#since at the beginning I binged it all

[oh-meow-swirls]

how does the raft not capsize.

[davidjrpalos]

watched the power of the dog and now I am Thinking

[ace-with--a-mace]

i finished young royals

[nylwnder]

im rewatching stranger things from the very beginning w my mom and like the fucking JOY AND WARMTH AND JUST LOVE i’m feeling like fuck i love this showwww

[vultbae]

hot boy delivery ✩

college!art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: Tashi's handsome alleged boyfriend knocks on your door and asks for her since she's your roommate. But she's not there, so you'll borrow him for tonight.

↳ warnings: smut (minors dni), tipsy sex, mentions of cheating but isn't, porn with plot, mean!reader at the beginning.

↳ notes: yall know the drill english is not my first language! so sorry if anything doesn’t make sense

word count: 5.7k

Stanford isn't what you would call a party school; there isn't an endless rage circuit or binge drinking regarding students –or at least the ones you know. So when you decided to enroll in college, you knew any unpleasant symptoms like headaches or fatigue would be caused by academic all-nighters and no hangovers as you believed years ago. It was a deal-breaker, but it was Stanford at the end of the day.

Your parents had enough funds to bring to the table independence privileges most college students don't have, for example, living off-campus."¿Why would I decline this unusual offer?" you thought at the time, giving in to the advantageous idea of complete autonomy and no supervision—you had seen places around the Palo Alto area, cozier and more stylish than any archaic-looking dorm room Stanford had to offer for a few thousand dollars a year —six to seven, to be exact.

Somehow, you had ended up on the shithole you had been attempting to dodge for so long. Your best friend, Diana, had gaslighted you into believing that coexisting in the same place with other young people is one of those stimulating aspects of attending college. Heck, rowdy dorm parties, popping Plan B's, snorting coke from someone's fake boobs!

Bullshit. Diana had gotten into Stanford, too, and all of your thrilling anticipations of rooming with her vanished when she had to rescind her offer due to the scarcity of financial aid. She ended up committing to Virginia State University. At the other fucking end of the United States.

You had promised Diana to go above and beyond to fulfill those wild ideas about college. Guess what? Now, you were forced to live in a rusty dorm without your extravagant Palo Alto apartment, your best friend, and rooming with a weirdo.

And, of course, you still hadn't snorted coke out of anyone's fake boobs.

"Oh my god," you breathe out with a sigh of annoyance. You let the back of your head fall over the headboard of your bed as your hands reach up to rub your tired-looking eyes; your laptop is lying on your lap, screening the article you have to read for some core course. It's almost seven o'clock, and you are about to surrender and take a twelve-hour nap. 

You can't, though. Your eyes roam around and descend on your roommate's side: empty, noiseless, as if there wasn't someone there two hours ago. The apathy in your facial expression is prominent as you notice the cluttered desk, bed blankets hanging off, and wrinkled clothes over the floor. "How disgusting," you think, shaking your head and facing your laptop again, pushing it off your legs this time.

Your roommate was indeed something else. After swallowing against your will the miserable fact that you wouldn't room with Diana, your parents had already paid for Stanford on-campus housing, and it is what it is. A month before moving to California, you had seen the name of your designated roommate for the freshman year, Tashi Duncan.

You are not confident about the sort of woman Tashi is. Although you had been cordial and accommodating with her —even though you didn't want a roommate, she is not what you would call a friend. Tashi is a tennis player, apparently a very talented one, since many people around campus ridiculously fangirl over her  —but you don't know if it's because of her model-like physical complexion or her sports talent. Well, it's not like you care. But despite sharing a dorm room, Tashi's interactions with you are minimal and curt, and conversations with her are typically one-sided. She rises early and evaporates for the rest of the day.

Doubtful, you pick up your Nokia from the nightstand and quickly text her, "Wya?" to feel responsible –she has never done it, though. Since you live in an on-campus residence, entry isn't monitored until eight p.m. during the week, and you already know she won't arrive by that time. She probably won't arrive at all.

The anxious chewing on the bottom of your lip ceases when your phone vibrates with the "I'm staying at Art's x" message popping on the screen. A mix of relief, bliss, and sovereignty surges from your body's core. You don't know who Art is, but you've heard Tashi talk about him a couple of times, so you assume he is her boyfriend, sneaky link, or whatever freaky shit she would be up to. You briefly contemplate the text, instantly replying, "take care :)" and waiting for her not to respond.

You sit there, stunned for a hot minute, considering the countless activities you could do now that you are —and will remain—all alone. Mild daylight peers through the opened curtains, although it's getting dark. Your head slightly turns to the two-lite slider window between both beds, revealing the distinctive greens of the trees that reach your view—a typical Stanford campus panorama. 

The bedroom is ample; the floor is covered with cheap deep blue carpeting, and the walls have been sealed with a matte layer of pearl white. Your mural side is preciously decorated: polaroids, stickers, and decorative leds shimmering in a warm yellow tone adequate for winter, while Tashi's side is... three posters: two from random tennis players and a large Spider-man one. "What are we, ten-year-olds?" you murmur, eyes rolling back, exasperated as you sit in the sight of the oversized picture.

You really can't get what is so amusing about Tashi.

Your phone rings suddenly, and you sense your muscles twitch at the unexpected ringtone clashing against the lifeless four walls. A big "Diana" is written in black letters, blaring at you, which is a good sign of an enjoyable night. With no second thoughts, you pick up.

 "¡Hey girl!" are the first words you hear from your best friend. 

You haven't seen her since the summer break –four months ago–and time hasn't been your ally in terms of missing your friends. Diana and you always intended to attend college together; nevertheless, you can't predict anything about college. Now, she resided in Virginia, while you did in California. 

"I've missed you so fucking much," you grin against the phone, talking with enthusiasm. You stand up to walk to the shared kitchen, "how's everything been in Virginia?"

Diana scoffs at your question. "Do you for real think I called you to talk about boring-ass Virginia?" she mockingly complains, sarcasm dripping out of her voice. "The real question is, how's everything been in Cali?" she adds, half screaming the last two words.

Your humorous facial expression morphs into a disgraceful one. "Well, mediocre if you take out the fact I live in this dorm. Otherwise, pretty shit."

"At least it's a Stanford dorm," Diana points out, giggling.

"Well, you are partly right," you answer, now supporting your arms over the kitchen table, "I just wish it was my dorm at least and not Tashi's, you know."

"Right, your roommate; what's the deal with her?" she asks.

¿What's your deal with her? If this were a frankness competition, you'd undoubtedly roast her without needing to lie. Sharing an apartment with an entitled asshole who thinks she owns the place makes it challenging.

"She's not my type," you let out, sighing. "I've been trying to talk to her for God knows how long, and she doesn't give a shit," you pause to breathe through your nose, trying to keep your cool. "Like, I can't understand. Do you know how many people would love to room with me?"

Diana's gasp nearly pierces your eardrum, "She's such a bitch!"

"Yes! She is," you interrupt her, squeaking out your words. "Also, she brings dudes or the same dude, I don't know, like at least twice a week. She doesn't even care if I'm sleeping; what if I throw water at them next time?" you inquire decisively, not caring if your words sound nonsensical.

"You do you, girl," your friend says, slightly chuckling, "I assume she is not there now, isn't she?" 

You hum. "She isn't. She is at some dude's place. So that means I have the dorm for myself."

"Don't you care if she is safe or something?" Diana queries, almost instantly biting back a groan in response to your silence. "Yes, I know she's an asshole, but at least you should know. Some guys nowadays are creeps."

"I do, I do..." you hastily assure, your voice tone appeasing your friend's worries. "I do know the guy's name is something like Art, and I could find out his last name if I scroll through our chat. I'm pretty sure it's her current boyfriend. I've heard her talk about him."

"My God, that girl has some real action!" she hollers; a burst of mocking laughter spills out of her lips. "What about you, though? I miss hearing hookup stories from your side. Don't waste your time; Stanford has hot ass guys!"

And she was right. The amount of handsome guys around campus was not minor.

"You know what?" you say, pointing at the air as if you were talking to Diana in person, "I'm not even going to reply to that comment. I've been so focused on-"

Your words are cut off by urgent, loud knocks coming from the main door, "The fuck?" you think. Your jaw clenches but abruptly loosens as you realize Tashi can't be here after her presumptive schedule; you don't expect anyone.

And also, there's a rainstorm outside. 

"Was that knocking on the door?" Diana asks, and your attention goes back to the call. You hum in response.

"Yeah, and I'm not expecting anyone." you reaffirm while your hand reaches out to your little notebook, where you keep all the emergency numbers. You sigh out a frustrated "fuck" when you realize you don't have the number of the security guard downstairs. "I should check through the peephole; it's probably a dumbass mistake anyway," you add, trying to sound unbothered.

¿Who the fuck would sneak into an all-student residence? For what, to steal? You haven't bought groceries for two weeks. It would be a shitty investment of skill.

And obviously, you curse yourself under your breath for being such an exaggerated bitch. But, seriously, who would visit you?  Not even the wildest of your friends would wander across campus at night with this weather.

"Call me when you do it. I have to do some homework now," Diana demands, and you are snappy to obey and hang up the phone. 

You stay still, eyes stuck on the main white door. A minute passes with absolute silence encircling you until you hear the identical frantic knocking again. Same tempo, everything.

"Goddamn, relax," you murmur to yourself.

 It takes a couple of steps forward for you to approach the door and a single step to the front to see through the small peephole.

Your eyes wince slightly at the sight of a boy you've never seen in your life standing outside. You even feel the need to comically scratch your head as you notice a short-arm cast dressing up his right arm; how bizarre. "¿Is this mother-fucker trying to rob me?" you talk to yourself, making sure he doesn't hear you. Obviously, he'd predict any regular person to open the door without a doubt –"Poor boy, he's wearing a cast."

"He's too hot to be a thief," your mind suggests. And yes, he is. If you are one hundred percent honest, he seems like he would study at Stanford. He looks kind of familiar, even. You can't clearly analyze his features due to the lack of lighting in the hallway, but when his head tilts to the side, a sharp shadow forms under his jawline, and his blonde curls bounce along with his moves. 

You text Diana again. "hot boy at my door x"

Although suspicion is gnawing at the back of your mind, you open the door. With a gentle twist of your wrist, you turn the knob clockwise and cautiously swing the door inward. The hinges creak softly, and the chilly air from the hallway rushes in, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes narrow in recognition —and confusion—for a beat. A lightbulb suddenly flickers on in your mind.

"Hey..." the guy in front of you greets you softly and politely, his voice barely above a whisper.

You have seen his face around, but you can hardly remember his last name—Dawson, Davidson? Something like that.

"...Is Tashi around?" he asks, his voice carrying a note of desperation.

Your gaze rakes down his figure. He's wearing a Cardinal performance polo from Stanford and thin black polyester shorts, both soaked—presumably from the storm roaring outside. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath, and as if by carnal instinct, your eyes delineate the muscles of his abdomen tightening; the outline of his six-pack is visible through the soaking polo clinging to his torso. Tiny water beads accumulate along the strands of his blonde hair, glistening, growing heavier, and descending onto your doormat with soft plops.

He's hot as fuck, you think. Straight out of one of those cliché Teen People magazine covers. But it's not only his physique. Something about how he stands there, dripping wet, vulnerability mingling with his athletic build, piques your interest. It's sort of contradictory and sexy as fuck.

Your eyes drift down to your own outfit—pajama shorts and a crop top. It's not too practical, considering the chilliness from the residence hallway drives your nipples to react against the thin material of the top. His gaze falters for a second, lowering to your bare midriff, and you catch the way his cheeks redden. You hear how he chokes with his saliva.

But it’s bizarre, too. His functional—left—hand is grasping a large Smirnoff Ice bottle by its neck. Your features smooth out at the sight of the clear glass bottle containing one of your favorite low-alcohol cocktails.

It's a raw lure, just like the owner of the bottle.

But it's still bizarre. Because why is this hot-ass guy holding a delicious-ass drink standing outside of your dorm?

You pull your gaze away from the Smirnoff bottle. "Aren't you supposed to be hiding the booze?" you blurt out, raising a finger to point at the bottle.

Maybe your tone was too sardonic, or it was the uncaring disregard of the Tashi question because the blonde guy's face reddens in a deep shade of crimson —again—spreading rapidly from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Aw, he's embarrassed. His eyesight shifts to the bottle, and he acts as if the bottle magically spawned in his left hand.

But you don't wanna spook the doll away.

You audibly clear your throat, trying to rectify your rudeness. "And no, Tashi's not here," you add, attempting to depict kindness and capture his attention again.

He stays silent. As the rosy hue of his cheeks vanishes, you can sense he's building up the courage to keep interrogating you. "Do you know where she is?" he timidly asks, gliding the bottle under his left arm as if trying to hide it now that his plans are ruined.

The guy's smoking hot but fricking awkward. It doesn't make sense. He's six feet tall, lean, handsome, and muscular; why is he acting all timid? He's standing past your doorframe, practically asking for clearance to trade words with you. It doesn't make sense.

"Yeah, she's staying with this Art guy. Maybe you know him," you say, gaze unconsciously disembarking again on the Smirnoff bottle.

The guy's eyebrows furrow and his blue eyes dart back and forth as if digging for an answer hidden in your dorm. His facial expression gradually shifts from puzzlement to realization and then to frustration.

"Son of a bitch..." he mutters under his breath, his voice laced with malice.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning amazement. "Sorry?"

It makes you wanna chuckle at the sudden, humorous switch in his expression.

He inhales sharply, his blue eyes scintillating with sadness and something deeper, perhaps a sense of betrayal? You don't know. "Are you sure Tashi's not here?" he questions again, the tone of his voice hardening. "I'm Art."

The prior flickering lightbulb turns into one illuminating your memory's dim corners. His facial features now have a name: Art Donaldson, another celebrated first-year tennis player. There aren't many Art's around, so the first time you heard his name —even before Tashi— falling out from one of your closest friends' lips on campus, you should've known it was him.

So if he’s Art, that means Tashi lied.

Shit. Tashi's cheating on this guy.

You hope he doesn't notice because you know a flicker of darkness is dancing across your eyes as the seed of an idea takes root in your mind.

A smirk curls your lips as you relish the scrumptious irony. "Oh, you're Art? The one Tashi talks about all the time?" you say, voice dribbling with mockery.

He doesn't respond; he just looks at you with those piercing blue eyes. But then he speaks, "Yeah, I guess..."

You seize the moment, reaching out and stealing the bottle of Smirnoff from beneath his arm. "Well, I guess I'll take this," you say, twisting the cap open and taking a long sip. "You won't need it, right?."

You know exactly what chord you want to strike.

Art's jaw tightens, his face a mix of irritation and helplessness, but he doesn't oppose. You can see his struggle and even sense how his mind races to make sense of the situation. He was expecting Tashi, who was not his girlfriend yet, but he had arranged this to get to know her better. Instead, he's faced with you—an unexpectedly attractive challenge.

And, of course, he wanted it. There was the initial shock at finding you instead of Tashi, but an undeniable attraction stirred something profound within him —a foreign sensation he hadn't felt before. And he's by no means a virgin or a "lame-ass," as Patrick would call him from time to time. Art knows how to have fun. But he's used to the upstarting idea that women must be salivating over merely hearing his name. That's why he obsessed over Tashi Duncan; she is dominant.

But of course, fucking Patrick had to take her tonight.

You lower the bottle, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "Or maybe you shouldn't go back to the rain," you say with a shrug, "you could come inside in case Tashi comes back, and I'd think about sharing the Smirnoff with you."

He hesitates.

You step aside, holding the door open wider. "You don't wanna go back to the rain, don't you?" you add with a mischievous grin.

For a heartbeat, he stands there, his resolve wavering. Then, with a resigned sigh, he steps forward, crossing the threshold into your college dorm like a lost puppy.

You close the door behind him, drawn to let out a scream when he's not looking after how things were interestingly evolving. The room grows warmer for Art and you, the atmosphere thick with tension and unspoken intentions from both sides. You take another sip of the Smirnoff, savoring the lemony taste. 

"Make yourself comfortable," you express, gesturing to the modest common area where the kitchen is. Art follows your lead, his movements stiff from the water and his arm cast.

He's about to push back the strap of his black Adidas duffel bag to roll it down his right arm —cause he was holding THAT and the Smirnoff bottle, when he turns to you and, contemplating his words, he speaks, "Do you think I can use your shower?"

"You would do it anyways if Tashi was here instead of me, so..."

Art takes that as a yes.

-

The bottle of Smirnoff sits nearly empty on the wooden night table beside your bed. Although you had explained earlier to Art that Smirnoff ice was "inoffensive alcohol," it hadn't failed to cultivate an effect of tipsiness in both of your warm bodies. Art's initial awkwardness had been disbanded by the bitterness of the alcohol coursing through his veins. And your mean facade had shifted into a more loquacious, sarcastic, and bold one.

The common area had grown colder. In one instance of exorbitant bravery, you offered to move to your room— Art had said yes way too fast. The space was cozier and filled with your personal touches.

Art is sitting on your bed, the back of his head supported against the wall, while you lie on your stomach beside him, propped up on your elbows, attentively hearing as he converses about another obscene anecdote of his. The dim yellow lighting from the led lights from your side of the wall casts a soft glow over both of you, making you equally horny and exhausted —the calming sound of the rainstorm outside didn't help.

Art had changed into a grey T-shirt with "Stanford Tennis" printed across the chest. His strawberry blonde hair is nearly dry and slightly tousled...

The rich, warm sound of Art laughing fills the room and clocks you out of the trance. "...I swear, I walk in and see Tashi doing some nasty, weird thing to him. The next morning was hell for him. I couldn't believe he was into that type of shit."

"God, was she pegging him?" you giggle, covering your eyes with the palms of your hands.

Art chuckles, shaking his head. "You don't want me to get more explicit."

You pout playfully. "Don't be an asshole. Tell me." 

Art raises an eyebrow, intrigued, half-smirking. "Why are you so interested? Are you going through abstinence?"

The truth is yes but against your will. The bad thing is that you can't filter the information spilling out of your mouth whenever you drink.

"Depends. Are you gonna bully me if I say yes?" you ask, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

The rhetorical question prompts Art to tilt his head, confused. "I'm not a playboy myself. And also..." he slightly lifts his right arm with the cast, alluding to it. "After my injury, I can't do much."

Your thoughts started tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. You started picturing too many scenarios where Art would still be able to fuck with the arm cast on. The amount of vivid, fleeting mental scenarios internally summoning the attention you couldn't provide right now makes you feel physically ill and euphoric.

"That is not true."

He giggles again, a sound that causes your heart to flutter despite your mind warning you about potential word vomiting. "Well, I can't even jerk it off. Is that enough for you?"  

"Not really. There's plenty of stuff you can still do. Ask someone to give you a blowjob or something," You suggest, way more convinced of your comment than you should. 

Art’s natural smirk fades as he processes your sentence, his eyes squinting as if he's about to test something. He's holding back a chuckle, "That's a wild thing to say to someone you met two hours ago." 

You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance, "Don't tell me you are one of those people who think sex is taboo."

"Hey, no, I'm not." He raises his left hand in front of you, palm open and facing outward. "Asking someone to suck my dick is just gonna give me a fat restraining order."

At this point, the notion of reality has altered for you. Not much, but to the extent things that would commonly make you pause and reconsider your life choices now seemed perfectly reasonable, even hilarious. "Asking this guy I just met to fuck me? Awesome!" You think. You feel an overwhelming sense of camaraderie, a genuine tie to Art, fueled by the shared silliness of the circumstances and nasty anecdotes of this so-called Patrick. 

"Oh, please..."  You wave your hand carelessly as if waving away his absurd comment. "Who would put a restraining order over that?"

"What would you do if someone asked you to suck their dick?" 

But, before replying, you push yourself up onto your knees. The bed creaks softly as you shift, and you slide your legs out from under you, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed. 

"So?" he insists as you finish changing your position.

"Oh my god. Well, it depends on who's asking." 

Your last words hang in the air between you and Art, electrifying and charged with suggestive tension. Predisposing yourself to Art's potential lack of boldness, you let the tipsiness strip away your remaining self-respect. "If you asked me, I wouldn't say no," you add.

Your words cut through the alcohol-induced haze like a sharp blade, leaving Art momentarily sober. It's difficult for him to think properly. It feels like a thick fog full of thoughts and bitter rememberings encircles him, but you cannot see it. 

He helplessly daydreams about the scenario where this is Tashi instead of you, tossing salacious remarks at him and attending to whatever crap he chooses to say. But it isn't. He doesn't know you properly; he hasn't seen your serve or even how you hold a tennis racquet. And you haven't seen much from him either.

Patrick doesn't know about you either. His Patrick, with the captivating smile and the big-dick aura. The one that has been setting him up with women forever, as if he couldn't do it on his own. 

That's how he realizes the attraction towards you —even if purely carnal, is authentic and unpretentious. It's not polluted with anything else. You aren't flirting with him because you eventually want to mess around with Patrick. 

There's bone-deep curiousness humming through Art's veins, but he won't fuck up the first time a gorgeous girl wants to fuck him.

"Then I guess I should ask you," Art states, attempting to maintain his voice steady as his heart plummets.

You lean in closer, your faces now inches apart. The dim glow of the led lights casts a golden hue over your skin, making the moment feel even more surreal for Art. “Good, 'cause I have wanted to do you since you knocked on my door." 

The familiar aching warmth starts to pool at the bottom of your abdomen as Art's lips attack yours, parting them with easiness; you kiss him fiercely, savoring a mixture of Smirnoff Ice and spearmint. Art kisses you like he's starved of it; he slips his tongue inside like he has been patiently deferring his devilish invasive thoughts. He is, damn, a wonderful kisser. Flawlessly proportional: immodest, licking into your mouth, so sexually arousing, at the same time so tender, holding you close with such courtesy it makes you want to scream.

With the strength of his left hand, he draws your body closer to his, deepening his mouth as much as possible on yours. The contact makes your stomach jolt, tardily falling into account you are blending Art's masculine scent with yours. Art's upper-body muscles harden at the ecstasy, and the subtle contour of the veins on his arm arises on his skin, popping out as he possessively grasps your waist.

Between wet kisses, his mouth quakes as he lets out a hushed chuckle, "Wait, is it true... what you said?" he mutters into your mouth and raises your chin, taking a pair of hot seconds to look at you straight in the eye.

You relish the sensation of his fingers racing down your waist and descending on your hips, gently squeezing; your hands are holding onto the nape of his neck, caressing his skin. You kiss him again and roll his bottom lip between your teeth, "I've never wanted to fuck anyone so bad," you husk into his ear, words purring as you teasingly lick his ear lobe, lowering the wet kisses until you end up licking down his throat. You trail soft, open-mouthed kisses down his skin; your nails scratch lightly over his back, folding at the sensation of his warmness capturing yours.

Art swears he's about to pass out.

You swing one leg over his lap, carefully straddling him. Art wastes no time, lining his hips with yours, pressing and grinding, compelling your body to feel small in his presence; the mean grip of his hand drops to the end of your back, slowly running down your sides to cup your ass over your pajama shorts, slowly plunging his fingers on your skin. Quick, discreet moans slip out of your mouth, each one driving Art to his edge. The hardness of his cock pushes against your pussy, making you gasp between kisses. 

Your cheeks prick with heat as you hear a clap sound, a slap against someone's skin: your skin. Art spanked your ass rough, and you could anticipate the red handprint remaining in your butt for a couple of hours. His hand smacks again, grasping the over-sensitive plush of your ass at the end, making your muscle throb, "Art!" you whimper, squirming.

"Don't be too loud," he whispers against your neck, demanding.

Art's lips trail down your jawline; his breath catches in his throat every time the aroma of you transits to his chest. You tilt your head back to grant him better access, and your vision goes fuzzy as you discern Art's teeth sucking and biting on your neck, "...d-don't mark my neck," you add between whimpers, piercing his eardrum in the most sensual way imaginable.

"Can I mark this, then?" he snaps back, his right-hand cupping one of your tits over the material. The lustfulness creeping through your body evolves into dizziness, changing how your heart palpitates.

You overtake him and take your crop top swiftly without wanting to see him making extra effort. You audibly gasp when he determines to bury his face between your tits, his thumb and pointing finger skillfully rubbing and then rolling your nipples between his fingertips. 

You are so fucking overwhelmed. Art realizes, and with a wicked smirk plastered on his face, he gives a low coo, "You are so sensitive-"

"Shut the fuck up," you cuss softly, thrusting your chest out, slightly arching your back at the filling sensation. A slimy coverage of saliva grows over your left nipple; Art's mouth works over your bud, flicking with his tongue, making you impossibly wet, "Art, please, I need-"

"Need what?" he glances up at you, neglecting your nipples coated in spit, the cool breeze clashing against your skin and prickling your dermis with goosebumps. 

You pant under your breath as his fingers play with the waistband of your shorts. You grab his hand and put it away, "I'll take care of you."

Your gaze descends to admire the outline of his cock, pushing against the thin fabric of his shorts.  "Let me taste you," you beg, tracing a finger down his chest and reaching the waistband of his shorts.

"Pretty convenient since I can't do much, huh?" Art suppresses a laugh. 

You don't say much. You come off his lap to drag him to the end of the bed, feet touching the carpeted ground. As you sink lower, you unconsciously smile at the things you will tell Diana tomorrow. 

You squat down on your feet, your hands positioned on Art's thighs, supporting your body in case you lose balance. You palm his clothed dick, rubbing your fingertips against the slim layer of clothing, anticipating how much you'll be able to fit in your mouth; you shoot Art an incredulous look, enjoying his heavy-lidded, lustful grimace. 

Your fingers hook around the waistband of those goddamn shorts, sliding them down, along with his underwear. In one fluid motion, his cock springs free with his reddening, glistening tip slapping against his stomach. 

You think this is the perfect situation to overpraise him. You assume these guys love it. Tennis players with a big ego —and a big dick.

"You are so big, Donaldson," you praise, prolonging the word so seductively and not breaking eye contact with the blonde guy. You admire him, captivated by how his Adam's apple twitches; he gulps.

Your fingers wrap around his length, gripping his base, starting to stroke, gingerly moving from base to tip, stopping to rub his swollen tip and spread pre-cum along his shaft, simulating lube. His muscles tremble at the touch, yanking at your hair. You dart your tongue out, flattening it, licking his cock up and down, kitten-licking his thick tip and sweeping your lips across it, loudly slurping the shiny, gooey substance leaking from his dick. Art's torso feels deficient in oxygen as you lock eyes with him, simultaneously stroking his cock mercilessly, sucking on his head; his lungs ache for air.

You bob your head slightly, and your mouth opens wide, taking him further and increasing your pace. Your mouth is warm and wet; he can't wait to stretch other holes if you feel exceptionally good like this. 

"How does it feel?" you take a look at Art's journey, who has his head thrown back. You want him so bad to praise you back. When his head returns to its place, you meet eyes with him and give a tantalizing squeeze to his cock, eager for more reaction. His fingers jump to run through his hair, exasperated.

You don't —and can't know that Art is holding it back already. He's been holding it back since the moment you straddled him, and he could feel the warm wetness of your pussy over his throbbing dick. 

In desperation, he pushes your head, positioning your lips straight over his dick, "Please, princess," you obey and put it inside your mouth again.

He lets out a groan when his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You try to relax and breathe through your nose, allowing him to hit it constantly, deep-throating his length, drooling over his cock, swallowing around him. He strains his hips forward, tugs your hair, and essentially fucks your throat without requiring you to do anything but suck and be good for him.

His breathing becomes erratic, and you feel the muscles of his legs unconsciously twitching. He's close.

When his hand on your hair pushes you up, you resist and stay there for longer, anxiously waiting for his cum to hit your throat. With a rough jerk of his hips, you finally taste his sperm filling your mouth. You swallow it.

"Shit," Art mutters, hyperventilating and staring at you with heavy-lidded eyes. "You just made me reconsider if I'm still precocious."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Or maybe I give good head?" 

After catching his breath, his eyes fall over your figure. There's something so amusing about you, and it's definitely not the remaining mix of cum and spit over the corners of your mouth.

It's just you.

The rain continues to fall outside, a steady rhythm that matches the pulse of his heartbeat. It wasn't the post-nut clarity that made him philosophical, but he can genuinely feel that the only thing that matters is how amazing he has felt around you.

Art breaks the silence. "Let me take you out tomorrow night." 

-

[fulltulips]

bed chem - l.dh ; part o n e

description: what happens when you finally come face to face with the one and only notorious playboy!haechan...? you can't help but wonder your bed chem with him.

pairing: lee haechan x fem reader

genres: fluff, smut, college au

warnings: alcohol and smoking mentions, pet names, kissing, vulgarities, suggestive sexual activities, drunk mentions, reader uses her/she pronouns

author's note:

hihii !! this is my first ever post... so please be nice and I hope you enjoy this ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ♡ recently i’ve been listening to short n sweet album !! and i love bed chem sooooooo much ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ so i got the idea of writing this fic !! do lmk if you guys might want a entire series of short n sweet with other members hehe

location: home

“come onnnn y/n! i promised the dreamies i would be there at the party at mark’s houseee!” renjun whined as he tugged on your cherry patterned silk pyjamas.

“okay…go then?? i don’t understand why i would have to go with you??” you lazily said as you continued watching bridgerton without sparing renjun a glance.

“because you’re my best friend? and plus the dreamies have been wanting to meet my housemate for so long!”

ever since college began a year ago, renjun was in search of a place to stay in and luckily then you were in search of a housemate.

it was awkward in the beginning to say the least…

you had never lived with a boy your entire life until college but luckily renjun was the nicest guy ever, you guys instantly clicked and became great friends.

well renjun could’ve stayed with his dreamies friends that you’ve never met but renjun claims it’s too dirty and messy to live with 6 other boys.

you wouldn’t even dare to imagine the chaos…

“okay but what’s in it for me if i go?” you sighed, finally turning over to look at renjun.

“you’ll finally step out of the house and interact like a normal social functioning human?” renjun sarcastically replied giving the most “duhh” face.

although that was sarcastic, it was true… you hadn’t stepped out of the house since the semester break had began last week.

you’ve just been lazing at home with the same routine everyday.

you woke up in the late afternoons, ate lunch, binged watch your favourite shows till midnight before you finally ate your dinner and continued watching shows till you fell asleep.

the only person you communicated in the past week was only renjun but he was always out and about.

a huge difference between the two of you…

you were definitely comfortable but upon hearing renjun’s statement made you realise just how much you’ve been living like a cavewoman…

“fine! i’ll go with you… ONLY because i cant keep living like a cavewoman…” you finally stood up from the couch and got to your room to change and get ready.

“10minutes is all you get y/n!” renjun yelled.

pfft… 10minutes? in his dreams…

20 minutes later

“y/n! YOU MUST MAKE HASTE!!” renjun yelled.

(bridgerton reference hehe)

“i’m ready!! geez calm down renjun” you walked out of your room in a sheer white babydoll dress as you finished touching up on your lip tint .

“gosh i could fly back and forth between korea and china and you still wouldn’t have finished getting ready” renjun joked erupting laughter from both of you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

location: mark’s house, at the party

the moment renjun and you had arrived at the party…

my oh my… you could feel the bass vibrations of the music through your ears and the ground.

it was obvious this is mark’s house.

with vibrant neon flashing lights shined and lighted up the house as the lights peeked it’s way out of the windows giving the dark neighbourhood some sort of lighting.

you couldn’t imagine how badly your eyes were gonna hurt the moment you stepped into the party.

“hey! renjun you’re finally came!” a pretty boy with the biggest grin welcomed renjun.

“i would’ve been here earlier if miss given 10 minutes didn’t take so long…” renjun complained.

man… this dude won’t ever let this slide anymore…

“oh? she’s your housemate? you didn’t tell me she’s this beautiful? hi ! i’m na jaemin nice to meet you” jaemin introduced himself with sparkles in his eyes.

warmth crept up your cheeks as you’ve never had someone directly compliment you like this.

“hi…? im y/n… nice to meet you?” you shyly greeted back feeling nervous while jaemin held the most intense eye contact with you while you were mess looking everywhere but jaemin in the eye.

“you’re so cute like a tiny bear! gosh i would keep you in my pockets if i could!!” jaemin grinned and patted your head.

you could feel even more warmth rushing up this time round.

“okay jaems i don’t need you flirting with my housemate. my house is the last place i need you to be in” renjun rolled his eyes as jaemin held his hands up as if he was surrendering.

you chuckled lightly loving their friendship banter.

“let’s go find the others they’re waiting! come on little bear” jaemin told renjun as he slung his arm around your shoulders.

although it felt weird having a arm around your shoulder with a random dude you just met… it made the party felt less taunting honestly.

squeezing pass a body of strangers was the worst feeling ever but having jaemin’s arm to guide you made you felt safer while you could smell the beer coming from jaemin’s breath.

“alright guys! meet y/n! she is renjun’s housemate” jaemin stopped in front a place with a couch and a few beanbags placed with 4 other boys there.

you shyly waved at them

“hi!! im chenle nice to finally meet you!! ya! jisung quick say hi” chenle excitedly nudged this tall guy sat beside him which you assumed to be jisung.

“hi im jisung…” he muttered

“don’t worry about jisung he’s quite shy with new people” jaemin whispered to you as he stood beside you.

“hi jisung! nice to meet you” you mustered the friendliest greeting you could give and waved at jisung which he returned.

“hi y/n ! im jeno” jeno introduced as he smiled forming crescent moons gathering attention to the beautifully placed mole beneath his eye.

“ayo wassup im mark! you can mark me in your hea-”

“ok that’s enough mark!!” everyone interrupted mark’s introduction.

“aw dude i was hoping to say it once tonight” mark sulked as he took another sip from his red cup.

you couldn’t help but laugh at their silliness.

“wait where’s haechan hyung?” jisung questioned.

“probably sucking off a girl’s face or smoking right now” renjun said like it was the most natural thing ever.

“whatever he’ll find his way back later. come sit y/n !! do you want a drink? i can get it for you”chenle said as he patted the empty seat on the couch beside you.

“oh that’s okay i can get it myself! does anyone want anything from the kitchen?” you smiled appreciating the offer from chenle before you asked the group.

everyone shook their heads with some saying thanks.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

you squeezed past the bodies of strangers again with random turns and passes until you finally found the kitchen.

but of course… another obstacle was in your way…

like a literal obstacle.

two humans making out in-front of the fridge making it impossible to get your drink.

you coughed lightly in hopes of getting their attention…

nothing.

“excuse me…?” you softly said.

still nothing.

“uhm hi… if you could just excuse me-” you said as you tapped the guy’s shoulders.

“what?” he scoffed, rolled his eyes before he finally faced you.

‘i was in a sheer dress the day that we met’

you felt the world stopped.

the music tuned out and you could feel your breathe stolen away.

you were faced with a guy with beautiful honey skin and a pair of the softest brown eyes despite the heavy smudged eyeliner.

he had beauty marks on his face that formed constellations.

he towered over you allowing his scent to engulf you. it was mix of woody scent, alcohol and cigarettes.

he stood tall as he dressed in in a black singlet and jeans with a classic black leather jacket over his shoulders.

the girl he made out with was long gone, it was just the two of you staring at each other in the kitchen.

it was safe to say you were attracted to this man in-front of you knowing well he screamed bad news.

the longer he stood and looked at you, his eyes softened.

you stood in-front of him, doe eyed, full of innocence in your white sheer dress and your pink pouty lips.

“fuck…” he thought in his head.

the same you thought. from just his appearance you could feel wetness pooling in your pink laced thongs.

you couldn’t help but wondered what was your bed chem with him.

he was the complete opposite of you, he embodied bad news, he was dark and mysterious, like a thunderstorm.

but you were different, you were alluring, you were like a breeze in a garden on spring day, like a breath of fresh air.

“cat got your tongue love?” he finally broke the silence.

“huh..oh.. uhm i just wanted to get a drink from the fridge sir?” you stuttered as you looked down at the ground barely gathering any courage to speak up.

weirdly the endearment felt so smooth when he called you as if he has always called you in that your entire life.

he found you so adoring.

but the way you said sir, made him felt something in him stir.

“did you just call me sir?” he questioned feeling intrigued.

“well… i don’t know your name” you finally looked up at him.

“don’t go around calling any guy sir randomly love. you don’t know what it does.” he leaned forward closing the distance between both your faces as he cups your face in his rough hand.

what a hypocrite this man was calling you love…

you could smell the mix of alcohol and cigarettes in his breath, which you usually hate but somehow you didn’t mind when it was with him.

“yo hyuck! finally i found you come be my beer pong partner- oh? y/n you finally met haechan!”

‘we were both in a rush we talked for a sec’

‘your friend hit me up so we could connect’

oh… so he’s renjun’s friend… haechan… haechan… hyuck?

haechan removed his hand from your cheeks, somehow you felt sad from the loss of comforting warmth from him.

“haechan this is y/n! she’s renjun’s housemate” mark staggered his way over to you and swinging his arm across your shoulders clearly losing his senses to alcohol soon.

“alright let’s get going beer pong championship achiever” haechan rolled his eyes as he removed mark’s arm from your shoulders.

“lessgooooooo!” mark excitedly exclaimed as he exited the kitchen to the beer pong table.

“i’ll see you around love” he patted your head with a smirk on his face and left with a wink.

blush crept up to your cheeks, you could feel yourself physically feeling hotter.

you quickly got your drink from the fridge and left to sit on the couch with the rest of the dreamies.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

but the whole night you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander towards haechan standing at the beer pong table.

with the occasional glances and winks haechan would give you was not safe for your heart.

there was no denying you found haechan attractive.

but how could it be when you just met him?

“y/n? you good? you’ve been staring at haechan?” chenle questioned.

you’ve been exposed.

“oh? no i wasn’t… i think i’m just tired i tend to usually blank out” what in the stupidest excuse.

“aite it’s time to head back stoned y/n! let’s goooo” renjun stood up from the beanbag and walked towards the door.

“whaaaaat we just met stay longer little bear!” jaemin whined with rosy cheeks and eyes that were barely focusing on you anymore.

“sorry guys it’s late i should head back now… we can hang out sometime soon again tho” you suggested with a smile on your face.

jeno smiled and gave a okay sign with his hands before he waved bye.

before you could even step out of the house, a hand grabs your wrist.

you turned to find haechan holding onto you.

“leaving so soon love?” he cocked his eyebrow as he bent down to reach your height, making both of you face to face now.

you stumbled back a little, shock from the barely existent distance between the two of you.

haechan’s hands found it’s way behind your waist supporting you from tripping. you felt your breathe hitched from the contact.

his hands were warm but the silver rings he had on gave a cold touch to your waist. you love his touch, you craved for it and wished to be held by him as long as you can.

you couldn’t help but wonder how his touch would feel all around your body, playing with your tits as his other hand fingers you making you cum all over his fingers.

and watching him lick your cum all off his fingers and your pussy.

“i bet we would have really good bed chem…” you thought to yourself.

as you looked into his eyes this time, it held softness and sincerity different from when you had first met. you could feel his hot breath against you while you were quite literally holding onto your breath.

he smelled so good, you just wanted to be around him all day but you had to remind yourself, you had just met.

“yea it’s getting late and renjun’s already waiting so…”

“before you go…” he hands you his phone with his keypad on display.

you looked at him with questions in your eyes.

“what’s your phone number love? i need to keep in contact with you don’t i?” haechan chuckles as he jokingly uses his finger to push your forehead.

he looks so good smiling, like a bright sun on a cloudy day.

“oh! you could get it from renjun tho…” you said while keying in your phone number on his phone.

“if i get it from renjun, i wouldn’t have a chance to talk to you right now don’t i? and i wouldn’t be able to give you this.”

“huh? give wha-” suddenly you felt a pair of warm lips on your forehead.

“goodnight sweet dreams love. get home safe, text me when you’re home” he smiles and ruffles your hair.

oh haechan… what are you doing to my heart…

[asclepias-lavendula-nyctanthes]

can you tell im in a state

[spicy-apple-pie]

You know how in Batman and Robin, when Nobody finds out that Damian was only pretending to rebel against Bruce and lowkey tortures him. There’s a panel where he’s breaking Damian’s fingers.

So imagine afterwards, most of Damian’s fingers have been broken. He cannot use his hands for anything. So Bruce has to take care of him. He feeds him, bathes him (just cloth bathes, since Damian’s casts are too much of a hassle), and keeps him company since Damian can’t do a lot of what he usually does to past the time.

Damian is super pissed he’s pretty much bed bound for a couple of weeks, and Bruce can’t blame him. Because yeah, it fucking sucks. He’s sure that Damian would try to sneak away to train or something, but luckily the pain meds make him drowsy enough for him to just pout on the couch.

He also complains about Bruce trying to find something for them to watch, claiming that such things are brain rotting. Bruce begins to put on animal documentaries, which Damian seems to enjoy well enough. But then Bruce starts showing him other things, like that guy who restores old paintings, which Damian gets really into. And eventually Bruce manages to get Damian to try a Ghibli movie, probably Grave of the Fireflies since it’s more grounded in reality and Damian loves it. And they proceed to binge watch all the Ghibli movies they can find.

At one point, Bruce pulls Damian close to him, and hugs him tight. “Father, what are you-“

“Shh.” Bruce hushes, in a sad tone. “I just- I need to know you’re here. That you’re safe.”

And Damian realizes that his Father, a man he idolized and looked up to as long as he could remember, was scared. Bruce’s “death” taught him that his Father wasn’t invincible. But his Father being scared was a whole other thing. It made him… human. And that made Damian scared too.

Damian allowed his Father to hold him. And felt himself slowly melt into it. He took comfort in it too. As much as it scared him, it was almost comforting to know that his Father was scared for him. That he was loved just as much as Bruce’s other kids. He wasn’t the problem child or a demon. Damian was Bruce’s kid, his son.

And even after Damian heals and is able to care for himself, they still have movies nights every so often.

Idk having a story where Bruce has to learn to trust Damian followed by a story where Damian has to learn to trust Bruce. GIVE IT TO ME!!!

This is why we need to bring back “filler”.

[jamminvroomvroom]

our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

-

your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, yourfriendnancy, yourfriendmia, maxfewtrell and 378,654 others

youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

-

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, ashjbibby, yourfriendnancy and 344,555 others

youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

and 567 other comments

-

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, maxfewtrell, yourfriendmia and 332,211 others

youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr

and 329 other comments

-

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

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youruser: new heights n pretty lights

user2: i know who took 3/4 of these pics.

landonorris: i want that hat back btw

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user: mommy? huh who said that?

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lando.jpg: from the road

oscarpiastri: violation.

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user4: WAIT didn’t she post the second one a while? LANDO TOOK IT?

user81: oscar 😭😭

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user11: the wags are fighting omg

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-

your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

-

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

-

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-

you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

-

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

-

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youruser: our secret moments

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youruser: @ landonorris omg shut up (omw over)

user1: FINALLY

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-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

maintenance: i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed!

[penultimate-step]

Lately, I've been thinking about the effect of real-world time on perception of media. Or, wait, let me start from the beginning.

When I was 11, I read the book Ender's Game for some school assignment or another. I don't remember ever considering Ender a relatable character, but certainly my understanding of the events was shaped by being of an age to see the protagonist not so much as a young child but as someone of my peer group, someone who could have been slotted amongst my classmates without anybody batting an eye.

Over a decade later, I read the sequel, Speaker for the Dead; it takes place many years later, when Ender is in his thirties, and my feelings about the in-universe time skip were undeniably shaped by the real life time gap between my reading of the novels. Reading the first book back then and then the second book now created a feeling where it's almost like, I'm browsing the facebook page of someone I had known in middle school but lost contact with, checking up on how they're doing today. The real-time factor caused me to perceive it less like a timeskip, and more like a reunion - the feelings were closer to "oh wow, that's my boy! I haven't seen him in years! Wonder what he's up to?" Which in turn gave me a better position to appreciate the parts of the narrative about him struggling to find a place in his adulthood than I would have been had I perceived it more strictly as a quick skip from 11 to 20 to 36.

While musing about this, I considered a VN I played a few years back, which took place over three in-game days - except at the end of one in-game day, the game would lock you out from progressing for 24 hours real time. So that as the in-game investigator protagonist was ruminating on the information that had been discovered that day, the player would be forced to do the same. In this example, by forcing the player to experience the same timeframe as the in-game characters, the sense of it being an in-depth and extensive investigation increases, even though without the forced pauses the game would be short enough to blow through in a handful of hours real-time.

Which brings to mind how time effects things in long-running serial works. It's well known that an audience which watches an episode or reads a chapter week by week has a very different experience than one binging through whole seasons or volumes at a time, but I wonder if the real time relative to the in-universe time makes that effect stand out more? Fight scenes, for instance, have been known to take up several chapters in certain manga or webnovels. What does it do to the reader's perception, if from their point a view a fight takes a whole month, while for the characters they read about it's only been a couple hours? Readers might feel that the situation is more stressful, since the pressure of the fight has been ongoing for a long time for them, while in-universe it was a rough afternoon but no more than that. Contrastingly, when a series skips ahead or otherwise has long periods of time for characters that feel short for readers, it can feel like no time has passed and everything is still the same, unless the author really stresses the differences in world-state that occurred offscreen. Because the reader hasn't changed at all.

No conclusion here exactly, I just think it's interesting how often an audience's response to a work, the emotions felt, are more closely tied to their real-life timescale, something almost completely out of the author's control, as opposed to in-universe time, which can be intentionally shifted or played with for the sake of the narrative.

[kittykattysstuff]

When mom's away, it's time to play!

Warning: Stepcest.

Stepdad!Toji x fem!Reader

WC: 2.2K

Summary: Your mother won't be home during the weekend due to a business trip. With her gone and the entire house to yourselves, you and your stepdad Toji get to know each other in more intimate ways.

"Bye, dear. I'll be back Monday morning." Your mom gave you a kiss on the cheek as she left the house.

"Keep Toji some company, will you? This can be a great opportunity for you two to have some father-daughter bonding time."

She smiled, giving Toji a peck before she climbed into the driver's seat of her car. You gulped. Sometimes you wondered if your mother was either too oblivious to notice the furtive glances Toji threw your way whenever you were in the same room, or if she actually noticed them, and simply didn't care, confusing his inappropriate behavior for affection.

Well, it didn't matter what your mom thought. Her opinions wouldn't change the fact that you would be spending the whole weekend alone with Toji.

"Don't worry, love. I'm sure Y/N and I will have a lot of fun together."

You pretended not to notice the sexual innuendo behind your stepdad's words. God, this was going to be a long weekend. You and Toji waved as your mom started the car and drove away.

"Finally home alone. "Toji smirked, following you inside the house. You didn't need to turn to know he was shamelessly checking your ass. "Any plans for the weekend?"

He asked before you walked up the stairs to your room.

"Not really." You shrugged. You were more than ready to get this talk done and over with, but it seemed like Toji wouldn't let you off so easily.

"I intend to study for my upcoming exams."

That was a lie and Toji knew it. He knew you had already finished all your exams and didn't have any more classes until the next semester, since your mother had told him before you arrived from college at the beginning of the week.

"That's lame. Even Megumi's going to his friends' house. You should live a little, doll. How about we follow your mom's suggestion and have some father-daughter bonding?"

Toji's smile was so sweet, you could almost mistake him for an angel if you didn't know him. However, you did know him, and you knew that behind that sweet smile, were actually the most evil intentions. You felt yourself getting hot. You didn't want to admit it, but ever since you met Toji Fushiguro, you felt attracted to the man. His broad shoulders, thick thighs, and captivating emerald eyes made him look like a Greek god.

"Well, what do you have in mind?"

Against your better judgment, you indulged in his ideas.

"We could binge watch some of those rom-com movies that you like so much."

"You? Watching "girly" movies?" You asked, quoting the way he always complained about the films you and your mom liked to watch.

"Anything for you, doll."

Oh, you were definitely screwed. It took all your willpower not to jump him right then and there. Instead, you found yourself agreeing to his offer.

"Sure, why not."

Two hours later, the credits of "10 things I hate about you" appeared on the TV screen.

"This one wasn't so bad."

Your stepdad commented, stretching his huge arms, which were conveniently bare, given he was wearing a tight black tank top. You watched him put an arm on the back of the couch, getting dangerously close to you as he adjusted in a more comfortable position.

You were starting to seriously regret your choices today. You'd been doing a decent enough of a job trying to avoid Toji ever since he and your mom got married, almost one year ago. Because as soon as he stepped into your home in all his glory when they were still dating, two years ago, you knew you were in trouble.

The man was literally sex on legs, all your teenage dreams personified right in front of you, and the worst part is, he knew the effect he had on you. He knew it and he purposely took every chance he had to get closer to you; from accidental touches that started to linger more each time you both were in the same vicinity, to the hungry looks he sent you, not even trying to hide them.

You thought that once Toji and your mom got married, things would stop. But it was quite the opposite. Taking advantage of the fact you wouldn't be able to actively avoid him, since Toji and Megumi moved in with you and your mom after the wedding, Toji was everywhere. And he was driving you insane.

Your only solace was college. Your college was considerably far from your home, so as soon as you were accepted, you opted to live on campus rather than commute back home. The reprieve was great, especially because now you could be alone with your thoughts, without your step dad's presence everywhere you turned. If you didn't see nor think about Toji, then you were safe from the ever growing attraction between you.

However, now that the semester had finished and you wouldn't have classes for three weeks, your feelings were more and more difficult to ignore. Especially now that it was only the two of you in the house.

"What's next?"

Your step dad asked, though he didn't really seem interested in the answer whatsoever.

"Legally Blonde." You replied, selecting the next movie.

For the most part, things were going well. You were so concentrated on the film that you almost forgot about Toji's presence. That is, until his hand started to softly caress your shoulder. You held your breath as your step dad started rubbing circles on your skin delicately.

In hindsight, you know you should've stopped him instantly. But you were tired, Toji's touch was warm and honestly, you were craving some affection lately. So yeah, you let him touch you. After all, parents and their children touched all the time, that was normal, you rationalized. Except, there was nothing innocent in the way your step dad was getting closer to you.

His hand was now on your hips, massaging them expertly. You could feel his thigh pressed to yours. Before you noticed, a low moan fell from your lips. From your peripheral, you could see your step dad smirking.

"You're so far from me. Come closer, angel, I won't bite."

He didn't expect an answer from you, already pushing you to sit on his lap.

"This okay?"

Toji asked, his chin on your shoulder, his hot breath on your neck. You moaned again.

"Yes." You managed to say in a whisper.

"Y'know, this movie's getting boring, dontcha think?"

Toji said before sucking on your shoulder. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Toji, we shouldn't..."

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to touch you, doll."

Before you could protest, Toji captured your lips, giving you a bruising, passionate kiss. You opened your mouth, and he wasted no time to shove his tongue down your throat. He nibbled your lower lip with deliberate boldness, hearing a soft moan of pleasure in response, making his arousal sensually painful. As you kissed, Toji wanted to drink in your moans in sweet tremors of sinful pleasure.

Toji and you separated briefly, his sharp gaze locked on yours as you both struggled to regain you breath. Before things could get even more physical, he pressed his forehead to yours, inhaling deeply. You caressed his soft dak locks, reveling in the texture against your fingers. For a man as big as he was, Toji could be surprisingly endearing when he wanted to.

"Do you want this?" He finally asked, moving so that you'd be able to see each other in the dark room illuminated only by the dim light of the TV.

"If you say yes, I won't be able to hold back."

You knew that if you went further than this, there was no going back. You nodded, smiling. You had made your decision. You had wanted him for so long, you wouldn't miss the chance of having him all to yourself.

"I do, Toji. Fuck me."

"Damn. You're gonna drive me crazy."

Toji didn't waste time, ripping off your white buttoned shirt and your tight shorts to reveal your underwear.

"So perfect." He muttered as he unclasped your bra, immediately latching his mouth on your nipple, while he played with the other.

"All for me."

He said reverently, before sucking hardly, which elicited a gasp from you due to all the pleasure he was giving you. You kept your hands on his hair, in a tight grip. Toji's mouth and his finger kneading your tits felt magical.

"Yes, daddy, l'm all yours."

You didn't even notice what you had said until Toji stilled his movements, looking at you like a hawk. Instantly, you felt self-conscious, a blush on your cheeks as you mistook his sudden halt in his movements for rejection.

"Fuck."

Toji mumbled, licking his lips and watching you with a lust-filled gaze.

"Say that again."

Your shyness gave way to pure pleasure, the carnal desire consuming the two of you.

"Daddy."

You repeated, feeling his arousal as his dick twitched. Your step dad looked an animal, his expression was so filthy you almost came on the spot. He changed positions, laying you down on the couch, his firm, muscular chest pressing against your body.

You took his black tank top off, and kissed every inch of skin you could find. His shoulder blades, his abdomen, his chest, everywhere. Toji moaned, fueling you to continue.

"I know you're eager to play, baby, but I can't wait."

Toji took your hands off his body as gently as he could. Understanding what he meant, you moved your hands to his pants, ubuttoning his leather belt. Toji wriggled out of the fabric of clothing, throwing it away haphazardly. You could see the white patch of precum in his black boxers.

"I've dreamed about fucking your tight little pussy for so long, you've no idea."

Toji kept muttering as he got rid of the rest of yours and his underwear, the last remaining clothing between you two.

"Whenever I fuck your mom, I imagine you. I have to keep myself from moaning your name".

"Daddy, please, I need you."

"You want daddy's cock, little girl? Don't worry, daddy's gonna make you feel so good you won't want any other dick anymore."

"Yes, daddy, please, I need you so badly! Fuck, me daddy!"

Your stepdad kissed you again as he entered you without warning, giving you no time to adjust to his size. Toji sucked your mouth, bit your lips, swallowed your taste as if it were the last kiss he would give in his life. The kiss made you forget the slight discomfort you felt when he first penetrated you.

Toji buried himself to the hilt inside you, making you moan loudly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, so that he could reach even deeper.

"So tight. Perfect little pussy, was made for me."

"Only yours, daddy."

The position allowed him to explore all the curves of your body as he moved frenetically inside you. God, he was amazing. You couldn't fathom why you tried to resist your stepdad in the first place. Now that you had a taste, you would certainly become addicted.

You pressed your hands on his taut abdomen, feeling his strong chest, buffy arms and prominent collarbone. Holy shit, his body was a masterpiece. You moved in sync, lost in the pleasure of the skin to skin contact. Toji started rubbing his fingers over your clit, sending you over the edge.

"D-daddy, I'm close."

You mumbled, breathing heavily.

"Cum, baby. Let it all out for daddy."

You felt all the tension explode from your nerves, relaxing all your muscles at once and clouding your mind in the most genuine relieved ecstasy.

"Will you let daddy cum inside you baby?"

"Yes daddy, please! Cum inside me, need you!"

"Fuck!"

Your words made Toji cum inside you in full force, your insides creaming his cock deliciously. Toji pulled you to his side, letting you lay on top of him.

"That was amazing."

You smiled, turning your head and resting your chin on his chest. He smiled back at you, stroking your cheeks lovingly. You leaned on his touch, letting yourself enjoy this rare soft side of his, knowing that this could very well be the first and last time you two were so intimate.

"Well, I'm glad. Now stand up."

He urged you, leaning forward on his elbows and creating some distance between you. You tried to hide your disappointment with a fake smile. That was the problem. You held back so much because you knew that when you caved, you wouldn't wanna let him go. Swallowing, you reminded yourself that it was only natural. After all, he wasn't yours to begin with. He was your mother's. Putting on a brave face, you finally stood up, gathering your clothes and attempting to cover your body the best you could. Before you could stray too far, however, you felt a tug in your hand.

"What is it, Toji?"

You asked, feeling irritated. He told you to go, but still kept bothering you. Classic Toji.

"Hey, I thought it was daddy. And where do you think you're going? I was gonna ask you to take a bath. It's only the beginning of the weekend, darling, we still have lots of time for father-daughter bonding moments. And I intend to enjoy it as much as I can."

[daisymbin]

the unplanned date - kim mingyu

warning: suggestive but not really! just light mentions of past sexual events but thats all. slight use of profanities

pairings: kim mingyu x reader

genre: situationship to lovers lmaooo

word count: 2.8k

a/n: 1. fuck taeil

2. this was originally written for jeonghan but i felt it fitted mingyu better

3. please this took fucking forever because I kept getting writers block and hated the flow but I think I'm satisfied with it now

requests open!

check out my masterlist!

"what? she's cheating on me?” mingyu asked in disbelief. “and what do you mean she's not my girlfriend?” mingyu angrily questioned jun with a slightly raised voice; his forehead and eyebrows scrunched in anger and confusion. “what the hell are you talking about? since when in the world did the two of you date? in another alternate universe??? all she did was go out on one date!” jun countered as he walks to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. at that, mingyu left their shared apartment, heading straight to yours; needing answers.

you jump when you hear your doorbell ring, “were you expecting someone?” your roommate seungcheol asked as you both exchange glances while he notes the time, it's 3:07am. “no?” you said as you got up from the sofa where you had been lounging on with seungcheol, binge watching the entire high school musical series but seungcheol stopped you, “wait, i'll get it. its late, it could be some creepy old man.” seungcheol rushed to open the door while you followed close by behind him. as soon as he opened the door, you were both met with a messy, disheveled hair kim mingyu. he’s panting so much that for a second, he looks like he might actually pass out. “mingyu? what are you doing here at this hour?” seungcheol asked as he opened the door wider for him to enter. “did you run here???” you asked. “yes but thats not the point right now,” mingyu pauses to catch his breath, “did you go out on a date with jun's classmate? are you cheating on me?”

seungcheol's brows slightly furrowed at mingyu's words, “woah calm down. why dont you come in first?” he asked as he tugged on mingyu's sleeves, ushering him in. “alright, im gonna be in my room to give you two some….privacy. no funny business please, its 3am and I could use some sleep.”

mingyu inpatiently waited for seungcheol to retreat to his room before he sprung his question yet again onto you. “so??? are you not going to answer me??” it was clear that mingyu is frustrated as he laid his clenched fist on the kitchen counter. “what the fuck are you talking about? cheating on you? we're not even together!” you countered back as your forehead and eyebrows scrunched in confusion & slight anger matching mingyu's. “I'm asking you why the hell I just heard from jun that you went on a date with that new guy boy from his biology class?” mingyu knew he was being slightly petty but still, how could you? you watched as he slowly unclench his fists only to grip at the corners of the kitchen counter. “like i said, you and i? we're not together mingyu. I'm free to date whoever I want, isn't it? that was the rule you set, is it not?” you asked in anger.

“what do you mean we're not together?” mingyu paused before he continued. his question was laced with confusion and a hint of heartbreak but of course, he tried to mask it with even more frustration. “we hold on hands all the damn time y/n! we spend time together, A LOT of time together might i add, we stay over at each other's place, we nap together, we sleep together, we cuddle, we hug, we kiss, you play with my hair all the time and i do too! i mean, for god's sake, we fuck each other! what do you mean we're not together?”

“so what, mingyu?’’ your own voice and tone took you aback for a second, the words came out harsher than you would have liked but you dont falter. “weren’t you the one who said you didn't want anything serious to begin with? weren't you the one who said that we’re only keeping things casual and nothing more? so why are you here at my apartment at ass o'clock screaming at me about cheating on you?” you had made sure to put out air quotes for those last 3 words.

this time, there was a clear dip in mingyu's voice, softer, more tender, more vulnerable. “well…yes but that was before.. that was when we were still… I don't know, fucking around but now we're definitely not! the things we do are definitely not just… fucking around things! you know what I mean! why are you making this so hard!” mingyu was exasperated, that much was clear. you watch as he now has his arms folded and his pout coming to light, making your heart clench at the sight. “gyu...” you said as you let out a small sigh, mingyu perked up at his nickname, his gaze shifting to you. “I'm not trying to make anything hard and you know that. how was i supposed to know anything? how was i supposed to know what you want if you don't tell me?”

“I thought you'd know by now…i-i thought it was obvious by now…I thought we both…”

“you thought we both what mingyu? you can't just keep all these thoughts to yourself without telling me and expect me to know anything because trust me, I don't! I don't know how you feel about me, I don't know if any of this is as serious for you as it is for me, god, I don't know what your intentions are! all I know from you is that this is all just casual and nothing more! and you know what's the worst part of it all? it's that I can't even ask you about it because then I'm gonna come off as clingy and needy and it's pathetic to even imagine presenting myself that way to you!” your lips were now pressed together in a thin line; an overwhelming feeling of shame and embarrassment taking over you, forcing you to look away from him to avoid eye contact and you start to feel your eyes prick you with tears threatening to spill.

“you know I'd never think that of you... i just…I'm not good with words. I don't know how to tell you what I want or how I feel about you. I just get so tongue tied when it comes to you. I really thought that maybe if I lo-” mingyu all but stopped himself with a deep sigh, unable to voice out his hidden feelings for you. he took a few seconds to find a replacement for that word before he took another deep breath & continued, “I really thought that maybe if I just… let things be and let my feelings act on their own that maybe you'd pick up on it and we would just…” he ended with a sigh that was barely audible. you would have missed it if you weren't all focused on him.

his voice trailing off and quivering only forced you to quickly blink your tears away to look back at him; the sight of his shoulders slumped and his head looking down, not meeting your eyes only broke your heart even more. is it possible for your heart to feel so heavy and sad, yet filled with so much hope? because that's definitely how you're feeling right now.

regardless of how much you think you know what mingyu is trying to say, you still wanted him to say it, you still wanted to hear it from him. this friends with benefits situationship thing has been going on long enough for a year & a half now & that doesnt include the years before when you were both friends. everyone knows you're both kind of a thing yet not really. no matter how much the boys pushed for mingyu to make it official, mingyu always brushed them off and said that he didn't have to, that you already know what you both had, but in this moment, it dawned on him that what he thought he had with you isn't what you thought you had with him. all the self loathe and heartbreak he's feeling right now couldn't have made him feel more stupid than he already was.

“gyu can you- can you try? can you try telling me? Just… take your time, im here, im listening, I have all the time in the world for you, just try baby. I just want to know how you really feel, I just want to know what you want for yourself and for us.” your hands reached out for his with a mind of its own.

looking down at your joined hands, mingyu starts moving his thumb mindlessly at the back of your hand, caressing them gently. it's now that he realizes how utterly stupid he has been. “baby i-” yours eyes follow his hands as they now draw circles on yours as you gave him a light squeeze of encouragement. “go on gyu, im listening.”

“I don't know how to do this. I know I said I didn't want anything serious at the start of it and that it's just casual but… but that was before you- do you remember our first date?” mingyu gathers all the courage he could find in himself and cautiously brings his eyes to yours. “what date?” you didn't want to sound rude or cold but as far as you could remember, you've never had any dates with mingyu. your relationship with him started off as just being friends for years, evolving into a friends with benefits situation which was strictly only physical needs late at night, outside of that, you were nothing more, well, at least for the first few months that is. until….unless..? was he talking about the first time you both hung out together alone without the boys outside of the bedroom and while the sun is still out? “do you mean…the flea market?” you asked as realization dawned on you; that was the day your friends with benefits relationship evolved into something that was like a relationship but not really, the cursed situationship type of thing.

mingyu chuckles as he realizes how sentimental he looks right now, although, he's not sure if you can tell. his shy smile and fangs peeking through as he watches the gears in your head turn. “well..what about that day mingyu?” truth be told, you remember that day clear as day, but you can't pinpoint exactly what mingyu is trying to say; there wasn't really anything…special or anything that stood out that day, well, other than the fact that you were both out and not in bed that is.

“that was the first time we hung out together alone after we started the whole friends with benefits thing. do you remember? that night before that, when we broke our first rule of not sleeping over?” a quiet mhm was all you could let out, unsure of where mingyu is going with this. “do you even remember why I called you over that night?”

“you were sad. your hamster….he passed away.” you said carefully. “mhm he did. and that evening, that night, it was the first time you came over and we didn't…we didn't do anything. you held me, comforted me and let me wet your t-shirt with my tears. you insisted on putting me to bed and cuddling me to sleep for the first time and told me that you'd leave after I've fallen asleep. I still remember your slight hesitation that night when I'd asked you to stay over and not leave. did you know? i felt my heart sank a little when you hesitated but that was just the first of many realization that i- that i was in love with you.” your heart fluttered at his admission, “the first of many? were there more?”

for the first time tonight, mingyu let out a laugh, the one you loved so much. “of course there's more. when we woke up the next morning, my head was pounding so bad from all the crying the night before and I was so sad when I woke up alone in bed because I thought you had left but it was almost as if you had some psychic power and knew I was awake, you were screaming from the kitchen saying you know I was awake and asked me to get my ass over to the kitchen!” mingyu laughed harder this time, his hand coming up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “that was because I had just came back from the bakery! my hands were full so I accidentally let the door slam a little and I was sure that that would have woken you up!” you giggled while trying to defend yourself.

“you even got me my favourite cake from the bakery and all my other favourite pastries for breakfast. you must have been so in love with me ~" mingyu joked while raising his eyebrows suspiciously at you and you all but fall silent. you cleared your throat before you teased him back, “so? that's why you like me? because I cuddled you to sleep and bought you food? how easy can you be kim mingyu!”

“no that's not why! although i'll admit, it did click something in me. made me realise how well you know me and how well you take care of me. but that wasn't it! it was when you suggested we go to the flea market after breakfast just to take a walk to clear my mind for a bit. do you remember what happened there?”

“we walked and talked about silly things as always, what else? ah, you tried tanghulu for the first time! I remember that.” you recall giddily at how his eyes widened brightly at the sweetness of tanghulu when he took his first bite. “not that, silly! we ran into your ex & I had told him that i was your boyfriend and asked him to back off, do you know why I did that?” “because you pity me?” you joked, you know mingyu would never pity you, he's not a bad person but you couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease him. mingyu sighed dramatically at that, “no, I said I was your boyfriend because I saw the way he was looking at you…and it made me jealous. it made me realise that, that's the way I always look at you. it made me realise that I don't ever want anyone else to look at you that way and that I want you to look at me that way. me and only me. i-i realised that it's not just sex I want with you. that's why after that day, I kept bringing us out for dinner and stuff. or even just to hang out at home and watch stupid romcoms just to spend time with you. so I thought that, when our relationship from simply friends with benefits isn't friends with benefits anymore that you'd get it i guess…i don't know…saying it out loud right now sounds so stupid… I probably should have said something earlier… I'm sorry.” mingyu had his eyes on his hands again, guilt and embarrassment washing over him.

"thank you, gyu-ah. I really needed to hear all of that from you.” you lifted your hand to rest your palm on his cheeks, guiding his eyes back to you. “does that mean you like me too?” silly silly kim mingyu you thought. “no of course not!” you joked a failed joke because it seems kim mingyu didn't get the joke when he let out a quiet oh. “you're so silly kim mingyu. can't you tell im in love with you by now? how much more obvious can a girl get?” mingyu ears perked up at your words, then, smiling so big his jaws almost hurt. his hands turn to pull you by your wrists, placing them around his waist as he pulled you into a hug. your hands move up to rest on his neck and the other in his hair, tugging them lightly at the scalp. “I love you, I'll do better for you.” he spoke so close to your ear his lips almost brush them. “I love you too, thank you, I'll do better for you too.” your words only caused mingyu to tighten his hold on you, “can we go to bed now? I'm so tired and I want to sleep with my girlfriend.” he whined pouting. “yes we can, boyfriend.” you answered with a smile as you start dragging your big puppy into your bedroom, excited for more cuddles to come.

[eilishsmuse]

confess that you were lost

— billie eilish x fem!reader

context. friendship? relationship? situationship? you have no clue what you have with billie. and she doesn’t really clarify what is going on between you two either. all you really know is that there’s a thin line of platonic and romantic the two of you constantly cross over for one another.

cw. angst, swearing, heartbreak, jealousy, suggestive, makeout, reader feels thrown to the side constantly, billie is very unaware with the situation, lowk gets a lil slutty, lowk smut, lowk cliffhanger, good ending ig

soundtrack. temptations - partynextdoor

anon’s ask. “there’s not enough billie angst so how about a situation where reader likes billie but billie’s playing with the line of platonic and romantic so r just doesn’t want to risk hurting the friendship”

You're dumb

Well no. Not really. You just fell in love with your best friend, that's all. Which, in your case, was dumb to even begin with. You don't even know how it initially happened. One day you were breaking up with your boyfriend, and Billie was there, comforting you every second of the way.

I mean, it was the real package. Break up with your boyfriend, get endless amounts of affection from Billie, and let her smother you with affection, both physically and verbally. As a friend.

That's what sucked. It was just a way of Billie being a good friend.

But since the breakup, she has been more touchy and affectionate than before. Of course, your delusional self saw it as one of Billie's many ways of flirting. But you were wrong. Billie just, in all honesty, casually likes hopping over the thin line between platonic and romantic. And it haunted you.

Now you were here, sitting on Billie's couch as she raved about one of her most recent hookups with some girl she met at her friend Charli's birthday party. And you sat there, head on hand, as she gidded about all the lust and enjoyment she got out of the hookup. A TV show playing the background you were planning to binge with Billie.

"I mean, it was great," Billie half-laughed out. "Definitely top five from now on."

"That's nice," You fake smiled, glancing over at the TV as the show played on the screen. Letting the sound of the dialogue flood your ears. Not wanting to hear about Billie and her hookup anymore. Jealousy eating you inside and out.

A small frown settled on Billie's lips as she watched you look away from her to the TV. "Why do you suddenly seem annoyed?" She questioned.

Billie had always been able to notice the slight changes in your mood towards her, whether they were negative or positive. She knew your body language well enough, that she easily picked up the signs.

You take a small breath in and looked back over at Billie, your eyes fluttering as they landed on hers. Your eyebrows raising in 'confusion', eyebrows furrowing as well, "I'm not ."

Lie. That was a lie. You were jealous. You hated hearing Billie constantly talk about her hookups all while you listened to her in silence and torture.

Billie's frown continued to deepen. She didn't believe your lie for a second. And that's why she leaned closer to you, her gaze never leaving you. "Bullshit," she bluntly called out, shaking her head.

Billie always knew when you were lying. You couldn't fool her. At least not the way you usually did with your other friends.

"Dude c'mon, I've known you long enough to know when you're lying," she added, letting herself scoot closer to you.

Her slender hand came in contact with your cheek, gently caressing the warm skin with her fingertips. She wanted your honest answer. Sacred what was going on through your mind. Worried for you. Like a true friend.

Just then your skin tingled at Billie's touch. It was a common gesture between the both of you. She'd always been touchy with you in that friend way and it never bothered you. Not fully. You just wished it was more than that friend way.

You then finally took a deep breath in at Billie's words. Your eyes hooded as they looked into hers. A small glimpse of sadness and tiredness laced all throughout them.

A pang of worry hit her gut as her eyes studied your expression. It was a mixture of sadness and exhaustion. She could practically feel the pain you were in. What pain? She didn't know. But still, she wanted to be there for you.

Billie's hand slid down from your cheek to your chin. She gently pinched her thumb and forefinger in order to raise your chin, so your gaze wouldn't stray from hers again.

Billie's features softened, her usual bright eyes looking at you with nothing but worry for you.

"You know you can always tell me the truth," Billie softly assured you. Her touch on your chin never faltered. In fact, it gently caressed your skin with her thumb.

It hurt Billie so much, to see those sad and tired eyes as they searched hers. She longed to know what you were thinking. What was making you feel that way? To figure out a way to make you feel better - maybe even smile.

She gently caressed your chin with her thumb, her eyes searching your face for any sign as to what was truly bothering you. But she was clueless. All she knew was that you were upset, and that hurt her the most.

"I know something's up," she spoke again, her tone soft and soothing.

Billie let go of your chin and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, her eyes never leaving your own.

Billie wasn't stupid. She could see the jealousy radiating off of you.

For a split second, you leaned into Billie's touch. Eyes closing for a moment and cherishing the moment. Her gentle touch was so delicate that when you leaned into it, her hand had no choice but to press up against your head with more force.

"I just-"

Your voice was gentle and low, cracking almost. You weren't on the verge of tears or anything, but the way your throat tightened and swelled as if you'd woken up with a cold said something differently.

Billie watched your expression as your eyes shut for a split second. The way you practically melted into her touch was something that always made her heart flutter.

Her hand stayed against your head, gently rubbing over your temple with her thumb. She was now patiently waiting for you to voice your thoughts, and she had all the time in the world for you.

"Just…?" she softly whispered, encouraging you to continue speaking.

Billie's eyes searched your face for anything that could hint what was going on in your mind. Her thumb continued to gently rub against your temple, trying to soothe any and all thoughts that were causing you to react the way you did.

She knew you. She knew your body language better than anyone else. And all the while, her heart ached at the fact that you were hurting. She hated seeing you in that way. And the fact that you won't say the reason why was killing her.

A quite half whine and sigh came from you. Your eyes now more noticeably showing sadness and fear behind them.

Was this really the time? Billie just finished raving about her 'amazing' hookup, and now here you are on the verge of confessing your love for your own best friend. She wasn't making it any easier either.

With the way her soft, gentle touch feathered across the skin on your temple and the way her eyes searched for any emotions in your body language and eye movement.

Just the way her whole demeanor changed just for you.

Billie's eyes continued to study your face, never straying anywhere else. Her heart felt like it was beating too fast.

She hated this. Hated how you looked so sad and fearful and how you weren't telling her what was wrong. She felt powerless. All she could do was sit and try to soothe you with her touch until you found your voice again.

Billie could feel the atmosphere change. The shift in your body language was very noticeable, and her eyes picked up on it in an instant. "Please, just talk to me," she softly pleaded.

"I can't."

At this point, your voice was scratchy and on the verge of cracking from how tight your throat formed from the emotions. Your eyes shut as soon as you said your words. Your face contorted into a fit of guilt and worry for what was to come in the next few moments.

Your breathing was now heavier and faster than before. Chest rising and sinking with vigorous speed. Face heating in Billie's touch. Mind hazy and blurred.

The more you spoke, the more concern and worry built up inside of Billie. She hated seeing you so torn and upset. Her heart nearly shattered apart when your voice cracked from the emotions.

Her thumb continued to rub over your temple gently, as if to soothe the guilt and worry that was etched on your face. Her other hand moved to hold your cheek, wanting to keep you grounded.

Billie could feel the emotions radiating off of you. She could see and sense the uneasiness and tension.

Billie's features hardened as she could see the look of guilt and worry cross your face with your squeezed shut eyes. She gently gripped your chin and pulled your face up, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her.

"Why can't you?" she softly demanded.

Your heart was pounding. And she knew that. She could feel it under her fingers that were gently pinched around your chin, holding your face steady.

Billie's eyes searched yours, almost pleading with you to tell her the reason why you were so hurt and guilty.

She didn't like this. She hated this. Hated seeing you in pain and not knowing how to fix it.

"Please, just tell me why," she whispered, her voice gentle and soft as her thumb began to rub gentle circles on your chin.

"I hate it when…"

You swallowed to try and make it easier for yourself to say what you wanted to say, but the swallowing only hurt and made your throat tighten up more.

"I hate it when you talk about your hookups."

Your gaze lowers onto your lap where your hands nervously fiddled with one another to soothe the tension in your body.

Billie's heart shattered at your words.

Of course. She should have known. Should have seen the signs.

Her grip on your chin tightened, slightly tilting your face back up so you were looking at her once more. Her eyes were wide as the realization hit her.

She was so dumb.

But she shouldn't have been surprised. All she could see now was the jealousy and sadness in your eyes, all because of the casual talks she had about her hookups with random girls.

Her eyes stayed fixed on your face. She could see how your body language showed tension from how you were fidgeting with your fingers in your lap.

Billie's thumb continued to gently rub your chin as she tried to get you to look at her again.

"Look at me," she firmly spoke, eyes darting all over your face.

"I..."

Billie's voice died in her throat. Her heart was now pounding as fast as yours was, and she was completely at a loss for words.

Everything suddenly made sense. The subtle looks of annoyance whenever she mentioned a hookup. The sad and exhausted look in your eyes. All the times she tried to coax an answer out of you but was met with "I'm not jealous."

Fresh tears began to pool in your eyes, slowly trickling down your cheeks. Billie's heart shattered once again.

Seeing you like that hurt. It hurt her more than she could even express. Her grip on your face softened, gently caressing your skin.

"No, no, no. Don't cry," she gently pleaded, bringing her other hand up to your face to try and wipe away your tears.

Billie's features now held a sorrowful look as she watched more tears glide down your red-tinted cheeks. She began to rub away at the tears on your face, trying her best to comfort you in any way she could.

"Please, don't cry," she repeated, her voice much softer this time. Her eyes continued to study your face, trying her best to decipher what you were thinking.

"I fucked up."

Your tone was regretful. You were regretful. You just threw away a friendship for the girl you loved the most and who cared for you the most, just because you caught feelings.

Now you were just annoyed with yourself as you cried. Aggressively tearing Billie's hands off your face and whipping the tears off your face so hard that it burned and was sure to leave red marks. It wasn't Billie's fault, but at the same time, it was.

Why did she have to be so perfect? So beautiful, caring, funny, and loving. Shit.

"Hey, hey," Billie quickly protested as you swatted her hands away from your face. Her expression hardened as she watched you roughly rub at your face.

Billie didn't know what to do. You had just roughly swatted at her hands, which was something you never did to her, and now you were practically rubbing at your face like you were trying to rid it.

She was stunned. Confused. Worried beyond measure. She had never seen you like this before.

"Y/N. Look at me," she firmly demanded.

Billie gently gripped your wrists in order to get you to stop rubbing at your face. Her grip was firm but gentle. She wasn't going to let you bruise or hurt yourself any further.

The concern was obvious in her voice as she spoke, eyes never leaving your own.

"Stop. Look at me. Now."

And so you did. Your face burned as your hands were pulled away from the aggressive actions. Your breathing was fast and uneven.

Panic and anxiety pooling throughout your mind and body. Your hands were shaking ever so slightly in Billie's hands out of worry.

You looked into Billie's eyes with a look of sorrow and fright.

You didn't want to lose her. You wanted her. You needed her.

Billie could feel your hands shaking in her grip, the subtle tremors telling her just how worried and scared you were.

Your facial expression broke her heart, seeing you look so frightened and saddened all because of her.

She couldn't stand seeing you like this anymore. Seeing you in such distraught all because of something she did. Even if she didn't realize it hurt you so much. She just wanted to soothe you and tell you it would be okay.

"Y/N," she softly spoke, gently rubbing her thumbs over your wrists.

And in that moment, Billie looked at you with so much worry and empathy. It was literally living proof that she had to have felt sort of the same way.

She was perfect for you.

Billie's all you ever needed.

It was quiet, the background noise of the TV was the only thing heard along with both of your breathing. You don't know why you did it, but you surged forward.

Your lips ended up on Billie's. They were soft and sweet. It felt like a warm embrace. And you needed more.

The sudden kiss caught her off guard as your lips landed on her own.

Billie swore her heart stopped.

For a few seconds, she couldn't bring herself to respond. But then, as she felt you press against her more, her body took over, acting on its own.

Billie's brain finally registered what was happening, the events finally setting in.

You were kissing her.

You were kissing her.

And she couldn't bring herself to pull away.

Billie's hands let go of your wrists in order to move to your waist, gently pulling you into her lap. She needed you even closer.

Billie slowly tilted her head more to the side in order to deepen the kiss, trying to get more of you. Your lips were so smooth and soft against her own, and the way you pressed up against her had her head feel fuzzy.

Her hand traveled to gently grip your chin in order to tilt your head down, a perfect angle for her to deepen the kiss even further.

Billie's heart was beating faster. It was going at a speed that was way too fast, her body was practically quivering with excitement in your presence.

She continued to meet your eager movements with her own, tongue slipping out to tease against the seam of your lips. Begging entrance.

A moan slipped past your lips into the kiss. Not out of lust. But out of satisfaction. And eagerness.

Your hands rested on her shoulders, gripping harshly and not wanting to let go. One hand travelling to the back of her head to scrunch her hair in between your fingers.

"I love you."

Your voice was whiny and desperate. You needed Billie to know.

Billie's breath hitched at the sound of the moan coming from you. The little noise alone sent a chill down her spine.

She couldn't stop the low whimper that escaped her own throat with your soft, yet rough, grip in her hair and on her shoulders. And when she felt the words of love come from your lips, her entire body shivered.

"Say it again," she murmured against your lips, her grip on your waist tightening somewhat as she pulled you closer to her.

"I love you."

Your body was hot, and your lips were eagerly molding into Billie's. Your hand on her tightened as the words left your lips.

Tongue tracing along her bottom lip, waiting to be let into where you both needed each other most.

The sound of you repeating those three words again had her entire body going weak. It was all she wanted to hear from you. The one thing she was too scared to ask for.

But you were right here. In her lap. Begging her with your tongue.

Billie quickly granted your mouth access, granting your tongue with entrance between her lips. Her own tongue quickly tangled with yours, relishing the sweetness and heat of your mouth.

Billie's hands moved from your waist, her hands roaming over your body eagerly. She needed to touch you. She needed to feel every inch of you. To feel the heat of your body and the sound of every sweet moan coming from your lips.

Her brain was hazy and fuzzy. All she could focus on was how you felt against her. How you tasted and sounded and felt.

Her hands continued to grip you tightly, not wanting to let you go. Her heart was pounding, and her mind was going fuzzy as she continued to kiss you. It was like nothing she had ever felt before.

She had never wanted a kiss so badly. Never craved someone's touch so much. You were the sweetest, hottest, best thing she's ever had.

Billie pulled back, her eyes taking in your appearance for a few quick moments. Then, without warning, she began to kiss at your jaw and neck.

A scratchy moan slipped past your lips as you separated from her lips. Her lips are wet and harsh on your skin. It's exactly all you've ever wanted. Needed.

Billie continued to kiss at your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, desperate to hear more sounds from you. She needed to know how much you wanted her as much as she wanted you.

Her hands gripped your hips tight, holding you in place so you wouldn't pull away from her.

"Are you mine? Please. Tell me." she quietly whispered against your skin, the neediness in her voice hard to hide. It came out in a moan. She was hot and desperate. You had no choice but to whine in response.

"Yes."

You'd never sounded more desperate and eager to please her. You wanted her to know that you were hers. You wanted her to know that you were hers to please.

To destroy.

To love.

The simple yet firm word coming from your lips satisfied her more than anything. Hearing you agree that you were hers had butterflies in her stomach.

"You're mine," she continued to murmur against your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses behind as she went.

She wanted to mark you, leave behind proof that you belonged to her. "All mine, all mine," she repeated again, her voice becoming possessive.

Her mouth continued its assault on your neck and jawline. She left love bites of different sizes, covering most of the skin she could reach. She wanted you to wake up the next day and notice the marks with pride. She wanted you to see just how much you were loved, and she wanted others to see just how taken you were.

Billie's teeth gently grazed over your sweet spot, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin.

Your mind was hazy and hot with all the attention. Your core throbbed from the attention. The cloth that covered your core grew damp and uncomfortably sticky with Billie's doings.

Billie's mouth continued to kiss and suck at your neck, her tongue licking and teasing the sensitive skin. The little gasps and moans she was drawing out of you were driving her crazy.

She could feel the heat coming from you, and it was driving her mad. The thought of you wanting and needing her as bad as she wanted and needed you had her heart racing.

Billie leaned back from your neck to get a look at your face. Her eyes landed on you, drinking in your flushed expression.

Both of your breathing was heavy as you both locked eyes. Lust, love, and eagerness lacing through the two of y'all's eyes.

As Billie took in your expression, she swore that her heart skipped a beat. All she saw in your eyes was raw, pure lust and love.

She couldn't tear her gaze from your own, and the heavy breaths that came from the both of you only added to the feeling of tension.

Billie's hands began to glide up and down your sides, needing to touch more of you. Her fingers gently pressed into your rib cage, as if she didn't want to let you go.

She wanted you closer, more. She needed to be connected with you. To see how you felt.

"I need you," she breathed, her eyes never leaving yours. "I need you, all of you."

"Have me."

Please.

"Take me."

Yes. It came out of your mouth just as you wanted it to.

Needy. Hot. Truthfully.

It was like a cry and plea for Billie to please you and reassure you that all the two of you needed were each other.

"I will, I will," she breathlessly repeated as she looked at you. Her fingers tightened around your waist, gripping the flesh as the need in her voice took over.

She was desperate. So, so, desperate for you.

Without warning, Billie swiftly picked you up in her arms and turned you around, now with you on your back and her hovering above.

Billie's knee was now between your legs and pushing up. Her body now pressed completely against yours, their chests only separated by a thin layer of fabric.

She was close. So close. And all she wanted to do was feel you. Every inch. Every part. All of you was for her to have. And no one else's.

Billie leaned down, the tip of her nose gently grazing along the skin of your neck once again.

As she teased her way across your skin, your hands trailed between the two of you, and you started unbuttoning Billie's pants. Your nails scrape softly against the skin just below her belly button.

Your knuckles being met with her soft, warm skin.

A small gasp escaped her lips at your cold fingers and nails gently scraping over her belly. Her skin instantly prickled with a set of goosebumps at the feeling. It made her shiver.

But she didn't protest your actions.

Billie wanted this just as much as you did.

She continued to gently nibble and kiss at your neck as she felt her pants being unbuttoned, letting you do as you wanted.

While you were hers.

She was also yours.

Her body leaned forward more, her knee now pushing directly between your legs. The slight pleasure now shooting up through your core.

Billie was going crazy, and all you did was undo her pants. She needed you.

Billie slowly started traveling her kisses down the side of your neck, her tongue slowly tracing your collar bone before she continued her descent.

Billie's pants were now unbuttoned but that's all your hands could manage to do. You laid there panting as she kissed her way down your body.

You felt Billie's hands come into contact with the hem of your shorts, slowly pulling them down. Her cold rings splaying on your warm skin.

Her hands pulled down the hem of your shorts, revealing more of the pale skin of your legs. Her calloused hands gently gripping the skin of your thighs as she continued to kiss further down your chest and stomach.

Slowly, she pulled your shorts the rest of the way down, leaving you only in your underwear. Billie sat up for a moment, taking in the sight of your body.

Your skin so smooth, and your form so perfect. She was in love.

Billie's hands gently massaged along the inside of your thighs, her fingers tracing over the skin softly.

She then glanced up at your face, a smirk now on her lips. "God, you're so beautiful like this," she whispered, her hands trailing their way further up the inside of your thighs.

You looked at Billie with so much love and lust. You loved the way her eyes scanned your body. The way she adored everything she saw.

Billie continued to look at you, never glancing away. "So pretty Y/N." she said.

Her fingers reached the hem of your underwear and started to gently pull the material down.

"All mine," she then repeated under her breath, as if it was more of a reminder to herself.

With one hand on your hip and the other on your thigh, she leaned down and began tracing open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs.

Billie wanted to feel and taste every inch of you. She wanted to know how sweet you were.

And she was going to find out.

As she lowered her head between your thighs, you held her head gently. Looking down at her with so much love. So much adoration.

The kisses continued to travel up your thigh, making their way closer and closer to where you wanted her most.

Billie's free hand continued to gently massage your thigh, her fingers tracing little patterns into the skin while she took her time getting closer.

"I love you," she muttered against your leg, the words coming out rough and desperate.

"Billie," You whined softly, looking down at her. Wanting and needing her mouth on your core.

Your whimpers sent a shiver up her spine. She loved the way you said her name. The way it came out as though it was the only word you could speak.

Billie wanted to draw more of those sounds out of you, and it seemed she was getting exactly what she wanted.

Her kisses only continued to travel higher, getting closer and closer.

"Be patient," she said, her voice low and soft against your skin.

And soon, finally, her mouth was where you wanted it the most.

Her tongue gently licked your core, tracing around the sensitive skin. Her free hand gently slid over your thigh, her fingers digging into the flesh.

Billie was going crazy. You tasted so sweet. Better than how she could have imagined. She loved the way you squirmed and gasped and gasped her name.

Her tongue continued to lick and explore, finding all the places that made you gasp the loudest.

She needed to hear more. Needed to feel more of you on her mouth.

Between the sweetness and the heat, she was losing herself. Everything was getting blurry. All she could focus on was you.

You couldn't help but let a cry out at the pleasure. Her wet mouth sucked and swirled on your throbbing core.

The sounds of her wet, lewd actions filled the room along with your moans.

She separated from your core for a split second and looked up at you with her beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with.

"I love you."

'I love you too."

‧₊˚✩彡

fer yaps!!!

yay!

[scaranation]

HII I SAW UR REQUESTS WERE OPEN!!! your writing is so amazing i couldn’t resist sending one in after i had binged everything…

may i request headcanons for a totally whipped al-haitham with the childhood friends to lovers trope throughout the years? as in how he was to reader in elementary, middle school, etc. but if not that’s fine!!! your fic with him liking reader since middle school was so 😭😭😭❤️ reader teasing him was so funny and i can’t scream about it hard enough 🥹

i hope you have an amazing day!!! keep up the good work!

thank you smm that rlly means a lot! im so glad you enjoyed my writing ❤️❤️ i love the friends to lovers trope sm writing this involved a lot of giggling and kicking my feet, whipped Alhaitham is just so cute. Anyway I hope you like this I had so much fun with it too 😋😋

༊*·˚ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Pairing: Alhaitham x F!reader

Content: fluff, modern AU, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, (very) whipped Alhaitham

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

You’d first met Alhaitham when you were in elementary. He, being slightly younger, was in preschool. Unlike the other kids, he kept to himself, mainly studying a picture book in a secluded corner. Your play areas were separated by a low fence, one which you often loved to climb over.

“Haitham!” You almost fell onto the grass after scaling this fence once again in the break time, peeking over the smaller boy’s shoulder.

“Is that a kangaroo?” You pointed at the picture book enthusiastically. Alhaitham only looked up at you, blinking a few times with his wide green-orange eyes.

“No, it’s a pademelon.” He spoke surprisingly eloquently, tongue only slightly lisping over the syllables.

“You’re no fun.” You sighed, plopping down next to your self-proclaimed friend and beginning to draw flowers on paper with your new crayons. Upon seeing the curious look on Alhaitham’s face, you handed him the green crayon.

“You can draw flowers with me if you want.” You shifted closer. The boy said nothing, only holding the crayon tightly as he watched you happily scribbling.

Once you’d befriended Alhaitham, there was no turning back. He was shy and quiet, but utterly attached to you. You nodded excitedly whenever he babbled on about a new topic, although you never really understood what he was talking about, and played imaginary games with him in the playhouses. He never really understood the imaginative concept, but you would lead the way as he followed along with whatever you said.

“I am the princess, and I am going to become the queen! Bow before me!” You manoeuvred a figurine across the miniature castle.

“No, the crown prince’s wife will become queen when he ascends to the throne.”

“Oh, okay. You’re so cool, Haitham.”

Alhaitham only smiled at you. The truth was, he thought you were the coolest person in the world. He might know all the logistical facts, but he could never weave a story as you did.

“Huh? Haitham, you’re the knight. You need to go to battle!”

Alhaitham was shaken out of his daze when he realised he’d only been staring at you in awe, quickly grabbing the knight figure to move it. Beneath his long lashes, he’d constantly sneak glances at you - looking for your approval that he was doing the right thing.

Whenever you were absent, Alhaitham would ask everyone else where you’d gone. After verifying that - unfortunately - you really weren’t coming to school and shocking his peers with his sudden friendliness, he’d retreat to the outskirts of the play area. He would collect flowers and rocks, gathering them in his small arms - still a little chubby with baby fat - determined to find the best things to gift to you.

When you came back the next day, Alhaitham would shyly press the gifts he’d collected into your hands, eagerly watching your expression. If you smiled, he would too. Truly, although he was too young to know, you were his first love and the centre of his universe.

MIDDLE SCHOOL

During middle school, you and Alhaitham were in the same class. Due to his intellect, he’d been bumped up by a grade - much to his joy. The truth was, he’d been offered to move higher by two grades, but opted to only move one so he could be with you. Not that he’d ever admit that to you, of course.

Middle school Alhaitham would be better at hiding his feelings. He’d no longer be the the eager boy who openly chased your attention, although he still wanted it just as much. Rather, he’d deploy more subtle tactics, despite them rarely ever working.

It was undeniable that you were quite popular. Given your outgoing, virtuosic personality, you were constantly surrounded by friends. It hurt Alhaitham slightly, knowing that you were his favourite but he wasn’t yours. Despite this, he never changed his aloof demeanour - acting coldly to others, and less coldly to you. It was clear through his gestures that he had a soft spot for you, whether it consisted of paying for your lunch or bringing you snacks.

“Oh, we were supposed to bring a protractor to the test?” You hissed in the silence of the classroom, broken only by the whisper of pencils on paper. The teacher shot you a glare, motioning for you to be quiet.

“Here, I have a spare.” You felt a light tap on your shoulder, and spun around to see Alhaitham holding his hand out. His eyes hesitated before locking into contact with yours, the glasses making them look larger than they were.

“Thank you. You’re so cute, Haitham.” You whispered, shooting him a wry smile before resuming your position hunched over the test paper. You didn’t lie - he really did look adorable, those large eyes and small frame lending him to having a rather endearing disposition.

Alhaitham flushed red, his hands fumbling to close the zipper on his pencil case. He pushed his completed test paper to the side and placed his head on the desk, the hard surface cold on his burning skin. He mentally praised himself for always bringing a spare of every stationery item, just in case you needed it.

Whilst Alhaitham swatted away anyone else who dared ask him for academic help, he’d be almost eager to give you any form of assistance. If you were paying attention, you’d see the way his cheeks flushed when you leaned in to copy his homework, or the slight tremor in his voice when he explained a concept to you. Middle school Alhaitham - now hyper aware of his feelings for you - would be a stuttering mess at times, although that would soon change in his high school years.

“So, after completing the square… this equation can translate to- hey, why are you staring at me?” Alhaitham stopped upon noticing your gaze.

“Haitham, you can be so pretty if you tried a little more. I’m so jealous, you have such nice eyes.” You commented, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“… Why would I seek the superficial approval of others?” Alhaitham huffed, crossing his arms. Secretly however, your words spiralled in his head. Perhaps, if he did as you said, you’d like him too…?

He realised your hand was still on his head, and moved back. You whined in exasperation, flopping onto the desk.

“Your hair’s so soft though…” You mumbled, reaching out again.

“We’re here to study.” Alhaitham snapped, busying himself in flipping through the textbook to hide his red face. He found the content mundane, but teaching it to you made his heart flutter in knowing that he could be of use to you.

HIGH SCHOOL

Alhaitham in high school was drastically different from his middle school self, to say the least. He’d risen greatly in popularity for being the mysteriously smart and handsome student that barely paid anyone any mind. Much to your surprise, he’d grown even taller than you - making it a lot harder to ruffle his hair. It was rumoured that he’d brutally rejected confessions from many others, and had even made a teacher cry - but the shy boy you knew would never do that, right?

“Where are you headed?” You felt a large hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m… going to study!” You stammered, finally looking behind you to meet a piercing amber gaze.

“Studying? On your way to the bus stop that leads only to the mall?” Alhaitham raised an eyebrow.

“Um, yes, a new cafe opened there and I wanted to study in it.”

“Hey, what’s taking you so long? We’re going to miss the movie at this rate!” You internally cursed as the loud voice of your friends interrupted your conversation.

“Studying, huh… Well, have fun. Don’t expect me to help you this time.” Alhaitham scoffed, releasing his grip on your shoulder.

He sent you his notes later that night regardless.

It was well known around your school that you were friends with Alhaitham, although you vehemently denied any romantic feelings between the two of you - much to his dismay. Because of this, you often had students approaching you and asking to be set up with Alhaitham. Of course, being the epitome of moral excellency, you only agreed if they paid you.

"You know, this girl in my class is pretty cute..." You showed Alhaitham a picture on your phone.

"You like her?" Alhaitham asked, not even sparing a glance to the picture.

"No, I..."

"How much did they pay you this time?"

"What! I would do no such thing-"

"You know, if you just asked me, I could give you way more than whatever they're giving you. Stop trying to auction me off, I have no interest in such things." Alhaitham snapped his book shut. You frowned, tugging on his arm.

"Please? Just one date with her, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Kiss me."

"Why?"

"Wouldn't it be awkward if I were on a date with this girl, and I didn't even know how to kiss her?"

"Oh, true." Alhaitham internally winced at how you didn't give it a second thought, only leaning in to seal your lips together. Although he'd mastered the art of maintaining a cool facade, if you'd opened your eyes in that moment, you'd see the flush in his face. He reminded himself to close his eyes, recalling the countless books he'd read about the topic. It definitely wasn't how he'd imagined his first kiss with you to be, but he'd take anything you gave him.

"Now, you're going on that date right? Here's her number." You winked, pulling away. Alhaitham furiously tugged his headphones onto his ears to hide how red they were, shooing you away.

"I'll text you her number then, Haitham!"

You ignored the confusing twist in your chest, attributing it to the kiss. After all, sharing a kiss with anyone would make you flustered - surely, it was nothing special.

Regardless of your efforts to make whatever dates you sent Alhaitham on successful, it never seemed to work. In truth, you had no idea how Alhaitham knew you'd been spying on those dates - after all, you were so inconspicuous, posing as a mere passerby. But he'd grown used to your exact demeanour, and no matter how hard you tried to be nondescript, his eyes were inevitably drawn to you. Unbeknownst to you, your eyes were drawn to him too - perhaps that was why you felt a slight twinge in your heart.

"Which popcorn do you like?" The girl next to Alhaitham giggled nervously.

"Salted caramel." Alhaitham responded cooly. Your jaw hung open from where you sat hidden behind a poster wall. Whenever you got salted caramel popcorn - your absolute favourite - he'd raise an eyebrow and inform you of your poor decision making, muttering something about the awful taste. You closed your mouth to smile to yourself. Perhaps he was trying to impress his date with his (superior) choice of popcorn. Your smile faltered when you realised how close they were standing to each other, before you mentally cursed yourself. What were you thinking? Surely you didn’t… have feelings for the very guy you were setting up with another girl…?

You followed the pair into the cinema, sitting a row behind them. They'd chosen a horror movie, which you absolutely hated, but you bore with it.

A few minutes into the film, you felt a tap on your knee. Alhaitham held out a fistful of popcorn to you from where he sat in front, his arm outstretched behind him. You scowled. He'd shown no prior indication that he'd noticed you - did he have eyes in the back of his head? You took the popcorn anyway, frowning at how Alhaitham played it off by lowering his arm around the girl's shoulders.

As the movie continued, Alhaitham wished it was you seated next to him. He hated the popcorn, but he'd gotten it just for you, anyway. His heart beat a little louder every time you reluctantly accepted his offering, although he had to glare at the girl who'd stolen your spot every few minutes to make sure she didn't think he was blushing for her. How troublesome this ordeal was. From an objective perspective however, this was fair exchange. If it made you happy, then he was happy too.

Alhaitham wasn't particularly athletically inclined, although his scholarship demanded participation in extracurricular sports. Hence, he found himself in the odorous male changing rooms for the second time that week. It would've been a mundane practice session (with him showing off a little if you happened to be watching), until he overheard a teammate's plans to ask you out.

"You should do it, I'm pretty sure she's single." Another teammate encouraged the first, the echo of a slap on the back reverberating through the room.

Alhaitham frowned. He'd planned to play the long game, although this was an unexpected interruption to his plans. Of course, there were other people to factor in. How could he have been so foolish as to exclude that from the equation?

"Yeah, I've had my eye on her for a while." The first guy spoke again.

"She's taken." Alhaitham blurted. Blurted, as in - his mind didn't fully weigh the decision before it left his mouth in a measured tone.

"Oh, sorry man. Are you two...?"

"Yes, we are." Alhaitham lied smoothly. He'd figure out how to deal with the repercussions later, but for now, he had to prevent anyone else from asking you out.

"That's great. Wish the best for you two." With a friendly (although slightly forceful) pat on the shoulder, the teammate left Alhaitham to head outside.

Alhaitham’s confession to you was ultimately very enigmatic and confusing, just as he was. Although he’d more or less practiced what he would say, when it came to you, he was always at a loss. You were a contradiction, a threat - both to his plans and his sanity. Somehow, that was what made him love you so much.

“I’ve heard a rumour that you and I were dating, Haitham. How come I never knew about this?” You tutted.

“Ah, they’re just saying mindless things. We’re just friends, after all.” That was what Alhaitham meant to say. Instead, what came out was;

“So what if we are?”

“We’re dating?” You cocked an eyebrow, failing to hide your flushed cheeks. Alhaitham noted this detail, trying his best to control the situation. What on earth had he just said?

“Yes, we are. Since we both like each other.” Alhaitham explained, internally cursing himself for his straightforward delivery. The situation was so outlandish - he’d just made an assertion, then supported it to somehow (very obviously) gaslight you into being his lover.

“You like me?” You spluttered. Alhaitham smiled. You hadn’t denied that you yourself liked him.

“Yes, because we’re dating.”

“No we’re not.”

“We are now.”

You stared at him in stunned silence, shocked by his audacity. But you couldn’t exactly deny his claims.

“Okay, I guess we are then.” Your mind still spun. Had he just… declared your relationship status?

“… Thank you.” Alhaitham murmured. You fidgeted on the spot uncertainly, before finally mustering the courage to peck his lips. Before you could scurry off however, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

“What are you-”

“I’ve waited years for this. God, you’re so stupid for not realising this earlier.” Alhaitham brought your lips to his, fiercely bringing you in to a passionate kiss.

You closed your eyes, melting into his touch as his hands deftly pulled you flush against him by your waist. Unsure of where to put your hands, you placed them on his chest - feeling it heave with every breath he took. His heartbeat thudded under your touch.

It was strange. Most people thought of him as being cold, almost robotic. And yet, he was so human now, from the light sheen of sweat on the column of his neck, to the flex of his jaw as it worked against yours. The slight tremble of his hand as it rose to rest on your nape, almost as though he too couldn’t believe what was happening.

The two of you pulled away after a while, panting heavily.

“I’ve… got to go.” Alhaitham muttered, walking off hurriedly before he could embarrass himself further. Nevertheless, it was alright for him to be selfish for once, right? It had seemed to work out in his favour.

Despite however much he tried to soothe himself, Alhaitham’s face was red, and a giddiness bloomed in his heart. Any other student would’ve been shocked to see the tender smile spread across his face, breaking that infuriatingly stoic expression. His childhood friend - and his first love - was now finally his.

[aplaceinme]

Tommy opened his eyes and sighed in annoyance. He took his arm out from under the sheets and blindly reached for his phone on his nightstand. He blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness of the screen and, sighing once again in utter annoyance, he dropped his phone on the table.

It was 2 am and he was unable to fall asleep. He kept turning, changing positions, he even tried to count sheep… but there was only one thing that could make him fall asleep. The problem was that that thing was miles away in his own bed.

The worst part? This was all Evan’s fault! Beautiful, adorable, intriguing, funny, possibly the love of Tommy’s life, Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley. It started when Evan went in one of his research binges, which got him to read an article about how important it is for couples who don’t live officially together to sleep at their own place for at least a couple of nights a week. Tommy understood the importance of having time apart, and of not being codependent but he loved falling asleep next to Evan, and he loved waking up with him in his arms. Unfortunately, Tommy had yet to learn how to say no to him, especially when he gave him that soft and pleading look, so Tommy had agreed with him. And, oh boy, if he wasn’t regretting it now.

He hasn’t been able to properly sleep and have a good night rest since the beginning of the week. He was beyond tired but he had to respect Buck wishes.

Tommy was contemplating whether to keep trying to sleep or just give up and continue reading his book when the sound of the ring-bell startled him. Confused and worried , he stumbled his way to the front door.

“Evan? What are you doing here?”

Evan doesn’t look good: he has dark circles under his eyes and his curls are in disarray. He still looks beautiful though.

“I’m tired, I need to sleep. I need you,” Evan said grumpily, walking inside and making his way to Tommy’s bedroom.

Tommy was left flabbergasted by the door trying to comprehend what just happened.

“You coming?” He heard coming from the bedroom.

He closed the door and by the time he reached his room, Evan was already lying down on his side, facing the other way. Tommy smiled and lay down next to him, cuddling him.

With his chest against Evan’s back and with his left arm lying across Evan’ stomach, Tommy sighed in relief, feeling himself relax completely. This was how it’s supposed to be always. “You should just move in. Let’s make it official. This is your home, you belong here with me”, Tommy softly and tenderly whispered into Evan’s ear.

“You’re my home. So, yes, I will move in with you,” Evan said, intertwining their fingers together across his stomach.

With that, Tommy closed his eyes and was finally able to fall asleep… Happy and with the man he loved in his arms .

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer

Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch. 

It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin. 

The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day. 

No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.

You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight. 

But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late. 

Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today. 

Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment. 

A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape. 

Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?

So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?

Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.

But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media. 

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.

Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall. 

Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.

Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.

An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice. 

“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”

He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.

Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway. 

With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.

Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here? 

But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”

The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.

The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?

“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”

Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.

“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”

“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”

Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”

He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.

“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”

Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”

You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.

A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.

Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”

You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.

“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”

“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.

The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”

Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.

“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.” 

You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.

“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.

His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did. 

“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”

You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing. 

“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title  all by yourself.” 

That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off. 

“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”

His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.

“Sorry,” he whispered. 

“No it's–it's fine,” you replied. 

He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him. 

Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously. 

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand. 

You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.

“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.

“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”

His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked. 

“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”

The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”

Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”

“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”

“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again. 

“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”

A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out. 

“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded. 

The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing. 

“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice. 

“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.

“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”

You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”

The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.

“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”

A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him. 

“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.

“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”

“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”

You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down. 

But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing. 

“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow. 

Strange.

“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.

A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again. 

“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”

You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?” 

“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”

Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back. 

“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–

“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.” 

A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.

Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too? 

Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.

“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”

“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”

He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.

“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.

“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.

Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.

“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”

“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”

Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.

“You’re cold.”

For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”

“You say that like I was out there naked.”

His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches. 

You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again. 

“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.

With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?

And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.

Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.

“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”

“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.

Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.

“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”

The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.

“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.” 

You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.

“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”

“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.

Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.

“Alright, point taken,” he replied. 

Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.

“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”

He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.

“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”

Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know? 

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”

“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”

You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured you.

It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap. 

“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”

“You’re freezing,” he countered. 

“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.

You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.

“You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”

Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”

He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.

“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”

The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.

“Share?” you asked.

“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”

“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”

His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut. 

“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”

“No!” you exclaimed.

Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.

“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”

Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.

“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”

An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.

“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.

“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”

Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”

“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”

He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.

“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned. 

“I'm not tense!” you lied.

He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment. 

“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”

Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh. 

“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”

“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”

“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.

“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”

Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course. 

With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance. 

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.

Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?

But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.

Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?

Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”

But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit. 

But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.

Stupid stupid stupid.