a breath and knocks on the door.

Barely a second passes before it’s swinging open and you're there, gripping the front of his shirt and dragging him inside your room. Art's back hits the closing door with a thud, his breath catching in surprise. His hands shoot out to brace on either side of the door, knocking over a racket resting on the wall. Everything he brought with him falling to clatter onto the wood floor loudly.

You look rough, eyes slightly red and puffy like you may have been crying. Your breath comes out in short, quick bursts as you stare up at him. All the anger he swore would come rushing back when he saw you drains out of him in a second.

His face softens, a tiny frown on his lips. "Hey, what’s going on?" he asks, voice a mix of confusion and worry. His hands come up to hover near your hips, hesitating at the last second, not sure if he should touch you.

Without a word, you’re flying forward while yanking him down by his shirt. Closing the distance between the two of you with your lips crashing against Art’s. It’s so sudden, so completely out of left field, that Art stumbles forward a few steps, hands gripping your hips tightly to steady himself.

It’s almost pathetic how easily he kisses back, not even hesitating. Flashes of Patrick’s face go through his mind as he eagerly reciprocates, not stopping him from pulling your hips flush against his. He definitely might be the worst friend in the world, all the loyalty he felt to Patrick tossed out of his mind the second your tongue slides past his lips.

It’s intense, there’s no romance or gentleness about it. Your lips move against his almost violently, all the aggression and anger from earlier still very much there. He’s never kissed a girl like this before, it’s not how he imagined his first kiss with you would go. He’s still getting hard in his sweats anyway.

Your tongue fucks into his mouth roughly, it reminds him of the time he and Patrick kissed when they were still at the academy for “practice”. He moans loudly into your mouth, letting you dominate the kiss and just trying his best to keep up. Your teeth clack against his roughly, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to have him whining embarrassingly high and needy.  

“It’s over with Patrick,” you breathe hotly, slick lips brushing his with every word. “I want you to fuck me.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Art’s dick feels hard enough to burst out of his sweats by sheer force, but he pauses, pulling away from you with a hesitant look. "I-" he tries, voice cracking slightly. He can feel his cheeks starting to burn as he clears his throat. "I don't think that's a good idea. It's so soon, and I mean you're obviously going through something and I don't want to take advantage of yo-"

An incredulous laugh bursting from your lips effectively cuts Art off, your eyes roll to the ceiling in dry amusement. “God, Art.” you scoff, both hands pushing off his chest to create space between the two of you. He keeps his hands on your hips, the thin material of your bottoms bunching in his grip. “You’re such a fucking little bitch, you can kiss me but you won’t fuck me? What is it? You scared of Patrick or something?”

The taunt hits Art like a slap across the face, he freezes for a second before disbelief gives way to white hot rage. You just stare up at him smugly, lips red and wet. Art bares his teeth, using his strong hold on your hips to force you backwards until your knees hit the edge of your bed.

“You’ve pushed me and pushed me and pushed me,” he spits, glaring down at you as he speaks. “Acting like such a fucking brat. You want me to fuck you?” He pushes you back onto the bed roughly, covering your body with his, letting his weight sink you deeper into the mattress. “Fine, I’ll fuck you.”

Art sits up, ripping his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere behind his shoulder. Your greedy eyes rake down the toned muscle of his torso, hands coming up to lightly scratch your nails over his abs. His breath hitches, goosebumps breaking out all over his skin. He grabs your wrists, forcing them down and pinning them to the bed. “No touching.” he chastises, leaning down to bite the skin of your neck roughly. Sucking hard enough that he’ll definitely leave a mark. 

His dick twitches against the inside of his sweats at the thought of you walking around campus with his claim staked on you, at the thought of Patrick, if he was still coming down, seeing it and immediately knowing who left it there. He slides his knee between your legs, he can feel the warmth radiating from your pussy, can feel how you’re so wet it’s soaking through your bottoms and onto his thigh. 

You hiss at the sting of his teeth, trying to squeeze your wrists out of his strong grip. Your thighs tighten around his knee, hips bucking up against him. “Are you gonna fuck me anytime soon, Art? Or do I need to find someone else that’s not all talk?”

Art chuckles darkly, nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbones. “You can bitch and moan all you want, but I haven’t even touched you yet–” he leans forward to whisper directly into your ear, “–And you’re still fucking soaked for me anyway.” He drags his tongue along the shell of your ear in a dirty stripe. 

You let out a keen, pretty and high, grinding your hungry pussy against his knee faster. He lets go of your hands, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. Tossing you around like it’s nothing, just manhandling you.

“God,” he groans, big hands coming up to knead the meat of your ass, spreading it lewdly making you moan softly. “You’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, words falling from his lips like he couldn’t hold them in any longer.

Art keeps one hand tight on your hip, the other fumbling with the drawstring of his sweats so he can push them down to finally free his aching dick. Letting it spring out to slap up onto his bare stomach, trailing a thin line of pre-come across his abs. 

You squirm under him, feet kicking out as you struggle in his hold. Your head craning over your shoulder and zeroing in on his dick, hard and red and leaking. “You came over here with no panties on, Donaldson?” you taunt, pushing your ass back onto the sensitive length of his erection. “How slutty–” 

“Shut up,” he snaps harshly, but his dick twitches where it’s dragging over the seam of your ass. He’s leaking like a faucet, leaking like a girl, all over your light green plaid bottoms. It strikes him suddenly, how familiar they look. He stares at the worn down fabric covering your ass, at the way his pre-come stains the material darker, at the way they hang too low on your hips, too big for you. 

“Are these…are these Patrick's,” he asks slowly, voice low as his fingers skim over the soft material. You chuckle wickedly, wiggling your hips back teasingly. 

“Yeah, they are,” you say, sliding your ass back and forth over Art’s dick. “You’re leaking jizz all over your best friend's pants, Art.”

Art groans loudly, chin dropping to his chest as hips jerk against your ass involuntarily. A full body shiver wracks through him like lightning, eyes screwing shut as he tries not to come all over your ass. “Shit–” he bites out sharply, voice rough and scratchy. He can distantly hear you laughing at him through all the white noise buzzing in his ears.

He breathes out through his nose, willing himself to calm down. He needs to be in control for once, needs to teach you a lesson for ignoring him for so long.

Art’s hands come up to the waistband of your– Patrick's– pants, fingers digging underneath the loose material and forcefully yanking it down along with your panties, only pulling them down to your mid-thigh. You yelp in surprise, hands gripping the sheets of your bed tightly. 

“I need to get inside you, right fucking now.” he rumbles thickly, flipping you onto your back again. He needs to see your face when he fucks you for the first time, needs to burn it into his mind forever.

“Fuck yes,” you reply eagerly, arms coming up to circle around his shoulders. “Finally.”

Art doesn't reply, eyes fixed on your bare pussy, so fucking wet and shining underneath the shitty ceiling light of your dorm. His mouth waters, he wants to drop to his stomach and eat you out until you're shaking and squirting all over his face. His dick drools at the thought, but he’ll have to wait. He needs to fuck you.

He takes his dick in his hand, dragging it through the silky skin of your soaked folds. He spreads your wetness around your clit, rubbing the leaking tip over you back and forth teasingly. You whine, thighs starting to shake on either side of him. He drags his dick back down to your clenching hole, lining up and slowly sinking inside the tight, wet heat.

Art doesn’t give you any time to adjust to the thick head of his dick breaching your tight hole, burying himself to the hilt inside of you with a sharp thrust. 

“Fuck!” you cry out, legs coming up to wrap tightly around his hips, digging your heels into his lower back. “Shit, fuck you’re– God, you're so fucking deep.”

“I’m going to use your fucking pussy however I want,” Your name falls from his lips, dirty and blistering. “because it’s the least I deserve for putting up with your bullshit for so fucking long, and you’re going to be good and lay there and take it.” He drives his point home with a mean thrust of his hips.

“Fuck you, Art.” you mutter back, trying to keep up the bratty act even though your voice is going breathless and needy.

Art doesn’t ease into it, pulling back only to start pounding into your pussy ruthlessly. Sharp slaps of his hips stinging your ass each time he drives back in, your eyes roll back in your head, slack lips parted in pleasure as he fucks you. 

Art can’t help but lean down to claim your mouth, kissing you a little too sweetly for the moment. He can’t help it, not when you’re under him making the sweetest noises, letting him fuck your perfect fucking pussy like he owns it. God.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Art growls, breaking the kiss to rest his sweaty forehead against yours. “You’re so fucking, tight. Feels so fucking– shit, so fucking good.” His hips speed up, desperately rutting into you.

“Art,” you whine, nails scratching down his back hard. “I’m so close, fuck I’m so close– keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–”

He cuts off your rambling with a kiss, groaning at the way his name sounds getting fucked out of your mouth. The loud squelch your pussy makes each time he buries himself back inside has his ears burning, he can feel you soaking the skin of his thighs with every thrust.

“Wanna feel your tight pussy milk me dry,” he grinds out through gritted teeth, picking up his pace. “Fuck, I‘m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.” He ruts into you harder, splitting you open with every thrust. The skin of your ass turning red and raw from how hard he’s giving it to you. 

Your hands come up to bury themselves in his hair, tugging sharply to make him look at you. “Inside,” you pant, eyes glazed over and wild, “come inside me Art, please. I’m on the pill you can, you can come inside me.” Your legs tighten their hold on his hips, ankles locking snugly over his lower back so he couldn’t even pull out if he wanted.

“Fuck!” Art shouts your name hoarsely, hips stuttering as he unloads in you. Hot come spraying the walls of your pussy. You let out a broken moan, your whole body shaking as you come with him. Your pussy chokes his dick so tightly, gripping him like a vice, milking him.

Art tilts his head up, catching your lips with his to greedily swallow down all your moans. He keeps going, shallow thrusts of his hips working you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until you’re kicking at his back, whining at him to stop. He collapses on top of you, his sweaty skin sticking to the fabric of your shirt. 

It’s quiet for a while, the two of you silently trying to catch your breath. Your hands come up to his head, sliding into the messy strands of his hair. “It’s pretty late now,” you say slowly, nails scratching against his scalp softly. “You could…you could stay here if you want.”

Art hides the wide grin breaking out on his face in your chest, arms coming up to circle around your waist. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He whispers back, squeezing the soft skin of your hips once.

It’s only later, when you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, that he stares up at the ceiling lost in thought. He’s too worked up to sleep, so fucking thrilled that it worked. His plan actually worked. You’re his now. He looks down at you, glowing softly in the moonlight filtering through your window, deep hickeys scattered across your neck. He drags his fingers along your cheekbone, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

This is what he’s wanted for so long, you.

You asleep in bed with him, you curled up in his arms, you with his come steadily dripping out of your swollen pussy.

Art can hear his Blackberry start buzzing on your nightstand, lighting up with an incoming call. Even from far away he can read the name displayed on the screen. Patrick. He lets it ring.

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes @motopoppp @nhlfs @elaci @myahswrld @angelheavensblog @arianaroman @mcugurl @igotmajordaddyissues @redmoonsofvenus @tomorrowillmissyou

if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[algae-tm]

KILL BILL P.6

Charles Leclerc x famous singer! reader

Warnings : morally grey reader, toxic exes

Author’s note : There are so many x readers where the reader doesn’t do anything wrong, which I love don’t get me wrong but I wanted to write one where she’s a bit flawed. And obvs I cannot hate her cause she’s just in love and this is lossely (very loosely) based around real life events y’all so I get it! And also I love Alex 😭 I was gunna make her the villain but I literally can’t! So this is going a bit of a diff direction, in terms of ending. - Algae 🌱

•••••

INSTAGRAM

y/bff/n

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 678,798 others

y/bff/n : talking about boys over brunch? (tagged : yourusername)

yourusername : feels like I’m 18 again

— user3 : holdup when did y/n and Charles get together?

— user4 : she was 18 and he was 19/20…

— user5 : lmao that’s why he’s got her wrapped round his finger… poor baby hasn’t known any better

— user7 : not you guys acting like Charles groomed her be so serious! they have a 1 and a half year age gap touch grass.

— user9 : you can’t argue with people like this, they’re so chronically online!

— user4 : so how did they meet?

— user19 : google is free!

— user6 : her and Lewis did a fashion campaign when she was 16, and he sort of took her under his wing, cause I think her parents were a bit... I believe she then met Charles when she came to watch a race and watched the f2 race as well.

user1 : y/n telling you about how she’s a slut?

— y/bff/n : only ever having been with 1 man equals slut?

— user1 : going after a man with a girlfriend surely does.

lewishamilton : we love to see it

— y/bff/n : we sure do 😍

— yourusername : not you guys acting like I was dead in a ditch…

— y/bff/n : you were in man purgatory, it’s basically the same thing.

user11 : does Oscar know y/bff/n?

— user12 : No why?

— user11 : cause bros lurking in the comments

— user1 : lmao you think the skank’s gunna go for him next? (user1 has been blocked)

— user13 : @oscarpiatri trust you do not know how to handle @yourusename

— user11: poor baby she’d eat him alive

user13 : oh to be a fly on the wall for the Charles convo

user14 : trust it was hours long

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and 10,987,843 others

yourusername : boys are awful and grotesque. i had to decompress on an island to get the crazy out of my brain. it’s a good thing mics are portable. Thank you Ephraim! My concierge for finding me a keyboard so I could get you guys this song that entered my brain almost two weeks ago and refused to leave. It’s a good teaser for my album, which is out in TWO days. so without further ado hope y’all like The Weekend!! if you don’t like it I’ll cry.

lewishamilton : oh this gives context to the unhinged messages you sent me at 1 am

— yourusername : I’m an artist, it’s my creative process

— lewishamilton : well this is way more constructive than turning up in Monaco

— user5 : oop- not you clocked by Lewis Hamilton of all people

— user7 : well I’m happy that Lewis doesn’t condone the behaviour of a slag

— user8 : lmao even her friends are getting tired of her

— user9 I think y’all are forgetting that they were together for six years, it was y/n’s first relationship, he dumps her out of the blue gets a new girlfriend within months. I for one would also go a bit crazy and need to be secluded on an island! Too bad I don’t have island money lmao

lewishamilton : I’ve been listening non stop! You truly out did yourself kid 🖤

y/bff/n : thank god you are not in Canada rn

y/bff/n : i was having a heart attack!

y/bff/n : you need to tell me before you travel across the world! We cannot have a repeat of last time.

— yourusername : have I really traumatised you that badly?

——y/bff/name : yes

—— lewishamilton : yes

—— yoursiblinguser : yes

—— friend1 : yes

—— danielricciardo: yes

—— oscarpiastri : yes

——yourusername : now hang on @oscarpiatri I don’t even know you!

— — oscarpiastri : wanna change that?

——- user11 : not you going after your dad’s ex

——-user14 : about to be a messy family reunion

——-danielricciardo : check that Aussie charm 🇦🇺

user7 : okay someone please talk about the lyrics????? Right off the bat it’s unhinged?? “WHY YOU WANT ME WHEN YOUVE GOT A GIRL??!” No cause that is so true like @charles_leclerc why are you still contacting her when Alex is right there?? (Liked by yourusername)

— user8 : ‘knowing it’s selfish, knowing I’m desperate’ oh she’s DOWN BAD!!

— user7 : you get it… cause DESPERATE, you’re describing yourself as desperate?? Bad bitch down in aisle 4 I fear!

user9 : lmao no cause you’ve outdone yourself! What do you mean ‘my man is my man, is your man. Heard that’s her man too’

— user21 : no cause she really is not a serious individual 😂

— user10 : the song is a bop don’t get me wrong but am I the only one who’s thinking about Alex in all this??

— user11 : poor girl hasn’t done anything apart from like a serial monogamist…

— user12 : I mean after this release Alex just needs to count her losses and leave him (liked by alexandrasaintmleux)

— user13 : oop- not her liking… clock it! But at this point I think this is just a messy situation where everyone’s gunna lose. Especially Alex poor girl never stood a chance

user22 : I just keep him satisfied through the weekend!

— user23 : you’re like 9 to 5 I’m the weekend!!!!

— user24 : make him lose his mind every weekend!!!!

sza : please god never let me be this down bad over a man 🙏🏾

— yourusername : now I know you’re not the one talking 🤨

badgalriri : 🖤

donatella_versace : DONATELLA VERSACE 💜

user17 : release the album NOW!

user18 : I’m sorry but weren’t we just mad at her? Releasing a song doesn’t make you automatically in the right? In fact even the song paints her as a bit of a villain :( I can’t imagine poor Alex listening to it.

— user19 : right? She’s practically begging him to cheat with her

— user15 : i really don’t know how to feel about the whole situation but it’s definitely not a good feeling…

••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee @callsignwidow

[katanablue]

I am also a Leo girl especially from the 2007 film. I was wondering if you can do a one shot where the female reader is going to a wedding as a bridesmaid and she is wearing a blue dress like Leo’s mask. When she gets back home to her apartment she calls Leo to stop by to not only see her in the dress but to also dance with each other since he couldn’t go to the wedding for obvious reasons and if you are comfortable can lead to smut. If you are not I completely understand. Just something fluffy and romantic

Oh hell yeah, first request 👹

Warnings: fluff, romance, suggestiveness, Leo being cheeky lmao

You let out a heavy sigh when you finally step back into your apartment for the first time since early this morning, dropping your giant tote of bridesmaids items onto the ground and walking into your kitchen to grab a drink. It’s nearly midnight when you return, the reception of the wedding for your best friend having gone way longer than originally intended.

Songs were danced to, lyrics were screamed, tears were shed, hugs were shared and many times was the word ‘congratulations’ thrown around. It was a wonderful time and a beautiful wedding but there’s only one thing that would’ve made it better, for you at least.

If a certain mutant turtle was able to be there with you, enjoying the night and sipping on fancy cocktails while you danced across the floor.

There’s a bit of a bittersweet sigh that passes when you think about it, knowing that the two of you could never really do things like this, not in the public eye at least. You love Leo wholeheartedly that much is true and you wouldn’t change him for the world. Who he is, is who you fell in love with.

But something does tug at your heartstrings thinking about having a first dance with him as a married couple in front of all your loved ones.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when your phone lights up, Leo’s name flashing across the screen. With a grin you walk over and pick it up, leaning against your counter.

“Hi sorry, I just got through the door. Was about to text you.” You hum, glancing down at your blue bridesmaids dress.

Your idea hits you like a freight train, eyes going wide and lips parting. You were so absorbed in it that you almost didn’t hear Leo calling your name over and over again.

“Come over.” You say suddenly.

You hear him stop mid sentence, followed by a slight laugh.

“Now? It’s late, darling.”

Even though he says that he’s already halfway off the couch and heading towards the Lair exit to make his way to you.

“I know I know, I just wanna show you something.” Your voice is soft, bringing a flicker of warmth through Leo’s chest. He laughs again, questions swirling in his head as to what you’d wanna show him so late at night.

“I’m on my way, see you soon.”

——

You wait anxiously in your living room, alternating between sitting on your couch and standing up and walking around. You’re just about to get out your seat when you hear two gentle taps on your window, turning your head and seeing Leo on the other side with a tender grin. With quick steps you stand up right as he lets himself in, smoothing your hands down your dress when you see his expression morph in awe.

“Wow… you look…” His eyes go wide as he comes closer, hands automatically finding their place on your waist while he admires you in the floor length blue dress.

Nearly the same exact shade as his mask.

Sure he had seen how you looked in pictures you sent him prior but it didn’t compare to seeing it in person, especially how it contrasted beautifully against your lovely skin. He runs the tips of his fingers across the silk, marveling at the cool sensation before flicking his gaze upward to you.

“You look beautiful.” He whispers, bringing you an inch closer to him so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck. His hands glide up your back, grazing across any exposed flesh and causing shivers to cascade down your spine.

“Worth coming over in the dead of night?” You tease softly and go to drape your arms over his shoulders.

He chuckles and nods against you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Very.”

Before you allow yourself to get lost in the sensation of Leo holding you close, you step back and reach for your phone on the coffee table. Leo keeps himself in your neck, peppering featherlight kisses across your skin while you look for the perfect song.

You feel his hands start to travel lower towards your rear when you hit play on your phone, the soft romantic tones filling the silence. Leo picks his head up to watch you place your device back on the table, your lips upturned in a dazzling smile.

“Dance with me?” Your voice rings sweet in his ears, Leo adjusting his hold on you while you do so around his neck.

“With pleasure.”

And so the two you sway side to side, all throughout your living room, with Leo giving you a spin or two as the song plays. It comes to an end far too soon for your liking and before you can grab your phone, he halts you.

“Let it play.”

So you dance for three more songs, each melody guiding the two of you through an unspoken choreo that made you laugh and feel butterflies all over again, reminiscent of the first time you truly felt in love with Leo. At the end of the final song, he dips you with a kiss, holding you tight with one hand splayed on your back and the other resting just above your hip.

He holds you there for a few seconds, kissing you, relishing in the feel of your plush lips and your nails gently raking over the expanse of his shell. The beginnings of a churr start low in his chest, easing its way up through his throat as he pulls you impossibly closer. He lifts the two of you back up but keeps his mouth close to yours, hands now gripping everywhere on your body. One palm circles the globe of your ass before grasping it in his three fingers. You can feel his grin grow against your mouth, a playful nip at your bottom lip when he smacks your cheek at the same time.

You gasp in surprise and pull back to see his heated gaze and instantly you know what he wants.

“This dress look incredible on you.” Both hands come to rest on you, kneading the fat gingerly like dough.

You let out a breathy laugh, tilting your head back just enough to expose the tender flesh of your throat, Leo’s lips and teeth crossing over with nips and kisses.

“Thought you’d might like it better in person.”

His churring increases in volume as he guides you backwards towards your bedroom, slipping his palms to under your thighs to lift you up and around his waist. You clutch tighter to his shell, tossing your head back in a laugh as his pace increases to get to your room. With fluid motion he turns and bumps your door open with his shell, quickly spinning back around to drop you onto your mattress. A fit of giggles sound from you as you bounce, your dress hitching up near your knees.

The look Leo gives you has you shuddering in anticipation, making your fingers dance down your thighs and curl under the hem of your dress. Tantanizingly slow, you pull it up and reveal your panties, Leo groaning low when he sees that they’re a lighter shade of blue.

“Wore these on purpose, didn’t you?” He rasps, pushing your legs open more to fit himself in between them. His gaze is heated, those pretty brown eyes nearly molten with desire for you.

“You ever gonna wear this again?” He goes back to kissing your neck, hands working their way up your inner thighs, squeezing and grasping harder with every move.

“Don’t think so- why?” You moan softly when he presses himself against your core, his three fingers tucking under the sides of your underwear to yank them down.

“It’s not gonna be much of a dress when I’m done with you.”

[sweetprfct]

Guilty as Sin?

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: They said there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.

Author's Note: Well, I was planning to upload two parts today, but I got busy so you'll have to wait for some more spicy stuff tomorrow. Obviously, thank you Taylor Swift for this song as an inspo LMAO. Also, I never done something like this in my fics, so we experiment stuff around here, I guess.

Wordcount: 3.3K

Disclaimer: 18+, smut, MINORS DNI

part one - part two

You gasped softly, feeling your breath tremble the moment you felt his soft fingers grazed your cheek. You carefully closed your eyes and held your breath. The air between the two of you was thick. You could feel your heart pounding hard in your chest, you didn’t know how you were still alive because you weren’t breathing anymore. Every limb in your body was trembling as he pressed his lips on the line of your jaw.

“Joe.” You gasped his name, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, his lips trailing down your neck. “Do you know how long I have been dreaming of this?”

Another gasp escaped your lips as you felt his fingers tugged on your shirt. Joe stared into your eyes with his chocolate button ones that were dark and full of desire for you. Your fingers tangled through his curls as you pulled him down and kissed him deeply. Joe didn’t hesitate as he kissed you back, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled your body close to his. He pinned you against the wall, a small moan escaped your lips when he immediately pulled your shirt over your head. 

His lips trailed down your neck and down to your collarbone, while his fingers grazed over your back before finding the clasp of your bra. Soon, that was gone too and had joined your shirt on the floor. His lips left feathered light kisses on your chest as you threw your head back and closed your eyes. 

“Please.” You pleaded, your voice almost a whisper. 

Your fingers started unbuttoning his shirt, slipping the shirt off his broad shoulders. You kissed him hungrily as you fumbled on the button of his pants, slipping it off of him, letting it join with the rest of your clothes on the floor. Joe slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his hips. 

“Tell me what you want, darling.” He whispered, in your ear, trailing kisses on your bare shoulder. 

“I want you.” You begged. “I need you.” 

Grinning from the way your voice was full of desire for him, Joe slipped himself inside of you and the both of you gasped softly. He thrusted slowly at first, kissing you again deeply and hungrily. You moaned softly, throwing your head back against the wall, and your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. 

“God,” Joe groaned softly, burying his face on your neck. “You’re so tight.”

You smiled, feeling your walls tightened around him even more as he continued to thrust inside of you, this time he quickened his pace. You could feel your legs tremble as pleasure built up inside of you. Your mind was hazy, and you couldn’t think straight anymore as Joe thrusted deeper inside of you. 

“Joe,” You moaned his name, only to make him smile. 

The sounds and moans that you were making was music to his ears, and you didn’t even know you could make these unfamiliar sounds. You closed your eyes, burying your face on his shoulder, your nails scratching down his back. It only made Joe thrusted faster and deeper inside of you as you saw fireworks explode at the back of your eyes. 

“Come for me, darling.” He murmured.

Just like that, the both of you came together, waves crashing together and everything coming undone and coming together at the same time. Breathless gasps escaped from the both of you as Joe gently set you down on the floor. Your legs almost gave out, but he was quick to catch you in his arms. 

“I love you.” He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead before pressing a soft kiss on it. 

“Hey!”

Your eyes flew open and saw Sara standing in front of you, her hands on her hips, and her brows raised at you. 

“How long are you going to let your alarm go off?” Sara still looked tired as she rubbed her eyes. 

“Shit.” You sat up on your bed and grabbed your phone from your bedside table. “Sorry.”

Sara gave you a look, her brows furrowing. “Mhm…” She said before walking out of your bedroom. “You’re gonna be late!” 

As soon as Sara closed the door behind her, you sighed and flopped yourself back on your bed. You stared at the ceiling for a moment, your fingers finding your lips. This was the third week where Joe kept appearing in your dreams. Not just dreams.

Wet dreams. 

What the hell was wrong with you? 

You didn’t even like Joe like that. In fact, you hated every fiber of his being for always being so annoying to you. You two have been “friends” forever. You really didn’t consider if you two were really friends since the both of you were always arguing and fighting. You both were in the same group of friends, but you two never got along well. 

So, why the hell were you having wet dreams about him? Although it was weird, it was giving you a feeling inside of you that you never felt before. Digging your knuckles in your eyes, you groaned softly and pushed the thought of Joe away before slipping out of your bed. 

In the shower, you let the warm water run through your skin, your fingers lingering on your skin as you thought about your dream. You sighed and leaned against the marbled wall of the shower. You kept re-calling it like it was real, but it wasn’t. It was just your brain acting up for no reason. 

“Do you know how long I have been dreaming of this?” You heard Joe’s voice echoed again in your head.

Letting your fingers slip between your legs, you gasped softly as you thought about your dream again. The way his lips left fiery trails on your skin. The way he made sure that you knew you were only his on every kiss he left on your thigh. 

“Joe.” You whispered under your breath, your fingers finding your clit. 

Leaning against the shower wall, you threw your head back and closed your eyes as you continued to play with your clit until you were gasping for air. You slipped a finger inside of you, pumping it quickly until you were basically trembling. 

“Fuck!” You moaned softly under your breath, feeling the pleasure building up in your stomach. 

Joe’s voice kept echoing in your head, asking for you to come and you could practically feel his lips on your skin as you clamped a hand over your mouth to muffled your moans as orgasm took over you. Sliding yourself on the floor of the shower, you panted as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Fuck.” You whispered, running your fingers through your wet hair. “This has to stop.”

Walking into the kitchen later that morning, you quickly pour yourself a cup of coffee and grab a piece of toast, shoving it in your mouth before grabbing your jacket and slipping it on. 

“Hey, hey!” Sara called your attention. “Um… good morning?”

“Good morning.” You said. “Sorry, I’m running late.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” She leaned her side against the kitchen counter. “We’re meeting the group tonight at the pub!” She called out as you made your way to the door.

Oh, fuck.

You forgot it's Friday. You walked back to the kitchen and raised your brows. 

“Everyone’s gonna be there?” You asked.

“Everyone.” Sara nodded. “Including your favorite person.”

“I thought he’s out of town?” 

“And he’s back. That’s why we’re hanging out tonight.” 

You let out a sigh and walked out of the flat, shaking your head in frustration. So, you’re going to see him tonight and act like you haven’t been dreaming about him. This was just great. In addition to that, you already knew he probably was going to annoy you so much. How were you going to act like you haven’t been touching yourself because the image of him kissing you and touching you was making all your hormones go wild? You really need to start thinking about other things besides the feel of his lips in your skin.

Throughout the whole day, you kept yourself busy in the office, making sure your mind was somewhere besides the dream that you had last night. You didn’t even feel that way about him, right? 

That question made you wonder if you were really just in denial and this whole time, you were actually attractive to Joe. It wasn’t like you didn’t think he wasn’t attractive because he was. But the thought of him always pestering you was making you frustrated over the fact that you kept feeling this way. That your brain kept making you think this way. He has been out of town for  filming for a month, and you haven’t even seen him in a while. 

You certainly didn’t miss him.

Right? Right? 

Letting out a sigh as you sat on the tube that afternoon, you didn’t know the answer to that either. Going to the pub tonight was the last thing on your mind, you just wanted to stay in the flat and watch some TV to keep yourself distracted. However, thinking about laying on the sofa with these thoughts, you sort of felt your guilt and fear washing over you. God knows where your mind was going to take you tonight if you decided to stay home alone tonight. It was like it was acting up on its own lately, and you couldn’t even control it.

“Are you okay?” Sara asked as the both of you walked down the street that night. 

“Hm?” You snapped out of your thoughts and turned to look at your best friend. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… What is up with you lately? Waking up late? Going to work late? You’re always inside your mind?” Sara paused in her tracks and tilted her head at you. “Is there a man I don’t know about that’s occupying your brain? Did you meet someone?”

You wished you met someone because then maybe your inappropriate thoughts about Joe would stop. 

“No,” You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. “There’s no one.”

“Please, I know you so well.” Sara continued walking next to you. “I know how you are when a man is occupying that brain of yours.”

You sighed and gazed up at the night sky. The both of you arrived at the pub, but you froze right outside the building, hesitating to go in. You didn’t know how you would feel the moment you would see Joe. It wasn’t like you were guilty of anything, right? They were just dreams. 

Inappropriate dreams, but still… it was just make believe, right?

“What is it?” Sara looked back at you. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re right.” You took a deep breath, walking towards the side of the building. “There’s a man.”

Sara raised her brow, waiting for you to continue. 

“It’s Joe.”

Sara’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Joe?! Our Joe? The one that you despise?”

You scrunched your face, rubbing your forehead in frustration because how could you explain to your best friend that the one man that you usually would fight with, was the same man that you were having wet dreams about? How was that making sense? How was all of this making sense?

“Yes.” You whispered. “I’ve been having… dreams.”

Sara held up both her hands, shaking her head. “No need for the details.” 

You laughed softly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Why? From all the men, why him?”

“Maybe…” Sara sighed. “Maybe you do like him, and you just never realized it until now.”

“Joe? Absolutely not.” You denied, shaking your head repeatedly.

Sara tilted her head at you, raising her brow. Even she didn't even believe what you were telling her. You didn’t believe it either, but you had to! This was not what you wanted… or was it?

“Have you ever thought that maybe the reason why you keep fighting with him is because deep inside, you actually feel something for him, and you just don’t want to admit it.”

“No.” You shrugged. “Why would I like him? He’s just… Joe.”

Sara gave you a look and said, “Don’t act like you two don’t have that fiery spark every time you two fight. Even through arguments, I could feel it.”

Sara doesn’t know what she was talking about! You didn’t feel that way for Joe. Never have and never will. You barely talk to each other unless you both were arguing about a subject and trying to see whoever wins the argument. 

“I just… it’ll go away. I’m probably just bored or something.” You argued. 

“If you say so.” Sara gave you a side eye before grabbing your hand to drag you inside the pub. 

Immediately, your eyes caught his familiar curly hair from the back corner of the pub. He was sitting with your friends: Wes, Laura and Jared. Sara looked over her shoulder, giving you a look as you took a deep breath and followed behind her. Immediately, your eyes caught his as soon as your friends greeted the both of you. He gave you a faint smile, his chocolate button eyes studying you as you greeted your friends and pulled them into a hug. Sara walked over to Joe, giving him a hug and greeted him a welcome back as Joe thanked her. You, on the other hand, had settled yourself next to Laura and ordered yourself some drinks already. 

“Thirsty already?” Joe teased you as soon as Sara had settled next to you. 

“We’re in a pub, right?” You said, looking at the menu and not even giving him any eye contact. 

“Now, don’t start the bloody fight yet.” Wes interrupted, wrapping his arm around Sara. “I need to at least be tipsy before I listen to the both of you argue.”

“Don’t worry, Wes. I’ll behave tonight.” You reassured him. “I don’t know about that one though…”

Joe, who was sitting across from you, leaned over the table with a playful smile on his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good boy.”

Gazing up to him through your lashes, you saw the grin that was tugging playfully on his lips before you cleared your throat and slapped his forehead with the menu.

“Back off.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“So, how was filming?” Jared asked Joe, hoping to break the tension between the both of you. 

As you ordered yourself some food, you tried to tune out the conversation that Joe and Jared were having. All you knew was that they were talking about Joe’s film that he just finished shooting. Then, when you shifted your eyes to the other side, you saw Wes and Sara basically flirting and talking to each other. Taking a sip of your drink, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Laura had found a man by the bar already, and she was talking him up and flirting with him. 

At this point, you just wanted to go home. 

After a couple of drinks, you excused yourself and went out of the pub to smoke. You needed a cigarette after just sitting there and listening to everyone’s conversations. Taking out a cigarette from your pocket, you lit it up and leaned against the brick wall next to the building. It was colder tonight and the soft breeze of the night was gently blowing through your skin. 

“Bored?” 

You turned to your side and saw Joe exiting out of the pub and lighting his own cigarette. You gazed up to the night sky again and didn’t say anything. 

“I’m not here to fight.” Joe added, chuckling softly. “Though, don’t lie. You know you like it.”

You let out scoff, turning your body to face him. “You think I like arguing with you every time we hang out with our friends?”

Joe stepped closer to you, grinning playfully. “Don’t you? Because I do.”

You furrowed your brows. He was being unbelievable. You knew he was teasing you again. You shook your head as your eyes caught the sight of his lips in front of you. Suddenly, you remembered your dream again, and you couldn’t help but look away before your brain betrays you again. Your heart was pounding hard on your chest, you were scared he would hear it.

“You don’t feel that?” 

You felt your breath hitched when you could practically feel Joe’s breath in your ear. You knew he had drank a couple drinks tonight, so he was a little loose. You, however, weren't even tipsy yet but somehow, your brain was slowly betraying you already. 

“F…Feel what?” You felt your breath tremble. 

“Feel the spark between us?”

Swallowing all your emotions that were slowly coming up, you put out your cigarette and turned to see Joe was staring at you. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could see the desire in his eyes. Just like the way he looked at you in your dreams.

Were you dreaming right now?

“I… I don’t understand.” You murmured. 

Joe stood tall in front of you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “When I was away, all I could keep thinking about was you.”

You gazed up at him, hands trembling as you said. “You hate me.”

Joe tilted his head at you. “That’s what you think.”

You gently pushed him away from you as you scoffed. He clearly didn’t understand what you were trying to say because him pestering you over and over again just to annoy you? That was not hate on his side? So, what was it? Just because?

“Please, Joe.” You took a deep breath, oxygen finally finding your lungs again. “Stop playing around. This is not funny.”

You started walking away from him but immediately stopped when you heard what he told you. 

“I’m not playing around.” Joe stated. “I never hated you.”

“Oh, really?” You looked back, frustrated. “Then, you teasing me all the time is because you think it’s funny that I’m always annoyed?”

Joe laughed softly, walking closer to you. He stopped just a few inches from you, his face close to yours and his eyes studying your facial features. 

“Have you ever seen yourself get flustered and blushed in the mirror?” Joe murmured. 

For a minute, you didn’t say anything as you stared at him. You didn’t really know what to answer since you never saw yourself get flustered or blushed. 

Joe let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Do you know how cute you are when your cheeks flushed, and you get all flustered trying to come up with a comeback? The way your eyes would go all soft and your fingers would play nervously. The way you would keep fumbling with your bracelet and rings?”

Your heart had dropped on the ground. 

Your mind stopped, time stopped as Joe cupped your face between his hands. 

“Wh…What?” You whispered.

“In fact,” Joe let out a deep breath. “The opposite of hate is exactly what I have been feeling for you.” 

You had to blink a few times to make sure that you weren’t dreaming. That your brain hasn't betrayed you again but no, Joe was right there. He was standing in front of you. He was saying all of these things to you, and you weren’t dreaming or making this up. Although, it still felt surreal. 

Sliding your hands up to his chest, you felt his chest heaving. His eyes weren't just full of desire for you. It was full of love. Something you never saw in your dream at all. Something that you thought he never would have in his eyes. Something you thought he never would have in his emotions. 

“You’re not teasing me?” You asked, making him bark a laugh.

His thumb caressed your cheek softly. “No.”

Just like that, he pressed his soft lips on yours, kissing you so soft and gentle. You slid your fingers through his hair, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. This time, it was real.

This time, it wasn’t a dream at all. 

**********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

[kanmom51]

JM's Production diary Documentary

And Live 23 October 2023

So, I don't know how to do this.

Write about JM's documentary separate from his live.

Write about the two without being all over the place.

Because not too much happened, and yet so much did.

So, where do I start? How do I get through this?

At this point I have so many ideas running through my head for posts, so much so that I'm not sure just yet how this post will work out, given that everything intertwines.

I still have JM's previous live to work on as well. Yeah, kind of overwhelmed at the moment.

I guess I will just get on with it, but I do think that more than likely there will be things I will either save for another post or two or three, or forget something (that I can guarantee) or just post on repeat, cause some things we just cannot get enough of.

Let's talk about the documentary a bit.

We got to see the process of JM creating his songs. How they would start with the idea, the narrative. Then the melody, instruments and the vocals and then the actual lyrics.

JM's musicality, his talent, his creativity all showcased.

We also got to see just how nice Pdogg is. How much he loves JM, how respectful he is to him, not to mention how talented he is himself. As a matter of fact, the whole team that worked with JM were super nice and talented and they just all seemed to be having a good time, even while working to the bone.

Oh, and how none of them actually knew English, lmao.

In the documentary we were shown how JM and Pdogg chose the quote from the movie to use in the song. Only that it wasn't the one they actually used in the song itself. And that is because, as JM revealed to us in the live, they picked it without knowing what the characters were talking about, picking a convo between the characters that sounded nice to them at the time, something that would suit the song. All while the two characters were actually talking about a visa, lol. And JM, well, he found that super funny (which truthfully, it really is), so he repeated it a couple of times.

We also saw RM in the documentary sitting down with them talking about writing lyrics. Only for JM to share with us that:

Which JM found to be very funny. I guess now it is, but back then... not sure he shared that same sentiment, lol.

He kept on laughing about him being an idea bank, lol. It's ok to acknowledge your genius, man!!!

Hobi and then Jin show up in the comments while JM is watching the documentary. And I was surprised at that point, given that I really did think JM wouldn't be doing this live, that it would have been pre-recorded. But it wasn't, and thank god for that, cause we all know what happened later on. Less than 1.30 minutes out of an almost 2 hour live, but gosh, what a 1.30 minutes they were, lol.

Anyways, Hobi shows up and JM goes all shy and even stops playing the documentary telling him to leave, that he won't continue playing until he does.

Guess who won that fight, lol. Hobi, of course. JM gives in and continues, once in a while saying they will go away at 9 pm (Jin came in to say that there is some kind of something military related, lol).

Letter

Yes, let's actually start with the name of the song.

Cause for some reason, although they all talk about the song using the word pyeonji (Letter), all while the translation is Dear.Army. Like what the actual fuck? Why would they do that?

Well, we kind of know, don't we?

Someone (cough Hybe cough) is working super hard to cement the song is for the fans.

Please tell me, if this was a song completely meant for the fans, why this incessant need of the company to sell this to us? Why change the name of it in the fucking documentary, while JM and the others are literally saying the word "letter" translating it to "Dear.Army"? There is only one answer I can think of here. And you know exactly what that answer is.

I'm not going to go back to all the reasoning as to why this is way more than a song for fans, I feel like we've discussed this ad nauseam. I will only say that NOTHING we saw in the documentary contradicts what we think about Letter.

You can see, throughout the process how emotionally tasking the song is for JM. And yes, a song for ARMY could be emotional, I mean both JM and JK have immense love for ARMY, and we've seen JK burst into tears talking to army or about army, JM getting very emotional himself. But this, this was more. There are moments there when you can see the anxiety just bursting out of JM.

This song was just MORE.

Especially when you take everything you see in the documentary, JM's state of mind, his words, his behaviour, and add it all up with the lyrics, even more so the missing lyrics. Would be hard to explain how "dongsaeng" fits into "this is a song for army"... Add it to the hidden track. But not only it being a hidden track, it's a hidden track only on the physical CD. Not the digital CD. So, no streaming. A track for Army, for his fans, that not all of his fans get to hear freely? A track for Army that, hmm... maybe wasn't supposed to even be in the album?

We got more than 2 seconds of JK. That's worth a mention too, no?

When I saw this I was: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Cause, no way under the sun, yes, pun intended, that this was about ARMY.

Army was NEVER REFERENCED AS THE SUN BY ANY OF THEM.

NEVER.

You know who was?

The level of emotion we see from the two of them throughout the process... this was so personal.

I rewatched it again today before writing these lines. It's JK's body language, it's JM's body language, it's JM going in to cup JK's face when telling him he wrote a fan song, and JK's reaction.

Dare I remind you that "Still with you" was classified by JK as a "fan song". Dare I remind you what our sentiments about that song are? Yeah, a fans song.

And I will remind you, not that you need the reminder, who happened to state for all of us to see that he was JM's fan. Happening to do so during JM's promotions of Face and before JM's Face Live, which I do not think was a coincidence AT ALL.

They are just precious. What else can I say?

There is this as well.

Also, I don't think I'm the only one seeing this. JK at the end going in for a hug, but JM, reaches out for a hand shake and a bow.

He bows.

Twice.

Now, the not going in for a hug could be one of two with JM. The first could be that it was too emotionally charged and that hug, in front of the cameras, will just be too hard. Too hard not to show the emotions. Too hard to break off.

Or, the second could be that by doing this, bowing the way he did do JK, he was showing us, the spectators, just how profoundly thankful he was for JK, and for his participating in the song.

Now that I think of it there could be a third reason. Which would be the combination of the two.

You know what I also noticed there?

That JK didn't bow back.

So, that's more or less what happened with them in the documentary. Not too much talking, when there is it's subdued, understandably so, given this is all done in front of the cameras. But, there is an undertone of emotions there.

Oh, and did I mention we see JM wearing the very important, at the time, necklace throughout the documentary? On that day of recording as well.

And happy little coincidence them wearing the black and white bucket hats? Lol.

Ok then. By now we all know that JK joined the live. And he does it exactly when they started letter. Quelle surprise. Quelle coincidence. Or was it?

Observations:

JK is too skinny. JM thought so too all while grabbing his tiddy.

JK is really tired. Said he was practicing. Eyes red. He needs to eat and sleep.

JM was genuinely surprised by JK's appearance. Th way he lights up, he was surprised and giddy and excited, his whole body movement, practically dancing in his seat with glee.

JK walks in holding his right hand in place. At first I thought maybe it was injured or hurt or unable to move, a cramp maybe, like the ones JM suffers from at times. But later on it looked like there was nothing wrong with his arm. So was that his way of holding himself back? Restraining himself? Containing himself?

JM signals for JK to talk into his mic,

Pulls the mic up forward away from his chest, and as JK comes closer he lets it go and leans back for JK to move in.

And JK, well why? The mic is right there. Why does he lean in lower? To say hello to Army? Talking to JM's what? Not the mic, that's for sure...

There did not seem to be a chair there next to JM when the live started, and when JK was leaving JM had him take a chair with him. So, as JK came into frame were the staff assuming he's going to be joining JM for the rest of the live? Also making sure to hand him a mic?

And then, JM asks JK "why did you lose so much weight?", all while reaching out his arm, and JK moves forward towards him, and you can see JK's eyes moving down to JM's arm all while JM just goes for JK's chest. Just going straight for the grab.

And JK, he loses it for just a second.

Sniff, gulp, giggle...

And we are back.

JK laughingly tells us he just practiced. But kind of still dumbfounded I guess.

And then I think JM came to as well (you know, awakening from the aftershock of his own actions, lol) and tells JK "time to go", or more so "get the fuck out of here as fast as you can and take that chair with you while you're at it, cause if you don't leave now I'm going to jump your bones right here right now".

Ok, so maybe he didn't say those words exactly, but that was the sentiment, lol.

JM apologises. Thrice.

For sending JK on his way.

And we get the hug. One of those Jikook in front of the camera hugs.

And again JM rushes JK to leave, smacking his butt while he's at it.

JK grabs the chair, tells JM to enjoy watching with Army and tells us he loves us on the way out. And JM sitting there watching JK, giggling, smile plastered on his face, waving by. But that isn't the end of it.

Because as JK leaves JM follows him with his gaze, until he waves him goodbye and only then gets back to the documentary.

And this is when we lost JM for a few minutes there during that part of the documentary, and even more so when JK was on screen singing or during their interactions.

And we also got this reaction to their hug.

What was going through your mind at that moment JM?

After JK leaves there is not too much left until the end of the documentary. And then we have a JM giggles attack. And the man is telling us he's laughing about balloon placements, but seriously, do we really think that's it?

And yes, JM was as always his own shy self while going it alone, and yes, he was finding it hard where to go with the live once the video was over, but this was just more than just plain embarrassment or shyness.

Could there have been someone there waiting for him? Someone that has that kind of effect on JM perhaps?

I don't think JK was there the whole time. He really did leave when JM was waving him goodbye (if he hadn't have left JM wouldn't have been able to get back to the documentary the way he did). But possibly, very possibly, lover boy went to shower and came back in time for JM's ending.

JM tells us during that giggle attack that he will post a pic of the funny balloons only to later post a pic of 19 balloons, the ones in the front shaped like an S. And why do I feel like that was JK's doing? The S shaped balloons...

Clearly the balloons were not placed that way at first.

Someone did this. Question is which one of them. The S, the 19, not a coincidence.

I guess that's it for this post.

Like I mentioned, I know I probably forgot stuff, and there will probably several posts to follow.

But I just needed to get this one out there for you guys. And I guess we'll add on as we go (especially seeing that I've reached my image limit here, as usual).

To sum this up.

WOW!!!

[rainycloud444]

HEAR ME OUT. SPICYNOODLES STORY IDEA.

‼️Season 5 spoilers btw‼️

For this idea, the two had only established feelings for one another recently and haven’t discussed a relationship (considering they are in the middle of a world ending mission so they decided to have smth to look forward to after all of this mess and wait)

Also Mk was forced to stay with Nüwa for the sake of the plot. OR chose to stay idk you can decide. 🫶🏻

Red is there when Mk has to jump through the portal and stuff to save the world, he is completely heart broken. He isn’t able to reach out to Mk in time to stop him. He is on the ground screaming sobbing Mk’s name, fire is just fuming all around him (I like to personally head cannon that if he is upset enough/in major distress his fire color varies from blue to white as it gets very hot.) out of impulse he decides to open a portal to the celestial realm and leave with no explanation. Just gone.

Red actually GOES TO THE CELESTIAL REALM. AND DRAGS MK BACK TO THE MORTAL REALM. (How boss would that be??)

And I was thinking at the end he just arrives back to Flower Fruit Mountain where everyone met up in ‘memorial’ for Mk and Red just tiredly (incredibly beat up) walks up the mountain with a sleeping Mk in his arms. Everyone is just gobsmacked by this, and of course are in tears and stuff. Red collapses from exhaustion FINALLY (cause he knows Mk will be safe and he can rest *cries profusely*)

Later on Mk wakes up and all of that fun stuff. His friends all greet him and blah blah blah and he is all like “You guys are so amazing for doing this” and they are all like “Um- we did NOT do that, Red did” and he is all like “Pardon 🤠” utterly flabbergasted LMAO. (I was thinking the reason they didn’t try to do the same was because they thought yk, Mk was dead dead as in fully gone disappeared into the earth gone, and Red was just in utter denial and knew it was some sneaky ass celestial realm shit. Sooo that was his motive!) Obviously not because he doesn’t think Redson couldn’t do it but because Red loved Mk so much he ripped through the celestial realm, almost fucking died MULTIPLE times, AND LITERALLY HAD TO GO AGAINST THE CREATOR OF LIFE HERSELF (You can decide on how that would happen. I personally imagine it as a bargain of some sort) just to save him. And bring him back home with no scratches (on Mk)

Of course they see each other Red all bandaged up and Mk is sobbing like “Omg you dumbass why did you do that for me” and Red is all like “Your the dumbass who jumped into the portal to sacrifice yourself. And you are plenty of worth destroying the world and celestial realm for, I wouldn’t want them anyways if you weren’t there.” And Mk is just internally melting and sobbing. And and then Red son makes a stupid joke about not getting a goodbye kiss which makes Mk laugh and then they kiss.

A little bonus: Redson goes down in history for being a force to reckon with when it came to his lover (insert cool historic sounding love story title) and his parents are super proud of him all that fun stuff 💪💪

I MIGHT TRY TO WRITE A STORY BASED ON IT BUT I FEEL LIKE I WOULD OVERWHELM MYSELF WITH IDEAS AND THEN JUST COMPLETELY LOSE MOTIVATIONAL LOL so I am hoping this falls into the hands of some great people!! 🫶🏻

(This song gives me this story energy 😫)

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 10

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Panic/Anxiety Attack. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f). Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 6.6k

Series List: Here!

Miss Track 9? Here!

Hi!!!! Once again I want to apologize for taking so long with this. I can't seem to ever stay awake to do anything. That being said, here it is! This is the last main chapter of our little lovebirds. There will be at least one, likely two bonus tracks coming soon though :) Also there's a smidge of Spanish in here from Pedro, but the translation is included in the end of the sentence. I took some Spanish classes back in the day but I don't speak it and had to use Google translate. So if it ISN'T right and you do speak Spanish, please let me know lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these little cuties on their first date. There's a lot, a lot, a lot of kissing in here (sorry...) and overall they're just grossly in love lol. Please let me know what you think, and if you've seriously read this far, I LOVE YOU! This is my first series, and honestly my first fic other than the one I wrote in my diary lmao. Like the reader, I am incredibly inexperienced so writing a relationship has been a bit of a challenge and half the time I don't believe the actual words I'm writing. But I really only started writing it as a way to write down my daydreams :) So to have support means the world to me, and hearing people comment/DM me saying how much they relate has meant so much and makes me feel a lot less alone, because ultimately, it doesn't matter how fictional it is, most of reader's feelings are my own. To anyone else in the same boat, I get you! Hang in there. I think there's a Pedro out there for us all. Someday. Anywho, pardon my ramble. Thank you for reading, I hope you like it. ❤

The next morning, you woke up and stretched your limbs, rolling over in your comfortable bed as the sunshine poured in through the window. At the shuffling of your body, Skipper groaned, wiggling a little in bed, nearly shoving you off the edge. You reached for your phone, blinking through your sleep a couple times before seeing a text from Pedro. “Good morning beautiful! I can't wait for our date today. I was thinking maybe we could start around 2:30 and spend the day together, if you'd like. But if that's too much, we can just make it a dinner date. Up to you which you would prefer. I understand either way. Love you ❤️”

He wants to spend the whole day with me!? And he sent me a good morning text and called me beautiful? Then signed it with a heart and love you?!!!! How did I get this man?

Your grin eclipsed your face, making you squint. If Mr. Grumpybutt weren't sharing the bed with you, you'd probably squeal and kick your feet. Tapping your phone screen, you typed out a reply. “Morning handsome ❤️ I would love nothing more than to spend the day with you. I love you too!” You sent the message before crawling out of bed gently, receiving a dirty look from Skip. 

“Alright Grump. Go back to bed. Geez,” you laughed. If looks could kill, you thought. He turned back on his side, letting out a grumble and sigh, resulting in a laugh from you. Acts like he pays rent and works 40 hours a week…

You took a relaxing shower, making sure to be all nice and fresh for your date with the man of your dreams. While brushing your teeth, you noticed he had replied. “Great, I can't wait. I'll be at your place at 2:30. :)”

“Can't wait to see you. What do you have planned? I'm wondering how to dress.”

“Wear whatever you feel good in, baby. I'm sure you'll look amazing. Probably something casual you can walk around comfortably in for the day. Maybe something a little dressier for the evening, but you don't need to carry it around. We will make a stop at your place before and you can change”

Wow he really has this planned out.

“What have you got planned, P? This sounds elaborate. You know you don't need to put in all that effort, I'm already yours ❤️”

“You deserve the world, my love.”

Dressed in a pair of leggings and a light sweater, you felt reasonably cute while still being comfortable for whatever activity Pedro had in mind. Plus, with the crisp November air, you would be nice and warm. You were just finishing tying your sneakers when your doorbell rang. 

You opened the door to find your handsome boyfriend standing on your step, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. “Mi amor,” he handed you the roses, kissing your cheek and hand. “Thank you Pedro,” your cheeks heated. “Come in,” you pulled his hand across the doorway towards the living room. Skipper pushed past you to investigate, causing Pedro to drop your hand.

“Well there he is! That handsome boy!” Skipper’s tail wagged and his butt wiggled as Pedro crouched to give ear scratches. “Oh, I love you too,” Pedro answered when Skip kissed his face frantically. A fit of giggles erupted from Pedro, making your heart swell with joy. He has the cutest laugh, and the fact that your dog is causing it was surreal. 

“You're just a beautiful boy! Aren't you?! Hermoso, igual que tu mamá,” he held Skipper’s face, kissing his nose. (Beautiful, just like your mama)

Your chest was filled with butterflies. Holy shit, he's charming. “Thank you, Pedro,” you said in a whisper, not even sure if he would hear. Turning his head from your dog, Pedro looked up at you, giving you a gentle smile; but the eye contact was quickly torn away when Skipper pressed a needy paw to Pedro's chest. Both of you now giggling, Pedro continued to pet Skipper, stopping to give him a hug and some more nose kisses.

“Alright. I gotta ask…” you prompted, causing Pedro to turn his head towards you again. “Are you just dating me to hang out with my dog?” You smirked.

Pedro turned back to Skipper, speaking in a low voice. “She's catching on to us buddy. We've been made.” You burst out laughing, Skipper looking over at you as if his plan really had been foiled.

Pedro gave a final pat on Skipper’s head before standing and walking over to you. “Nonsense,” he pecked a kiss to your lips. “I do love that sweet boy of yours,” he replied before turning his face to whisper in your ear. “But I'm absolutely enamored with you, Mamacita.” The hair on your neck stood as a chill rushed down your spine. You bit your lower lip, and he stared back into your eyes, leaning in for a passionate kiss. 

“You look beautiful,” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You look rather handsome, yourself,” you replied. His hair was brushed back and to the side, his curls neatly swept and threatening to break free around his face. You wondered whether he asked for help to make his hair look extra nice for your date or if he styled it himself.

Running your fingertips over his patched salt and pepper beard, your hands found the small heart shaped patches near his chin. You brushed your thumb over his jaw before leaning in to press a kiss on the bare skin, causing his eyes to close as he let out a sigh. The whiskers tickled your cheeks as you continued kissing up his jawline, back across his cheek, and on his nose before pulling away to look into his eyes.

He opted to not wear glasses today, allowing you a closer look into his deep brown eyes which were softening under your gaze. “You ready to go, baby?” He asked you, his hand on your hip as he rubbed circles with his thumb.

“Absolutely,” you smiled. He wore a pair of dark jeans, tennis shoes, and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearm. He looked absolutely… incredible.

While you were grabbing your bag, he grabbed Skipper's leash. “Is Skipper coming too?” You asked, confused.

Skipper was twirling now, impatient to go somewhere.

“Sure is! Couldn't leave him out. But don't worry, you and I will have the night to ourselves,” he winked.

You looked downward, feeling shy and flushed. “Okay,” you giggled, clipping Skip to his leash and heading for the door.

“Do you want to take my car? You'll get dog hair and slobber in yours,” you offer.

“I don't mind! I love dogs,” Pedro replied, opening the door for Skipper to climb in the back seat. After closing the door, he opened the passenger door for you. Such a gentleman, you thought with a sigh, getting in and thanking him. 

As the car sped along, you looked over at your boyfriend driving the car. Boyfriend! That'll never get old… you thought to yourself. The air conditioning blew the few loose strands of hair on the top of his head, and his left hand gripped the wheel, making the veins on his hand prominent. With his right hand, he reached over, holding your left in his, resting on top of your thigh. 

He really did look beautiful. You couldn't help but stare at him as he expertly drove the car, hand flexing as he turned the wheel. His mouth pursed and he licked his lips, his tongue slowly jutting out to wet them. 

Damn, I want those lips on mine. That tongue in my mouth, you thought, feeling rather warm, despite the air conditioning swirling around the car.

“So where are we spending the day?” You asked, trying to quiet the flames of attraction licking at your pulse.

“It's a surprise! But we're almost there,” he answered, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand.

Pedro looked in the side mirror and laughed. “Babe, look at Skipper.”

You looked to see him with his head out the window, ears and lips blown back with the wind, his tongue lolled out to the side and blowing with the speed of the vehicle.

You both chuckled before you warned him, “your car is going to be covered in slobbers, Pedro!” He gave another quick look to Skipper before replying. “That's okay. It'll help me remember this day until I wash it again,” he looked over at you and smiled. It felt so natural. So… domestic, the two of you sitting in the car, going on a date, him holding your hand while driving, and the two of you laughing at your dog in the back seat. It was just perfect. Everything you dreamed.

He wasn't joking when he said you were almost there. It was only about five more minutes until the car pulled into the parking lot of the dog-friendly beach. 

Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of salty sea air and hearing the chatter of gulls. The breeze blew your hair gently, but the day was relatively warm for November.

After the three of you exited the car, Pedro opened the trunk, pulling out a large picnic basket and tote bag. “You really came prepared, didn't you? Pedro, this is really special. Thank you.” Your eyes felt teary and the smile you held was genuine. Nobody has ever put this much effort into anything for you. Other than him.

“You don't need to thank me. I want you to be happy and I want the three of us to have a nice day,” he added, pecking your lips.

“Wait.. Pedro,” you frowned. “It looks kind of crowded. Should I be nervous about paparazzi or anything?” Your stomach bubbled with nervous energy.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. Celebs come here all the time. I've come here before. If they do, they might take pictures, but usually it's pretty low-key here. Try not to worry too much. I want you to have a nice time,” he squeezed your hand affectionately.

“Okay. I trust you,” you smiled at him as the three of you walked towards the sand, finding a nice place to picnic. Pedro unpacked, laying down a large blanket before setting up the spread of sandwiches, veggies, and fruit. He offered you a cold drink from the basket and the two of you sat, using a metal stake to secure Skipper’s leash near your blanket. He flopped onto his side, content to be sunbathing with some of his favorite people.

The lunch consisted of peaceful conversations and laughter, learning more about each other despite having talked for several months now. It seemed you could never run out of conversation topics. But even in the quiet moments, it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt relaxing. You were both content being able to sit together in silence and just enjoy each other's company.

After your meal, you packed up the basket and headed for the car again to put the things away, opting for a walk unburdened by carrying items across the sand. Neither of you brought a swimsuit today, but despite the California sun, it was still November, and the Pacific ocean was never really warm, even in the middle of summer. That didn't seem to bother Skipper very much though. As the two of you walked hand in hand near the water, barefoot in the wet sand, he ran laps around Pedro holding him on the leash, occasionally splashing through the shallow water before joining close by his family again.

He would definitely need a bath later, but you didn't mind. He was happy splashing around, having a great day. You were happy walking with the man of your dreams, fingers intertwined together. Everything felt right. You weren't even nervous, despite the way Pedro looked like the most handsome man you've ever seen, or the fact that he was famous, and that you occasionally received stares from other beach goers. Instead of the usual first-date nerves people get, you just felt love.

“So,” he started excitedly, “Obviously I have most of this date planned, but I also wanted to check in with you and see if you had anything particular in mind that you wanted to do together.”

You thought for a second, letting a memory burn into your thoughts. “Well,” you began, "I don't want to sound like a total creepy fan or anything...” you added, cautiously. You kinda were, with all the photos of him you had saved on your phone (prior to deleting them before your first meeting in person). But that's not important right now, and he probably doesn't need to know that. Maybe it can be a funny story later.

Pedro laughed, that cute little wheezy laugh he does with his giant smile that makes your stomach do somersaults. Those same somersaults you've been getting since you first saw that smile on the screen and knew you were absolutely screwed until you got over this crush. Or, unexpectedly, when you walked hand-in-hand with him, like you were now.

“But…?” he pondered, looking down at you sideways, with a playful smirk and those big brown eyes that could make you lose your mind. They absolutely glittered in the sunlight right now, reflecting all the joy and love he felt for you.

“Okay maybe I'm a little creepy…” you nudged him with your side, still gripping his hand in yours as the two of you walked peacefully. The beach was crowded, but you and him, and Skipper, were the only ones here as far as either of you were concerned. There could be a loud scream and it wouldn't compare to the squealing in your mind. A firework show would simply feel like a projection of your sparks. A tornado couldn't sweep you off your feet as well as he could. 

“Is this where you tell me you've been watching me sleep through my window for the past three years or something?” He raised an eyebrow, playful smile still on his face as he licked his lips.

“What?” You squeaked, laughing. “No. I mean… I did have some pictures saved of you, and have maybe read a fictional story or two about you and your characters…” or a few thousand, you thought.

You cringed. Why the fuck did I say that out loud?!

Your cheeks felt hot and you diverted your eyes away from the man beside you, a nervous grimace painted across your mouth. He barked out a laugh, pulling you into his side for a hug. “Baby, you're cute. I don't mind that you used to read those. I don't even mind if you still do. No different than a book, right? Maybe it'll give us some fun date ideas.” He rested his head on top of yours innocently.

Oh, if only he knew the things you read.

“Right. Fun date ideas,” you smirked to yourself. He pulled away to look at you, eyebrow raising playfully.

“Sweetheart,” he interrogated in the same tone you use when Skipper steals a sock from the laundry, “what kind of stories are you reading about me and my characters, huh?” He lifted your chin to meet his eyes. You'd feel nervous from his tone if he didn't flash a smug, knowing grin at you.

“Oh, you know…” you shrugged. “Just the typical romance stuff,” you turned, facing him and resting your hand on his chest, tracing a circle over his heart with your finger. You felt his pulse pick up under your touch, and saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

“What kind of thoughts are going through that pretty head of yours?” He asked, raising his brow while you continued tracing little hearts into his shirt with your index finger.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” You winked before removing your hand from his chest. Starting to walk away, you continued your earlier statement. “Anyway, as I was saying-”

“Oh, no you don’t,” he interrupted, laughing. “Don't think you're getting out of this conversation that easy,” he gently pulled your forearm, stopping your movement and sending you twirling into his arms once again.

“Maybe someday I'll tell you,” you giggled, booping his nose. 

“Someday? Why not tell me now?” He ran his thumb over your lip, eyes drifting down quickly before returning to your eyes.

“I'll show you the fanfics I read about you when I know you're stuck with me and you aren't going to run for the hills,” you laughed nervously, only partially joking.

His playful demeanor vanished before your eyes, turning into a look of… concern? Oh no. This is it. Where he realizes what a mistake he made. Where he says he doesn't want to be together. Where he breaks my heart.

He gently held your arm, rubbing soft strokes. “Honey. What are you talking about?” His soft brown eyes searched your face. You gulped, not wanting to make eye contact, but he again pulled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “I…” you floundered for the words. “I don't want to scare you away.”

“Why would I be scared away?” he asked in almost a whisper, concern and sadness lacing his features.

“Because I just had this huge, huge crush on you. So, I read fanfics and I saved all your photos and I watched all your movies. I spent more time on social media looking for updates on you. Just so I could see you, or imagine what being with you would feel like. Like a total crazy person. An absolute psycho creeper.”

“Baby…” he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You aren't any of those things. I actually think that’s kind of sweet. Although, it makes me a little sad thinking about the pain you must have felt, having these strong feelings and not having found each other yet.” He brushed your hair out of your face, settling his other hand on your waist before continuing.

“Feelings make us feel a little crazy sometimes, and although I never read fanfiction about you, or had any pictures to save, I would be lying if I said I didn't take a screenshot of us that first night you showed me your face.” He rubbed his neck bashfully.

Fanfic about me? What? If that even exists, I gotta see what people are saying…

“You did?” His admission surprised you, to say the least. He sighed before answering. “Yes. I had - have,” he corrected himself, “a pretty big crush on you too, baby. But I felt like I was betraying you in a way, taking a picture of you during our video chat. I just wanted to remember your face if I never saw it again,” he sighed.

“I fell in love with you the first time I heard your song... I heard you sing about your feelings and daydreams. So… you admitting about fanfiction and pictures isn't all that surprising.” You lowered your eyes in embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He stroked your cheek. You looked up and he continued. “I took that picture because I had already fallen so head-over-heels for you that the first time I saw your face, I stopped breathing. Although I knew I wouldn't be able to get the image of you out of my mind, I couldn't risk forgetting the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.”

You dropped your gaze again, cheeks feeling a permanent state of warmth and butterflies dancing from your stomach to your chest. “You don't honestly mean that, Pedro.” You sighed. “I appreciate it, but there's no way. I really don't know what you could ever see in someone like me,” you whispered, barely audible. If you weren't standing so close, he would've missed it.

Instead of responding, he dropped his arms from your body. At the loss of contact, your heart sank. But when you lifted your head to meet his eyes, he was fishing around his pocket for his phone. Calling an Uber to leave? Your self-doubt pestered.

A few taps to his screen later and he held up his phone. There you were, sitting at your table in your favorite dress, with your favorite food and flowers on the table. You had the biggest smile on your face and in the bottom corner, you could see Pedro looking handsome as always, and absolutely smitten with you, the largest grin painted across his features.

At the sight of the image, your heart warmed. “See what you mean to me?” He asked, putting his phone back into his pocket. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you choked out, leaning forward to mold your lips to his. They fit together perfectly. Like they were made for each other. He pressed back before opening his mouth ever so slightly to lick at your lips. Matching his movements, your tongues met, dancing a waltz in exploration as he pulled you forward by your lower back, seeming as if trying to get as close as possible somehow.

As the two of you paused for air, he ran his hand further down your back, just barely grazing the dip of your spine where your torso meets your butt. He gave you a look, almost to determine your reaction, asking permission to let his hand continue. When you didn't back away, going as far as pulling him closer around his neck and leaning in for another kiss, he pressed his lips against yours in return and let his hands wander a little further down. When his hand wrapped around the cheek of your ass, you squeaked. This is new… and I like it, you thought. His whole hand fit across your cheek. His huge hands. You whimpered as he gave a squeeze, like he was claiming you as his own.

“I love you too.” He finally responded, pulling out of the kiss to search your eyes. “So tell me… what was this activity you wanted to add to our date? The one you fear makes you sound like a creepy fan?” He let out a small laugh, brushing your nose with his.

“This,” you replied, pressing another kiss.

“Kissing?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over your waist and resting his forehead to yours. “I think we've already been doing that, if I'm not mistaken.” He pecked your lips with his.

“Yes,” you kissed. “Well,” kiss. “Actually,” you pulled away enough to explain. “I read this interview you gave a few years ago about your ideal first date?”

“Yeah?”

“You said something about ‘a date that doesn't feel like a date. And

hopefully by the end, or throughout, very

good kissing.” You said, slightly cautious at your memorization, a bit nervous at the implication of what you're saying.

“Oh, is that what you want?” He flashed his eyes up to look at you, giving a devilish smirk. 

“Well, as someone who hadn't been kissed yet when I read it, I sorta lost my mind over it,” you laughed. “Obviously we've kissed before, but if it were up to me your lips would never leave mine,” you pressed your lips to his again.

“I think we should be able to make that happen,” he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours before pulling you in for another kiss. “Mmmm” you sighed, pulling away from his lips. “Never gets old.” You held his hand in yours, the two of you walking again down the beach.

“So I was thinking,” he began, “since you said you deleted all your photos, and I only have the one, maybe we could make some new photos… together,” the corner of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile. You grinned and nodded excitedly. “Please!”

Pulling out his phone, the two of you took several photos together. Some just smiling, some with Skipper, and your personal favorites, the ones with him kissing you. This will make for a perfect lockscreen, you imagined.

As you approached the edge of a rocky cliffside at the end of the beach, a sea lion barked in the distance. Skipper perked up, tilting his head and letting his ears twitch before returning a “boof.” The two of you laughed, ushering your dog away from making any wild ocean friends, and headed towards the boardwalk.

After grabbing an ice cream at a candy shop, you were so deep in conversation and laughter that you didn't notice the girl off to the side looking nervous. Slowly she walked over. Skipper put up his guard, but as she approached, she gave a kind wave. “Hi… I'm sorry to bother you. I'm a big fan of you both.”

“Us… both?!” You responded, surprised. Pedro shook his head with a laugh before thanking the fan.

“Of course! Your music is amazing! I listen to it on my way home from work everyday. I relate to so many of your songs.”

“Wow, thank you so much. I never expected to be recognized. You're so kind,” you replied honestly.

She asked for a photo with you both, and after obliging, she mentioned before leaving, “by the way, I was following all the news that went down. I just want to say I think it's cute how you guys got together and you make a really cute couple. Okay bye! Thank you again!!” And with that, she scurried away, leaving you to look at Pedro in surprise. “Wow” you replied with a laugh. “I can't believe I'm getting recognized,” you spoke quietly.

“How do you feel about it?” Pedro asked cautiously.

“I feel… okay, so far. This was a nice interaction, and even though people keep looking at us… being able to be out in public with you, to show my face, kiss you, hug you, hold your hand,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “it makes it all worth it.”

“I couldn't agree more,” he looked into your eyes, giving a soft smile. You matched his expression before his face slowly faded into concern. “Do you think work will go okay for you? Now that it's out there?”

You took a deep breath, walking a few more steps with him down the boardwalk before replying. “I don't know. I guess so. Or… I hope so at least. I've had a few of my friends and coworkers message me kind words of encouragement. So at least I'll have some people on my side, even if anyone else has something to say. But really, they shouldn't. They already know me. They knew I liked you,” you leaned into him. “So they should be happy for me if anything. And if not, then… well, they didn't deserve to be my friend anyway,” you shrugged. “But I think I might take some time off to figure out everything, career wise,” you added. Still leaning into his side, Pedro unlatched his fingers from yours, opting to reach his arm around you, giving your shoulder a squeeze and rubbing soft circles into your upper arm.

“Baby,” Pedro began, his voice vibrating through your body as he leaned his head on yours, “I’m so proud of you. Have I told you how strong I think you are?” Your cheeks warmed and you grinned. “Thank you Pedro,” you wrapped your arms around his waist to hug him. “But I don't think I'm that strong. I struggle to open pickle jars just like the rest of us,” you joked.

Pedro gave a quiet snort. “You know what I mean, honey,” he laughed. “I don't mean physical strength. Though I'm sure you could hold your own in an arm wrestle, I mean your ability to handle all of this thrown at you so quickly. Your ability to adapt and stay cheerful about everything. You just keep continuing to amaze me,” he pulled his head away from yours to meet your gaze. He smiled softly and you thanked him.

“I don't feel very strong,” you mumbled, breaking away from his stare. “You are, though. You're strong, smart, beautiful. Talented. Passionate,” he kissed your lips.

“Pedro, I love you, but you always seem to use all these words I don't feel. You see me as someone completely different than the way I've always seen myself. I want to believe you, but-” you sighed. “No one else has ever shown any indication that those are true,” you pouted, trying not to tear up.

“Hey, hey, whoa. Stop,” he halted your movements, pulling your chin up to his face. “Maybe they didn't see you, but I do. I feel all those things about you, and I'll spend every single day trying to prove it. I told myself I wouldn't get involved in romance a long time ago. But you changed all that.”

His chocolate brown eyes felt like they looked directly into your soul as he attempted to unravel your self-doubt. With a deep breath, you calmed enough to reply. “I love you, and I feel all those things for you as well. I'm glad you opened yourself up to love again.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I'm glad I met you” you sucked his lip. “I'm glad you're mine.” You kissed him again, deepening it, letting your tongue press gently to his and tangling together in passion before pulling away. 

Skipper had completely rolled into his side in wait for you both, between the conversation and the kissing. When the two of you broke away with matching grins, you looked over to see the sun had sunk down to the border between sky and ocean. In its wake was a bright orange sky, with pink, purple, and yellow streaks mixed in, as if a painter had gotten a bit too carried away with the paints. It was blindingly beautiful. 

Drawn to it like moths, the three of you walked towards the shoreline once again. You started to sit, but Pedro pulled you into his chest and fished for his phone. 

You gave him a confused look before he kissed you deeply and held out his arm. Unlatching his lips from yours with a pop, he held up his phone to you with a smile. In front of the vibrant ocean sunset, the silhouette of a couple shared a loving kiss. For once, it was you in this couple photo. You and the man you love.

You walked a little farther down the sand before sitting down just above the line of wet sand to admire the sunset. Pedro sat behind you, his legs on either side of you while you lay back into his chest. As you leaned into him, he hugged around your body, molding himself to you and tracing light circles into the skin on your arms, making the hairs stand on end and a shiver to run down your spine. 

Skipper flopped down nearby, clearly sleepy after a long walk and plenty of new smells. You ran a gentle hand down his back until you heard soft snores, then let him sleep, leaning your head on Pedro’s arm around your shoulder. “This sunset is beautiful,” you sighed, watching as the sun descended further below the ocean. It looked as if it was sinking deep below the surface, offering its light to the deep sea anglerfish miles below.

“It is amazing,” Pedro agreed, staring at you. “But my view is even better,” he added, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face as he kissed your shoulder. You looked over at him, meeting his eyes, now sparkling with the orange of the sky. “Mine too,” you whispered, tilting your head to press another kiss to his lips.

When the sun went down completely, you headed to the car and Pedro drove back to your place so you could get ready for dinner. 

Pedro sat on the couch patiently, stroking the fur on Skip’s back while he snoozed, his head in Pedro's lap. In your bedroom, you searched for the perfect outfit to wear, finally deciding on a nice dress and sweater.

Hopefully the restaurant isn't too cold, you thought.

Walking out of the bedroom, you joined your boys in the living room, only to be greeted by Pedro’s jaw hitting the floor. “Te ves tan hermosa mi amor,” he stuttered in Spanish, flipping languages so easily when he was overcome with emotion. (You look so gorgeous my love.)

He gently stood, sliding out from below your dog, before walking over to you. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe and back up again, making you feel nervous. “You… you look… wow.” He rubbed his hand over his chin, his thumb grazing his lip. His pupils grew, making his eyes ever-so-slightly darker. You shivered under his gaze.

At your shiver, his demeanor shifted. “Shit, are you cold? Baby, you look incredible, but if you're cold -” 

“I'm not cold, Pedro,” you interrupted.

“Are you sure? I saw you shiver.” He stepped towards you, touching your arm. A buzz crept under your skin like a live wire. “It wasn't from the cold…” you replied.

“It wasn't from-?” He paused, the realization hitting him as he understood your shiver wasn't from cold but frankly.. the opposite. “Oh,” he hummed, settling his hand on your hip and stepping closer.

Another chill.

“Feeling excited for our date, huh?” His voice caressed into your ear as he kissed his way down your neck, pausing to take gentle nibbles on the skin of your collarbone, neck, and chin, before pulling you in by your waist to press a deep kiss to your mouth, his tongue finding yours. 

This was starting to feel natural, kissing. And you two were getting good at it together. Knowing just the way his tongue moved, finding just the spot to make you whine. You even managed to find a spot of him that made a groan slip from his lips nearly every time. Kissing him was addicting, and you had no intention of kicking the habit.

He pulled away, pulling your lip with his teeth as you let out a slight hiss. “I'd love to do this all night, but I promised you dinner, my love,” he kissed your cheek, his beard scratching your face just right. You sighed, agreeing to dinner and taking a minute step back. It felt much warmer in the room than before, and you could tell he felt the same. As your eyes drifted across his body, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. Slowly sweeping his eyes down his body, it was evident you both wanted something beyond dinner.

But the gentleman he is, Pedro stepped forward again, taking your hand and leading you toward the door. 

Pulling up to the curb, Pedro opened your door for you before handing his keys to the valet. Linking his arm with yours, the two of you walked into an elegant Italian restaurant. He gave the waitress his name, and she led you back to a secluded room where a single booth sat.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated by candles and twinkling fairy lights. They lined the ceiling, mimicking the starry sky, were it not for the smog of the city. You two walked toward the only booth, settled against the nook of a window, draped with a soft, thin white curtain covering the view from outside. Only the reflection of street lights peered through the thin drapery.

Sliding into the booth, Pedro sat next to you, close enough to touch, yet due to the curve of the corner booth, you were able to converse without craning your neck awkwardly. At the center of the table was a single red rose in a vase, sat next to the glow of a candle. The table itself was rounded and draped with an elegant dark red tablecloth.

Grabbing the triangular folded napkin off your plate, you folded it across your lap, Pedro doing the same. He reached over to you, taking your hand in his. He rolled his hand over the top of yours, linking his fingers between your own and giving a gentle squeeze while offering a soft smile. 

You looked into his eyes, searching for the words he might be thinking. In his eyes you only found love and appreciation, pure happiness oozing from his features. When the waitress came back, she set a basket of bread with butter on the table and took your orders. 

The night went smoothly, chatter filling the empty spaces while you enjoyed your meals. “Pedro, I know this is technically our first date, but I gotta say, I think I consider our video chat for my album as the first date. It was the first time I felt like I might actually have a shot with you. You put so much effort into that night and it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I didn't know I could fall for you any harder than I was, but you proved me wrong. And even though we didn't say it was a date, and I didn't have much experience before you, it felt more like a date than anything I had ever felt before. You're a real romantic, P.” 

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “That felt like the first date to me too. I knew for sure that I loved you that night.” Your cheeks heated, and you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

It was only when the bill arrived that you broke apart. Though you offered to pay, at least for your meal, Pedro wouldn't stand for that. After all, he told you, this date was his idea. So instead, you thanked him and left the restaurant the same way you entered, arms linked.

As Pedro pulled up outside of your home, you let out a sigh. It was already after 9 PM. You had spent nearly eight hours together and yet you dreaded the moment you'd be saying goodbye. It was almost that time already, yet it felt like only five minutes had passed.

Though the walk from Pedro’s car to your front door was rather short, you both managed to prolong it, walking as slow as possible. Clearly he wasn't ready for it to end either. Two love sick fools, just wanting to spend every moment together.

Teetering on the edge of goodbyes, you awkwardly stood by your door. There were no nerves at a first kiss, fortunately. There had been plenty of kisses shared today, and yesterday, and the day prior. In fact, if it weren't for breathing, eating, and other bodily functions, you'd be fine having your lips glued to his indefinitely.

So with that in mind, and the burning desire to spend more time together, as he said goodbye, placing a kiss to your lips and beginning to walk away, you grabbed his arm. “Wait,” you plead.

Pedro turned, looking at you as if you had something to say, or you had forgotten a sweater in the car. But instead, with your heart pounding in your ears, you quietly asked, “would you like to come in? I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.”

The question could be taken with so many potential implications, or none at all. All you knew for sure was that you wanted to spend more time with him. What happened next could be decided in the moment.

His eyes flashed surprise for a moment. He looked at you, trying to read your face for any details in your question, then stared at your front door before turning back to you and finally answering.

“I would love to,” he smiled.

And so the two of you walked through the threshold of your front door, buzzing with new possibilities just inside. But no matter how the rest of the evening takes place, you were in love, and for once, you were loved back.

The end! Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the bonus tracks, and once again I'd love to hear what you think! Reblogs are appreciated as well :)

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibleywrites @faithfullyyours2000 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors @emmalostinwonderland

[frogserotonin]

Hii, could you do an Anthony lockwood x reader where they just have a nice chill day. They are together and have nothing to do so they just stay in bed all day sharing Stolen kisses, words of affirmation, cuddling, talking, bed hair, morning voice, makeout?

y'all don't understand this is so different from what i write on ao3 for my other fandom, i am an angst machine there, all of these fluff requests are terrifying bc idk how to write fluff 😭(/lh dw i still love writing them)

as long as you're next to me(just the two of us)- anthony lockwood x reader

(@citizen-01, @gibby31)

a/n: hope i could do justice to what u wanted!! was just listening to beabadoobee when writing this lmao warnings: none??? unedited, kissing ig, idk cursing?? ooc

Waking up in the morning wasn’t something you enjoyed all that often, the prospect of another day not that appealing when the Problem was still a prominent…problem issue. You’d never grow tired of waking up to the sight of Lockwood next to you though, limbs shot out in all directions-and yet always with an arm over you. Sometimes he’d have a little frown on his face when he was very deeply asleep that made you coo and smile so widely it hurt your cheeks. To be fair, who could blame you?

Waking up this morning was no different from most for you, a flash of disappointment at the world around you, and then giddiness at the realisation of Lockwood’s arm being slung around your torso and the most adorable fucking frown on his lips. You sigh happily, sitting up slightly, careful not to move his arm from its place. You glance at the clock on the bedside table-7:36am- dismiss it because it’s cold as shit, and weave your fingers into his hair, stroking his head and humming a song you don’t remember the name of. Today is a good day, a free day. Lucy will probably stay in bed until 9 and then make herself some toast, a cup of tea and then head back to bed and draw with the radio on. George won’t be up until around the same time, going to the kitchen to grab a pastry, make some tea and then bury himself in research about the Problem. 

If he could help it Lockwood would probably not awaken for another couple hours also. Unless you moved. He’d probably wake up to drag you back to bed to cuddle with him then.

You wouldn’t be opposed to that actually. 

Slowly you remove your hand from his hair, and then his arm from around you, letting out a small huff of laughter when he immediately moves it back, although still very unconscious. You swing a leg out from the quilt and place it on the (really fucking cold) floor, allowing for the majority of your weight to shift to that side. His other hand shoots out and grabs yours. For a couple seconds all you can pick up is incomprehensible mumbling, and then-

“Darling, come back.” It was a miracle you didn’t swoon, the nickname and the morning voice were a lethal combination. More grumbling and then he cracked an eye open and offered you a hopeful grin. “Please?”

Wow. How are you even alive anymore? It’s like your heart is simultaneously beating faster than humanly possible, and not at all. 

You feel his arms completely embrace you and drag you into them. He props himself up on one elbow and kisses your forehead, whispering a ‘good morning’ onto it and then attacking the rest of your face with lazy kisses, his other arm still securely hugging you to him.

“How’re you so pretty after having just woken up?” he asks, and it sounds so curious and genuine, you almost melt, right there and then. 

“I should ask you.” You try to play off how completely smitten you are by bantering with him, “Your morning hair is gorgeous dear.” you giggle at the hand that shoots up to try and smooth it down. It doesn’t work but you don’t particularly want to tell him, simply dragging his arm back down to cuddle you again. 

You lay together, you in his arms and his chin resting on the top of your head, for a little while, simply enjoying each other's presence. You turn around, burrowing yourself further into the blankets-because it really is fucking cold as balls, far out-and you wrap your arms around his middle. Neither of you are quite sure when you started kissing or who started kissing who but neither of you were planning on pulling away first.

Kissing Anthony Lockwood was many things. Sometimes it was rushed and breathtaking, like after a particularly terrifying case, when he’d push his lips to yours with a certain sort of vigour, reassuring himself of your stable and safe condition. Sometimes it was heated and intoxicating, deep kisses that doused you in gasoline and lit you aflame. 

These kisses are slow and idle, just the both of you enjoying the feel and existence of each other. You feel like you’re floating, tethered only by the feeling of his lips on yours. You’re infinite in his arms, your hands have found their way back to his hair, running your fingers through his hair. He pulls away and kisses the tip of your nose.

“You’re absolutely stunning.” His eyes lock with yours and his voice is hoarse and breathless from the kissing but still gravelly from having recently woken up. “You deserve everything and anything you so desire and I will go to the ends of the earth to provide you with that.” You kiss him again, just once, but it's hard and full of as much love as you can convey.

“I think that everything I want at all in this world is right here.”

“That is disgustingly adorable.” His smile is all the stars in a clear night sky.

“Thanks', I try.”

[serenhoshi]

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a while! I was working for my finals, and now that I’m done I can post again! 

Here is the beginning of the “Ateez as your boyfriend” series, I haven’t done all the members of seventeen yet, but I’m working on it as well, it’ll come very soon!

So, Kim Hongjoong!

based on his mbti, the man is a lover of love

he is a hopeless romantic, and has a crush 24/7

he loves having a crush, daydreaming a bit about the person that attracted him

it kind of frees him from his busy everyday life

it inspires him for some of his lyrics as well?? (like i know ateez songs are about rebellion and stuff but i’m sure that this man right here has many romantic and cheesy songs about his ex-lover(s) or/and crushes)

anyways, so as I said, he has a crush on basically anyone

he never truly expects anything, like no relationship whatsoever, he really just enjoys the feeling of liking someone

so when he has a crush one you, he doesn’t expect much from it

maybe he saw you at a museum or in a shop or whatever

and he double-checked you like “oh- oh, they look great” (in his head ofc)

and maybe he liked your vibe, your outfit, whatever

he ended up giving you quick looks during your whole visit (if it’s a museum), like a shy kid

he knows he won’t see you again anyway because of his work, and [insert city name] is a big city, so he makes sure he memorizes you well

it really sounds weird but like

he WILL write about you, so he needs to remember details to talk about in his lyrics

As soon as he got home, he started writing his song, it was very quick lmao

so when he was done, he was satisfied and could go back to his work

until he saw you again, at the agency

his eyes opened wide and his jaw almost fell to the floor

he was clearly confused so he played it cool and ignored you as if he never knew you in the first place

like “damn, that not how it always goes”

but turns out you had to work together, because you were in charge of the production of some music videos, so you had to meet with the members to talk about the aesthetic and the mood of the songs, and what to tell in the video

the members quickly saw that hongjoong was acting weirdly around you

like during a meeting, anytime you looked at him he would look away from you, anytime he spoke up his ears would turn red because he knew you were watching him

so they mocked him lmao

and he threatened them back

but they’re ateez, they don’t really care, so they continued

until it got to you

you heard the members being like “hongjoong-hyung have you seen y/n’s haircut today? oh i’m sure you have right?”

“remember when he drew them?? in a cartoon-ish way, it looked cute tho”

“yeah, i want you to draw me too!- why not? is it because they’re your crush and i’m not??”

you were very confused and curious at the same time

so one time your curiosity took over, and you called hongjoong after a meeting with the members (ofc they mocked him when they heard you call him lmao)

you blutly asked if there was someting going on, because you heard stuff from the members, and you needed to know if you had done something wrong, or is they were mocking you for something. not even once considering he could actually like you

he would giggle shyly, hiding his face with his hand

and then he was fully honest with you

he said in a suprisingly confident way, that he hoped something would develop between the two of you, because he really appreciates you

and he asked you on a date btw

i know right

he couldn’t believe it either

the date went very well, you went to the cinema and then ate at the convenience store bcs you were hungry

it was very fun! and both of you started to get attached to each other

you got close very fast, you saw each other a lot at dates, your appartment, or his recording studio

you would just mess around a lot, laugh, eat, sleep, whatever

at some point he just HAD to tell you how much he loved you

you were both in his studio, you had drank a bit, hongjoong more than you, to give himself a bit of courage

he played the song he made after meeting you for the first time

the silence was pressuring to him, while you listened attentively to the song

then you looked at him, confused at what it meant (not really understanding that it was about you)

so he told you

his confession was a bit clumsy, he wanted to do well but he was too stressed, so stressed that he stuttered a lot

but it was also very sincere, his eyes did not leave you, the light reflecting in them made them look so bright and passionate that your heart started speeding up

when he finally said “i love you”, you smiled, and giggled like a child

his eyes were still on you, and you felt your ears burn and redden

you told him that you loved him too, in a quieter voice, shy to let the three words out

he smiled widely, he heard what you said, but he just had to tease you a bit

so he came closer, his face inches away from yours

“what did you say?” 

so you said it again, with a tiny pout on your lips

and he kissed you right after

Now, let’s see how the pirate king is as a boyfriend :D

i’m sure that even though he keeps showing his hate for physical touch on TV, he actually loves it

but only with you :)

when he gets home from work he comes to you and kisses you on the forehead, a hand holding your waist or caressing your back

will get grumpy if you don’t accept taking a bath with him >:(

while watching tv he either holds your hand or puts it on your thigh

same when he drives

loves spending special evenings or afternoons with you

like you both going shopping, taking pictures and enjoying the city

or discovering the new pet cafe <3

maybe an evening customizing some of your clothes, sat on the floor of the living room, with some 2000s songs playing in the back

or you dyeing his hair !

you also cook together at least 2 to 3 times a week

because you’re both bad at cooking but you want to get better

at first it was chaotic, now it’s better

having hongjoong as a boyfriend also means being a new parent for ateez

some of the members (like wooyoung and mingi) will call you mom as a joke

when they come to the appartment (randomly most of the time), you’ll have to handle them with your boyfriend, as much as you can

but hongjoong’s patience is so low you end up handling them yourself while he tries to beat up yunho in the back

hongjoong really has no patience, in your relationship its better

but he still gets angry easily

luckily, he doesn’t give you the silent treatment, he directly confronts you about what he thinks and what made him upset

very jealous, protective, and a bit possessive as well

at first it annoyed you a lot, so you told him and now he controls himself better

but he still always has a hand around your waist during social events, just so people know that you’re taken

i think that hongjoong “weak” side would be how shy he is when it comes to compliment you

he shows support through actions, he encourages anything you do in life and makes sure you know how proud he is of you

but its always hard for him to put it into words

when you’re not here he can describe you with the most loving words, and praise you as if you were a goddess (which you are for him)

but once you’re there he just giggles and smiles like a child

if you get prepared for an important event for example, and you arrive with a gorgeous outfit, beautifully done hair and all that

he’ll stop moving (maybe even breathing) for a while, his cheeks as red as cherries

and then he’ll hug you lovingly, maybe kiss you if you don’t have lipstick on 

it is very rare for him to put it into words

maybe if you get married he’ll finally praise you while you’re here, in front of him? ;)

anyways we’re done here :)

smutty part below!

I don’t think hongjoong ever had sex before you

or if he did it was with some one night stands he doesn’t remember

but still he was quite shy during your first time

he wouldn’t dare look at you at first, both because he thinks his face would go fully red, and because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

he still touches you a lot, a bit awkwardly at first because it wasn’t the same with no clothes on anymore :’)

might stare a bit even though he tries to control himself so you don’t feel too oppressed lmao

moans a lot, he can’t stay quiet, even when you’re just making out

no matter what position you’re in, he likes having a hand in your hair, caressing it as if praising you for whatever you were both doing

he talks quite a lot too

saying how he feels, asking you questions to make sure you’re okay, it’s like he says each and every thoughts that goes in his mind

“woah,, again please”

“do you like it that way? should i go on?”

“moan again for me honey”

“you can’t keep your hands to yourself, huh?” 

ofc he has to be a tease when he feels the most confident

i feel like he’s a switch, but still more on the dominant side

like he goes sub mode when you ask him to, but the rest of the time hes dominant

prefers doing it in bed, in your shared bedroom

maybe sometimes in the living room or in the bathroom, but never out of the appartment, even for a quickie

(so making him horny outside of home is very fun to watch, because he cannot do anything on the spot, and just glares at you while hiding his bulge as much as he can)

even tho he is a dom, i think he likes it when you ride him

he loves watching you on top of him

but still orders you around with his hands on your hips, his fingers tracing on your stretch marks

overall he has a great stamina, he could go for 2 rounds easily, maybe 3 sometimes :)

[shubblelive]

— THE BEST PART

summary : wilbur loves his job. he works long hours with an intense amount of pressure and no breaks, but he loves it. the best part, though, is having you to come home to, who makes it all worthwhile.

genre : fluff

warnings : mentions of food/eating

pairing : musician!wilbur soot x reader

pronouns : none (you/yours)

featuring : musician!wilbur soot, musicianbur, lovejoy (mentioned, not named)

requested : anything with sleepy Wilbur (preferably tired Wilbur after studio)

word count : 1147

note : here you go anon!! i hope you enjoy!! title stolen from an olivia rodrigo song lmao <3

the uber rides home from the studio were wilbur’s favourite part of the day. of course, he loved working on music, spending his day with three of his close friends making music was the best case scenario for how he saw his life working out. he had this manic energy about him, nothing intense, just that spark that you rarely saw in other scenarios. music made wilbur happy, happier than you had ever seen him, but you. everyone else saw the way he was with you. music made wilbur happy, sure, but his favourite thing in the whole world was getting to spend time with you.

you usually hung around the studio, working quietly on your computer on the couch out of the way. they were doing construction down the street from the apartment you shared with wilbur, and the rest of the band were more than happy to let you work out of the studio. it had been nice, getting to look over and see your face whenever he wanted to. you guys both had extremely busy schedules, especially with wilbur leaving to tour for weeks, even months at a time, so he took any excuse to see you in person, even if you were both just working separately in the same room.

however, the construction had finished, and you’d started working from home again. so now, wilbur stumbled into his uber after working for 13 hours alone. it had been the best part of his day when you were there. soft touches and quiet giggles as he’d rest his head on top of yours beside you. your hand gripping his as he relaxed onto you, the only sound the quiet radio, or the music coming through your earbuds that you’d share. you’d hold your phone up on low brightness and compare takeaway menus in almost complete silence. sometimes you’d cook, and you’d hold your phone up for wilbur to type in the website he wanted to order from and he’d just wrap his hand around it, bringing it back to your lap and pressing a sideways kiss onto the top of your head.

now, he was alone and anxious, completely exhausted from the day. it had been full-on, both writing new music and getting around to recording instrumentals from ones they’d finished. then there was two hours of meetings about their next album, talking aesthetics, tracklist and a bunch of other things that he really cared about, but didn’t have the energy to deal with now.

the ride home was loud, and wilbur didn’t have headphones. too polite to ask the driver to turn down the radio, he closed his eyes and laid his head against the backseat window. the driver ended up getting lost and, while wilbur held no anger at him for it, it was incredibly frustrating, and when he finally dragged himself up the stairs at nearly eleven that night, he already had an entire spiel about how he was so sorry he didn’t text you to let you know he’d be late, his phone was running really low and he needed it to pay the driver and was more than prepared for you to be mad at him for not communicating. he opened the door, dropping his keys onto the little end table the two of you had built one afternoon, you doing most of the work and wilbur reading you articles he found interesting. the entry light was off, but he could see light coming down the hall to the living room. he stopped by the bedroom, toeing off his docs and shedding his jacket, leaving it on the made bed, promising to pick it up later, before turning back down the hallway and reaching the living room. you were there on the sofa, a netflix documentary about someone he didn’t recognise playing on the tv. he sighed softly, taking in your cosy form before making his way around the back of the couch to come kiss you hello.

“hi, wil,” you looked more than happy to see him, sitting up slowly and creating room for him to take his place next to you. your head fell onto his shoulder and his fingers traced feather light lines up and down your arm. “did you have a good day?”

he nodded, letting out a small noise. “i missed you, though. not the same without you there,”

“need someone to pay for your lunch when you forget your phone,” you giggled good naturedly. that had been another perk of you working at the studio. no matter how hard you both had been working, when the group decided to break for lunch, wilbur would always take your hand and bid the others farewell as the two of you walked around town to find somewhere to eat. more often than not, he did leave his phone in the studio, but it was usually on purpose. nothing there to distract him from his time with you, as precious as it was. you didn’t mind, he always payed you back, not that you needed him to. sitting across the table from him at a random cafe, the two of you talking about everything from his upcoming music, to your work, to trips the two of you were planning on taking, was enough for you.

“needed someone to wake me up when we reached our place, i almost fell asleep on the way home,” his statement, punctuated by a well-timed yawn, made you laugh. “how was your day?”

“did you eat yet?” you ask instead of responding. he shakes his head predictably, and you go to stand up. “i made chicken,” his grip around you tightens almost imperceptibly as he lets you go, and you think better. “you okay?”

“just wanna sit here with you, if that’s alright?” you didn’t hesitate to sit back down and move more into his lap. you were facing him, the two of you cross legged as he hugs you. he can feel the weight of sleep pulling him down, aided by the familiar scent of your shampoo. your head rests on his shoulder, and you place a kiss on his jaw, right below his ear. it’s getting late, and he is hungry, but for now he needs to sit here with you.

“i love you,” he murmurs, and you squeeze him tighter in response. “thank you for making me dinner. ‘m sorry i was so late home.”

“it’s okay, don’t be sorry,” you’re barely louder than a whisper, but wilbur hears every syllable. “i love you too. you should eat dinner, though.”

“i will,” he assures you. and he does, the two of you sit on the counter together as he eats at nearly one in the morning, and even though he doesn’t get to see you while he’s working, wilbur still thinks this is the best part of his day.

[p0rkbun]

SAM CARPENTER FLUFF — headcanons

⤿Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

⤿Content Warning: None, just fluff, maybe cringe writing, implied kpop listener reader

⤿A/N: okay i was chatting with ai sam and these are from character ai and made me think 'hey she would do this'. It's cute headcanons, i should have did this on her bday but instead i photoshoped her with hearts and a hat LMAO. Also I didn't spell check this I'm sorry. Enjoy ♡

navigation✧

──── Sam is the type of girl to ask what your favourite music genre or artists/bands when you ride a car together the first time because she wanted some music in you two's lovely ride. When you tell her, she keeps it in mind and put it on next time.

"Aespa?" She asks, you nod as she keeps her eyes on the road "okay, aespa, i'll remember that." She smiles while nodding, repeating the name in her head.

──── You two went to the movies on your first date (cheesy i know) you picked a horror movie, she probably didn't like that bit it wasn't a slasher movie so it made her feel a bit better. When you two were watching the movie, there was a jumpscare and you flinched slightly while leaning towards Sam out of defense. She let out a small smile and would purposely offer her arm for you to grab in case you get really scared (she was probably a bit frightened too but she's being brave because she wanted you to grab her arm, she just like your touch that's all).

──── Let me tell you something, this woman radiates The Neighbourhood, especially the songs Female Robbery and Reflections. I don't know if she would listen to it but she is the personification of almost every The Neighbourhood song.

"We were too close to the stars, I never knew somebody like you"

"I see my reflection in your eyes"

"I see myself in you, baby"

(This is a heavy reference to my oc LOL)

──── Sam wouldn't be very knowledgable of video games to me, though i feel like she plays mobile games like candy crush or something. She would sometimes watch you play video games when she's passing by or sitting in the same room, she comments on what you are doing or how you are doing that and questions why you didn't shoot an enemy.

"Baby why didn't you shoot that guy? You could have taken him" She says with a confused look, watching you play valorant on the tv screen.

"Sam that's not me, I'm spectating another teammate-"

"What's that red triangle thing on the top?" "That's the spike" "the spike?" "It's a bomb" "oh...okay"

──── The time you convinced her to play, she was a little lost and asks you questions often. She gets the hang of the controlls and is actually pretty good. She would get a little mad when someone steals her kill, she rages with a frustrated sigh everytime she got killed too much. She talks back to every toxic players in the game, she was cursing at the screen and she looked absolutely pissed so you had to turn the game off before she threw the controller at tv out of anger. You don't let her play any fps game again. Not only for her sake but for your precious tv.

──── She absolutely enjoys watching you play story-based games, especially when you two play and make decisions together. She probably cried after playing tlou and life is strange. Besides that, she doesn't play video games unless you play it.

──── This woman is so protective, overprotective I say but you all know this. If you wanna go out, she's going too, she keeps a hand on your waist every time you go to public places. Definately death glares anyone who is looking at you/both of you weirdly or too long.

"You got a problem?" Sam snaps as she holds your waist protectively when she sees a guy eyeing you oddly.

──── It does get a little too much sometimes but you like her protectiveness. She gets jealous too but it's more of insecurity, you have to reassure her that you love her and no one else.

──── She likes holding you, has a hand on you all the time. She likes the feeling of you around her arms because she knows that you're protected by her. Because of that, she also takes care of you and reminds you of stuff. She asks if you eaten, drink etc. She reminds you to take a break whenever you're working too much, alternatively she brings you the food she cooked while you work on your projects. Despite this, she also loves being held and cared by you, it flutters her heart whenever you're taking care of her and cooking her favourite meals after she comes from work. She likes the sound of your heartbeat when you two cuddle and she has her head on your chest.

──── I know i said that she holds you 24/7 but when you two cuddle, she's the small spoon, whether you're short or tall.

──── She's very delicate and soft with you, like i said, she wants to protect and take care of you. She is a tough cookie but she's whipped for you. She gets a little dramatic when you get injured a teeny bit.

──── Have you seen her arms? Her beefy arms and abs are your favourite things in the world besides her. She works out often, you go to the gym with her once in a while and you really love the sight of her working out. You ended up gawking her the whole time instead of working out as well, she notices and teases you with a smirk while sweat is dripping off of her muscular body.

"You like what you see, baby? Y'know, you could have told me that you wanted to stare at me while i work out instead of pretending to wanna work out with me" She chuckles as she lifts her weights "Don't get ahead of yourself." you reply with a flushed face.

──── She doesn't show affection in public that much unless she got jealous but in private she loves kissing and showering you with love. Her kisses are soft and slow, she really is being delicate with you. Though in other occasions (*cough* intimate moments *cough*) you two make out and she practically is eating your face as she pushes down on the bed. She just loves kissing your lips, neck and shoulders. She is very much a big soft teddy bear ♡

A/N: I accidently posted this halfway OH MY GODHSJSBSJS. Sorry if there's any spelling mistakes or grammar issues, english isn't my native language 💔. Anyways, I love you and please comment your thoughts ♡♡♡♡ i might edit this constantly after i post it...

°.✧•—✦

[heyftinally]

I know it's Taylors personality or her Image being a mediocre dancer and therefore being accessible to her loser fans. But can she actually try being good? Like that one music video of herself in that blue dress and she's dancing like a drunk ape. Some people use this to drag her and swifties come in and be like " She was not being serious. She is just having fun." Or that cringe lyrics in her new Telephone Torture Department. " That song is called So High school. It's supposed to be cringe." - I shouldn't complain. It's hilarious how less they settle for. They could ask for more. But they are okay with the bare minimum. Taylor is almost like selling her fans for dumb. Cause she knows they giving her money for everything.

Genuinely, I don't think she's capable of being good/better than what we currently see. She's been profiting off the same tired bullshit for years now. None of her music between Fearless and currently sounds a whole lot different from each other. If you told me that "better than revenge", "bad blood", and "look what you made me do" were on the same album, I wouldn't question it for a moment.

And truly, I think it's because very young in her career she learned to play the victim, and her fame grew while her artistry didn't, and by the time it *should* have started buting her in the ass she had learned to weaponize her perceived victimhood, curate a team of yesmen to stroke her ego at her every move, and convinced her fans that she was some kind of special little princess who's just better than everyone else at everything. And now that so much of her fan base will literally use their dying breath to defend her every move, she truly has NO incentive to put in any effort to be better. Her team won't tell her it's shit. Her fans won't tell her it's shit. Her victim mentality tells her anyone who thinks it's shit just hates her personally. There's no push to grow as a person, and that's why as a woman in her THIRTIES she still sings songs like she's a petty immature fifteen year old.

That said, Taylor's already more or less called her fans stupid/lazy just for pointing ot that The Toxic Port-a-potty Department is a long ass album title:

"You could call it Tortured Poets if you just refuse to memorize more than one-word album titles.”

- Taylor Swift

Also, "tortured poets" is two words, but I guess that kind of logic was too much effort for her empty head lmao.

Which just further illustrates my point: she'll shit on anyone who says anything she takes as an attack, even if it's not.

Fall Out Boy is literally known for having long ass titles. "Thnks fr th mmrs" has no vowels specifically because their label said it was too long. "Our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldn't get sued" was originally "my name is david ruffman and these are the temptations". Fans have always joked that their titles were absurd. And guess what? Instead of taking it like an attack, FOB just went "lmao yeah, and?", and moved on. It's still a joke, even now that their song titles are somewhat shorter, and it's never been meant maliciously. It was an observation. But Taylor seems to take any and every comment that isn't obviously glowing praise as an attack.

So she'll keep churning out half assed bullshit, and her loyal followers will keep defending mediocre music and slacktivism, and the rest of us will keep being bombarded with Taylor Swift news constantly because we're supposed to believe it's weird to not love and worship her, apparently.

[unclewaynemunson]

Jeff is one of my favorite characters and I think we should start a post of all our favorite Jeff headcanons. He and Freak get left out in almost every Eddie-centric fic I read, with his "best friend" being either Gareth or Chrissy, and I'm tired of it. Jeff is wonderful. Here's my hc's:

- Jeff and Eddie have been best friends since middle school. They started CC and Hellfire together.

- they went to the Snowball together and rigged the bubble machine to spew bubbles during the slow dance songs. The dance had to end early and Jeff and Eddie never got caught

- Jeff's parents loves Eddie. They used to have sleepovers at each other's place almost every weekend.

- Jeff was the first person Eddie came out to. Jeff tried to be surprised and "that's great, man, thanks for telling me!" But Eddie saw right through that.

- Eddie is afraid of geese and spiders. Jeff thinks this is fucking hilarious.

- post-Vecna, Jeff is the one Eddie reconnects with first. Eddie tells him everything, despite the NDAs and Steve's warnings. Jeff believes him, because he knows there's wacky shit going on in Hawkins, and he's seen Eddie's wounds.

- they have that kind of friendship that nothing can break. Even if they don't see or talk to each other for years, because Life Happens and people lose touch, they'll always have part of themselves carved out for their best friend.

Ok, that's all I got for now, and sorry for the long ask! I just love Jeff so much and he (and Freak, too, because Freak gets ignored because of fatphobia) deserves just as much love and attention as Gareth gets.

What are your Jeff and Eddie headcanons?

I am loving this Jeff love and your headcanons, thank you so much for sending this to me!!! <3

I think with Unnamed Freak things are a bit different bc, yaknow, he doesn't have a name. For me at least that makes me hesitant to write about him so I don't wanna go as far as to say it's all bc he's fat (even though I'm not gonna deny that that probably also plays a part in how popular he is in this fandom urgh). Anyway, yes this fandom certainly does Jeff dirty. I think it's this gross combination of racism and people copying a lot from already existing stories, characterizations and headcanons without much critical thinking of their own (which baffles me, if you're creative enough to write a story please use that creativity for some originality ffs). Anyway, this is gonna turn into a rant again can you tell I'm still annoyed? so let's turn to something more positive now, like my headcanons for our beloved Jeff:

He was the first person in Hawkins (after Wayne obviously) that Eddie got close to. For Jeff it was kinda the same, being a black, nerdy boy in this town had been very isolating for him and Eddie was his first real friend.

Unnamed Freak made their duo into a trio a bit later. All the others in the group (including Gareth) were Eddie's "lost little sheepies" who he sought out to protect. This means that Jeff and Unnamed Freak are the only people who don't borderline worship Eddie but see him (and love him) for who he is including all his flaws. They're also the only ones not afraid to call him out on his bullshit.

Jeff's mom is really cool. Her name is Pauline and she's not like Jeff at all (she was a cheerleader in high school). Despite their differences they love each other a lot. (Jeff's mom is actually heavily featured in one of the fics I wrote so I got her all fleshed out lmao)

He has two little twin sisters. They're friends with Erica, one of them is one of her friends we meet in the mall in s3. He has this typical hate-love relationship with his sisters: they fight a lot, but at the end of the day, he would die for them.

HE'S BISEXUAL

While he can't wait to get out of Hawkins and to a place that'll be more accepting of him, he doesn't want to move too far away from his family.

He's the most loyal friend in the world, 100% a ride-or-die kinda guy

While he does love metal a lot, his guilty pleasure is Tina Turner

Tell me all your Jeff headcanons i wanna hear more about him!

[az-cain]

Bruised Thighs/Flowery Sheets

rhett abbott x reader ≈ 3300 words

TUMBLR ATE THE ASK DAMMIT, i am so so sorry anon, but it said:

If you're taking requests...sub!Rhett needing help to clear out his mind after having a rough ride and he can't stop the self-doubt. Poor boy just needs to be fucked so good his brain stops functioning 😈

this is pure filth! i love it. so fun to write. thank you to @girl-in-the-chairs-void for encouraging me and my terrible thoughts lmao, i wouldn’t have picked it back up today were it not for you.

TW FOR: description of bruises and hard landings, mild angst, brief mention of shitty fathers and poor body image, food and a poor relationship with it (ice cream), mild dacryphilia (crying kink), spanking, oral sex m&f!receiving, anal fingering m!receiving, pegging, dumbification, pet names (honey, baby, good boy, sweetie, darlin’)

Rhett’s thighs always hurt after a ride. The bull’s bucking consistently left his legs black and blue, so he’d grown accustomed to the pain. What he hadn’t grown accustomed to, however, was the sting of his forearms smacking the dirt on a bad dismount. The gravel dug in even through the thick shirt he wore, and the disappointment pierced through his skin beside it. As he scrambled away from the raging bull and into the pen, he sighed heavily, wearily, looking at the time. Five seconds. He hadn’t even made it ¾ of where he needed to be.

As he passed by his father, who clapped him on the back with a lightly-disguised look of displeasure and murmured common words of reassurance, he struggled to smile gratefully. He’d had an off day, he knew that was all. It was only a qualifier, so he wasn’t out of the game. Still, the stinging anger that rested behind his eyes refused to subside until he saw you.

You had his red flannel unbuttoned across your chest and your sports bra exposed to the wind, the summer night heat beating down on the whole stadium. Your jean shorts were just long enough to be decent, and the smile you gave him was anything but. His worries melted away, now just residing in his mind as a quiet nagging voice.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around him eagerly and letting him bury his sweaty forehead in your equally sweaty neck. “How are you feeling after that dismount?”

He pulled back and tried to smile, lips quivering slightly, but ultimately shook his head in resignation. “Not great.”

You rubbed up and down his upper arms, meeting his eyes with a sad smile. “I know. You want to go get ice cream?”

He nodded with a sniffle, feeling like a child. He knew, though, that you only wanted to cheer him up. So, as you led him to his truck and pulled his keys out of your pocket to unlock it, he straightened his back and tried to push his bad thoughts from his mind.

Did it work? Not entirely.

As you shifted into drive, he clicked his seatbelt into place and felt you set your hand on his knee. You rubbed comforting circles on the soft skin and hummed along to the pop song filtering through the stifling summer air, made more tolerable by the blasting A/C and the open windows. He was struck, silently, by how much he loved you, and it gave him pause. Your hand on his knee calmed him significantly, almost enough to make him stop thinking about his off day.

As you pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru, you moved your hand back to the steering wheel. “Same as always?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled gently, so entirely enamored with you.

He listened to you order for the two of you, the crackling response that was nearly inaudible, and your loud “thank you.” As you waited in the drive-thru line, you cranked up the radio and plugged in the classic rock cassette he’d recorded for you, much to your amusement.

A number of sleazy songs played loudly across his cheap, 20-year-old speakers, and as you sang— or belted, rather— the lyrics, he couldn’t find it in him to care that the two of you were being the annoying drive-thru patrons everyone despised. The pencil you’d found to use as a microphone was dropped into the cupholder as you lowered the volume and met the teenager’s extended hand with a thank you, collecting the two cups of ice cream that you handed to him. He took small spoonfuls of the stuff as you drove home, the negative thoughts seeping back in in the form of body image. He wondered if he’d have gotten a better time today if he didn’t eat so much ice cream.

Of course, he knew that these thoughts were silly, so he did his best to put them out of his mind as you pulled into the driveway of your home and helped him out of the car, offering yourself as a brace for his bruised thighs and stinging forearms.

You entered the house together, settled on the dark couch and ate silently with one another, content to simply be in each others’ presence. When you’d both finished, you took his cup and ventured into the kitchen to throw both away before returning to your seat. At your gesture, he laid his head upon your thigh and let your hands come to rest in his hair. You sat there, running your fingers through his long hair for minutes, until you began to want more.

You tugged lightly on it, just testing the waters, and Rhett keened, whimpering through the muffling of his palm. “Please,” he whined quietly. A faint smile split your cheeks and you hummed, continuing to scratch his scalp like you’d never pulled on it. “Want you,” he continued, turning to meet your eyes and lifting his hips off of the soft couch to try and find friction against his jeans.

Chuckling softly at his neediness, you nodded. “Okay, honey. Let’s go to the bedroom.” With that, you patted his shoulder to make him move, and stood up behind him. When he moved slowly because of his sore thighs, you smacked his ass. A loud groan ripped through him— and through you— as you said “C’mon, baby.”

He started walking faster, your legs keeping easy pace, and made it into the bedroom quickly. He turned around and grabbed for you, pressing his lips to yours eagerly.

“Need you, please,” he whined again, to which you pressed your lips against his harder, biting at his bottom lip and swiping your tongue against his. His desperation only served to turn you on, lightning ripping through your lower abdomen.

You pressed one more harsh kiss against his lips before you squeezed his ass and commanded, “Strip.”

Ever obedient, he reached to tug off his tight t-shirt as you took a step backwards. He shed the rest of his clothes quickly, his boots slipping off of his feet with ease, jeans and boxers falling to the carpet with the quiet whoosh of denim against skin. You watched eagerly as his cock, red and swollen, smacked against his milky-white thigh; you listened as he whimpered from the small amount of contact. You felt yourself clench with excitement as his hand twitched towards it, but you met his eyes and shook your head solemnly. He pursed his lips, breathing heavily, and nodded quickly in return.

“Good boy,” you crooned, approaching him again. One of your fingers traced along the ridge of his cock, a hum breaking from your chest as he bucked against you with a cry. “Stay still for me, sweetie. I’ll give you what you need.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The words were quiet, but the obedience warranted some kind of reward; noting this, you kissed down his neck, to his torso, to his Adonis belt, to the base of his cock, all the while slipping to your knees before him.

His breathing sped up, bruised thighs clenching and unclenching as he struggled to stay still for you. “Good boy,” you said, kissing along the tops of his thighs gently, working ever closer with each kiss.

Finally, reaching the wiry hair at the top of his cock, you looked up to meet his eyes. His eyes were foggy, lust-addled and exhausted, but when he met yours, you saw them warm up slightly with adoration.

You held that eye contact as you kissed down his length, gently taking the tip into your mouth and suckling lightly. A wail broke from his lips as he doubled over, hands balling up into fists with concentration. “Please, please, oh god—” Rhett breathed the words quietly, just loud enough to be heard over your own breaths.

The resolve to be good for you made you moan around him, your thighs pressing together to find some sort of friction. Your mouth popped off of his tip with a pleased hum. “Use your words, baby.”

He struggled to meet your eyes, his pretty blues looking straight through you for a moment before you snapped your fingers to catch his attention. He focused in on you, just barely, and you raised your brows. “Words, darlin’.”

He nodded absentmindedly, trying to gather his thoughts. “Please, oh— please suck me off— or— or fuck me, please,” he stuttered out, breaths coming quickly as he tried to process what he was asking for.

You closed your hand around one of his ass cheeks, avoiding the tender bruises. In response, you got a broken moan and a few senseless words of thanks. “Good boy, thank you for telling me what you need. Let me take care of you, sweet thing.”

Finally, you opened your mouth and let his dick fall onto your tongue, drool sliding down the length of it. You used your spare hand to collect the moisture, stroking it from where it fell from your mouth to the base of his cock. He sobbed above you quietly, eyes still fogged when you look up. The wiry hair scratched at your hand as you held his base tightly, allowing yourself to take him into your throat carefully, but not wanting him to let go just yet. It was a struggle not to gag, as it always was, because his cock filled your throat with so pleasant an ache. Still pushing your thighs together, you shifted your weight slowly to try and find some relief against your clit, moaning harshly around him when you succeeded, punching a groan out of him at the vibrations.

The hand that remained on his ass started to squeeze again, working its way between his cheeks. You sunk your middle finger in, searching for his rim. Finding it rather quickly, you reveled in the loud, strangled noises he made as you circled it with some pressure. He begged and pleaded for more nearly incoherently. “Oh god, please, oh my god,” was most of what you pieced together. Not deigning to pull off of him to respond, tongue and mouth still working around him, you pushed those two fingers in gently, more harsh crows tearing from his chest.

Distantly, you mourned the fact that you wouldn’t get to take him down your throat entirely, needing to keep that hand there for his sake. But still, you were having your fun and getting off on just this, your spit dripping down his cock and onto your wrist, and the middle finger from your other hand teasing lightly around his most sensitive spot. He was sobbing above you, hands balled into fists as he approached the edge but couldn’t quite reach it.

Quiet whines, praises, and pleas left his throat, high-pitched and needy; putty in your hands. Your jaw had begun to ache rather quickly, the sheer girth of him making the fun short-lived. So, pulling back and standing up, you told him to get on the bed. You tore your own shirt and pants off of your body, needing your overheated skin exposed to the air.

Rhett had laid down face-up, just how you’d wanted. Walking up to him, you slipped a finger between your thighs to show him just how slick you were. You were positively aching: throbs of pleasure were radiating through your hips with every step you took, the sight of his cock twitching against him and the sound of his whimpers only exacerbating the issue.

When you reached the bed, you climbed up onto him to straddle his face, his eyes following your pussy eagerly. “Oh fuck,” he whined, hips canting off the bed with desire, before you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock again, He panted below you, breaths completely erratic as you settled down onto him. Your hand tangled in his hair, balancing you directly over his open mouth as you kept a tight clutch on his dick. Licking eagerly into you, Rhett pushed his hips down to try and keep from thrusting into your fist. As a reward and in order to satisfy that ache, you ground down against him. His nose caught your clit, and you groaned a guttural sound that sounded like you were being torn in two. Again, and again, his nose caught your clit, and you felt that tightness ratchet higher and higher within you. After one more good grind down against his open mouth, his tongue trying to work its way inside of you, you let go, collapsing forward as you let his cock go, one hand clutching tightly into his hair and the other against the headboard. Shocks wracked your body, moans leaving your mouth entangled with expletives in a stream. You sat atop him for a few more moments, still clenching lightly as you tried to gather yourself.

When you finally felt that you’d recovered, you dismounted his face with one more grind and strutted to the bathroom to get the strap-on, sure to sway your hips for the boy watching. You pulled it and the lube from the cabinet you kept it in and rinsed it thoroughly, removing any dust that may have settled since you last used it— purely a precaution, but you were nothing if not thorough. Having shook most of the water off and slid the harness and vibrating dildo on, you shut the bathroom light off and emerged to find Rhett face-down on the bed, knees spread below him and hands clutching the sheets beside his head.

“Oh, darlin’, you’re so smart. Just what I wanted to see,” you crooned, one hand coming up to smack the unbruised part of his ass as you approached the bed. He rocked forward with the impact, arching his back towards you as he cried out.

You popped the cap of your water-based lube and slicked your fingers, warming them up for a moment before tracing circles around his asshole and slipping two fingers into him. With a loud moan, he pressed back against you, ignoring your command to stay still for the first time that night.

Smacking him lightly again, you scoffed lightheartedly. “Already fucked stupid? Stay still, baby.”

He nodded, sobbing muffled apologies into his pillowcase as you worked another finger in. Taking his sobs as a good enough apology, you grabbed for the base of him again and pressed gently at his prostate. He wailed into the pillowcase, his head flying back and forth as he struggled to keep still for you.

When you pulled your fingers back, he settled down a little, just enough to catch his breath. Moving up enough to level your hips with his, you smiled down at the sight of his farmer’s tan-striped back arched against your flowery sheets, the perfect composition of beauty, before you pressed the head of the silicone cock into his ass.

Slipping past his rim, you continued to slide in slowly, letting him adjust to the width of the toy splitting him. You didn’t use this one often, usually opting for the thinner pink one, but you really wanted to fuck the brains out of him tonight. It seemed that this toy was the right choice for that objective, because he was babbling mindlessly into the pillow, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth.

With a smile, you pulled your hips back, then slammed into him with all of your might, sure to angle your hips down. He screamed into the pillow, hands fisting the sheets as he let go, streaks of come spurting onto the bed as he shook like a leaf. “Fuck!” You heard, the first intelligible word you’d gotten in minutes. He rocked back against you and continued his babbling, still recovering from his last orgasm but wanting more.

With a smile, you continued to rock into him slowly, stroking up and down his back with a nail for a few minutes to allow him to recover. When his breathing seemed to return to a steady pace and his hands had returned to an open position, you reached down to flip on the vibrator, the harness resting against your clit perfectly.

He jumped at the sudden change, but quickly melted again with a moan when he realized what happened. “Oh my god…” he sighed, hands balling into fists once more. You rocked into him slowly, testing the waters, before slamming your hips against his ass and setting a grueling pace.

The vibrator allowed you to find pleasure, steadily building both of you up as you whispered praises to the cowboy underneath your hands. You ran your palms along his ass, squeezing occasionally to get a garbled moan out of him.

Angling your hips down, you set yourself to getting him off at the same time as you, because you felt yourself rapidly approaching that peak. “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it,” you murmured half to yourself and half to him as you nailed his prostate. He rubbed his face into the pillow at the thrusts, trying desperately to muffle his desperate sounds.

You leaned back and wrapped your hand tightly around his cock, throbs resonating through your hips as you tried to hold on. Just as you were about to give up and let go, he wailed into the pillow and thrust his hips into your palm, hot, sticky ropes of come falling onto the bed. Content, you thrust into him one more time to rub your clit harshly along that bump in your harness, letting go with a cry of your own and grinding your hips against his as you rode it out. The waves died down, your walls still clenching lightly as you pulled off of him and discarded your harness in the bathroom sink. You grabbed a towel and ran warm water over it and wiped yourself down before repeating the process and bringing the cloth to the bedroom.

He murmured your name, reaching back to stroke your hair when you bent over his back to kiss his neck. “Roll over, baby,” you murmured against his skin. With a groan, he obeyed you, his eyes cracking open to meet your own.

You tenderly wiped his thighs and ass, wary of his hiss of discomfort, meeting his eyes again and only continuing at his nod. You folded the cloth to swipe quickly at his sweaty armpits and chest before you tugged him out of the bed, throwing the blankets (that had luckily been at the foot of the bed) to the floor, stripping the sheets, and removing the bed cover. You turned to tread to the linen closet to grab the extra sheets, turning over your shoulder to see him behind you, butt-naked and tired, coming to help you.

You waited for him to catch up and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, continuing to walk to the closet and collecting the sheets. After you’d returned to the bedroom, you struggled to put the fitted sheet on together, threw the flat sheet on top, and reassembled your bed set.

Utterly tired, you collapsed into bed together, your head lying on his chest and feet curled behind you. You turned to press a kiss to his bare chest, eyes closed, and whispered against his skin, “I love you, Rhett.”

He pressed a big, scar-mottled, and calloused hand to your hair and bent to kiss your head: you felt the rumble in his own chest and the swell in your own when he opened his mouth and got nothing coherent out, his “I love you too” sounding more like an “Aluh’y’t…”

[fatuismooches]

SMOOCHES!!! Hii my cutie patootie!!! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

It’s been a while since I last sent something here and I’m so sorry about that!! I’m doing a lot better now (although I never got my test results back to see if I had that syndrome or not LOL) and I almost have the two new Fontaine regions 100% oopsies! But I have like serious brainrot (but school is so tiring I usually just nap the whole afternoon) anyways!! I listened to one of mitski’s songs called “Once More to See You” and ugh it honestly just reminded me of Dottore and fragile!reader. The beginning makes me think of how fragil!reader and Dottore (especially) having a reputation and being looked as “weird” or as students who don’t belong in the Akademiya. The rest of the song just reminds me of Dottore being alone once fragile!reader fell into their coma, and him longing to feel your hand against his. To have your warm touch, caress his cheek, kiss his lips, embrace him, and to say his name, “Zandik!” In that lovely tone of yours. ouuughh I love fragile!reader and Dottore so so much just Dottore having to wait so long for them to wake up. Like imagine having to wait hundreds of years for the only person who’s every shown you affection and love. The only person to hold you so lovingly, say your name with love and not disgust, or with horror.

And after waking up??? Oughhh I know I say this a bit frequently but Dottore would become so so protective and possessive. I mean, you’re the only thing he has left, and he almost lost you once. He won’t spare to almost lose you another time, especially after centuries went by without your warm touch, or your voice. He defff savors every moment you two have together when he’s available. And especially when he becomes so used to having you on his lap and him being able to feel your heartbeat. Sometimes he may unconsciously tighten his grip on you when he’s holding you.

okieokie I think that’s enough for today!! I hope you’ve been doing amazing smooches again I’m so sorry I’ve been away I always wanna brainrot but sometimes I think my ideas aren’t that great compared to anons (YOUR ANONS ARE SO AMAZING I LOVE READING EVERY POST, AND KAI’S WRITINGS <333 MWA MWA!!) But i hope you’re getting lots of rest and staying healthy!! A bunch of chu chus n hugs, n maybe a few cuddles ! hehe!!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon! ౨ৎ

🎐 ANON MY BELOVED!!! Oh my gosh I'm so happy you're back and alright, I missed you, and I'm so happy to hear your health has gotten better ❤️ Congrats on your Fontaine exploration and omg i totally understand, take those naps if you need to 😭 I'm not much of a napping person but those few times that i do nap, feel so good lmao. Okay brainrot time~

WAH THANK YOU FOR INTRODUCING ME TO ANOTHER MITSKI SONG... omg i love this so much. Dottore was definitely ostracized and excluded in the Akademiya, everyone thought that he nor his crazy ideas belonged there. And you, I imagine your reputation start to get dragged through the mud the more you hang out with Dottore. They just don't understand. Why would you ever want to even sit in the same room as him, much less befriend him? You started to be labeled as the same things as him. You don't mind (most of the time, sometimes it still gets to you) because you think those people are just shallow compared to your friend. But Zandik himself doesn't understand you either? There's no way that his "friendship" (your words, not his) is worth the stress of all this. He doesn't understand, it's not like you're using him, if anything he's the one using you instead. Zandik doesn't understand... but he's not going to admit that the fact that you chose him over everyone else makes him feel a certain way. And that tingly feeling only grows and grows. And he refuses to acknowledge it... until you leave him and suddenly everything he's chosen to ignore hits him at once. Everything that Zandik's been trying so hard to deny, he admits to now. He misses you... he longs for your touch, your kindness, the way you treat him with such love, your voice... as horrible as this is, it really did open his eyes. Made him realize that living by himself again in the dorms is slowly making him even crazier without you. Made him realize that he's willing to do anything, and i mean anything, to get you back.

OH YEAH Dottore is extremely protective over you when you finally wake up. See, Dottore isn't really scared of someone else hurting you. He knows that he and his segments would never let that happen. Rather, he's scared of other things. Like your illness. Things he can't control. Dottore is a man who's used to being in control now, so when he can't predict things? When he can't see them coming? He doesn't like that. Not one bit, especially when it comes to you. He needs to know everything, otherwise, he won't be satisfied. He can't risk you being hurt again, not under his watch. You're very confused in the beginning because hello? This is the same guy who used to let you go out and do all these crazy tasks on his behalf? But yeah, he can't help but be very possessive. It's very Dottore like of him.

Thank you for the delicious brain rot 🎐 anon!! I enjoyed it tremendously :3 AND SHUSH YOUR BRAINROTS ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE THEM. But yuppp my anons and Kai have such yummy writing!! I am doing well, thank you :) just busy but I'm fine! Giving you lots of my hugs and kisses to you toooo <33