#yeah I’m sorry for posting about freaks

[dannyriccsystem]

ok god i miss writing but imagine spiderman!osc who’s your childhood friend+long time crush and you guys move in together for college or wtv but you don’t know he’s spidey and you both have been yearning for each other and yk. shenanigans ensue… like ik this is the plot of every spider!au ever but imagine it with OSCAR. js. he is also equally downbad (if not more) and js PANICS every time you try and talk to him thinking either a) you’re gonna realise you can’t live with him anymore/leave him or b) you’ve found someone but it NEVER occurs to him you might have the slightest idea he’s LITERALLY SPIDERMAN… yk js. stupid little stuff… (also i js think this should be known ton holland’s spiderman was the first loml like EVER so yeah. peter parker is my BOY.)

ALSO ALSO ALSO. imagine oscar in like a ‘partner gets kidnapped situation’… JUST ABSOLUTELY GOING INSANE AND FERAL AND WILD AND JS GOING TO ALL ENDS TO FIND YOU… god if i had any motivation i would write this myself BUT I DONT AND I HATE WRITERS BLOCK 😐 - 🩷

DOES WHATEVER A SPIDER CAN!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

SUMMARY: You’ve had a crush on your roommate for awhile! Little did you know he’s actually Spiderman.

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

WARNINGS: Reader is kidnapped, blood and injury, fluff aside from that

FEATURING: Spiderman!Oscar Piastri x Reader

NOTE: You can find my other post about Spidey!Osc here! Also… Tom Holland Spiderman obsession is real. Andrew Garfield is my fav Peter Parker though

MOVING IN WITH OSC WAS A DREAM. I mean, really, you had fantasized about that day since the two of you were little. Your little crush developed early on, which meant you had spent an unhealthy amount of years yearning for a boy who never seemed to show interest in you once. It was absolute torture casted upon your soul like a hex.

But when the two of you finally graduated and moved on to college, it seemed reasonable to room together. It made the rent a bit cheaper, and you already knew each other well. What could possibly go wrong? Well, not much. You just started to notice some of his… Weirder behaviors.

He was paranoid a lot, and super jumpy. I mean, really… One time you snuck up on him and he backhanded you so hard you fell flat on your ass. Oscar immediately crouched down to cradle your growing injury, muttering “Holy shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry!” as fast as physically possible. You laughed it off, but it was… Weird. Weird, weird, weird.

You quietly hoped his inconsistency would deter you away, because then you could finally move on from a lifelong crush that was leading nowhere, but he kept that same irresistible charm that kept pulling you in. Apparently you had a think for shy freaks who couldn’t keep their shit together, because that was Oscar to a T.

Everytime you approached him he acted like a goddamn virgin— He might have been for all you know, but this was unlike the Oscar you knew. Before you moved in together, he was usually quite confident. Now he seemed skittish. One time you walked out into the kitchen late at night to find him standing there just staring out the window. When he quickly realized you were there, he froze up.

You saw his hands get all clammy, and his Adam’s apple bob nervously. Something was up with him and you just couldn’t figure out what. You greeted him shortly, your voice groggy. You just wanted a glass of ice water and to go back to sleep, but after you brushed past him, he was suddenly gone. You turned back around and— Well, Oscar seemed to disappear.

You brushed it off again, but things like that kept happening. He just seemed so… Nervous.

“Osc,” You’d greet as you pushed his door open. It was already slightly cracked, so you assumed it was fine to come in. He shuffled around at his desk, presumably finishing up his chemistry homework. He shoved things aside, laughing nervously as he tried to shake off a pen stuck to his palm.

“Ha…” He trailed off, folding his hands over his lap to hide the mishap. But you already saw. Although it was weird, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was… Experimenting with some weird chemicals. Or his body. Or… Well, you were hoping for the other two even if the latter was gross, because the third option was that your Oscar was the Spiderman, but that seemed ridiculously outlandish and unbelievable. So, yeah. In your head this guy was either making some weird organic matter out of some lab materials, or touching himself. Because somehow that was better than being a kickass hero. “What’s… What’s up?”

“I was…” You slowly looked down to his lap. Nope. Not masturbating. “I was just wondering if you wanted dinner?”

“Oh, uhm- Yeah. I’ll be out in a sec.” He gave a nervous smile to cover it all up. You nodded, but you were unsure.

That wasn’t the only time it happened, either. One time you were baking together—It was quiet. You just wanted to make some things for your art class, because everyone had been working hard, and it was a small group of people anyway, so you could afford to share some offerings.

You both shuffled around the kitchen, rarely exchanging words that weren’t related to the task at hand. And even when you did that, it was usually just “whisk,” which was your way of telling him you wanted the whisk.

When he handed it to you, though, you basically had to pry it from his grip with all your might. When it finally came loose, you stumbled backwards, blinking with surprise. “Oh, uh… Sorry. I was, you know…” He looked around the room, lips turning up into an awkward grin. “Crafting. Earlier… Yeah. With glue. Super glue.”

“Crafting.” You repeated, not buying it at all.

“Yup.”

But at this point you were still in denial. There was no way your Oscar, the shy, timid boy you grew up with, was Spiderman. Yeah, he carried himself a lot better these days. He had lots of friends and was doing well in his classes and seemed more confident, but he definitely wasn’t… Superhero confident. No way, no chance, not in the slightest. You were more likely to believe his sweat was extremely sticky than you were to assume he was Spiderman.

But it made too much sense. You felt like a high class detective as you set up a cork board with red string and sticky notes. Oscar always happened to disappear, no matter where you were, when some sort of crime came up. He was always checking the news, something he had never done just a few years ago before the sudden appearance of the arachnid hero. His hands. Were sticky. We can’t just ignore that, reader! Super sticky!

It all unfolds on a singular forsaken night. You’re standing out on the balcony, three stories up from the ground. You needed some fresh air after a particularly harrowing exam, and Oscar wasn’t home yet, so you had no one to rant to. He was always your listener. He was your pillar, your main support. But when he was gone, oxygen had to make do.

But it all happened in a blur. You were scooped up, fabric placed over your mouth. The last thing you saw as the world faded from view was the streets of the city below you as you soared through the air.

Your hands are tied above your head. You’re seated against the wall of an abandoned warehouse, the skylights filtering in moonlight from above, and rain pattered against the glass softly. Your arms were screaming, wrists bruised and bloodied from rope burn.

A figure in a mask, sunglasses, and a hood paces a few feet ahead of you, occasionally glancing up at the entrance, and then back to the ground. They haven’t said a word, they’re just acting like they’re expecting someone. Anyone.

You have a feeling you know who.

“What do you want from me?” You ask for about the hundredth time. You expect the same answer: Silence, but you ask again because you need to know. You have to know. “I don’t know anything! Nobody’s coming to save me, alright?!”

“Shut up!” They finally retaliate. You can barely see their eyebrows from beneath their sunglasses, but they’re furrowed with rage. “Just shut the hell up! I hope he’s not coming, so then your sorry ass has to suffer here!”

“Who is he?!” You cry out, thrashing against your restraints.

Perfect timing.

Glass shatters from above in a flash of red and blue. You hold your breath, scrambling away from the shards.

Spiderman. Of course.

But this isn’t the hero you’ve seen before. There’s no witty quips or jokes—He’s full of pure rage. This guy isn’t special. Unlike the various opponents he’s fought before, he’s not exactly well armed. This is where you learn you don’t bring a knife to a web-fight.

His hits are fast in every way. He’s swinging around diligently, the only sounds escaping the hero being grunts of occasional pain. There’s blood, lots of it, but his anger is relentless. It’s not until your kidnapper is knocked out, alive, mind you, that he finally stops.

He takes a step back, his broad back turned to you. You can see his muscles ripple underneath the suit, his hands flex as he clenches them into tight fists. He stares at the unconscious body for what seems like eternity, and then slowly turns towards you.

He’s panting with rage, but upon seeing your helpless figure, he softens up instantly. Spiderman stumbles towards you in a haste, his previous diligence replaced with clumsiness as he crouches down and gently yanks at the rope, releasing your aching arms. “You’re okay,” He breathes out as if he’s reassuring himself more than you. “Y/N, I thought you were dead, I was so-”

You’re pulled into his arms, your brows furrowed in confusion as you slowly return the hug, awkwardly patting his back. “How do you-…” You paused, catching your breath. “How do you know my name?”

Spiderman’s awfully quiet.

He then pulls back, his hands gripping the bottom of his mask and slowly sliding it upwards.

“Oscar,” You breathe out, your delicate palms coming up to hold his face. He nods, lips drawn into a thin line of uncertainty. You laugh under your breath, eyes filled with sudden mirth that makes him perk up. “Oscar!” You repeat, pulling his face close.

He finishes your actions by pressing his lips to yours, large hands holding you by the waist to pull you impossibly close for a definitive kiss.

“I knew it!” You shrieked with laughter, still holding his cheeks. He matches your smile with uncertainty. “Ah, I could kiss you-”

“You already did,” He chuckles.

“Well I could do it again! That was so badass, seriously. You were like ‘BAM’ and he was like ‘ahhh omg Spiderman oh no!’ and then you were like-”

“Hey, let’s save the recap for later.” He pulls you to your feet, yanking his mask back down. “You’re in critical condition still.”

“Oh, right-!” You allow him to scoop you up, your arms slung around his neck as you both swing over the city back to your dorm.

You obviously have lots of questions, and he has lots of answers as he patches you up.

“When did you become Spiderman?”

“A year ago. Beginning of our last year in high school.” He places a bandage around your right wrist after already cleaning it up with wound wash.

“What’s your favorite part?”

“Saving lives.” He starts to work on the other wrist at this point. He has a smile gracing his face, even if his answers are short.

“Hardest part?”

“…” He looks upward in thought, lips pursed before he shrugs. “Saving lives.” You giggle at his repetitive answer.

“How did it happen?”

“Radioactive spider— Look, it’s a long story.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes- Oh.” He freezes up, and you grin. He looks up at you, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Oh?”

“Sorry-”

“Don’t be.” You squished his cheeks, making him grumble and shake his head. “I love you too.”

“Even though I’m secretly a superhero?”

“Especially because you’re secretly a superhero.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

[mixingandmelting]

I LOVEEEEEEEEEEEE your work. I am overjoyed when u ever post something about wind breaker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sooo.. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE A SMALL SCENARIO HOW HAJUN UNINTENTIONALLY HURTS HIS GIRLFRIEND

(like hhe wanted to turn around and elbowed her face? = nosebleeding)?

stay healthy ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

He doesn’t cry or yell. It would’ve been better if he did. 

Instead, he sits next to you silently, mortified, horrified, overwhelmed with guilt as if he just murdered a puppy. 

“Hajun, I’m fine.” Your voice comes out muffled through the wad of tissue up your nose.

Seeing him clench his hands, you sigh in exasperation. 

Really, this whole mess isn’t his fault. It’s yours You couldn’t stay still or quiet, for that matter, when some guys made comments at him while the two of you were hanging out at a food cart. You should’ve known better after clapping back at them, they were the brawns-over-brains type by attempting to physically attack you for it. And, Joker, Hajun, you’re ever sweet and loving boyfriend, seeing this, of course he wouldn’t simply let things slide. 

It’s no surprise you got hurt, having to intervene to stop him from beating them with their lives barely intact. 

“Hey! At least cough up the money for my medical fees!” You yelled, one hand holding your nose while the other rested on Joker who was close to freaking out and held you as support. 

“Your boyfriend was that one to hurt you, not us!”

“Yeah??? You verbally assaulted him first! I can file this as a report for hate crime-what the?! Come back! here!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shuffling to get up. 

“Leave and this bloody nose won’t disappear.” That gets him to sit back down though sitting a bit farther away.

It’s awkwardly silent between the two of you, the only sound coming from the ice pack and tissues you readjust on your neck and nose. 

“…Sorry.” 

You don’t like this, him biting his lip while keeping his head hung low. 

“Stop it. It’s not your fault.” 

“But, I-“

“You what? I rammed my face into your elbow, not the other way around.” He doesn’t say anything, biting his lip harder and clenching his hands tighter together. So stubborn this man, completely and successfully persuading himself it’s his fault. No one would think this is the same guy who fights in those underground fight rings and crushes other cyclists in LOS. 

“…Fine,” you suppress another sigh from slipping out. “If you’re really sorry, take me out for ice cream once this stupid bloody nose stops. I’m sure my blood sugar dropped and I’m craving for some right now.” 

Mentally you fist pumped, victorious at, finally, getting him to break into a smile albeit tiny. 

After propping the ice pack for you after you “complained” how tired your arm felt from doing it for so long, your nose stops bleeding and the two of you head to the nearest ice cream store. You did NOT appreciate seeing the rest of team Sabbath there because “coincidence” his ass, Wooin probably had found out from a client about the whole ordeal and wants to get the details about your newest, juiciest drama again.

[slowpokenz]

Had to get this one out

(Coralena I love you)

[guppygiggles]

Aheh…

Suggestive body worship under the cut. //////

[chromaticroses]

self care is blocking v3 haters ☺️🙏

[maxv331]

✮ What happened to hello | Lando Norris ✮

Summary: Quick little drabbled based on all the speculation of Lando getting a bad haircut because he wore his hat so much at the Mexican GP

word count: 848

a/n: I haven't wrote in a long time so I'm pretty rusty, go easy on me! I also wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to wrap up the ending, so yeah, sorry for that!

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ 

“Take the hat off Lando” You playfully demand with a squint of your eyes as soon as Lando’s face appears on your laptop screen. 

You’re currently on day 14 of being apart since Lando left for the triple-header and it’s eating you both alive. You haven’t been apart for longer than seven days at a time, in almost a year. Everyone around you, even the fans, call you two codependent, but really, you were just in love and wanted to spend as much time together as possible. 

Between the time zone differences and you both working so much, you’ve found it difficult to spend much time together. You’ve found comfort in being able to keep up with Lando from all of the fan and official F1 content posted online. 

You’ve gotten a giggle out of all the speculation surrounding Lando’s hair. It started on the first media day in Mexico, when it appeared Lando had gotten a haircut, but his hat stayed on the entire day. 

The next day was when the rumors actually started, Lando hadn’t taken his hat off again and every fan you came across was freaking out and cracking jokes that Lando got a bad haircut and was embarrassed about it. 

Initially, aside from enjoying all the posts, you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming Lando was mostly wearing the hat because of the heat; but then you realized Lando hadn’t sent you any photos without the hat on, and the handful of late night facetimes you had, he was already in bed with his hoodie up and it was mostly dark. 

Whenever you and Lando are apart, you always made sure to keep each other still included in the day to day parts of your lives; you were always sending photos, videos and voice notes until you could facetime or be with each other again. 

Lando hadn’t changed your familiar routine, he just never had hair showing, which was a little odd, but nothing concerning. You admittingly missed the post shower selfies or the sweaty, messy haired, tired post race selfies. 

You’re instantly met with a giggle from Lando “What happened to hello baby.” Lando’s sat in his drivers room, he’d got a couple hours break between practice and qualifying and wanted to make the most of your shared free time to squeeze in a quick facetime with you.

“Hello baby” You grinned cheekily. “I’ve missed you so much, did you get a bad haircut?” You giggled 

Lando raised an eyebrow as another giggle slipped past his lips. “Did I get a bad haircut?” 

You nodded quickly “You haven’t taken your hat off the entire time you’ve been in Mexico, so show me”

“And how would you know that, hmm?” Lando asked with a smirk. Lando was initially confused, but now all he wanted was to play into the fun he was having. 

A bright rosy blush crept up your cheeks as you briefly glanced away from Lando on the screen. Lando’s now grinning mischievously, enjoying getting to tease you. “Do I need to talk to Osc or have you been creeping on me?” 

Before you even get a chance to answer, Lando starts giggling again and shaking his head. You pout and cross your arms. “A bad haircut is the only explanation for the hat and not getting my selfies”

“Your selfies?” Lando questions, once again raising an eyebrow. He knows exactly what selfies you’re talking about, but one thing about Lando Norris is that he loves to tease his girlfriend.

“I want my post race selfies back Lando” 

Lando smiles widely, taking a moment to take in all of your soft sweet features. Lando hadn’t intentionally been keeping anything from you, the few days he had been in Mexico had been busier than usual and it slipped his mind. “I’m sorry my love, I promise you’ll get one after quali”

“I better” You murmur, arms still crossed against your chest. You did miss the selfies, but you weren’t actually annoyed with him, in fact any feelings that even remotely resembled annoyance or hurt from the past few days all stem from a place of missing Lando. 

Lando knows you better than you know yourself, so he knows that if he doesn’t do something in the next few minutes, the call is going to take a sharp turn from playful and fun to somber and probably leave at least one of you in tears. Neither you or Lando were one to shy away from your emotions, but if Lando could hold off on it, until he could guarantee you his undivided love and attention, that's what he’s going to do. 

Lando winks at you, before taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. “Is that better my love?”

A small gasp passes your lips, before you break out into the widest smile that Lando had seen in weeks. “Lando!” You squeal happily. “You look so handsome, why have you been hiding your hair?”

“I haven’t been hiding my hair, you doughnut,” Lando laughed. “It’s hot and I like my hat”

[luveline]

omg post prison Spencer and concussed!shy girl….I would go feral I fear

“I’m gonna be sick again,” you whine, covering your eyes with both of your hands. The nausea roils and the pain in your head reaches a new crescendo. You moan without thinking about it, worse when someone grabs a hold of you from behind. 

“Don’t bend!” he says, not shouting but not happy with you either. “You aren’t going to be sick again if you stay sat up. I know it hurts, but you’re making it worse.” 

Spencer’s strict voice isn’t one you’re used to. An embarrassed flush rushes over you, quick to cry ‘cos you’ve wanted to for hours. 

“Sorry,” you mumble tearily, slouching back into your seat with a wince. 

“Oh, angel, please don’t cry again.” 

“I’m not.”

“I’m not angry with you, I just need you to listen, because being sick like this isn’t good for you, and you’re gonna feel sick again if you bend over. It’s your head, angel. It’s the inertia.” 

You shuffle across the couch to flop against his chest. It’s a desperate move; if he doesn’t hug you, you’re going to start crying for sure, so you’re begging him to hold you without having the courage to say it out loud. “Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s okay.” Hands wrap around you immediately. “Don’t be sorry. Just stay like this for a bit, until the nausea stops. Please.” 

You’d love to stay there. You can smell the black coconut soap he uses on his skin, rubbing your nose into his neck and taking obvious breaths. 

Spencer pats your back, saying, “Good, take a breather.” He sounds surprised, but when you glance up at him he isn’t panicking or moving. He’s closed his eyes. His hand is on the small of your back.  

You hit your head so hard the very first thing that happened was the wave of vomiting. It just… didn’t end. And for a while all you could think about was nothing, just being sick and crying and a hand on your back, eventually traded for colder ones, bright white lights and strangers asking how you were feeling. You couldn’t not defer to Spencer, not really sure if he was Spencer in a permanent sense but aware intrinsically that he was to be trusted to answer for you. 

Your brain is shaken, then stirred. 

“If I give you a pill, do you think you can keep it down? It’s okay if you can’t. Honest answer,” Spencer murmurs. 

“I don’t know.” 

“An anti nausea pill you need to swallow isn’t exactly mankind’s best invention.” He cradles the nape of your neck, then, sounding more on your side than anyone ever has. “I wish I could fix it.” 

“You should’ve put your brain to work for science,” you say agreeably, “you can fix anything. Big pharma are lucky you chose to catch the bad guys instead.” 

“I meant your concussion.” You can barely hear him, and at the same time, it’s like he’s speaking into your marrow. 

“You did fix that,” you say, tipping your head back to see him. “You took me to the doctor.” 

He smiles. “Yeah, I did, but you’re still sick and hurting.” 

It’s not that bad in Spencer’s arms. You had dreams like this, daydreams and sleeping, where he’d wrap you up and comfort you after some hurt, but you’re struggling to remember what made it feel as painful as it did at the time. Spencer felt far away. Now he’s right here. You curl your arm behind his neck to be squished together, tight tight tight. Spencer actually groans. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, m’not in pain. I can’t remember the last time I got to hold you like this for so long.” 

“I don’t know why.” 

“I do, and it’s okay. I know why you get freaked out. I’ll never rush you. I don’t mind. But I feel guilty ‘cos I’m enjoying this and you’re in pain.”

It’s a dull throb in the skull. You can barely feel it. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“I’m confused.” 

“That’s a common theme tonight.” 

“You feel guilty ‘cos I’m hugging you?” 

He covers your eyes with his hand. You laugh at first, but it’s oddly nice. Warm, dark. The throbbing pain ebbs a bit. 

Spencer can feel you relaxing against him. He’s all warmth and smell and sound under your ear. Exhaling, humming, the sound imbued with a fondness you don’t understand. His chest is solid under you, his hair begging to be touched where it flirts with his shoulders, the slopes and lines of him a tactile wonderland for your greedy hands: you want to feel everything. You haven’t the faintest clue as to why you weren’t allowing yourself the privilege before. 

“I just need you to get better fast,” he says, breathless. “That’s all.” 

“I am trying my best.” 

Spencer rubs a thumb over one of your eyebrows, start to end. “And you’re so, so good at it,” he says. 

You aren’t concussed enough to miss the lightly mocking coo of it. But you don’t care. Your nose drags up the line of his neck clumsily, in what you hope says tease me more, but more likely says concussive brain injury, second degree. 

[crushpunky]

actress!reader and “big, bad boyfriend” drew

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

The leaves had just started to turn, a cool breeze blowing down the streets of Charleston. It wasn’t often the couple had the opportunity to spend a day out together, with everything from hectic schedules to heards of paparazzi, it always seemed like something was in the way. However, on the beautiful autumn day, the two of them decided to take Charleston out on a walk.

“God, I’ve been craving Claire’s.” Y/n sighed, peering up at Drew as they continued along the sidewalk, Charleston trotting excitedly in front of them. Both of them were “undercover”, baseball hats low and sunglasses on, hoping to not draw too much attention.

“We got it, what, four days ago?” Drew teased, holding open the door to the coffee shop. Y/n rolled her eyes with a laugh, stepping into the cafe before Drew followed her.

“Find a seat and I’ll get our order, yeah?” Drew said, pressing a kiss to y/n’s temple before handing off Charleston to her. Y/n wove through the people littered throughout the cafe before finding a table on the patio. She sat down, taking off her sunglasses as Charleston curled up by her feet. The familiar scent of coffee and pastries filled her nose, allowing her to sink further into her chair as she waited for Drew to finish up.

“Is this seat taken?” Y/n glanced up from her phone at the voice. A man with curly, blond hair smiled down at her.

“Oh, yeah my—”

“Aren’t you that actress? From that Netflix show, yeah?” The man interrupted her, pulling out the seat opposite her (Drew’s) before sitting down. Y/n could feel Charleston stirring at her feet as she sat up a little straighter, glancing back towards the cafe.

“Um, yeah.” Y/n chuckled nervously, flashing a practiced, PR smile at him.

“See, I didn’t recognize you ‘cause you usually got like… nothing on, y’know? Bikini and shit.” The guy said, leaning onto the table. She could smell the faint scent of alcohol on his breath as he eyes continued to scan over her in a way that made her want to scream.

“Oh, um, sure.” Y/n said shortly before glancing down at her lap.

“You’ve got, like, a crazy body—”

“Excuse me.” Y/n’s head shot up at the sound of Drew’s voice. He stood at the table, placing y/n’s coffee down in front of her, his gaze locked on the man sitting opposite her.

“Aww, shit man, I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, exactly, ‘you wasn’t’.” Drew said, his jaw clenched. Y/n could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen Drew like this outside of character, a fire in his eye and his fists clenched. She reached out, running her hand along his arm before taking his hand.

“Can I at least get a picture with the lady?” The man slurred, shooting a sly smirk at y/n.

“Get out of here.” Drew said sharply, his tongue prodding at the side of his cheek.

“Drew.” Y/n whispered harshly, tugging on his arm as she glanced around. The patio was filled with people, people who inevitably had phones and cameras and wouldn’t hesitate to post about how “Netflix Star Freaks Out on Fan”.

“Don’t be like that—”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Drew said. The man got up quickly, sending the chair backwards as he stood against Drew, a solid head shorter than him. One look into Drew’s steely gaze, however, and the man scurried away. Y/n let out a sigh of relief, running her hands through her hair.

“Baby, are you alright? I’m sorry, I—” Drew crouched down, grabbing her face in his hands.

“Yes, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Y/n whispered, nodding with a short grin before pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek. She wasn’t lying. While she had been scared when the man sat opposite her, the second Drew appeared she knew everything would be alright, because, whenever Drew was with her, she would be alright.

“Are you sure? We can go home if you need to.” Drew ran his thumb along her skin softly, his eyes wide with concern.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’ve dealt with my fair share of assholes.” Y/n said again with a sip of her coffee before Drew settled into the seat opposite her. The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, drinking their coffee and taking bites of the pastry Drew had gotten, just soaking in the beautiful, fall afternoon. She could see the guilt on his face, the thoughts swirling in his mind as they sat.

“Oh, Drewseph, my big, bad boyfriend.” Y/n said, reaching across the table to grab Drew’s hand, hoping to soothe his racing mind. He shook his head, his cheeks blushing underneath his baseball hat.

“I wasn’t expecting to nearly beat the shit out of someone today.” Drew sighed, a grin dancing on his lips.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you nearly beat the shit out of someone ever.” Y/n raised her eyebrows. It was true. Drew, unlike what his six-foot-two, intimidating demeanor might entail, was the biggest sweetheart… it was one of the things she loved so much about him. That scary-boyfriend exterior with that kind, loving interior always made her melt.

“Didn’t think I’d ever do that, but when I saw him it just…” Drew shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Drew Starkey, I love you.” Y/n said, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

“Y/n y/ln, I love you.” Drew said, kissing the back of her hand in return.

“I can’t lie, seeing you that… overprotective—” y/n leaned in, her voice dropping, “---was really, really hot.”

“Really?” Drew whispered, his eyebrow quirking up and smirk widening.

“Oh yeah, super.” Y/n bit her bottom lip before taking a slow sip of her coffee. Drew swallowed harshly, his gaze dropping to where y/n’s lips sucked on the straw before fluttering back to her eyes.

“I think we should go home now.” Drew said quietly.

“And why’s that?” Y/n teased, her cheeks warming under Drew’s sultry eye.

“I think you know why.” Drew grinned, pressing a kiss to her nose before standing up from the table and offering her his hand. She took it gladly, the two of them heading back home, Charleston in tow… maybe walking a little bit faster than they had on their way into town.

[writesvani]

dear me | 04

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS (for this chapter): anxiety, guilt, discomfort, emotional distress, self-sabotage, past trauma, relationship tension, self-doubt, jealousy, awkwardness, manipulation, abandonment, social anxiety

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 6,4k // date: 28th of March 2025

CHAPTER FOUR — The House; happy reading my gummies...

AN: hey hey hey!!! okay, so, like, i am OBSESSED with this chapter. like, truly. i love it SO MUCH and i really hope you all love it too because i’m freaking out over here!!

now, listen up, i’m setting a NOTE GOAL for this chapter—250 notes because YOU GUYS LITERALLY SMASHED THE LAST ONE IN 2 DAYS and that’s just like... UNREAL! i'm over here losing my mind. i can’t even. you guys are LEGENDS. so, yeah, let’s hit that 250 and guess what? I’LL BE POSTING CHAPTER 5 ASAP once we get there. i HAVE to make the note goal higher because if i keep it at 200—i'll literally post everyday and i DO NOT have the strength to do that. i am sorry (not sorry at all).

—love, vani

To be quite honest, you’d rather switch places with Sisyphus right now.

Yeah, you’d probably be drenched in sweat, rolling that massive boulder up a hill over and over again, failing endlessly, panting like a feral raccoon on the verge of collapse.

And yet? You’d take it. Gladly.

You’d throw yourself into the depths of the underworld’s worst punishments if it meant being anywhere else but here. If it meant doing anything else but sitting through this.

If it meant not having to hear, for the hundredth time, just how great Jungkook’s proposal to Nina was. How wholesome and romantic and perfect it had been. How your childhood best friend—the one you once knew like the back of your hand—is, apparently, the most lovable, charming, sweet, and overall best boyfriend-turned-fiancé in existence.

You grit your teeth as Nina’s voice pulls you back to the present, each of her words like a tiny, invisible shock to your system. Her joy is undeniable, written all over her face in bright, delicate excitement. Her hands move animatedly through the air, cutting through the thick atmosphere of the coffee shop, mimicking the way Jungkook had taken her hand in his, the way he had slipped that ring onto her finger.

And you?

You just sit there, nodding along, pretending that every detail doesn’t feel like a stone being added to the weight already crushing your chest.

Yoongi is nodding along, gasping at all the right moments—but you see through him. His fingers tap lightly against his cup, and his lips twitch, like he’s suppressing a grimace every time Nina gets a little too animated. He loves her, adores her even, but Yoongi—despite being a massive book nerd with an unspoken love for romance in fiction—is allergic to real-life romance talk.

So the fact that he’s enduring this? Says a lot.

You, on the other hand, sit stiffly, your fingers curled around the handle of your cup, the ceramic warm against your skin. You don’t tense. You don’t flinch. You just… exist in the moment, pretending this conversation isn’t making you want to pour your espresso straight into your eyes. Your smiles are perfectly timed, your little laughs polite—just enough to make it seem like you’re engaged. But inside, every word feels like an iron weight pressing on your chest.

“And I swear, I was shocked,” Nina exclaims, eyes wide, hands flying through the air as if she’s physically reliving the moment.

Yoongi leans back slightly, expression unreadable. “No way you didn’t see it coming at all.”

Nina scoffs, placing a hand over her heart as if personally offended. “I didn’t! Look!”

Before anyone can react, she shoves her phone into Yoongi’s face so fast he physically jerks back, blinking like she just hit him with a flashlight. You don’t even need to look at the screen to know what it is.

“My friends and YOU, my sweet brother, knew and didn’t even tell me to get my nails done,” she groans dramatically, shaking her head.

Across the table, Jungkook, who’s been suspiciously quiet during this entire reenactment of his own damn proposal, finally speaks.

“They didn’t wanna ruin the surprise for you, baby.”

His voice is soft, steady, but there’s something in the way his hand lightly rubs Nina’s back that makes your stomach churn.

You tilt your head, forcing out a light laugh. “Wow. Talk about friendly sabotage.”

It’s an attempt at humor—something, anything—but your fingers twitch against your cup, and when Jungkook glances at you, just for a second, his expression unreadable, you feel it.

The weight of it.

Of everything.

Jungkook looks away first.

The moment is fleeting—just a quick glance, a second of hesitation—but it lingers in the air like a truth neither of you dares to acknowledge. The weight of years apart, of missed conversations and things left unsaid, sits between you, thick and unmovable.

And then, Nina speaks again, blissfully unaware of the silent war happening right in front of her.

“But they could’ve at least hinted at it,” she whines, but her eyes shine, a soft glow of happiness radiating from her features. “Like, I dunno—‘Oh, your nails are getting long, maybe book an appointment?’” She sighs, shaking her head. “Now my engagement pics are lowkey ugly.”

You let out a small, amused scoff. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad. Let me see.”

She doesn’t hesitate to show you her phone, flipping the screen toward you. You lean in slightly, eyes scanning the image. And yeah, okay—you get it. Her nails are a bit grown out, the perfect white tips slightly out of place, but it’s nothing dramatic. Still, if it were your hands in that picture, with a ring that big and nails that unpolished, you’d probably throw a tiny fit too.

You tilt your head, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Ouch. You kinda do have a point, girl.”

“Right?” Nina huffs, crossing her arms, but there’s laughter laced in her voice now.

Your gaze flickers to her hand, fingers curled around her coffee cup, the diamond on her finger catching the light just right. “At least your nails are on point now,” you remark, nodding toward them.

She grins, wiggling her fingers in front of you. “Duh. No way I was letting that happen again.”

Yoongi snorts. “I swear, you’re the only person who could turn a proposal into a nail horror story.”

“Hey! It’s a valid concern,” Nina shoots back, tossing a sugar packet at him. “A girl’s gotta have her priorities straight.”

Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “Babe, you literally cried when I got down on one knee. You didn’t even notice your nails until, like, an hour later.”

“Yeah, because I was overwhelmed!” She points an accusing finger at him before turning to you. “Do you know how rude it is to just casually propose out of nowhere? No warning, no heads-up—just ‘boom, life-changing moment, now deal with it.’”

You press your lips together, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Damn, how dare he propose to you without a PowerPoint presentation and a six-week prep course?”

“Thank you!” Nina exclaims, dramatically placing a hand over her chest. “Finally, someone who understands my suffering.”

Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Next time, I’ll send out a calendar invite first.”

“Yeah, maybe you could even send it to us too—so we can all prepare for the big day.”

The words leave your lips before you can stop them. Sharp-edged, bitter. You’re an adult. You know better than to let something so petty slip out. It’s not like you. It’s childish. Spiteful. But restraint is impossible when the truth is gnawing at you from the inside out—when the person who once felt like an extension of yourself didn’t even tell you he was getting married.

Didn’t give you the chance to be there. To help pick the perfect ring. To witness his excitement, his nerves, the way he used to come to you with every major life decision. You were robbed. Of a moment. Of a friendship. Of him.

Nina, oblivious, just laughs at your remark, too caught up in the glow of her engagement to notice the venom laced in your voice. She keeps swiping through her phone, showing video after video of the proposal—footage taken by the friends who did know, who were there, because Jungkook, ever the romantic, wanted to pop the question in front of the people she loved.

Yoongi wasn’t there. He had been overseas for a project. That’s the only reason. But it’s funny, isn’t it? How he never even mentioned the proposal to you until the invites were sent out. How that makes you question so many things.

Funnier still is the way he reacts.

Jungkook blinks. Slowly. His expression barely shifts, but you see it. The subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his tongue darts out to press against his cheek. His brows furrow, just slightly, like your words bother him. Like they’re an itch he can’t quite scratch.

And Yoongi—he catches it too. His shoulders flinch, his breath stutters for just a fraction of a second, but his gaze never leaves Nina’s phone. Like he’s pretending he didn’t hear. Like he doesn’t want to hear.

“Mhm.” Jungkook hums, tapping his fingers against his cup. “Didn’t wanna tell too many people. Didn’t want it getting out too soon.” His lips pull into a smirk, eyes meeting yours with a flicker of something unreadable. Something close to a challenge. “You know how it is—I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

You force a nod, shifting in your seat. “Yeah,” you say, voice a little too smooth, a little too controlled. “Good thing you only told the people you trust.”

His smirk falters—just for a second. It’s quick, almost imperceptible, but you catch it. He tilts his head slightly, like he’s choosing his next words carefully.

“Well, you know me,” he finally says, leaning back with a casual shrug. “Always thinking ahead.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Genius.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s something tight in the way his jaw moves, something lingering in the air between you that neither of you dares to name.

“Sooo,” Nina drawls, turning to you with a sly look, her eyebrow raised like she’s putting you on trial. “What’s going on with that boyfriend of yours?”

You blink at her, momentarily lost. “Which boyfriend?”

She scoffs. “Come on, you know—the guy you were talking about last time I saw you.”

You tilt your head, giving her a flat look. “Nina, that was two years ago.”

“So what?” She shrugs, taking a sip of her drink like that’s not a ridiculous amount of time to be out of the loop.

You exhale sharply, pressing your lips together. “We broke up over a year ago.”

Her brows furrow. “Why?”

You pause, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of your cup. “Ehh… We just—drifted apart, I guess. Fell out of love.”

Nina hums, eyes flickering over you like she’s assessing if that’s the whole truth. You hold her gaze, daring her to dig deeper. She doesn’t—but the air still feels a little heavier.

You don’t notice the way Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly around his coffee cup, how his grip falters just enough for the ceramic to shift in his hands. You don’t catch the subtle squint of his eyes when you mutter “drifted apart.”

But Yoongi does.

His gaze flickers to Jungkook, studying him like he’s reading between the lines of an unfinished story. Their eyes meet for the briefest second—silent, heavy. Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, clears his throat, like the moment never happened. Like Yoongi hadn’t just told him something without saying a single word.

But the message is loud and clear.

Dude, you’re an asshole.

But Jungkook—he doesn’t feel like an asshole. He doesn’t feel like he did something wrong.

Because he was the one who tried.

He was the one sending Facebook messages every damn day that summer while you were in Europe, just so you could reply—maybe three times a week, at best—because you were just so busy.

He was the one staying up all night, his textbooks blurred at the edges from exhaustion, only to set his alarm too early just so he could call you before your day started.

He was the one skipping lectures, missing out on life around him, just to sit in his tiny dorm room and listen to you talk—because that’s how much he wanted to hold onto you.

And when he finally stopped—when he silenced his alarm, when he went to class, when he decided to just wait and see if you’d reach out first—there was nothing.

No new calls.

No desperate messages.

Just silence.

And that silence? It was deafening. It was humiliating. It rang louder than any ‘I don’t love you anymore’ ever could.

So, no. Jungkook doesn’t feel like an asshole. He just feels like someone who learned the hard way that loving someone more than they love you is its own kind of heartbreak. He’s the one who learned when to stop trying.

When to stop holding onto the ties already cut.

“So, what are you guys up to tonight?” Nina asks, her gaze flicking between you and Yoongi as she swirls the last of her coffee in her cup. There’s a glint in her eye—curious, maybe even a little mischievous.

Yoongi leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Nothing much. Gotta finish a chapter I’m reviewing for that author I told you about,” he says, voice casual, though you can tell he’s already dreading it.

You glance at him before taking a slow sip of your coffee, the bitterness settling on your tongue. “Same. Just… getting mentally prepared for work tomorrow.”

Technically, it’s not a lie. You do have work tomorrow. But beneath the surface, there’s a flicker of something else, something you try to ignore—a spark of unease picking at your subconscious.

Because it’s Wednesday.

And that means an email is coming.

An email you don’t want to read. An email you’ll tell yourself to ignore. An email you know you’ll end up opening anyway, your fingers hovering over words that feel like ghosts of your past self, haunting you in black and white.

Yoongi, oblivious to the shift in your mind, tilts his head toward Nina. “Why?” he asks, tone easy but laced with mild suspicion.

Nina taps her fingers against the table, her lips twitching as if she’s debating something. Then, she shrugs, but it’s far too casual to be genuine.

“I was just thinking…” she starts, letting the words linger, dangling in the air like bait.

You're hooked, despite yourself. Nina’s dramatic pause stretches, her fingers absently twirling a lock of her black hair as she builds the suspense.

"Since Kook and I took a few days off..." she starts, her tone almost too careful. Then, before either of you can react, she holds up a hand. "Look—before you call me crazy, I know it’s the middle of the week," she adds quickly, eyes locking onto Yoongi like she already expects his disapproval.

Yoongi exhales sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Just spit it out, for fuck’s sake."

Nina grins, as if this is exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

"Okay, so—I saw there’s a gig at The House tonight, and I thought, maybe we could all go. Check it out. You know, like we used to in high school."

Her words land heavy in the air. Nostalgia. A double-edged sword. You feel it settle into your chest, an old, familiar ache.

The House is a relic of your teen years, a place that holds too much history to ever feel neutral. By day, it was a quiet coffee shop, hidden from the general crowd—only those who truly knew TH even realized it was open before sunset.

But at night? It transformed. Gigs, live music, bands clawing their way into existence, hoping to be something more than just a name on a dimly lit flyer. The House wasn’t just a venue; it was a second home. A place where dreams felt tangible, where friendships were solidified over cheap drinks and lyrics screamed into the air.

And if you go tonight, you already know exactly how it’ll go. The moment you step through those doors, Alex will spot you. His signature flirty smirk will stretch across his lips, the same one he’s been sending your way since you were a teenager. He’s only two years older, but he’s been working at The House since your very first time there—and somehow, he never left. A fixture. A piece of that place, just like the worn-out stage and the dim, flickering neon sign above the entrance.

Alex was always a walking contradiction. Despite his shameless attempts to charm anything with two legs and a vagina, he was also something else to you. To all of you. Like an older brother who saw too much, who knew more than he let on. Who watched you fall in love—watched you get hurt—and never said a damn thing.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? If you go tonight, it won’t just be a night out. It’ll be a collision with your past, a forced confrontation with the version of yourself that once walked those same floors, heart bare and reckless.

So, no. Thank you, but no. You’d rather spend the night wallowing in your misery, drowning in thar email, than risk stepping back into a place that remembers too much.

“Ugh, I don’t know…” Yoongi scratches the back of his head, clearly torn between his usual routine and Nina’s relentless pleading.

You lean back in your chair, taking a slow sip of your coffee. “I have work tomorrow, girl,” you remind her, hoping she’ll get the hint.

Nina’s eyes widen, and she immediately pouts, sticking out her bottom lip like she’s trying to win a contest for the most dramatic face. “Please,” she begs, “we haven’t gone out since high school. Just one night. Please?”

You roll your eyes, feeling the weight of her stare. “One night? Yeah, right. You’ll be the first to tell me how much I regret it tomorrow.”

“Not if you’re with us!” Nina says, flipping her hair dramatically. “It’ll be fun! You, Kook, Yoongi and me—same old crew, just like the good old days.”

Yoongi scoffs, giving her a side-eye. “You act like we were some wild party animals back then.”

Nina grins mischievously. “Whatever, but I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You stare at her, arms crossed. “Fine. But this is the last time, you hear me? Next time you pull this stunt, I’m throwing you in a broom closet with Alex from The House.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Wait, so you're going just to avoid the broom closet?”

You shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe I just enjoy torturing myself.”

Jungkook, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally speaks up, his voice a little hesitant but teasing. “You know,” he says, leaning in slightly, “if you really want to make it interesting, we could all take shots and make it a competition. Who can go the longest without regretting it?”

You glance at him, your eyebrow raised. “Oh, you think you’re some kind of expert on not regretting things?”

Jungkook smirks, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Well, I did just propose, didn’t I? That takes a lot of confidence... and the ability to ignore some regrets.”

You laugh dryly, rolling your eyes. “Good one, Kook. Real subtle.”

Nina claps her hands excitedly. “Yes! That’s exactly the spirit we need! It’s settled. We’re going!”

You lean back in your chair, pretending to contemplate. “Fine. But if I hate it, I’m blaming all of you. And I’ll make sure you pay for the coffee tomorrow.”

Yoongi leans back in his chair with a smirk. “If I end up with a hangover tomorrow, I’m blaming you. And I’ll make sure you’re the one buying that coffee.”

Jungkook grins, chiming in, “I think I will need another coffee after Nina’s ‘party planning.’”

Nina gives him a playful glare. “You’re all just jealous you don’t have the same enthusiasm for drinking.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, yeah. But if I end up regretting this, I’m haunting every single one of you.”

Nina winks. “Deal!”

The weight of reality hits you the moment you step through the door of your apartment. The familiar scent of home isn’t as comforting as it used to be; instead, it hangs in the air like an unwelcome reminder. Why? Why did you agree to this reunion, knowing exactly what it would stir up? Going to The House feels like self-sabotage—it feels like clawing at open wounds that never really healed, just scabbed over. It's a mistake. You know it’s a mistake.

You stare blankly at your surroundings, the space that once felt so much like yours, and now it feels... wrong. The corner of your table catches your eye. Your laptop sits there, silently screaming at you. It’s the email. That email. It’s been sitting there all day, mocking you. “Take me. Read me. You know you want to,” it seems to whisper. But you won’t. Not today. No. You won’t let yourself fall back into that mess—not today, not when you're already feeling like this.

You push the thought away, willing yourself to breathe through the tightness building in your chest. There’s a limit to how much you can take, and you’ve reached it. You will not engage with that stupid email today, no matter how much it calls to you like some kind of irresistible siren. No. Not when you have exactly three hours before you have to face everyone.

Before you have to see Jungkook again.

It’s been so long since you’ve had to look him in the eye. Seeing him earlier today was one thing, but now, after everything, having to face him again—two times in one day—feels like too much. You’re not sure what you expected from today, but you know it wasn’t this.

Not this weight.

You stand there, frozen in the middle of your apartment, knowing you should get ready. But it feels impossible. Every part of you is screaming to run away, to hide from the past that keeps trying to drag you back. But you can’t. You won’t. You have to face it—face them. Even if it feels like you’re suffocating under the pressure of it all.

Your mind drifts back to The House, the one place you’ve avoided for so long. The memories are already flooding back. The laughter, the music, the people you used to know so well. But most of all, it’s the feeling of him—Jungkook. His presence is still a shadow over everything. And you know, deep down, this reunion, this thing Nina’s dragging you into, is just going to make everything worse. You're not ready.

You never will be.

Your phone lights up, the soft ping of a new message breaking the silence of your apartment. You glance down—Yoongi.

Yoon 🤍: ya home?

You: yea, just arrived. u?

Yoon 🤍: same. you sure you wanna go out tonight?

You: no, haha. wby?

Yoon 🤍: same man. but she’s my sis and the bride, gotta make her happy.

You: yeaa

Yoon 🤍: and i guess it would be nice to chill there, like before yk? see alex.

You: yeah, i miss alex, lowkey feel gulity for not visiting him there.

Yoon 🤍: yea me too.

Yoon 🤍: go get ready, we’ll be picking you up later.

Your phone pings again, Yoongi’s name lighting up the screen.

Yoon 🤍: you okay tho?

You: yeah, just... weird.

Yoon 🤍: i get that. but it’ll be fine. i’ll be there.

You: thanks. i guess it’s just… i dunno, feels like a lot of things are gonna come back up.

Yoon 🤍: yeah, i hear you. but sometimes it’s good to face the past, yk?

You: idk if i’m ready for that.

Yoon 🤍: i’ll be there to distract you if it gets too much.

You: appreciate it.

Yoon 🤍: of course. just get ready, we’ll be leaving soon.

You: alright, give me like 20 minutes.

Yoon 🤍: sounds good. see you soon.

You set your phone down, trying to take a deep breath, but then the realization hits. You quickly grab your phone again.

You: wtf dude, aren’t u supposed to pick me up in 3 hrs, not this soon?

Yoon 🤍: 😂 i’m messing with you. we won’t be there for a while. but hurry up, time’s ticking!

You: you’re an asshole, but i’m getting ready.

You roll your eyes, setting the phone down again.

As soon as you slide into the car, a sense of discomfort washes over you. It’s like stepping into a memory you’d rather not revisit, yet here you are. The seating arrangement is completely different from what you expected. Yoongi is at the wheel, his hands lazily draped over the steering wheel, fingers splayed wide. He’s laughing at something Nina’s saying—some ridiculous piece of friendship drama she’s telling him, no doubt embellished for dramatic effect. Nina, as usual, is sitting in the passenger seat, her voice louder than the rest of the car’s noise.

Then there's the seating beside you: Jungkook. It feels strange. Just like before. Yoongi and Nina are up front, gossiping, while you and Jungkook are squeezed into the backseat like it’s high school all over again. You’d imagined Nina and Jungkook sitting next to each other, given the whole engagement thing, but no—Nina missed her brother so much, she had to hog him for herself.

You sit next to Jungkook, trying to ignore the growing awkwardness. The car is small—Yoongi’s car is cramped, and the backseat feels even smaller. Jungkook is practically taking up half of it, his body large and solid, pushing you against the door like a pancake. You can sense the heat radiating off him, and every time he shifts, it’s like you feel it. His leg brushes against yours, making the space feel even more suffocating.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mumbles, trying to adjust, but his leg doesn’t budge much.

You chuckle dryly, trying to mask the tension in your chest. “It’s fine. Not like you can really do anything about it,” you say, motioning vaguely at how small the car is with your hand.

He nods, his eyes drifting to the window, as if he’s looking for some kind of escape in the passing scenery. The silence stretches between you, the weight of old, unspoken words hanging in the air.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence, whispering, even though your voice sounds too loud in your head. “I’m glad, you know.”

“Huh?” Jungkook looks at you, confusion flickering in his gaze.

“About your engagement,” you clarify, glancing at him. “How your life turned out. It’s... good to see.”

He softens at that, nodding in appreciation. “Thank you. Same goes for you. I’m glad all your dreams came true.”

You offer a small, forced smile. “Yeah, thank you.” The words are polite, but they feel like they belong to someone else.

The words hang in the air for a moment, soft but heavy. Jungkook’s voice barely breaks through the hum of the car, but you catch it, feeling the weight of it settle between you.

“Did you ever regret it?” His words are a whisper, but there's a tremor in his tone, something vulnerable hiding beneath the surface. You glance at him, catching the shift in his expression—there’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, like he's waiting for something, anything, from you.

You feel your chest tighten. Regret? The question cuts deeper than you expected. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the cramped space suddenly feeling even smaller.

“Regret what?” You ask, your voice quieter than you intended, your breath catching slightly as you look over at him.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the passing streetlights outside, as if the answer is too difficult to voice. “Following your dreams,” he says again, slower this time, as if testing the words on his tongue.

You breathe in sharply, trying to shake off the heaviness that threatens to settle in your chest. You let the silence stretch for a beat too long before you respond, trying to sound more certain than you feel.

“Never thought about it,” you reply, the words leaving your mouth easily enough. You glance away from him, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sleeve as you add, “But no, I don’t think so.”

And yet, even as the words leave your lips, there’s a flicker of doubt. A small part of you wonders if you really don’t regret it—if you don’t regret all the things you left behind in the process, the pieces of yourself that never quite fit after chasing everything else.

The rest of the ride passes in silence between you and Jungkook, the quiet tension almost suffocating. The only sounds are the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of his leg pressing against yours, the warmth of it seeping through your jeans, but neither of you speak. The space between you feels like a canyon, and you’re unsure if you’re even capable of bridging it anymore.

Instead, you let Nina's voice fill the car, a steady stream of gossip, her words a distracting, almost absurd relief from the heavy quiet. You listen absently as she recounts her latest drama, her tone increasingly animated.

“So, like,” Nina starts, her voice brimming with excitement, “Ana, you know Ana, right?” Yoongi nods. “Well, apparently, she’s been sleeping with her best friend’s husband. And get this—she’s been doing it right under her nose, for months.”

You blink, glancing at Nina through the rearview mirror, raising your eyebrows. The shock registers slowly. What the hell?

“I mean, what kind of shit is that? You should’ve seen Ana’s face when I called her out on it. She was like, ‘It’s just a fling, Nina. I don’t owe anyone an explanation.’” Nina lets out a loud, disbelieving laugh, “A fling?! With a married man? How do you even get to that point?”

You can feel the tension in the car rise, your stomach sinking as Nina’s story spirals.

"And guess what? The wife knows—she just hasn’t said anything yet. She's playing it cool, waiting to catch them in the act. She’s just letting Ana keep digging her own grave.”

Nina’s eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, a grin playing at the corner of her mouth as she leans in closer to Yoongi, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Wait,” you interject, not sure if you want to hear any more, “So, what—Ana's sleeping with the guy while his wife is just letting her?”

Nina nods, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Exactly! And the best part?” She leans forward, her voice dropping dramatically. “She caught them at a party the other night. The husband literally walked right past her, gave Ana this huge kiss on the cheek, and then turned to his wife and said, ‘Babe, I’m going to grab another drink.’ As if nothing was going on!”

You stare at her, blinking in disbelief. “What the hell?”

Nina throws her hands up in mock frustration, her eyes wide as if she's about to lose her mind. “I know! It’s like a fucking soap opera. I swear to God, I can’t keep up with these people anymore.” She shakes her head, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Like, if you’re gonna cheat, at least have the decency to be subtle about it.”

You glance over at Jungkook, who still hasn’t spoken, his eyes focused outside the window, though you can tell he's listening. His profile is unreadable, but you wonder if all lf this is more of a distraction for him than it is for you.

As soon as you step into The House, everything is blurry. The chaos of the night engulfs you—laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the booming bass from the speakers that makes the floor beneath your feet vibrate. There are a lot of faces, some familiar, some new. Thank God for the new ones. For a moment, you let yourself breathe in the energy of the place, the music blaring, the cigarette smoke curling around you, invading your senses.

Then you hear the familiar sound of a voice you didn’t realize you missed.

"Well, well, well, look who it is."

Behind the bar, a wide grin spreads across Alex’s face, his eyes lighting up as soon as he sees the four of you. Without hesitation, he’s moving—practically running—towards Jungkook. The scene is a little bizarre, sure. Alex, a full head shorter than Jungkook, wraps his arms around him like a long-lost mother finally reunited with her child.

“My boy!” Alex beams, patting Jungkook’s back like he’s proud of him for some hidden accomplishment. Jungkook laughs, actually laughs, his shoulders shaking a little with the sound.

“You’ve gotten so big. You’re huge now,” Alex adds, since the last time he saw Jungkook was… Well… Years ago.

Jungkook smirks, chuckling under his breath. “You forgot how to use a razor or something,” Jungkook says, pointing at Alex’s beard.

The comment makes Alex pull back just enough to give him a playful shove. “Hey, don’t start with me. I’m just getting better with age, alright?”

Nina, with a sly grin, steps forward as Alex turns to her. "Pretty girl," Alex motions toward her with a wink, “Look at you. Thinking about giving me a chance already?”

Nina laughs, rolling her eyes but giving him the affectionate hug he’s so eager to receive. “You’re still so lame.”

"You know I’m just being nice,” Alex says, patting her on the back as she pulls away. “But I’ll take the hug. You look good, girl.”

Yoongi, already standing off to the side with his arms crossed, lets out a small sigh. "The nerdy," Alex singsongs, eyes narrowing with the teasing tone. He gives Yoongi a respectful dap, fully aware how Yoongi’s personal space is sacred.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t pull away, muttering a quiet, “You’re lucky I don’t have to be nice to you,” but his voice holds no real bite.

And then Alex’s gaze falls on you. His eyes soften immediately, like everything around him just slows down. He leans over the counter, his arms outstretched toward you. “And my lil monster,” he murmurs, his body melting into yours as you wrap your arms around him.

You breathe in, the scent of him enveloping you—cologne, wood smoke, and something you swear smells like the old leather of the barstools. He smells like home. A safe place you didn’t know you needed.

“I missed you too,” you say, your voice surprisingly soft as you bury your face in his shoulder.

Alex chuckles, pulling back just a bit to give you a knowing look. “You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t start, Alex.”

“Can’t help it,” he grins widely, the energy between you two palpable. “You all still owe me drinks. I’m running a tab tonight. Just like old times, yeah?”

Nina glances at Yoongi with a raised brow. “You know, I don’t think I ever told him no,” she says, half-teasing, half-serious.

Yoongi snorts, his arms still crossed. “We’re still not paying for you. Last time you drank enough for all of us.”

Alex throws his head back, laughing loudly, clearly unbothered by their teasing. “Yeah, yeah. But I’m the one who knows the best drinks, so you’re all stuck with me.”

You settle into the bar stools, the hard, cool surface pressing into your legs, yet it feels oddly comforting. The familiar buzz of The House surrounds you—dim lights, low murmurs of conversation, and the steady hum of the music—but all you can focus on is the figure behind the bar. Alex. His face practically glows as he crosses his arms, his sharp gaze flicking between the four of you with an intensity that feels almost... predatory. It’s like he’s studying you, looking for something, anything, that betrays the carefully constructed walls each of you put up. You can almost feel the weight of his eyes on you, dissecting every movement, every shift.

“So, what’s new?” Alex asks, his voice casual, but his eyes betray an underlying curiosity that you’re not sure you want to indulge.

Surprisingly, it’s Jungkook who answers first. He was always the one who could talk to Alex without hesitation, like the two of them shared some sacred bond. You can almost hear the warmth in his voice when he speaks. “I’m getting married, bro.”

Alex freezes for a moment, and for the briefest second, time seems to halt in its tracks. His brows furrow, and a flicker of recognition crosses his face as he processes Jungkook’s words. Then, his eyes dart to you, and it feels like the world slows down, all noise fading into a dull hum.

“Dang, dude,” Alex says, the words lingering in the air. “So I didn’t only miss you making it official, I missed the whole proposal?”

And just like that, everything shifts. The air in the room turns thick, suffocating. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a second, you think you might choke on your own thoughts. What? The? Fuck? Why would he say something like that? Why would he imply something so... loaded?

Jungkook gulps, his hand instinctively reaching for his drink, but it’s not served yet. There’s nothing to steady the trembling in his fingers. You see the tension in his jaw, the way he clenches his teeth, as if holding himself back from saying something. Yoongi’s eyes shut for a fraction of a second, like he’s trying to block out the uncomfortable atmosphere. Nina just stares, her expression unreadable, caught somewhere between confusion and shock.

And you? You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to feel. All you can hear is the sound of your own pulse thudding in your ears, louder than any of the chatter around you. You want to say something—anything—to break the tension, but your words get stuck in your throat.

But then, like a cruel punchline, Alex bursts into laughter. It’s not just a chuckle. It’s manic, almost cackling, like he’s just pulled off the best prank of his life.

“Ha!” he says, his voice ringing with amusement. “Should’ve seen your faces, I’m just kidding.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, but the relief doesn’t last. It doesn’t feel like a joke. Not really. The weight of his words hangs in the air, lingering in a way that makes you feel like you’re being suffocated by something you can’t shake. Because Alex is too good at reading people. He knows. He knows something shifted in the room, something unspoken that’s now hanging between you all. And even though he’s laughing, you can feel the subtle shift in his demeanor. You can feel his gaze flicker toward you, that apologetic look in his eyes—his way of trying to backpedal, to ease the tension he just created.

But it doesn’t feel like an apology. Not when you see how his eyes flick toward Jungkook with that look—a silent understanding passing between them. It’s the kind of look that speaks volumes, and you know exactly what it means: He saw it. He knows.

The air feels colder now, heavier. And no one says a word as Alex wipes the smile off his face, pretending like everything is fine, like nothing just happened. But you can’t shake the feeling that nothing good comes after this.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon

[martiansodas-blog]

too pretty to think.

when art started to slip, it almost felt like falling asleep…

a. donaldson x reader

word count: 2,216

contents: dumbification, body worship, face sitting, multiple orgasms, cuming untouched, brief mommy kink, subspace, nicknames and pet names, this is freak nasty.

Xx

The first time 

You and Art have been going steady for 6 months and you loved every second of it. the two of you mostly hung out at your place, it's a tad cleaner than his dorm and he never bothered with things like decorations. It was a haven for the both of you. So when your Blackberry buzzed with a message asking,

“r u home?” 

It was hardly out of the ordinary.

“yeah. just changed clothes”

“can i come over?”

“of course”

Donaldson is a man who never knows when to quit. Let's rephrase: He’ll only quit when instructed to. 

He treats his body like a machine. He eats what his nutritionist tells him to, he pushes his body to the limit, and he rarely turns in a paper late. 

When you opened your front door your boyfriend was in chaotic ruins. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained. He stared at the floor with his calloused hands in his pockets.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?? What’s wrong?”

Your tone had urgency as you ushered him inside. Once the door is closed he pulls you in for a hug. You don’t dare speak, just hug back. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

It’s obvious he’s trying to hold himself together, but stroking his back caused him to break.

“Aw, baby,” 

You sway him from side to side. 

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here.”

After a few minutes, Art regained control of his breathing. You put him at arm's length—your voice just above a whisper. 

“Would you like to come lay down with me? We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to, let's just get you comfortable.”

Art sniffles and nods his head—your poor baby. 

You held his hand and led the way to your room. You sat on your bed with your back against the wall so he could lay between your legs. He often takes this position when you guys are watching movies so it will add a level of comfort for him. 

Art takes some deep breaths as you run your nails through his hair. 

“We got a new coach and he- he’s so intense. I don’t know. I’ve been berated by coaches since I was 13. Why the hell is this one affecting me differently?” 

You twist one of his curls in your fingers. 

“Everything's just so much right now. Schoolwork, post-graduation plans, sponsorships… There's so much going on all the time. I- I can’t do it.” 

Your heart broke for him. 

“I’m so sorry, Artie. I wish I could take it all away from you.”

You rubbed his arms and back for who knows how long. It could have been hours. You didn’t care. You’d cancel your week's agenda if that’s what he needed. You weren’t getting up until he felt better. 

You analyzed his words.

“It’s not that you’re unable to make decisions, and it’s not that you make bad decisions. It’s just that decisions are constant unrelenting work… is that an accurate assessment?”

He nodded and sighed into your shirt like you were the one person in the world who understood him. 

“...And a good boy like you should never have to work.” 

Art froze. 

Well, that’s new. 

You decided to test the waters further and put on your most sultry voice. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll think for you.” 

He let out a sound that can only be described as a mewl. His body curled into a semi-circle. 

You swept some hair out of his eyes, they seemed to get droopier.

I don't know what exactly is transpiring he’s responding to it.

“Let your thoughts go. You don’t need them.” 

Eyes are fully closed now.

“Can you unclench your jaw for me? That’s it.”

He does as he's told, falling deeper into whatever hollow you're creating. He bites back a smile but his blush is evident. So easy to get him to blush. One of his cutest attributes.

Next step is Moving your handsome boy to lay on his stomach so you can rub his shoulders. You hear him sigh while the tension is worked out of his muscles and watch him relax under your hands. 

Walking him through some deep breaths while you place dozens of soft, light kisses on his neck. 

You want to make him understand what a privilege it is to have him.

Rubbing his thighs and calves, slowly melting away the stress of the day. Kisses on the backs of his knees while he laughs and tells you to stop that and that it tickles.

Helping him turn over to lie on his back and climbing carefully on top to straddle him.

You toy with the hem of his shirt. 

“Can I take this off?”

He looks up at you. mouth open and nods. 

It causes you to giggle. 

“Thank you.” 

Once that’s out of the way your hands wander up to his chest while trailing more impossibly light kisses down his Adam's apple. Massaging his chest, squeezing and grabbing and just feeling his skin. 

Kissing his collarbones, trailing your tongue along the dip where they meet under his neck. Slowly working that boy up with teasing touches that only get more and more unbearable.

Slowly returning to his lips to kiss him again while you reach down to trail your fingertips over his cock. He pants and whines so sweetly into your mouth while you play with his cock. You're not even trying to make him cum-- not yet. 

I could do this all day. 

Letting him drift in a fuzzy-headed space while you work your fingers soft and slow over his pants. Doesn't need to worry about anything but your hands on his body. You're right here to keep him safe and make him feel good.

“There's nothing I love more than watching my brilliant, polite, well-spoken boyfriend turn mindless.” 

Art whined and bucked his hips up to meet your hand.

“I need to be in you so bad. Please.”

Who are you to refuse him?

“Don't worry baby, I’ll give you what you want.” 

You slid off him and he reached for you, like he couldn’t stand you being an inch away for any amount of time. You chuckled and took off your bottoms and underwear, he copied. 

You hopped back on top of him, which made him break out into a smile. His girl was about to take care of him. 

You grabbed his cock and started stroking him. 

“I don’t know if I’m wet enough, Artie.”

“Sitonmyface.” He begged all in one breath. 

You bit your lip so as not to laugh at him. It wasn’t in a mean way, no no! He was just so excited about it. It’s adorable and flattering all at the same time.

“Are you sure? We’ve never done that before.”

We haven’t done a lot of this before. 

He shamelessly nodded. Grabbing your waist with both hands and shifting your body up before you could protest. 

“I don’t want to crush you.”

At this point, he was panting. A dog seconds away from getting a treat. 

“You won’t.” 

Art has eaten you out before, and it’s been wonderful. But this? This is a new kind of ecstasy. 

His tongue reaches new trenches. 

And that fucking nose. It bumped your clit every time. You were gasping and making noises you didn’t know were possible. His mouth is memorizing your folds. He's getting off on your arousal.  His tip is red and hurting, but can barely care when a taste crafted just for him is on his lips. 

“Shit. Just like that.” 

Your thighs trapped his face, your breath hitched with every thrust, and your walls clenched around his tongue. 

“Oh god, oh god,” 

Truthfully, Art didn't know which of you came first. 

The only thing he knew was your body. 

You shuffled down and kissed all over his face which was covered in your release. 

“You made mommy feel so good.”

He smiled up at you. He was so proud that he could do that for you. Like it was his purpose in life. And oh did he love that nickname. It made him feel all soft, like when you recall a fond memory. 

“Do you want Mommy to sit on your cock?” 

He whimpered and nodded. 

You lined yourself up with him and sank. It was so easy due to both of your juices, you had to concentrate on lowering slowly so he didn’t bottom out too fast. 

The two of you moaned in unison. It was almost tantric. Even though the focus here is on Art, it’s impossible not to feel the same pleasure. It wasn’t just your sexualities that were aligned but your souls. The love you felt for each other was palpable. 

It didn’t take long for him to bottom out. But it wasn’t enough. You ground your hips into him, causing his voice to raise an octave. 

“Oh fuck. Hnnn! Fuck, feels so good, please.”

He was babbling nonsense, unable to create cohesive thoughts or keep any sounds in. 

You remove his hands clutching the sheets and replace them with your own. To bring him back to earth. 

When he couldn’t get enough he bucked his hips up into yours. Moving aimlessly, mindlessly. You held his hips down to the mattress and bounced on his dick. The sounds of his cock hitting your weeping entrance were insanely beautiful and sinful to listen to. 

“Such a good boy.” 

His dick jumped inside of you at that. Seemingly of its own volition. 

You shifted to pepper kisses on his jawline. The new position forced his cock to rub all kinds of new places. You nearly collapsed onto him from the shock. Heavy exhales leave your mouth. Your pussy suffocates his cock. 

“My good boy. Just a dumb little thing for me to use isn't that right.”

Art came on the spot. No warning. His skin flushed and curls were damp on his forehead. Words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more. 

You rode him until it was clear he'd finished. 

“Did you cum for me, baby?”

“Yes. I'm sorry I should’ve said something I couldn't help it. Felt too good, I didn’t -“

“Shh sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. You can cum in me as many times as you like. That's what I’m here for. That’s what this,” you clenched around him, “is for.” 

“Fuck.” his breath quivering. He arched his back, sensitive little thing. 

“I love it when you spill yourself into me. it’s so warm in here now.” 

You placed his hand on your lower stomach, your womb. 

“Can we go again please?”

“Are you sure? I don't want to push you.”

He shuffled so you were both sitting up. causing you to gasp. His erection never left, and it’s ever so prevalent right now. 

“Please! Wanna keep myself buried here forever.” 

It was hard to remain the level-headed one after hearing that. 

“You make me so wet when you say that, Artie.” 

There's drool coming from his mouth as he watches you talk. Nothing behind those eyes.

“So wet and needy.” 

You soften your voice, and when you talk it’s into his mouth. 

“You gonna let me take you again?”

He groaned and nodded, then ferociously kissed you. He wrapped his strong arms around your torso and immediately disliked how much fabric was between the two of you. He ripped your t-shirt and sports bra off in nearly one motion. Sighing when he felt skin on skin.

“I’m going to play with you until there's nothing in that head except my name.”

And you did. You fucked him till his brain turned to mush. Till it felt so good he thought he was going crazy, till he couldn’t even hear how loud he was being. Just blissed out being pulled back into your cunt. 

What an honor, to have such an obedient, adoring boy like him. 

You let him stay like that, floaty and sweet until he fell asleep to whispered praises. 

“My good boy. You did such a good job for me.”

A kiss to his forehead. 

“You know I love you so much.”

Tucked under the covers.

“So good for me, honey. You're okay. I'm proud of you. You're all mine, and I'm all yours.”

You raked your nails along his back.

“Relax, It'll all be there for you tomorrow. But for right now, all you need to be is my good, sweet boy. And you are.”

You moved off the bed which concerned Art. 

“Are you leaving?” 

He looked like he could cry. You cradled his face. 

“No baby boy, of course not. I’m only getting you some water. I’ll be right back” 

You spoke to him like a child bedridden with a cold. It was clear the comedown was something intense and never experienced before. He needed you next to him right now.

“Alright lovely, I know you’re tired but have a few drinks of this for me.”

You guided the water bottle into his mouth till you were satisfied with the amount he got in his system. 

“Rest now. I’ll cuddle you.” 

The blonde fell asleep immediately in your embrace and you hoped it wouldn't be the last time you took his thoughts away.

[brenwritesss]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader ❀˖°

Summary: You were done with Paige, but she keeps pulling you back in.

Warnings: smut

a/n: long-awaited part 3 is officially here. so sorry about that long wait

part 1 | part 2

paigebueckers started following you.

paigebueckers sent you a message.

I shouldn’t have said that.

The time of the message read 3:05 AM and even though it had been a restless few nights for you after the catastrophe at the bar, you tried your best to forget Paige’s existence and move on. But of course, Paige couldn’t help herself and she had to find any possible way to weave herself back into your life. And it started with her unblocking and messaging you to reel you back in.

You keep the message open, seeing that she’s active but close out of it when you decide that she’s not worth trying to get back. Out of sight out of mind right?

So you left her on read, a closing to that part of your life that you wanted to so desperately crawl back to but you couldn’t do that to yourself. Again. 

And that was how it started. These little things that Paige would do to reel you in and you wondered how she felt when she realized it wasn’t working. First it was the Instagram message, then it was hanging out with you and Azzi; although that didn’t last long when you would just leave, leaving Paige to deal with Azzi’s questions. Then she started “coincidentally” walking past your communications class when you would be leaving. Then it was liking your Instagram posts. 

She was trying to get to you and you weren’t going to let that happen again, no matter how hard she tried. 

Kathrine huffed as she sat up in your bed, watching you at your desk. “Are you seriously still mad at me?”

You don’t say anything and continue studying.

“Y/n, it’s Paige Bueckers. Who wouldn’t make out with her? I know you would.” The tone in her voice was condescending almost, as if you were some idiot she was lecturing.

You turn to her, looking her dead in the eyes. “You want to go make out with Paige, then go make out with her and shut the door on your way out.”

Kathrine’s eyes widen at you, earning you a scoff from her. She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Why the hell are you so bothered by it anyway? We’re not fucking dating so I can make out with whoever I want.”

You close your eyes, trying to fight the anger rising in your chest. “It’s not about you.” You say it so quietly, she can barely hear you.

“Speak up.”

“I said it’s not fucking about you,” you shout, louder than you had intended too.

“Then what is it?” Kathrine’s voice echoed throughout your room.

You slam your pen down on your desk, standing up from your seat and rubbing your hands on your face. Kathrine jumps at the sudden outburst, not knowing what you would do next. You had many options: kick her out, scream, tell her that Paige was your ex, pull her into your own heated make out session. But even now in your own dorm, Paige haunted your mind. So much to the point that you couldn’t even think of a good enough response to make up for the fact that you were letting this get to you this easily.

You take a deep breath, letting your hands fall from your face as you sit down on the bed beside her. “Sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out. It’s probably just midterms.”

Kathrine, weirded out and probably uncomfortable, shuffles away from you and grabs her stuff. “Yeah well you need to figure your shit out.”

You roll your eyes. “What do you mean?”

Kathrine stands up from the bed, moving towards your door. “I signed up for good fucking sex and the occasional cuddles in bed. Not,” she pauses, signaling to the space around you. “Whatever you have going on or whatever this is.”

You let out a laugh. “Believe me, I’m still looking for that good fucking sex.”

Kathrine’s eyes are practically bulging out of her head at this point. “Paige probably fucks better than you anyway.”

“Yeah good luck with that.” You stand up and open the door for her, waiting for her to walk out.

“Good luck?” She asks, not believing the scene before her.

“You’re not her type.”

Paigebueckers liked your post.

“Damnit,” you curse as the notification causes you to accidentally drop your glass cup in the sink. “Fuck.” You stare at the broken shards of glass in your sink. Even through Instagram she could still get to you and that was scary. How could a high school relationship fuck you up this bad? You didn’t think it would until you saw her the first time since. 

Paige never did anything specific to cause you to break up with her. In fact, throughout the entire relationship she was perfect and that made it a million times worse when you had to break up with her. You had been told by everyone that a high school relationship wouldn’t last in college and maybe breaking up with her was the right decision. Or maybe it wasn’t and this was you suffering the consequences.

“What the fuck happened?” Azzi asks, walking into your dorm which causes you to jump.

“God, Azzi what the fuck?” You place your hand on your chest, trying to catch your breath and she laughs as she walks over to peer over the sink.

She points to the glass. “You should really clean this up.”

You roll your eyes at her and give her shoulder a quick shove. “What are you doing here?”

Azzi holds up a paper bag with the Chick-Fil-A logo on it and you immediately broke into a smile which Azzi returns. “Figured you could use a pick-me-up.”

“You’re the best.”

Azzi sets the bag down on your bed and sits down, wrapping herself in your covers and taking a bite out of a waffle fry. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

“Shut up,” you mutter as you get in bed beside her. Azzi is already holding the fries towards you which you gladly take while you grab some buffalo sauce. Moments like these with Azzi were some you treasured deeply, not wanting to lose these little times that you could see her and be yourself around her. And all of that reminded you why you needed to stay away from Paige in the first place.

“She’s sorry y’know,” Azzi says quietly with her mouth stuffed with chicken nuggets.

Those words alone cause you to stop chewing and turn your head towards her. “What?”

“She told me about what happened at the bar and even though I don’t want whatever happened between you happening again, she is sorry for saying what she said.”

You looked into Azzi’s eyes which were sincere and that made you feel bad. Not because you felt bad for Paige but because you were unintentionally dragging Azzi into this whole mess which you were trying to forget.

“It’s whatever, I don’t care,” you say back, shrugging. “She’s entitled to her own opinion.”

“You’re not a bitch, Y/n.”

You turn away from her because deep down you knew Paige was right. You may not have been a bitch to everyone but you definitely had your moments. Especially with Paige and that made you feel even worse than you already did. Wrapping your comforter tighter around your body, you let yourself sink into your mattress. “Maybe not to you.”

Azzi moved closer to you, moving the food and wrapping her arm around you. “What Paige said was just her being angry for no fucking reason that didn’t have anything to do with you. Her words don’t make up the type of person you are which are none of the things she mentioned.”

“I’m just over her bullshit.”

You show up to class a week later, books in hand as you slide into your seat and placing them neatly on your desk. Fishing a pen out of your backpack, you sigh as you prepare yourself for another boring lecture. Your professor begins the class with the usual procedure: attendance, short quiz, and then note-taking. All of which you do complete easily as someone comes to sit in the open seat beside you. You pay no attention to it, too focused on writing down your notes when they speak, “is this seat taken?”

“No, it’s–” you turn your head to see Paige staring right at you. “Not.”

“Great,” she smiles as she puts her backpack down. “So, what are we learning today?”

“Listen and find out for your fucking self,” you whisper as you go back to taking notes, not before moving your chair farther away from her.

Paige, who is looking at you like you were the craziest person on the planet, slides her hand over to your notebook, bringing towards her and giving it a look. “You always had pretty handwriting.”

You look at her dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”

Paige smirks at you. “Very serious.”

You pull your notebook back to you. “I thought I was too much of a bitch to be around.”

Paige’s shoulders fall, her playful expression falling with it. She leans towards you, “I said I was sorry about that. I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you mean. If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t say it.” You go back to taking your notes. “And besides, we got a promise to keep for Azzi. So let’s honor that please.”

“Right because now you suddenly care about that promise.” You hated how hot her voice was. How hot she was just sitting there right next to you. How close she was just like that night at the bar.

You scoff, “you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“No,” she rebutted. “I said I didn’t want you meddling in on my love life. Why can’t we be friends?”

Her sudden change in demeanor from when she was screaming at you outside of the bar compared to now made you turn your head enough to where you could almost get whiplash. “You should have said that maybe like two or three weeks ago. Or I don’t know,” you pause, pretending to think. “Maybe a damn month ago.”

“But I want to now, ma.” The use of the pet name made you freeze on the spot, dropping your pen and by the way you felt, you just knew that your cheeks were red as fuck. And by the look on her own face, you knew she was enjoying your reaction. “Just like old times.”

“Go suck up to one of the bitches you fuck,” you spit out, putting your books away and getting up from your chair without another word. 

“Y/n–” Paige began but you couldn’t hear the end of her sentence because you were already out the door. Not only did you have a promise to keep to Azzi but also a promise to keep to yourself: don’t let Paige into your life again.

You don’t know exactly how you ended up here yet there you were, standing in the crowded kitchen of a frat house trying to fish through the cooler to look for a drink. Another party you let Azzi drag you to and each time she did, you regretted it deeply. While frat parties were the final boss of college partying, the one thing you hated the most about these parties were the awful tastes in music these guys had with TikTok music just circulating throughout the speakers. It also didn’t help that you were wearing a tight and short black dress that made every guy at this party look your way. And that made you feel disgusted.

And with your luck, Azzi left you to go find some girls from the team, leaving you in the kitchen to fend for yourself. You find a can of Coke in the cooler which looked like the best decision compared to the other drinks that were available. You lean back up, opening your can and taking a sip, letting the carbonation hit the back of your throat.

“Enjoying the party?” Kathrine whispers behind you, pressing her body against your back. Your breath hitches and your fingers curl the can in your grasp. Kathrine can sense you being on edge so she slowly glides her hand up your waist, trying to elicit some sort of response that was something other than being guarded.

“Not my scene,” you say quietly, trying to let yourself relax in her grasp.

“We can always change that,” she pauses, spinning you around so that you’re now facing her and her fingers are tangled in the black fabric of your dress. “I always liked you in black.”

You look into her eyes, “I thought you preferred nothing at all.”

Kathrine’s eyes lowered themselves onto you as she spoke, “I thought that was a given.”

Trying to get your mind off of Paige was something you were used to and even though you were never actually into Kathrine, she provided a good distraction. Maybe it was the party getting to you but there was something about getting with the same girl that you found Paige making out with weeks ago made it seem almost fun.

You instinctively grab Kathrine’s hand as you drag her to a wall just a few feet away, pushing her up against it. She immediately responds to you, grabbing at your face as she brings your lips together. It was heated and fierce, both of you trying to fight for dominance as Kathrine wasted no time in shoving her tongue down your throat. The two of you could both tell that this wasn’t anything more than all of your meaningless hookups had been. Meaningless. That night in the locker room with Paige was never supposed to be meaningless.

And fuck, now you were thinking about her when you’re making out with someone else.

Kathrine spins around, catching you against the wall as your hands become tangled in her mess of blonde hair. Her skin was warm compared to your cool fingertips and her lips were soft like they always had been. 

Kathrine’s mouth wanders down your jaw, causing you to let out a short gasp that only the two of you can hear through all of the loud music. Her mouth wandered down farther to the crook of your neck and you braced your hands against her shoulders trying to steady yourself as she sucked and nipped at your neck.

You open your eyes for the first time, watching Kathrine’s head bob down as she continued to kiss along your collarbone and damn did that make you horny. It became worse when you look across the room and notice those familiar blue eyes staring you down. And that stare created a pool between your legs. 

Paige had been watching you and Kathrine the whole time with a bottle of beer in her hand. The way she looked at you was a mix of a glare and disbelief as if you had just seen straight through her. For the first time in a while, she looked hurt and you were the reason why. You let your hands drop from Kathrine and you pull her head up from your neck which causes her to look at you with confusion.

“Is something wrong?” she asks you with swollen lips and partly out of breath.

You look away from Paige and towards Kathrine, giving her a slight head shake. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

Before you can say anything else, Paige is walking towards the two of you, the bottle that had been in her hand was now on an empty table as she approached you, eyes filled with fire. You didn’t know what she would do but the second that Kathrine’s lips were reattached to your neck, Paige pulls you out of her grasp.

“What the fuck?” Kathrine asks, not realizing that Paige was standing in front of her.

“Hands off,” Paige says, not a break in her tone. Not a stutter at all.

You move your arm out of her grip. “I’m not a damn animal, Paige, I can speak for myself.”

Paige looks at you, making an attempt to grab your arm again. “I don’t give a fuck, Y/n. I’m done watching you and not doing jack shit about it.”

She drags you out of the house, pulling you into the backyard. And as much as you fight her, her strength wins as she holds you in front of her before letting go and shutting the glass door. You couldn’t believe the scene that had just played out and every part of you wanted nothing more than to scream at her. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Paige’s voice broke through with an urgent tone. “My problem? You’re the one who won’t let me apologize for what I said.”

You grab at your hair before snapping at her, “Why do you care? Tell me why because this whole thing is so confusing that it’s driving me insane.”

“What’s so confusing about it?” Paige acts clueless yet you know better than to believe that.

You raise your voice to match hers. “You kiss me in the locker room then you pretend that I don’t exist, saying that you’re doing it because of Azzi when we both know that’s bullshit because if you cared about Azzi in this situation you would have never dated me in the first place!”

Paige took a step towards you, tilting her head. “I was seventeen! What the fuck did I know? And you’re acting like you’re a fucking saint when you know damn well this was equally your fault as it was mine.”

“You tell me to stop coming back into your life and when I finally listen, you decide that’s not good enough and you try anything to weave your way into mine,” you say as you spit your words and you feel the sudden sting in your eyes. “Are you so conceded that you can’t handle that I’m moving on from you? That I want to live a life without you?”

“We both know you don’t want that,” she snaps. “I don’t want that.”

Those four words make you pause as you bite your lip, flipping your hair in distress. “What?”

Paige takes a deep breath, calming down from her outburst. “I thought ignoring you was going to fix this and finally make me get over you. But you’re not fucking easy to get over and seeing you with that girl or anyone else makes me want to go over there and show everyone why I wanted you in the first place.”

You couldn’t believe the words you were hearing. If anything, you were just confused because one second, she’s calling you a bitch and the next, she’s telling you she still has feelings for you. You take a slow step back from her, putting your hands behind your back. “You can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Do what?”

You huffed because you knew that once you opened your mouth, there was no going back and everything that has happened could either be done for good or a new step forward. You didn’t let your eyes wander from her and you took a step back again, creating a bigger gap between the two of you. “Pulling me in, pushing me away and then doing that shit all fucking over again. It’s too much.”

Paige tried to take a step forward, reaching her hand out to you but all you could do was take another step back. Anything to show her that you were done. When you rejected her movement, she sighed and glanced at the ground before looking back up to you. “I didn’t think–”

“That’s right,” you say, cutting her off. “You don’t.”

Paige’s frown turned into a line when she shook her head at you. “If that’s how you feel then fine.” And she leaves you there in the backyard as she walks back inside the house. You didn’t know whether to be upset or happy at the fact that maybe she’d finally understand how you felt. You hoped she at least had the maturity to do that. At first, you didn’t know if you should walk back inside but after a few minutes, you decide to and shut the glass door behind you.

Everyone were still in their places dancing and drinking with the occasional grinding against one another which made you feel sick for some reason. You looked around the house for Kathrine but she was nowhere to be found so you had just assumed she left. Deciding to check one last bedroom, you open the door and drop your drink on the ground as you walk in on two girls, one straddling the other on the bed. They both had their shirts off and were clearly in the middle of an intense makeout.

Feeling completely embarrassed, you apologize, “Sorry, sorry my bad…” You trail off when some brunette gives you a disgusted look as she shifts in Paige’s lap. At first, Paige looked at you with anger but watching you drop your cup made her feel guilty and it was clear that you could tell.

You don’t say anything else as you shut the door and leave Paige in the room with that girl. You walk down the stairs and decide to leave the house. And as you expected, Paige never followed you.

You walked into the elevator in your building, pressing the button to the fourth floor as you continued to try to erase Paige from your mind. She shouldn’t have this much of a hold on you but she did and there wasn’t anything that you could do about it at this point. You leaned against the wall of the elevator as the doors shut and it begins to move up. You haven’t spoken to anyone including Azzi for several days since you had walked in on Paige and that random girl. And yes, it wasn’t fair to Azzi but everything and everyone reminded you of Paige. And you needed a break.

That break was going to have to wait a little bit longer because when the elevator stopped on the second floor and opened, Paige walked in, freezing in her spot when she looks up and makes eye contact with you. You look up from your phone and mimic the same expression before going back on your phone. Paige hit the button to close the elevator door and decided to stand beside you, resulting in you taking a step farther away from you.

“Can we talk?” Paige asks from beside you and all you could do was turn away and not even glance in her direction. Paige huffs at your response, turning her body towards you. “Really? Are you going to act like a child right now?”

You give her no response which fuels her even more. You hear her step towards the elevator door and out of nowhere, the elevator stops in its place. You turn towards her and look at her hand that has just pulled the red button. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Paige smirks. “So it takes me stopping a damn elevator for you to say a word to me?” She grabs your arm to which you tear away from her.

“You’re fucking crazy, Paige,” you yell out, trying to get yourself as far away from her as possible. Your chest tightened and your breathing hitched, making your face go red. Was now a good time to mention that you are claustrophobic?

“You clearly have me going fucking craz–” Paige responds but notices the way your breaths get caught in your throat. She takes a step towards you, concern clearly written across her face. “Hey, hey are you okay?”

Your back hits the elevator wall and you slide down until you’re sitting on the cold floor. You pull your legs out in front of you and hide your face in your knees, trying to gain control over your breathing.

Paige kneels down beside you, placing a warm hand on your knee which causes you to jolt in your place. “Fuck–I forgot you’re claustrophobic. I’m so sorry.”

Paige gets up and tries pressing other buttons to get the elevator moving but it’s no use because the two of you are still stuck. When it’s clear that her actions aren’t working, she comes back to your side and pulls you into her arms, wrapping her hands around you and pulling your head into her chest. “Relax princess, nothing is going to happen to you. I’m right here.”

Against your better judgement, your hands snake up to wrap around Paige’s neck as your breathing steadies. Even though Paige was the cause of your anger, she always knew how to calm you down. Paige’s grip on you gets tighter as she rubs small circles on your arm. Her touch alone was enough to fully ground you and gain control of your breathing, which Paige could tell instantly. “Talk to me mama.”

The old pet name surprised you and you couldn’t deny the way your heartbeat slowly increased again. You lifted your head up to look at her. “I’m okay I think.”

Paige gave you a soft smile, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You scared me there for a second, L/n. I can’t have you scaring me like that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped the elevator then.”

Paige’s eyes became half–lidded as she took the sight of you in her arms in. Her hand that was on your shoulder dipped to your lower back to which you could instantly tell that the mood between the two of you had shifted. You cleared your throat. “We should call for help or something.”

Paige couldn’t take her eyes off of your lips as you talked, which only turned you on more. “Or we just wait.”

“That could take forever.”

“I’m good with forever.” Her eyes couldn’t leave your mouth and yours couldn’t leave hers. This was a very bad idea but fuck it, you knew you needed her. Now.

Before thinking about it again, you pull her face towards yours and kiss her like it was your last day on Earth. Paige let out a small gasp as she held your waist to gain some sort of stability, moving her lips against yours without any shame whatsoever. Paige’s hold on your hips grows tighter as she pulls you effortlessly onto her lap. Your hands move from the sides of her face down to her neck, which you rub circles on with your thumbs. The kiss between the two of you was intoxicating and even though your mind was foggy, all you wanted was more. 

Paige lets one of her hands on your lower back drift farther down until it dips underneath the belt of your pants and caresses your ass. You gasp at the sudden move which gives Paige all she needs as she uses that opportunity to slide her tongue in your mouth. It causes you to moan and that makes Paige smile against your lips. Paige pulls away slowly, making you whimper at the sudden loss of her lips. “Look who’s desperate for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

She pulls at the bottom of your shirt, looking at you with raised eyebrows and a small smirk. “Can I take this off?”

You didn’t think twice before nodding as she pulled the fabric over your head with ease. She admired the sight before her of you in your bra that happened to be in her favorite color. Paige lets her fingers glide along your chest, outlining the shape. “You’re so fucking hot, princess.”

You tilt your head down at her. “Do you want to keep touching or do you want to actually fuck me before someone comes to fix the elevator?”

“Yes ma’am,” she whispers, taking off her own shirt and undoing your belt. You immediately go back to kissing her like you had just been and damn did it feel like the most amazing thing on the planet. All those times you would kiss other people, especially Kathrine, it never felt like this. Like they belonged with you. To you. You grip her bare shoulders which are warm and sculpted like a fucking Greek God and that only makes your pussy throb more than it was. She pulls your hips up in order to pull your pants off and you help her, tossing them to the side onto the cold floor and going back in to kiss her. She sinks you back down onto her lap and you could immediately feel yourself pooling on her sweatpants. And she could feel it too because she pulls away and laughs. “It really doesn’t take much, does it?”

You slap her shoulder. “Fuck you.”

“Is that not what you’re doing?” She asks with the slyest smile you have ever seen. When you don’t respond, she begins moving your hips against her, creating long, colored streaks on her gray sweatpants. The movements cause you to let out a moan, which causes Paige to bite her lip. “Just like that.”

Her reaction ignites a fire in you to move faster, attaching your lips to the crook of her neck and the second you do, you could almost feel her eyes rolling to the back of her head. You smile against her neck as you leave a big mark on her neck that would no doubt, soon turn into a huge hickey. Paige’s hands were everywhere on you. On your neck, your tits, your waist, your back, your thighs, your ass and the electrifying shock of her touch sent butterflies through your entire body, making you crave more.

Paige grabs a hold of your hips, slightly turning your body which causes your lips to leave her neck. You whine at the sudden loss of contact but Paige kisses you before she turns your entire body so that your back is now laying against her chest. Your legs are sprawled out but you squeeze them together to try to stop your core from dripping even more onto Paige’s lap. 

“Stop that,” Paige whispers in your ear as she forces your legs apart with her own, locking them in place so that you can’t move them back together. She wraps an arm around your stomach to keep you from squirming on her and you knew what was going to happen in exactly a few seconds. Her fingers trail down your body until they’re circling your clit slowly. You whine out, “Paige please.”

“You want more, huh?” Paige is almost mocking you at this point and you’re eating it the fuck up. She circles over your clit once, stopping and applying pressure, and then stopping once more. You’re already on edge and these small movements make your pussy throb. It’s like Paige can feel it because she begins dragging her fingers down to your entrance, teasing you before she brings them back up to your clit. 

“Paige please stop teasing me,” you breathe out, shutting your eyes every time her fingers run over your sensitive clit.

Paige uses her other hand to lightly brush your hair out of your face. You could tell by the tone of her voice and the smirk on her face that she was enjoying this a little too much. “Just tell me what you want mama.”

You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to give Paige exactly what she wants. “Please fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, ma,” she says quickly and doesn’t give you any more time to prepare as she sinks two fingers deep inside you. You gasp and lean your head back on Paige’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” you mutter as she keeps her movements controlled and slow. You take a hold of her arm to provide you some sort of stability, gripping it so hard that your fingertips turn white.

“You like this shit, huh?” Paige looks down at you and the image before her was so beautiful, she couldn’t take her eyes off of you. You nod as you let out a moan, Paige’s fingers thrusting even deeper. You were practically seeing stars at the moment and never in your life did you ever think you would be fucking Paige Bueckers in an elevator. 

“Faster.” You don’t even remember those words leaving your body as Paige speeds up her movements and begins to curl her fingers inside of you which causes you to scream out, “oh fuck.”

Paige starts going as fast as she can, using the strength in her other arm to hold your body up. You can feel the knot in your stomach beginning to unravel and that causes you to push your body more against Paige.

She can feel that you’re close so she whispers, “doing so good, baby. Keep going.”

That’s all it takes when you grab her hand that’s currently deep inside you and and push her hand as far as it will go as she curls her fingers again. Paige lets out a small laugh at your movement as you cum all over her fingers. Your eyes roll back as you do nothing but moan and slump against Paige. She helps you ride out your orgasm and when your breathing starts to slow down, she pulls her fingers out of you and looks in awe at how covered in cum they are. You watch as she licks her fingers clean. “You taste good, baby.”

You are about to respond when the elevator suddenly starts to move and that’s when everything hit you. Paige had just fucked you which meant that you let in all of the old feelings for her. That you accepted everything that had happened between the two of you for years when you were just starting to accept that she didn’t want to be part of your life anymore.

You get up as quickly as you can and try to forget what just happened as you put your clothes back on as fast as possible.

“Y/n–” Paige says as she gets up from the floor, her sweats still covered in your cum.

You finish putting your shirt on as you turn around to her. “This should never have happened. This–this can’t happen again.”

“What?” Paige looked confused and mostly hurt at the sudden change in your tone. “What just happened changes things.”

You were a mess. More of a mess than you were twenty minutes ago. You go over to the elevator door and press any button you can to open the door. “What just happened was a mistake.”

Paige walks over to you, gently grabbing you by the arm so that you’ll look at her. “A mistake?”

“You can’t just pretend I don’t exist and the second that I’m finally moving on, pull me back in and pretend that this,” you say as you motion to the space between the two of you. “Will ever be something more than just fucking or playing with each other’s emotions.”

The door opens before Paige can respond and you take the first opportunity to run out of the elevator and to your dorm. And like you had expected again, she never followed you.

A few hours later had resulted in you not knowing what to do and needing something to take away all of the sudden emotions and feelings that Paige made you feel in that elevator. So that’s how you find yourself here, in your bed with Kathrine’s body on top of you. That was the thing about her. She wasn’t Paige. She never made you feel as good as Paige did but that meant she never made you feel as bad as Paige did too. And that’s what you needed right now; to not feel worse or confused. Because with Kathrine, there was no confusion in where you stood with her. So while you moaned Kathrine’s name and let her hands touch every inch of you as if she owned you, you felt safe.

Little did you know that Paige was standing outside of your door, hearing every cry and moan with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hands.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

꒰ Stan & Ford bj headcanons ꒱

a/n: was debating whether i should post smth angsty but honestly? nahh, i decided to let go of the cringe and simply embrace the classic: dicks dicks dicks. no regrets!

also yeah, not me using gifs of their most tragic, lowest point moment of life while writing about sucking their dicks

warning: nsfw!! | second part

〃 STANFORD

𖹭 okay listen. he has absolutely imagined you blowing him while he’s lecturing. imagined himself giving a serious talk about some multidimensional travel or whatever. and you’re under the table, pretty little mouth sucking him so slow it’s torture, and he’s trying to keep his voice steady. Ford is picturing the way his voice trembles when your tongue swirls. he's insane about it. he thinks about it at night and has to shamefully jerk off in the bathroom at 3am :(

𖹭 his ideal fantasy is when he’s bent over a cluttered lab table, pants barely pushed down, one hand scribbling formulas and the other gripping your hair while you suck him off. “don’t stop. i’m so close to finishing this equation— hhah—don’t you dare stop—“ soo he’s finishing a theorem and finishing in your mouth at the same time. Ford Pines core

𖹭 he can’t take eye contact. HE CANTTTT!! like if you look up at him while you’re doing it? he has to cover his face with his hand, my shy boy!! he makes this broken little noise like “oh—gods above—“ and shakes his head

𖹭 Ford grips your wrist when he’s close and if pose allows it. not your hair, but your wrist more than all. smth about the control of it. the intimacy. the little squeeze he gives as if to say please stay with me

𖹭 he’s OBSESSED with being milked. sorry. no other word. he wants slow, sloppy, deep suction while you use your hands and tongue and all your filthy skills to drain him dry. he’ll bite his knuckles to stop from moaning too loud and then make such a mess in your mouth. so much of it. like he’s been saving it for you

𖹭 well, since i love writing him as a freak and pervert, then ill also have to share this weird headcanon of mine. . . he likes to cum on his papers. i’m serious. like if he’s working and you surprise him with a blowjob? he’ll try to pull out at the last second and accidentally spurt all over his notes. then moan your name like you ruined him on purpose

𖹭 “you’re perfect like this. you’re doing so well. my perfect darling. . .”

𖹭 guys if we talk about where he likes to cum. . . listen. this man wants to fill your mouth, watch you swallow, then kiss you slow. he’s obsessed with the intimacy of it

𖹭 but also?? when he’s in his freak era? he’ll pull out and paint your tongue, your lips, your chin, your chest. and just stare like he’s watching a masterpiece dry

𖹭 he has to sit down afterward, always. he needs a cup of tea and ten minutes to write about it in his “private” journal

𖹭 flinches when you lick the frenulum. he’s ticklish there in a way that makes his breath catch and he literally fists the sheets, which is humiliating for him, idk. he’ll be like “ah—wh—hah, be careful, i—“ and then whimper into the back of his hand and cry like a pathetic old man he is!! yummy!

𖹭 sometimes he forgets to breathe. literally has to stop himself from holding his breath. you’ll have to tap his thigh like “hello? breathe babe!!!“

𖹭 he’s lowkey a pervert about hearing your throat work. . . like if he hears that wet gluck noise, he’s biting his fist and cumming so fast

𖹭 he won’t admit he likes gagging. he gets hard from the thought of you gagging on him. he doesn’t even need to see it. he’ll be alone, doing god knows what in the lab, and he’ll remember that time you couldn’t quite fit all of him, how your throat flexed and he’ll get hard

𖹭 he’s the kind of man who thinks he wouldnt need it. who might even stiffen up the first time you drop to your knees, but that’s just the thing about him, he’s starving and he doesn’t even know it

𖹭 he whimpers, obviously. strained little sounds in his throat because poor man trying so hard to keep his dignity stitched together, but it all goes to hell the moment your tongue flattens under the head of his cock. hes super sensitive

𖹭 Ford likes it when you touch his thighs while doing it. press your palms to them. he doesn’t know why it sends him spiraling but it does. makes him whimper harder

𖹭 his hands are shaky. they don't grab your head at first, they hover. then finally settle in your hair

𖹭 after he cums, i think he's burying his face in his hands or your shoulder or whatever he can reach. shuddering. that's because he's so embarrassed by how loud he was, how his hips twitched, how his thighs clenched around you.

𖹭 yess, Ford can avoid eye contact. sometimes he tries not to look but then he peeks and makes such slutty, broken, pathetic face. will whisper “don’t look at me like that” but u know he doesn’t mean it

𖹭 he pants. literally pants. like a dog. you wouldn't expect it from professor cool-calculated-explorer man, but as soon as you get your mouth on him, his breathing goes all stuttery, shallow, hot against the collar of his shirt. head tilted back. chest heaving. trying so hard to keep it together but failing miserably. “nnh—p-please slow d—fuck—just like that, darling, j-just—“

𖹭 he jerks his hips a little without meaning to. tries to be respectful, to let you set the pace, but once he’s deep enough in your throat, he makes these little shallow, guilty thrusts into your mouth and his voice breaks. “s-sorry, love. mnn, gods forgive me, I can’t—I can’t not—“

𖹭 if you wear glasses, he’ll cum on them. he will. and apologise. and then get hard again from how hot it looks

𖹭 will beg you to let him return the favor. right now. will beg to taste you, let him kneel too, pls

𖹭 his thighs always tighten. you can feel the tremble if you'll put your hand on them. he might grab the sheets or whatever’s behind him. he makes this helpless ughhnnn sound when he's getting close

𖹭 an advice for you. . . don’t rush, don’t treat it like a chore. it freaks him out. he’s already anxious about intimacy, so if you seem detached or too mechanical, he’ll overthink it.

𖹭 aaand if you’re too aggressive without warming him up, he’ll freeze. he needs the build-up, the slowness, my tender gentle boy

𖹭 one last thing, praise him. sure, some people want to be degraded, but Ford wants to be worshipped. tell him he tastes good. tell him you love doing this for him. tell him he’s smart, and handsome, and cute, and that hes your good boy and yours, i think he'll get sooo emotional. his EGO becomes cosmically huge.

〃 STANLEY

𖹭 absolutely loves receiving head, he's simple like that. maybe a lil obsessed with it, especially if its not some one-night stand or hook up, but when it's his partner doing it for him while in relationship. it’s about adoration, because Stanley thinks you're the sexiest thing alive when you're doing it and he will gladly show you how much he's enjoying it. grunts, groans, gasps, whole body involved.

𖹭 if he could have it his way you’d be on your knees every time he sat down with a drink in his hand

𖹭 he gets hard fast, this more applies to mullet Stan though. like you just say smth nasty (or even the smallest praise) and boom

𖹭 he gets off on you humping the bed while doing it. like if you’re desperate and grinding down while sucking him off? he’s gonna LOSE HIS MIND. “you that needy for it, huh? gotta get yourself off while you suck my dick? goddamn baby” he’ll start thrusting into your mouth all sloppy and turned on

𖹭 Stan likes when you hold his stomach. if you put both hands on his belly while you’re going down on him, he shudders. it makes him feel wanted. hot, attractive. “that’s it baby, hold onto me. you like this fuckin’ gut, don’t ya?”

𖹭 “open up, there you go. gimme that tongue, yeah, just like that, you fuckin’ love this, huh?”, “you better be ready to swallow all of it, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t holdin’ back.”

𖹭 he will enjoy it even more if you'll let him know you also enjoy it. if you'll you moan while sucking him off, he’ll throw his head back and go “holy SHIT” like he wasn’t ready. “that feel good, baby? feel it in your throat, huh?”

𖹭 gets so damn nasty if you beg for it. whispering “please gimme your cum, Stan, wanna taste you,”. will make him bend you over the nearest surface right after. you won’t walk straight <3

𖹭 loves to slap your ass afterward. in a loving way of course !! praises you for ten minutes straight. then offers you a beer and tells you you’re his favorite person in the world.

𖹭 ill talk about this more later but Stan loves sitting back in an armchair, legs spread wide, hips tilted up slightly, shirt unbuttoned but still on. gripping your hair, one leg bouncing, grinning with his teeth bared. and he loves it when you’re on your back and he kneels over your face. the reverse angle makes him moan so so sooo loud

𖹭 so damn talkative, he talks through the whole thing, and this man is so good at dirty talk. “you like that?” “you’re so good at this, holy shit.” “look at that pretty mouth stretched open like that.” “fuck, sweetheart, don’t stop.”

𖹭 he has a thing for watching your lips wrap around the tip. literally whines when you take just the head and swirl your tongue.

𖹭 i mean usually it all starts with his groans and grunts but please believe me when i say he moans like a whore when receiving head. he gets really loud and needy. i just believe that Stan is the type of guy who's really loud during sex, not even just blowjob.

𖹭 he’s a thrusting type!! can’t help it, his hips stutter. if you hold onto his hips and don’t let him move, he gets desperate. he’ll beg

𖹭 oh um. . . he cums hard. like. . . i mean, stomach-twitching, thigh-clenching, head-thrown-back hard. and he doesn’t mind where. down your throat? yes. across your tongue yes. on your cheek? yeah he loves that too

𖹭 i love Stan's smile so i think afterwards he usually laughs, smiles, jokes about smth. gets so soft, rubs his thumb across your mouth. “shit, baby, that was. . .ffuckkk. c’mere. lemme kiss you.”

𖹭 doesn’t care if it’s messy. he PREFERS messy. drool, spit, tears, makes him feel like you need him. and Stan needs to be needed

𖹭 Stan likes using his fingers too. his thick thumb on your cheek, knuckles brushing your jaw, fingers pressing into your neck, anything to make it more tactile and intimate <3

𖹭 and don’t forget, this guy is sensitive emotionally too!! you touch his belly or his chest while sucking him off? please. please do it! it gets into his head in a good way. wants to be wanted

𖹭 narrates the whole thing. “jesus fuck, look at you. look at that mouth. god, you’re takin’ me so good. holy fuck, sweetheart, i could bust already, shit—”

𖹭 uh. . . yeah, Stan slaps his cock against your tongue. especially mullet Stan but i mean just any Stan, ok. just a few playfully mean taps. and then he laughs when you whine, like “what, you like that?”

𖹭 he’s touchy, he can’t sit still. one hand in your hair, the other grabbing your ass if you both in right position for it, or cupping the back of your neck. he likes to feel how far he’s in <3 sometimes he just holds your throat gently to feel the movement.

𖹭 he gets off on spitting, sometimes he’ll lean down, spit in his hand, rub it over his cock while you’re on your knees and growl “lemme get it nice and wet for you, baby” before slipping it between your lips. criminal. someone arrest him

𖹭 loves when you use both hands and mouth at once

𖹭 he spreads his thighs so wide, i mean his whole body posture is inviting. you’re the star of the show after all!!

𖹭 calls you filthy names, one of them is “my sweet little cockslut” ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idkk i don't make the rules. Stan is into degrading+praising at same time

𖹭 Stan LOVES when you gag and he’ll push in deeper when he hears it. of course if that's smth you're ok with!! that little stuttered choke noise is like a signal to him. my disgusting and wonderful man

𖹭 he gets emotional after!! maybe not weepy, but clingy, I JUST SEE HIM AS SUCH CLINGY TYPE OF BOYFRIEND. praise-heavy. “you treat me so good, baby,” as he runs his hands up your thighs, kisses your forehead, tucks your hair behind ur ears like he didn’t just mouthfuck you within an inch of your life

𖹭 if you let him cum on your tongue and stick it out after. . . plsss do!

𖹭 he’ll pretend he’s busy so you blow him while he’s working in the shack. flipping through inventory logs, “counting bills” (no, never), whatever. he’ll be behind the desk, you on your knees, and he’s mumbling numbers while you’re sucking the life out of him. “yeah. . . four jars of eyeballs and one, ugh, one perfect fuckin’ mouth. right there. . .“

𖹭 when hes getting close, his gut flexes. the belly tenses, rolls. the thighs spread wider. and he holds your head still

𖹭 alsoo Stanley doesn’t like it too silent. if you’re totally quiet, won’t look at him, don’t touch him, he’ll get nervous. he wants to know you’re into it :(

[randominchident]

slim pickins! (part 2)

max verstappen x popstar!reader -> social media au

max has been a silent fan of popstar!reader for years, it's a running joke in the fandom at this point. a chance meeting changes everything and he doesn't intended to let her down like past guys have... it's time for y/n to come to a race. (part one)

-> fc: sabrina carpenter (other pinterest finds when necessary)

private message with max verstappen

redbullracing has made a post

liked by y/n.chronicles, 🎀user and more

Tom Holland. Neymar Jr. A last-minute chart-topping surprise. The only thing more packed than the grandstands is the garage guest list 👀🔥 #RedBullGarageThings #SilverstoneGP

comments

user7 Y/N IN MAX'S MERCH? OH WE'VE WON.

speedandceleb the VIP list was longer than the straight at Baku 😩

champagneandchoruses she’s writing “pole position” as we speak

↪ taylorinturn1 when he wins the race and she drops a love song next week? poetic cinema.

toomanyplaylists TRYING TO STAY CALM AND FAILING

↪ betterbest they really thought they could casually post y/n as if we haven't spent the past week freaking out over her and max

y/nuseryeah soft launch? hard laugh? IDK BUT IM AM LAUNCHING MYSELF INTO THE SUN IF WE DON'T GET A PHOTO OF THEM TOGETHER TODAY. 4K QUALITY. IN EACH OTHERS ARMS

↪ betterbest hey redbullracing admin this is our hour of need. you know what must be done.

newuser don’t play with me… is that Y/N?! AT SILVERSTONE?? speediest hard launch ever???

y/n.chronicles caught in 4K huh

↪ redbullracing our candid queen

comment liked by max.verstappen

↪ y/nfanatic OMG MAX LIKED

↪ deluluera SIR get off instagram and get into YOUR CAR.

↪ lunalove he's got his priorities straight. his girl > his car

comment liked by y/n.chronicles and max.verstappen

user5 the way the comments only care about y/n being there 😭✌️

charles.leclerc y/n.chronicles come visit ferrari next!

↪ max.verstappen she's fine here, thanks.

↪ y/nfanatic he really said "no❤️" 😭

max.verstappen has made a post

liked by y/n.chronicles, 🎀user and more

Simply lovely 👊 Great to get some points for the team and had some extra motivation this week to end up on top.

comments

user1 "extra motivation" man is whipped.

y/n.chronicles i was cheering the loudest. probably.

↪ max.verstappen confirmed. heard you over the engine. ❤️

↪ f1teaqueen oh we’re LOUD-launching now huh

↪ readingwriting yeah ok max you win. you always win but like YOU WIN

pensburner THE KISS.

↪ readingwriting wait WHAT KISS.

↪ pensburner he got out of the car and ran straight to her! jumped the fucking barricade and lifted her up! and KISSED. its all over tiktok rn

↪ pensburner completely ignored his team but i don't think they cared because they were the ones cheering and clapping the hardest at the kiss... like i think they've heard max talk about y/n for a while...

↪ redbullracing we have.

↪ readingwriting GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET FR OMG. I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS REAL.

↪ y/n.chronicles yeah honestly neither girl

↪ readingwriting 📸 Y/N. 📸

hotgirlupdates saw a tweet of someone who bumped into y/n in the paddock and got a photo, apparently she was wearing one of the max merch hats and laughed about max giving it to her so he's with her throughout the whole race GOD I'VE SEEN WHAT YOU'VE DONE FOR OTHERS.

y/n.chronicles has posted to her story

max.verstappen yours ❤️

↪ y/n.chronicles ☺️💋

max.verstappen has posted to his story

y/n.news has made a post

liked by f1fangirl, 🎀user and more

congrats to y/n's boyfriend (?) for driving fast! yay! (sorry guys I don't know anything about f1 I'm just trying to be supportive but I’m so lost!)

comments

y/nfansunite i just spat out my tea reading this 😭 the fucking photo choices 😭😭😭 not a single photo from the win

user31 so glad we are all collectively going insane this weekend cause that is the only explaination for this post

max.verstappen thanks

↪ y/n.news UM YOURE WELCOME???

user1 didn't realise liking someones music would lead me to having to learn how a car sport works. but here we are.

y/nstan two weeks ago we were clowning max for liking y/n's posts and never saying anything. now he's going home with her and commenting on her fan account posts. lets this be a lesson to never give up on your dreams ig

private message with max verstappen

y/n.chronicles has made a post

liked by max.verstappen, 🎀user and more

london you have my heart 💌 thanks for all the shared tears and all the love you gave me. sad to leave but excited for what's to come 💋

comments

lunalove GUYS THE PIANO. Y/N ONLY EVER POSTS WITH THE PIANO BEFORE NEW MUSIC COMES OUT. "excited for what's to come 💋" MAX ALBUM INCOMING!

comment liked by y/n.chronicles

hope you enjoyed <3 comments are loved <3

(ps. the story photo max posted is one y/n sent him pre show… it’s his lockscreen now)

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 3

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: ~2.4k

cw: angst but not too bad this time, flirty/playful Zayne, after that he freaks out though and doesn’t speak much, reader questions her place and existence, talks of destiny, low self esteem honestly, idk if i like this part; not proofread

Synopsis: You’re trying to find your footing, but after a week in this new world, you’re still realizing just how different it is. Luckily (or maybe not so luckily?), you become distracted as Em invites her dear doctor friend over.

author’s note: I’m loving this series, it’s giving me so much inspiration! But I’m updating this way faster than I initially intended so I’m not really proofreading so I’m sorry if its not great :( ANYWAY I’m kind of figuring out where I want to go with it from here, but right now I’m just focusing on introducing each Love Interest. Writing playful Zayne is so fun, i wanna squish him :(

tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail (I hope I got everyone!)

Series Masterlist

“What are you reading?” Em’s voice broke through your focus.

You glanced up at her through your lashes from your place cuddled up on the couch. You were sat near the window to take advantage of the sunlight, but now you could barely see Em’s face through the glare. You shifted slightly, the blanket wrapped around you nearly falling.

“Frankenstein,” you answered shortly, looking back to your book. You didn’t mean to come off as rude, but Em was very talkative all of the time and you weren’t close enough to maintain that. You needed some time to recharge, and Em was interrupting it.

Her brows drew together and she leaned closer to you, staring at the book cover. “What’s that?”

You looked back up at her incredulously, keeping your place with your hand. “You’ve… never heard of Frankenstein?”

Em shook her head with a frown. “Is that weird?” She asked.

“Frankenstein? By Mary Shelley? You know, the really influential and famous horror and science fiction book?” When met with another shake of the head, you let out a laugh in disbelief. “I mean, I get not knowing the plot, but not knowing the whole book…?”

Another laugh from you, and Em was pulling her phone from her back pocket. “Hold on, let me search it up…” A few moments pass filled with only the tapping of Em’s nails against the screen. Her frown only deepened as she continued to scroll. “There’s nothing here about Frankenstein or any Mary Shelley.” She looked back up at you curiously. “Where exactly did you get that book?”

You stood up, your blanket falling to the floor, Frankenstein forgotten on the arm of the couch. You yanked Em’s phone from her hand, scrolling through it with wide eyes. “That can’t be true,” you muttered.

Em was right, though. There was no sign of Frankenstein in this world. All that showed up was ‘Did you mean:’ posts and similar names, but no direct matches.

How could that be?

What else was different in this world?

If there was no Frankenstein, then what else that you knew so familiarly was forgotten?

You knew there would be some differences in the world of Love and Deepspace, but you’d thought you could adapt. Now, though, it felt like you were floundering. There were more differences than similarities, and you had no idea how to deal with it.

You had no idea who you were supposed to be.

“Are you alright?” Em’s hand come on your shoulder. “You look really pale.”

You took a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m alright. I just feel a little light-headed, but it’s nothing.”

“Have you eaten today?” She chastised, already knowing the answer.

“No,” you admitted sheepishly.

Em sighed, already moving into the kitchen. “Sometimes I wonder how you lived before we moved in together. What do you do when I’m gone on missions? Do you just starve until I get back?” She moved around the kitchen efficiently, pulling foods and plates out of cabinets that you didn’t even know existed.

You really needed to learn your way around this apartment.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself,” you laughed.

“Oh, really?” Em raised an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you?”

You went quiet at that. How were you supposed to respond? She was right, of course. Em was perceptible when it mattered. You had just never had someone to take notice of it and do something before.

How are you supposed to act when you’re being taken care of?

When someone you’ve only known for a week is putting in more effort than friends you’d known for a year.

You took the plate she handed you, muttering a quiet thanks that Em waved off.

Em carefully watched you chew, not interrupting you until you were about halfway through your plate.

“Would you mind if one of my friends came over?” She asked suddenly, eyes trained on your face for a reaction.

You stopped chewing, staring up at her. After quickly swallowing, you sighed. “Is it Tara? Because as much as I love her I don’t think I can—”

“No, it’s not Tara,” Em chuckled. “I wouldn’t ask her over today, I know you’re tired and she can be a lot. This friend of mine, though…” She looked at you hopefully. “He’s really quiet. Kind of similar to you, actually. He can be a little intimidating when you first meet him, but he’s really sweet!” Em stared at you expectantly.

“I’m not completely opposed,” you began, catching sight of Em’s excited smile. “But I’m not sold on the idea either!” You said quickly. “What friend is this?”

Em’s smile didn’t dim. “It’s my friend Zayne.”

A methodical knock on the door had Em springing from her seat next to you and smoothing down her shirt. You put your bookmark in Frankenstein, setting it on the table next to you. You nervously shifted on the couch, not wanting to greet Zayne at the door.

After what happened with Xavier, who knows what could happen with Zayne?

You weren’t really sure what was happening now that you were here, and you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to find out. Were you a problem? Disrupting the plot, distracting the budding romances, keeping Em away from her destiny?

What even was her destiny?

What was your destiny?

If you really were a part of this plot, a part of this world, and someone so close to Em, why hadn’t you been mentioned?

Practiced footsteps brought your gaze up, immediately finding a familiar pair of green eyes. You stood, leaving your blanket discarded on the couch as you offered your outstretched hand.

Zayne took it, a ghost of a smile spreading on his lips as he shook it. “So formal,” he chuckled.

“It’s out first time meeting,” you shrugged. “Isn’t this what you do when you meet new people?”

“I suppose, but I’ve shaken enough hands at the hospital. I’d like to greet you as a friend would.” He gave you a light smile. “How exactly would you do that? I’m afraid I haven’t had much experience in friendship,” he admitted.

As a friend? The stoic Doctor Zayne joking around and wanting to be your friend?

What was going on?

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “Whenever I see my friends, I usually just hug them.” You watched as the very tips of Zayne’s ears turned a fiery pink.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t suppose we’re close enough for that yet.”

“I’m so glad you you guys are getting along!” Em said, oblivious to the slight tension between you and the doctor. “I was worried since you both are kind of awkward.” She laughed brightly.

“Yes, well, I wanted to…” Zayne hesitated as he looked back to you. “I wanted to make a good impression on your friends. I would hate to be disliked by someone close to you.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to dislike you,” you chuckled. Zayne stared at you with wide eyes, causing heat to rise to your own cheeks. “I only mean because you’re so polite and funny,” you explained hastily.

Zayne looked away, a grin growing on his face. “There aren’t many who would consider me funny. Even Em has said I’m too serious.”

“It’s because you are!” She said accusatorially before stepping over to your side as if that would make you easy to convince. “He’s been like this ever since we were kids! Other kids were out, running in the streets and playing tag, and he was inside huddled up with a book!”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!” You said, walking over to Zayne. You leaned in close, whispering, “I was that kid, too. It’s not a bad thing to go against the status quo sometimes.”

He gave you a smile filled with relief. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone say that to me, or agree with my childhood decisions.”

You shrugged. “I don’t see why it’s an issue. Everyone wants you to express yourself, but then they get mad if you don’t do it the way they want.” You looked at him, searching his eyes. “At the end of the day, I think you just have to accept that you’re not going to please everyone. And it’s not your job to, either. Everyone has their own opinions and decisions to make, and I think you just need to do what makes you happy, instead of what makes other people happy.”

Zayne was silent for a moment. “Very wise words,” he murmured. “I suppose it is easy to neglect one’s own happiness in the pursuit of satisfying another’s.”

You nudged him with your shoulder, a playful smile growing on your face. “It’s alright to be a people pleaser, Doctor Zayne. Just don’t forget yourself.”

Em cleared her throat, earning her attention from you and Zayne. “Listen, this is all very sweet, but it’s also boring.” She made a face, scrunching her nose. “You guys can have your little therapy session later, but right now, I wanna do something. Can we play a game?” Em bounced lightly on her feet.

Zayne chuckled. “This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve called me a bore. What would you like to play?” Em put her hand on her chin, pretending to think on the question. “Not Kitty Cards, I hope.”

“No!” Em said quickly. When you snickered, a blush painted her cheeks. “I just mean, we’ve been playing so much lately. I’m sure you don’t want to play again.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you certain it’s not because of your recent losing streak?”

“Alright, alright,” you said. “Let’s not be too mean. She is our friend, after all.”

He hummed, trying to hide his grin. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Why don’t we play that new game you just got?” you offered, looking to Em. “The one with the snowmen?”

Em made a squeak of excitement before scrambling over to her game console.

Zayne stared at you, his posture suddenly stiffening before it seemed like he reminded himself to relax. “Have we… met before?” He asked you.

You shook your head. “No, we haven’t.” You cocked your head. “Why?”

He shook his head softly. “It’s nothing.” When your gaze persisted, he sighed. “You just seem familiar somehow. Like I’ve known you somewhere.” The words caught in his throat, and his next sentence came out barely as a whisper. “Like I’ve loved you before.”

You gaped at him, unsure if you had even heard him correctly, before Em walked over and swept you both into the living room to all play her new game together. Em gripped your arm as she situated you right next to her, exclaiming something about how you two needed to stick together and beat Zayne.

You watched the hesitation on Zayne’s face as he saw the places left to sit. He considered simply sitting on the floor, but he ended up taking the seat next to you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Not many words were spoken after that. Zayne’s posture returned to that of the Doctor, prim and proper. Em carried most of the conversation, and the few answers Zayne gave were short and clipped.

You glanced at Zayne during one of the loading screens, only for him to avoid your gaze.

Did he figure out you didn’t belong here?

It was dark by the time Zayne left, offering you a curt nod as he said goodbye. You and Em straightened up the apartment in silence, feeling the fatigue from the week and aching for sleep.

Once the room was presentable, Em led you to sit on the couch, with her sitting opposite you on the small coffee table. She looked away from you, rubbing her thighs with her palms.

She did that because you did that.

There was nothing about the MC rubbing her thighs when she was nervous before, but you’d been doing it for years.

What other traits or habits of yours were now Em’s?

“Can you tell me something?” She asked, looking up at you with downturned lips. Already expecting this, you nodded. She took a deep breath. “Did something happen between you and Zayne? Because he was really relaxed when he first came over, but then he started acting like how he acts in public and I just wanted to know if you maybe said something?” Em winced as she finished.

“I don’t think I said anything weird,” you shrugged. Now was not the time to tell her what he’d said, you thought. Not that there would ever be a good time, but maybe you wouldn’t have to tell her. Maybe the story would progress as it was supposed to. They would all love her, she would take her pick, and leave the others heartbroken.

And you would simply fade into the background.

Isn’t that what you were supposed to do?

Just be a plot device here and there, not have a Love Interest think he’s loved you before.

How did he expect you to react, anyway?

“That’s weird.” A pout grew on her face. “I wonder what freaked him out.”

Probably the fact that he acknowledged connection with someone other than you, you thought.

He wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to.

He wasn’t supposed to.

You repeated the mantra in your head, trying to make yourself believe it.

This girl in front of you is the one he’s defied gods for, so who are you to get in between that?

She was the one that the story was about, not you. You weren’t even supposed to be here.

Would you be able to get back home?

Did you want to?

Maybe you could live here. Stay here. Carve out a life here.

Maybe you could find your own happy ending.

You shook your head.

You are not the priority protagonist.

You are an aid, a secondary character, a plot device. Someone to fade away.

What would happen if you went against that?

All you needed to do was help Em find her happy ending, and pray it doesn’t lead to your own downfall.

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[syd-djarin]

nut vid with the sound on

frankie "catfish" morales x f!reader

You accidently send Frankie a text that he wasn't supposed to see.

~1.5k words

tags: EXPLICIT, accidently sending a screenshot meant for someone else, reader is feral (she just like me), sexting, mention of light choking, virtual mutual masturbation (m & f!), flirting, Frankie is a consent king!, dirtyyyy talk, voice notes, nudes, nut vid with the sound on, they're so horny for each other

this is my first Frankie fic and I've been thoroughly enjoying myself in the Catfish Pond ;) I hope y'all like the text format, I had fun writing it like this. special shoutout to my babe @almostempty !!! she matches my freak, feeds my delusions & sparks my horny thots. thank you for cheering me on and helping with the dialogue I love you LOTS <3333

consulted this page for spanish used :)

translations:

princesa - princess

tócame - touch me

que cosa/cosita mas linda - what a pretty/pretty little thing

mierda - shit

ay dios - oh god

hazme el amor - make love to me

banners by: @cafekitsune <3

smut below the cut, y'all know the drill!

Frankie: You coming tomorrow? 

You: Yes, of course :) 

Frankie: Good. 

Bestie: bitch if you don’t make a move on fish

Bestie: It’s been months!!! Find out why they call him Catfish ;) 

You: STOPPPP 

You: you’re right tho I am dying to know

You: Wanna suck his dick til the skin falls OFF 

You caption the screenshot of Frankie’s latest Instagram post and text it to your bestie who will appreciate your level of freakiness. 

You continue your scrolling. 

*ding* 

Frankie: I don't think this message was meant for me, princesa.  

Opening his text, you realize to your horror that you sent your thirsty thoughts TO Frankie. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck!

You: shit, I’m SO so so incredibly sorry! Totally inappropriate and not cool. I definitely meant to send that to someone else. Totally exiling myself from the group. 

Frankie: You meant to tell someone else that you wanna suck my dick til the skin falls off? 

You: It wasn’t for you. Please forget you saw it. Please Frankie :( 

Frankie: hell of a thing to send to someone. how am I supposed to forget the idea now?

You: Pretend. It was a mistake. 

Frankie: a mistake? as in, you didn’t mean it? 

You: Can we drop it? 

Frankie: seemed pretty specific for a mistake. you got freaky with it

You: It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. Please let it go 

Frankie: I don’t think I can, princesa

Frankie: not after imagining it 

Frankie: You sent a whole screenshot, with a colorful caption attached. That's intentional.

If you weren’t so humiliated, you’d be giggling and kicking your feet in the air that he is calling you princess, but you can only assume he is being patronizing. 

You: This is so fucking embarrassing. 

Frankie: Not too embarrassed to keep texting though…

You: Frankie don’t 

Frankie: You really think about me like that? 

You: I think you already know the answer to that

Frankie: I do, but I wanted to hear it from you. This time directly to me

Frankie: I think about you 

Frankie: All the time

You: Frankie, please. 

You: I already feel terrible 

Frankie: Never thought you’d see me like that. Now you’re telling me you’ve been thinking about my cock? and you want me to drop it? 

You: Please don’t fuck with me. I’m already mortified beyond belief like I can’t show my face around here anymore!! I’m sorry I sent it okay? 

You: I’ll skip the kickback if it's going to be too weird now. 

Frankie: Wouldn’t be the same without you there. I’d never tell you not to come. 

Frankie: If you really want me to drop it, I will. just say the word 

Frankie: but you should know

Frankie: I think you’re gorgeous, hilarious, too fucking smart to be hanging out with us  

Frankie: I lose my mind goddamn mind when I’m near you 

Frankie: and knowing you’ve been thinking about me too has me hard as a fucking rock 

You: Do you really mean that? 

Frankie: Yes I do, baby. You have no idea what you do to me 

You: Yeah? I might need some enlightenment. 

There’s a pause. You brace for impact; that he is really pulling your leg and he and the guys are doubled over laughing at your expense. 

Frankie: Might be better if you hear it straight from the Fish’s mouth

Frankie: Get it? Like horse’s mouth but it’s a fish instead 

You: I hate to admit I did one of those huff exhales that you do when something is amusing but not quite funny enough to warrant a full laugh

Frankie: At least you smiled. That’s good enough for me

Frankie: Sending a voice note, is that okay? 

You: Of course

Then the notification for a voice memo appears. Your fingers hover over the screen before you press play and Frankie’s low, gravelly voice spills into your ears. 

“Bebita, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been yours since I first laid eyes on you…You’ve got me sitting here in my truck, trying to keep my shit together, but all I can think about is you on your knees for me. Told the guys I had to take a call… they’d give me shit right now if they knew… they’ve been ribbing me for months to ask you out but I was too chicken shit… way too pretty for me… definitely funnier and smarter than me, but you should know I’m not intimidated by that it's fucking hot… Fuck you’d look so good for me. I’d slide my cock into your mouth so slow, watch your lips stretch around me. You have the prettiest eyes and lips, you’d be heaven down on your knees for me…Shit, I’d lose my mind watching you take it. You’d look so pretty with your mouth full of me, baby. So fucking pretty.” 

Frankie: Are you touching yourself? Tell me, pretty girl 

You: And if I was?

Frankie: Good girl 

Frankie: What are you thinking? How do you feel?

You: So so good, Frankie

You: Thinking about your big strong hands all over me has me drooling baby

Another voice memo appears. When you press play, there’s a groan—a low, throaty sound that makes your entire body shiver. 

“You been thinking about my hands, princesa? Want me to hold those pretty tits with my hands, hmmm? Play with your nipples, massage them…maybe you’d like one of my hands gently pressing into the sides of your throat… if you’re into it of course!” 

Frankie’s urgency to make sure you’re into that sort of thing makes you smile. The caring, thoughtful Frankie that you know. 

“I am so hard for you– ay dios!…Thinking about you sitting on my face, trapped underneath your gorgeous thighs… make you come all over my face. Need you to make a mess on me… rub your pretty little clit on my nose, that’s why I have this big nose… so you can use it fuuuuuuuck…”

His voice grows rougher, more ragged. You can hear the slick, clapping sounds and his breathing. Heavy and uneven. 

“Mierda, I’m so fucking close, wish you were here baby–unghhhhh… wanna feel you around me, your pussy squeezin’ my cock… make you come ‘til you’re begging me to stop… do whatever you ask me to…”

You: Show me. I want to see Frankie, please 

Frankie: Wanna hear you say it in your pretty voice 

Frankie: Let me hear you beg all sweet like for me and I’ll show you what you do to me 

You: “Frankie ohhhhh baby I need you so bad… tócame, Frankie, por favor…Always think about climbing in your lap, running my hands through those— ahhhhhh!— curls, wanna feel how deep you get when I ride you… wanna feel you in my goddamn throat — fuck, can you hear how wet I am? I’m making such a mess oh my godddddd… never been this fucking wet baby…”

Frankie: babygirl you’re gonna be the death of me

Frankie: love your voice and the pretty sounds your pussy is making for me 

You: can I send a video? 

Frankie: no pressure. only if you’re comfortable with it 😘

You: that’s not what I asked, Francisco

Frankie: I know you mean business when you use my government name 

Frankie: yeah baby i wanna see whatever you wanna show me 

You: Attachment: 1 Video 

“Hazme el amor, Frankie…” 

Your legs are spread open, your core on display for the camera. He smiles thinking you probably had to find something to prop your phone on. You’ve got two fingers teasing in and out of your glistening pussy.

Frankie: que cosita más linda 

Frankie: You have the prettiest, messiest little pussy baby. Thank you for showing me. I can’t wait to taste her

Frankie: As promised, you want something in return for being such a good girl for me? 

You: yes please 😇

Frankie: sound up 😘

Attachment: 1 Video 

“Fuuuuuuck babygirl… see what you do to me… need to be close to you, need to feel you… make you feel good like you deserve… this is all for you, I am all for you baby…”

Frankie has his cock pulled out of his unzipped jeans, still in his truck, pumping himself. You admire the size and girth of him, so thick and gorgeous. You know the sting and stretch of him entering you for the first time will be delicious. It’s so hot knowing he had to slip away from the guy's night to relieve himself—couldn’t even wait til he got home. 

“Been dreaming of you for months, always imagine you when I’m touching myself, you’re in all my thoughts baby… mierda I’m gonna come, fuck baby—unghhhhhh— gonna come so hard for you — ohhhhhhhh fuck…” 

Thick ropes of cum drip down his hand, where he’s slowly riding out his high, breath heaving in exhaustion. 

You: I think I just blacked out 

You: I came so hard watching you fuck

Frankie: Such a good girl, baby. You did so good making yourself come 

Frankie: Drink some water 😘

You: Thank you Frankie :) 🩷

You: chugging some water as we speak🫡 

Frankie: that’s my girl 

Frankie: get some sleep, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow 😘😘

BONUS: frankie's insta

tagging babes who might enjoy: @katiexpunk @evolnoomym @studioghibelli @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @sanarsi @tightjeansjavi @milly-louise <3333

@pedrostories

[chelseeebe]

guilty as sin

18+. mdni. smut, mentions of alcohol and drugs. harrington!reader x eddie;)

eddie shouldn’t even be entertaining his best friends sister, but when one thing leads to another.. he can’t help himself.

um hello! i hope you all had a good christmas and new year!!! i’m terribly sorry for not posting but christmas is always a crazy time and writing becomes the least of my worries.. but i’m back (hopefully)!!! got some steddie x reader brewing that i genuinely really like

𓆩⚝𓆪

eddie fucking hates these parties. 

he hates the smug girls that only look at him when they want something. he hates the boys and their fake leather jackets. 

but he doesn’t hate coming out of said parties a couple hundred dollars richer. 

he skirted around the edges, taking their cash and leaving before things ever got too much. everyone had heard what happens at a billy hargrove party and eddie wasn’t keen on sticking around long enough to witness it. 

he lurks in the hall, a line of supercilious kids await his party favours, girls that would definitely fuck him for half a gram of his finest white powder. 

eddie wasn’t like that, he preferred a flush of president jackson’s in his pocket instead. 

he glances up at the empty hall and that’s when he spots a familiar skulking face. 

steve would kill you for ever stepping foot in this hellscape, eddie’s astounded you’d even try. 

billy didn’t like steve, or eddie really, for that matter. he just tolerated his presence for his assets. there’s no telling how he’d react to steve’s younger sister floating around his party. 

“what’re you doing here?” he steps over, deciding to take over the overprotective position for steve tonight. 

your eyes look guilty, and then narrow, as if to question his audacity to even ask. 

“i’m partying, what’re you doing here?”

“selling weed to schmucks like billy hargrove,” nodding towards the testosterone filled man, hovering around like he was something special, “you should go home.”

“you should fuck off,” scoffing at his efforts, as pitiful they were. “i’m not a kid anymore eddie,” taking an elongated sip from the red cup your grasped. 

“yeah i can see that,” glancing at your rather revealing outfit, letting his gaze slip to your cleavage just once. 

he wasn’t going to pretend you weren’t attractive, he’d made enough lewd, only half-joking comments about you to steve before. 

“you should get a life eddie,” snide and weirdly endearing, slipping past him to filter into the party, and away from his prying eyes.

-

he should go home. he’s made enough money for tonight, and this is all due to start getting weird any minute now. 

and yet, he just can’t, in good conscience leave you here. especially not after watching billy sneak his arm around your shoulder, his lips dangerously close to your soft cheek. 

eddie could’ve sworn he only looked away for a minute, dealing with some bonehead looking to short him, but it had all erupted in the millisecond he wasn’t watching you. 

“don’t fucking touch me!” a piercing shriek comes from behind him, alerting the entire party to the altercation. 

it’s you, billy trailing behind not long after. he’d say he’s never seen you so furious but that would be a lie, he had, many a times seen you like this. mostly when steve ate something you’d wanted or that time he’d told your dad about you sneaking out of your window. 

“oh c’mon,” billy squawks, tommy hagan peering out of the door like the loser he was, “i wasn’t even touching you, not yet anyway,” his smug grin taking over his face. 

“and you never will!” disgust rippling through your voice, arms crossed tight over your chest. 

“don’t be so frigid,” sneering his upper lip, “from what i’ve heard, it doesn’t seem to run in the family,” a wisecrack about steve’s community dick no doubt. 

“oh yeah, i’m sure you know all about my brother, freak.”

“yeah yeah, get the fuck out of here, dumb bitch,” storming back inside the house and past eddie who had carefully positioned himself just beside the doorway. 

eddie feels he has some moral duty to fulfil, traipsing outside after billy had pushed his way back past, “what’d i tell you?”

“oh great!” you exclaim, “not you too, didn’t i tell you to fuck off?”

he takes it on the chin, your words meant very little, after all he’d become accustomed to them having been caught in the crossfire of yours and steve’s arguments plenty of times. 

“c’mon,” practically ordering you around, “i’ll take you home,” walking backwards while beckoning for you to follow him to his van. 

you stare stern faced for a second, realising that eddie was your best bet to get back across town. 

“fine,” huffing as you oblige, glaring back at the roaring party one last time before slipping inside. 

it’s no doubt that someone will feed all of tonight’s happenings back to steve, especially where billy hargrove and his little sister were involved. 

“why’d you even go?” eddie starts when you’re on the road, deciding that you can’t jump out while he’s driving.  

“because i wanted to party, is that okay with you?” scooting as far away as possible, pressed against the door. 

“right.. sure,” deciding to no longer entertain the conversation. he wasn’t steve and he had no intention of ever becoming him either. 

the rest of the drive is mostly on silence, up until he reaches the end of your street; “do you wanna come in?”

he risks a glance over, your features settled and friendly once more. 

“what?”

steve was out, presumably all night, with christina, his new plaything. eddie had helped him pick out a shirt, only for his choice to go completely ignored. 

“do you want to come inside? it’s pretty simple,” staring back expectantly, like he was the one suddenly trying to form a friendship after you’d shunned him. 

“isn’t anyone home?”

“no, no one’s home, they’re never home,” pouting slightly. eddie knew all too well how often you and steve were left to fend for yourselves, they’d taken advantage of your empty house enough as teenagers. 

he hesitates for far too long, “-or don’t, i’m just being polite eddie,” getting out of his van in a huff. you were just like steve, a real child when things didn’t go your way. the signature harrington move, and it exhausted him no end. 

“jesus fucking christ,” he exclaims to the empty van, ambling up the long drive right beside you, “you can’t tell steve about any of this,” 

your eyes roll back, glaring into the cracked window, “as if.” 

ouch. 

he exhales, cruising into the empty parking space before hopping out. he has this rumbling gut feeling that something bad is about to happen and yet, he can’t help but follow you into the house. 

flicking the light on to illuminate the sad, lonely building, heading straight for upstairs. you had invited him to just leave him here, questioning his life choices. 

“help yourself, i know you know where everything is,” striding up the stairs to your bedroom, reminding him of many nights he and steve helped themselves to your dad’s whiskey, throwing the empty bottles over the fence in a bid to hide the evidence. 

what else do you know about? you and steve were close but surely not that close. but he knows his friend and he knows how much of a gossip he is. 

you probably knew everything, how he fumbled chrissy and have been sorely single ever since, how his band are taking time apart to figure things out, steve was just the type of guy to tell you it all. 

eddie does help himself, getting two glasses from the shelf and whatever bottle he reckons your dad won’t miss too much before walking over to the gigantic, and honestly, uncomfortable couch. 

this felt wrong, like he was doing something naughty and deceitful. maybe he was, come to think of it. steve wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to walk into whatever this is, he’s sure. 

you reemerge, changing from your revealing outfit into some equally as revealing pajamas. huh. 

he can’t figure you out. maybe you were just tricking him, a stupid joke steve had put you up to. 

“how much did you make?” coming to sit on the far side of the couch, grabbing the other glass he’d carefully poured. 

eddie buffers, debating whether telling you was the right or worst thing he could do. he supposes you’ve got enough money, so you wouldn’t want that. steve too. 

“couple hundred,” shrugging nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t some of the best he’s had in months, “trick is to always undersell them,” tapping his temple, “they’re too stupid to tell the difference.” 

“so, what you’re trying to say is that you’re a scam artist?” sipping haughtily on the bitter whiskey, crossing your leg in some sort of power play. 

“no- no, i mean, it’s billy-,” stopping only when you reach over and place your hand on his arm. 

“i’m joking eddie.” 

his eyes fall to your hand, he can’t recall if you’ve ever touched him before. why does it feel like that? like he wants your hand to shift further over and grab his thigh instead. 

“yeah, i know that,” opting to clear his throat instead of letting his thoughts tumble out of his mouth. 

“good,” smiling with the corner of your mouth, giving his arm a squeeze for good measure. 

“so.. what were you doing with billy anyway?” tipping his head back to allow the rest of the liquor to slip easily down his throat, “didn’t think you were into guys like that?” 

keep it fucking cool eddie. 

jesus christ. 

he’s trying, and subsequently failing, to keep his head straight. 

you’re unrelenting, keeping your eyes trained on his and the your fingers wrapped around the glass. 

cruel. 

inexplicably cruel. 

“billy’s not really my type,” sliding your finger around the rim of your glass, “i like them to be friends with my brother at least,” shrugging, completely smug behind your glass. 

eddie’s eyebrows knit together, he thinks he’s picking up what you’re putting down but he can’t be sure. 

you look up from your half-drunk whisky, eyes low and hooded, charged with a little something that definitely shouldn’t be there right now. 

“oh,” his lips curating the perfect ‘o’. 

this was a cruel prank, a master plan you’d thought up from the minute you’d seen him earlier. 

exhaling softly when he doesn’t immediately make a move, back to the petulant child act he despised so much.

the couch dips, eddie’s eyes watch your legs march past him, displeased that he hadn’t leapt at the chance to ruin his friendship.

“are you gonna come with me or are you just gonna sit there all night?” poised on the bottom step, knowing full well that you’d already won. 

eddie looks up, hoping for some guidance from whoever it was that resided up there, only to be met with the stark white ceiling. it’s grounding almost, only almost, because he swears he can make out the faintest yes in the cascading shadows. if there were ever a sign from above, this must be it. 

ah fuck. 

his feet make the decision for him, climbing up the staircase with far too much enthusiasm. this was a bad, horrendously stupid decision. 

he knows which room is yours, the door ajar, inviting him in, tempting him to waters he definitely shouldn’t even ponder treading in. 

eddie takes a moment to really consider whether this was the right choice, whether being balls deep in steve’s younger sister was truly worth the shit that would inevitably follow. 

yes, yes it was. 

he pushes the door open, you stand on the other side, no longer fully clothed, your silhouette projected onto the wall behind. there’s an attempt to move forward but his knees fail him, turning to jelly at the sight of you. 

“jesus christ,” exhaling deep into his palm, flashing images of steve’s fist pummelling into his face flash before his eyes, only for a brief second. not long enough to have any consequence on what he’s about to do. 

“stop staring and do something.”

he takes his time, stepping closer and closer until he’s about to touch you, a force or maybe his own self-doubt stopping him in his tracks. 

“am i gonna regret this?”

“probably,” nodding innocently. 

eddie nudges his forehead against yours, letting a sigh slip past his lips. this would go one of two ways; steve would never find out and you’d all live in blissful ignorance for the rest of your lives or, steve would find out and he’d bury eddie in the woods behind your house. 

fuck it. 

eddie’s prepared to take that risk, barrelling forward to connect your lips, almost knocking you off of your feet. 

your arms interlock around his neck almost immediately, closing the distance between your bodies as you press against his torso. stumbling over one another’s feet to get to the bed, a rushed, hungry ordeal. 

because now he’s done it, now he’s done the one thing he should’ve never have done, he’s raring to go. hard as fuck with a guilty conscience which feels anything but right. 

you’re sprawled back onto the mattress, pulling him down over your body before he can even think to pull away. 

you’re intoxicating, moving carefully against him, every next move more calculated than the last. like when your lips move from his to graze against his ear, sucking and nibbling your way down the length of his neck. it’s masterful, and slightly evil. 

god fucking damn it. 

he’s not supposed to like this. he’s not supposed to think about this for the rest of his pathetic little life but he knows he will be, certain he’ll be craving this forever. 

your fingers work at the button on his jeans, grazing purposefully over his erection, drawing obscenities from his gasping lips. 

his jeans are off and onto the floor alongside your panties in a hasty rush, the feel of your pillowy thighs slide over his ribcage, allowing him in closer, much closer. 

“steve’s definitely not coming back tonight, right?” just needing to make sure one last time. even if you said yes, he’s not sure he’s be able to pull himself away at this point. 

“can you stop talking about my brother while you’re about to fuck me?” 

immediately understood. pressing another fiery kiss to your wetted lips, to both shut you and himself up. 

you sigh into his mouth, intertwining your hands at the nape of his neck, thighs hugging his waist as your head lols back against the pillow. 

eddie slides his hand from your waist to your hip, he wants to say it feels unnatural and weird but it really doesn’t. it feels as if his calloused fingers were made to hold you against the mattress, like his lips slotted perfectly against yours. 

you shudder when he places his tip at your glistening entrance, keening your hips to ensure he really couldn’t go back. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” heaving all of his words out in one as slides inside, fingernails using your skin as leverage, keeping him on this earth. 

“ohh.. wow,” you breathe, pulling on the roots of his wild hair, your thighs squeezing him in closer. 

if this was so wrong, why did it feel so good?

he’s not exactly the playboy your brother is but he’s got some idea about how otherworldly this felt. 

the gentle slap of his balls against your soaked cunt feel criminal to hear in this room, a whirlwind of gasps and mutterings of expletives fill his ears. 

your hair frames your face like some sort of halo, though you were the furthest thing from an angel. your gaze keeping him in this realm, heavy though your eyes flutter with every thrust, every nudge of his cock against your cervix. 

“fuck- sl-slower eddie,” panting softly into his ear, delicate fingers tracing his scalp. 

his strokes grow weary, slowing down as you ask, though much too close to climax to really notice. 

leaving behind fingerprint shaped bruises on your hip from his ironclad grip, cock stretching your pretty cunt. eddie can’t decide between looking at your face or the space between you, enamoured by the slight buck of your hips, the ways your lips mime unintelligible babble. 

“l-like this?” he asks, flickering back to your face. your nod of approval was all he needed to keep going, placing a hasty, messy kiss to the side of your mouth, making out with your puffy bottom lip as you whine against him. 

“feel so good.. shit- ’m gonna cum sweet girl,” stumbling through his words, a mess of bleary eyes and nonsensical thoughts. 

your mewls grow louder, echoing around the empty house, no long meeting his gaze, too overwhelmed with your own climax to care. 

“whe- where?” losing his train of thought as you come undone around him, husky growls that deaden his pathetic pleas. 

you don’t respond with words, only shaking your head to indicate anywhere but inside. having sex with you was one thing, getting you pregnant would be an entirely different feat. 

eddie pulls out, thankfully, painting your heaving stomach with his release, only to collapse in a heap beside you. the weight of what he had just done had not yet hit him but knows it’s about to. 

your breathing slows, turning your head in his direction, without a single word spoken you sit up, leaving him to recover. 

“sh-should i go?” eddie proceeds with caution, this was already too far, he didn’t want to overstep and assume you’d like to spend the night with him too. 

“no eddie, you should sleep here,” you sigh, swinging your legs from the bed, “steve won’t be back before i’m awake,” padding over to the door, flashing him a smile before disappearing. 

he lays there, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, making shapes out of the illumination of your fairy lights. he can’t get over the stark contrast between your room and steve’s, and how damn clean your bed smelt. 

you come back, smelling vaguely of mint as you slip back under the covers, twisting your body to face him. 

“i can trust you, can’t i?” lashes cascading over your cheeks with every blink. 

eddie can only nod, held captive by your glossy gaze and slight pout, a puppet really. he wouldn’t tell steve, not ever. 

he falls asleep with one hand on your hip, tracing vague patterns onto the skin, dreaming of a future where this wouldn’t ultimately get him killed, one where he could have this, have you whenever he wanted.

-

eddie wakes to an empty bed, surrounded by decorative cushions and stuffies. he’d only ever seen the inside of your room a handful of times and now he’d slept here.

he’s terrified to get up, too afraid he’ll bump into steve in the hallway and have to awkwardly explain why he’s coming out of your room. or why he’s even here at all, come to think of it. 

it’s a slow, groaning descent out of bed and down to the kitchen where he thinks he can hear you tinkering around, getting redressed in the process, petrified that it was steve or even your dad instead. 

he peaks around the corner, holding his breath just in case, only to find you at the island, coffee and toast laid out in front. 

“oh.. steve’s still not back?” proceeding with great caution. you’d cleared the glasses from the table and replaced the whiskey, making sure there were no signs of any foul play. 

“nope,” looking from your book, same glint in your eye, “you can relax.. you stayed in the guest room, you were too fucked up to drive and i said you could crash here… remember?” 

eddie nods instinctively, he’d do anything you asked, he fears. 

as if on cue, the front door swings open and you share one last glance before steve inevitably steam rolls into the kitchen and demands to know why eddie’s van is parked in his drive. 

your brother looks.. disheveled, peaking around into the kitchen with the same shirt he had worn last night and his jacket over his shoulder. 

“now what the fuck are you doing here?” immediately pointing fingers, walking into the kitchen with the air of a man who had just gotten laid. 

and well, he wasn’t the only one with a bounce in his step this morning. 

eddie seizes up, staring at steve with widened eyes. he’d fallen at the first, measly hurdle. 

“-i said he could stay,” you interject, saving the day, “he showed up thinking you’d be back, way way too fucked up to drive,” rolling your eyes, the final nail in the coffin to really sell this shit. 

a professional.

touché. 

“oh,” steve nods, still floating on his high to pay too much attention, “what’ve i told you about smoking on your own supply?” clapping his hand on eddie’s shoulder, jolting him out of his frozen state. 

eddie chuckles along, he could keep up with this lie easily, it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for him. 

“where were you last night anyway?” expertly changing the subject, using a snide sip of coffee to hide your smirk. 

“if you must know,” clicking his tongue against the backs of his teeth, “i was with christina,” a twinkle in his eye and a tone that only came after getting his dick wet. 

eddie’d sure he’d be the same if he could even muster the courage to speak, too terrified of the truth to even dare usher a word. 

“you stay in my room?” nudging eddie’s elbow, “don’t tell me i gotta change my sheets too,” much too jokey to have any inclination of the truth. 

“i set him up in the guest room, no fucking way would i step foot in your room,” snarling your upper lip, putting on a real performance. 

“wow,” steve remarks, taking the other slice of toast from your plate to immediately shove into his mouth, “you did all that for eddie?” spraying his crumbs over the counter. 

“yeah, i take care of him steve, don’t worry,” and you do, or did. because it can never happen again, there was no way he’d allow himself to commit such sins again.