#it really felt like he was going through all this personally

[artdcnaldson]

changeover || art donaldson x reader ; patrick zweig x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex x2, fingering, f!recieving oral), drinking, pining after people you can’t have, a dash of reader x tashi, sprinkles of patrick x art, porn WITH plot

Summary: your ‘casual’ fling with art isn’t working for you anymore, which sucks because you probably love the guy. enter a freshly heartbroken patrick to take your mind off of things.

FALL 2006

You knew exactly why Art Donaldson refused to acknowledge that you were an item. You could see it clearly across the room— the way you were cast to the shadows while he followed Tashi around like a lost puppy.  

It made sense, even if it made your chest ache. Tashi was gorgeous, and was acing her classes, and was going to go pro soon and become a beautiful, all-American sports icon. And you were just some girl he’d met because he needed help understanding the reading for class. 

You’d known each other for months by then— hooking up, going on dates that ‘weren’t dates,’ spending most of your time together. And you stayed firmly in the no-labels zone. But you weren’t bitter. It was totally fine, being treated like a girlfriend in all but name. 

Art laughed and leaned into Tashi. It was totally fine.

You were nursing a beer in a red solo cup and trying your best to look friendly and approachable. The only reason you were even at the party was because Art had brought you, so you should’ve felt grateful. You should’ve been having fun.

But just as soon as you’d arrived, he’d slipped away with a promise to be right back. It had been over an hour, so it seemed like you had very different definitions of right back.

“Looks like your boyfriend stole my girlfriend.” You turned to see Patrick, tanned from his time on tour. He was only going to be at Stanford for the weekend before taking off for a challenger a state over, which meant he needed to capitalize on any chance to spend time with Art and Tashi. 

Unfortunately, you’d both been ditched.

“Art isn’t my boyfriend,” you said pointedly, maybe a little too quickly. 

Patrick knew better. The last time he came to visit, he’d interrupted a pseudo date night between the two of you (which was a nice way of saying he walked in on the two of you in Art’s dorm while his best friend was was knuckles deep in you). The rest of that night wound up being spent passing around mixed drinks made with cheap vodka and whatever you could get from the nearest vending machine. You overheard the it’s casual, nothing serious conversation they’d had through the ajar door while you bought more Powerade and Red Bull in the hall. 

But you were being so understanding and cool about that. 

Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly. “Really?” The corner of his mouth tugged upwards for a moment before he wrapped his lips around a beer can. He tried to hide it, but you saw. 

You chewed on your lip, stomach twisting with nerves and curiosity. He was probably just messing with you, trying to get your thoughts all muddled up about Art because it was fun. Still, you couldn’t help but ask the burning question echoing through your mind. “Did Art say something to you? About us, I mean.”

The question felt pathetic. A stupid, desperate girl begging to know if the guy she liked felt the same way. 

Patrick shrugged, leaning against the wall bearing the portraits of the ghosts of frat brothers’ past. “Not directly. But you’re here together, right? And he’s still seeing you.”

“I guess,” you replied with a huff, embarrassment burning hot in your chest. 

“If you’re worried about Tashi, don’t be,” Patrick said, sparing a glance in her direction. When you looked towards Art, and the way he was smiling and laughing and looked so natural beside her, a frown turned your lips. Patrick nudged your arm and offered a smile. “Hey, I’m serious. Nothing’s gonna happen there. Trust me.”

It should’ve felt nice. A total reassurance from the person who knew Art best. But it did nothing to quell the turmoil twisting in the pit of your stomach. Because if he really did feel that way, why was he over there with her?

Tashi Duncan. So beautiful, radiant, and perfect that she had total control over two men. Your paths didn’t cross much, outside of Art, and that was rare since he liked to keep you two apart. 

But there was a part of you that knew that Tashi would’ve been able to make you melt with one look, one smile, one word. You wanted to experience what Art did. You wanted to know what Patrick knew, and what Art was jealous of. Or maybe you wanted something of your own too, something to keep Art out of. 

“I need another drink,” you said suddenly, meeting Patrick’s gaze. “Do you wanna come with me?” Patrick’s eyes flitted quickly towards Tashi, where she bantered with Art and the rest of the tennis team. 

There was something in his expression you found incredibly familiar. That pang of jealousy. The ache of not belonging just right. The look was gone quickly, replaced by a toothy smile. “Sure. I could use something stronger.”

——

An hour later, Tashi left with Patrick, and Art quickly decided to take you back to his own dorm. 

His lips were insistent against yours, kissing you hungrily, completely dissonant to the delicate way he tugged down the zipper of your dress. His fingers were warm where they brushed along the line of your spine. His tongue brushed against yours, tasting of beer and mint gum.

“What were you doing with him?” He murmured against your lips just as he peeled off the cheap, bodycon dress you’d gotten from Forever 21. It was tossed across the room, to be lost in the mess of practice duffles and empty water bottles and dirty laundry. The only time he parted his lips from you was to lift you onto his bed and slot himself between your thighs. 

His tongue licked into your mouth possessively, claiming you as his from the inside out. You gasped as one of his hands kneaded your breast, panting open-mouthed against his lips. “Who?” You managed weakly, your mind completely blank except for Art, Art, Art. And maybe a tiny voice in the back of your head that was still thinking about the Tashi of it all.

“Patrick.” His voice was soft against the tender skin of your jaw. “I saw you two talk, then you disappeared for, like, an hour.” His teeth nipped gently at your pulse point as he nuzzled against your throat, awaiting your answer. 

So he had been watching? He was with her, but he was still thinking about you. It made your heart flutter. You moaned softly as his hand slid between your thighs, teasing you through your panties. “Getting drinks,” you managed feebly. “Fuck, Art, I can’t concentrate while y—“

You gasped at the feeling of his fingers slipping beneath the band of your panties, teasing you with delicate touches. “Just drinks? For an hour?”

A strangled gasp escaped you as fingers slick with your arousal met your clit. When your eyes opened in surprise, you found Art staring right back. His touch was relentless, flooding your senses with pleasure as he demanded an answer. “We were in the living room,” you managed between soft pants and moans. “He was telling me about the— god— about the tour.”

Art’s expression flickered slightly— a tiny furrow forming between his brows. Was it doubt, or possessiveness, or anger? Before you could figure it out, his lips were against your throat, your panties were pushed to the side, and he was easing two fingers inside of your cunt.

“Fuck,” you cried out, grasping onto his shoulders. French manicured nails scratched at the pastel-colored polo he wore— why was he still wearing his clothes? Soft, keening moans slipped past your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. Every thought of him preferring Tashi or him leading you on slipped from the front of your mind as his thumb rubbed at your clit.

With a free hand, you palmed him over his pants, relishing in the way he panted against your warm skin. You made quick work of the button of his jeans— you knew your way around him like the back of your hand. He was warm, pulsing in your delicate grip when your hand slipped beneath the band of his briefs. Slick at his tip with need. 

He moaned against your pulse point, nuzzling against you as you began to jerk him off in time with each pump of his fingers. 

“You smell like him,” he groaned, nose pressed to the spot just beneath your ear as his hips bucked into your fist with a new sort of desperation. You didn’t have to ask who he meant. His tongue slipped out, lapping at you briefly before sucking a bruise into the delicate skin there. 

His fingers flexed so they brushed against the sweet spot within you. Your eyes rolled back and a sob of pleasure clawed its way from your throat. “Need you,” you pleaded, equal parts a thoughtless cry and a demand.

And who was he to deny either of you that? A pitiful whine escaped your lips when he slipped his fingers from within you and moved your hand from him. He stood to clumsily pull off the rest of his clothes at the same time that you quickly shimmied off your panties and tossed them to the side.

”You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned as he joined you back on the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You were so pliant and sweet beneath him, looking up at him with adoring doe-eyes and a pretty smile on your spit-slick lips. He should’ve been perfectly content.

As he parted your thighs, stroking his dick as he lined himself up with your entrance, he wondered if Tashi and Patrick were doing the same exact thing at that same exact moment. He could imagine it clearly— Tashi, splayed out on her bed, and Patrick right at home between her thighs; sinking in, faces contorting with pleasure. Before he could stop himself, a soft moan slipped past his lips at the mental image. 

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he sheathed himself within you, and he buried his face into your neck. Fuck. You really did smell like Patrick. The shitty Axe body spray that was supposed to smell like chocolate, and the lingering scent of cigarettes. 

You moaned prettily, pussy squeezing him like a vise. Manicured nails scratched against his back, delicate enough that the marks would probably disappear by that time the next day. He was so used to Patrick lounging shirtless around their hotel rooms after tournaments— severe-looking scratch marks looking like angel wings against his pale skin. He always wore them like a badge of honor the night after he snuck off with some pretty girl he’d set his sights on. That’s how you know you’re doing it right. 

Why was he thinking about Patrick?

He tried to lose himself in you— in how pretty you were beneath him, the sweet words falling from your lips with each thrust. Feels so good, Art. ‘M so close already. Gonna make me cum. 

When he looked down at you, your mouth hung open, lips shiny with spit, begging to be kissed. His mouth met yours messily and you both moaned into the kiss. He moved a hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit as he bullied his cock into your inviting cunt. 

You came with a string of moans and expletives that made the person next door bang on the wall out of annoyance. Art had to pull out as soon as he felt you start to squeeze around him. All it took was a few clumsy strokes and he was spilling onto your stomach with an almost embarrassing whine. 

You both lay there catching your breath and cursing the shitty air conditioning in the dorm. He wiped the mess of cum off of your stomach with an old tee shirt that was hanging off the side of his desk and tossed it to the side to be dealt with later.

“You’re so gross,” you mumbled with a tiny laugh, reaching down to grab your underwear from your floor. After you pulled them back on, you watched him dig through a pile of clothes in a papasan chair for a passable pair of pajama pants. An amused smile played on your lips at the sight. “Do I need to buy you a hamper?”

He held up a pair of pajama pants to examine them, shrugged, and pulled them on. “I have one, it’s just full.” A boyish grin spread across his lips as he crossed the room towards his dresser. He tossed a random tee shirt from the drawer in your direction and climbed on the bed, grinning down at you. “See? I have clean clothes.”

You laughed as you pulled the shirt over your head, then turned on your side to face him. His eyes flickered from your face, down to the shirt, then back. You wrinkled your face in confusion and peered down at the shirt. 

“What? What does it say?” You asked with a laugh.  You held it out, squinting to make sense of the graphic— faded and upside down. Finally, your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! I thought you were more of a Maroon 5 and Justin Timberlake guy. I’ve never even seen a Blink-182 CD in your stuff before.”

Art cleared his throat and shrugged, thumbing the bottom of the tee shirt absentmindedly. “I went with Patrick a few years back.”

A smile turned your lips. “It’s sweet that you two are such good friends.” You reached over, brushing his curls from his forehead. He turned, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Did you and Tashi have fun tonight?” The insecurity in your words was palpable.

Art shrugged. “A party’s a party, y’know?” He leaned into your touch, letting you play with his hair. “Just lost track of time. I won’t run off on you next time.”

You chewed your lip shyly. “I think it’d be nice for the three of us to hang out sometime,” you said, watching his expression to gauge his reaction. 

“C’mere,” he said with a tired smile, effectively avoiding your suggestion. When he pulled you against his side, he nuzzled his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His breath tickled with each exhale, which made you squirm, but every so often he’d place a chaste kiss on the skin there and you’d forget why you wanted to ask him to move.

In the morning, when you woke up to his alarm clock blaring a local radio station, you realized it was the first time he’d let you stay the night. 

SPRING 2007

After your second drink, you decided that Art Donaldson had hung you out to dry for the last time. Well, probably the last time. 

Most likely not the last time. 

Knowing yourself, you’d be clinging to his side like a lost puppy in a few weeks’ time, if you even had the dignity to give it that long. The second his attention turned to you again, you knew you’d be absolutely relishing in the special affection he always gave you when he was experiencing Tashi-related withdrawal.

You were so stupidly in love (or in lust, or in whatever) with him that you’d accept just about anything he could throw at you. 

No labels, just casual? Fine. Ignoring you all night then conveniently remembering you exist when he’s horny and ready to go back to his dorm? Whatever. You’re game. 

You’d gone to every match, watched a few practices. Helped him study for exams, let him borrow the notecards you’d painstakingly written over the course of the semester. Jesus, you even wrote a few essays for him when his schedule got crowded and he just couldn’t manage.

All you asked in return was a date to a stupid formal, and he ditched you last minute for Tashi. Again. And you couldn’t even get pissed about it without feeling guilty, because she’d fucking gotten injured and it wasn’t her fault that the guy you were into was carrying a torch for her instead.

“You’ve been staring down the Reese’s Pieces for the last five minutes.” The familiar voice startled you from your sulking. The world filtered back in suddenly— the blaring music, the smell of cigarettes and pot, the chatter of people wandering in and out of neighboring dorms. When you turned, Patrick Zweig was leaning against the vending machine beside you, carrying a large Tennis bag and backpack on both of his shoulders. “Do you need five bucks?”

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” You asked, brows furrowed with confusion. “I heard about her match. I just figured that you’d…“ You trailed off as you noticed the thinly veiled kicked-puppy expression he wore. “Oh.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s… it’s over. Did you want the Reese’s, or not?” 

“No,” you shook your head and laughed. “I just needed…” you trailed off. What was it you needed, again?

You needed Art. A date to the formal. You needed to feel desirable and cared for. You needed him to get his head out of his ass and just fucking commit. You needed to tell Art to fuck off and find another groupie. You needed…

“Another drink?” Patrick suggested.

You nodded eagerly like that’s what you’d been thinking all along. “Yes. Another drink.” You paused, glancing at his bags. “Do you want to drop your things in my room first? My roommate is in Iowa, or something. She won’t mind.”

Your dorm was decorated in shades of pink and green, with a ruffled bedspread and faux fur pillows and blankets. You bent down to retrieve two bottles of Smirnoff Ice from a mini fridge. Patrick did his best to look away like a gentleman would. 

Well, he did his best. It wasn’t exactly his fault that his options were to look at your tight jeans or the bulletin board above your desk that was essentially an Art Donaldson shrine. 

Pretty pink push pins held up a photo of the two of you after one of his matches, both beaming at the camera. Then there were little notes he’d written you in his boyish scrawl. Tickets to movies you’d gone to see and tickets to his matches. 

“Here,” you said, drawing his attention back to you, thankfully in an upright position. You’d already popped the bottle caps off the radioactive blue drink you handed him. You were chewing your lip shyly, sweetly. “It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?”

“What?” He took a drink and nearly grimaced at the sweetness. After he finished it, he’d need to go find something stronger.

You sighed and took a long drink yourself. “I dunno, the whole… thing. Art.” You absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your shirt. “I mean, what girl with any self-respect lets a guy just screw her for months with no commitment?”

“Maybe self-respect is overrated.” He laughed and stepped closer. “Full disclosure? I only came here hoping that I could fuck someone and spend the night in their dorm. Free booze was a plus.”

“We’re in the same boat then,” You said, gazing up at him through your lashes. “We’re both jilted lovers who need a distraction.”

You tilted the bottom of the bottle up, chugging down the contents. When you were done, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and rolled your neck out. “Bottoms up,” you said with a coy smile. “Let’s find something stronger.”

——

An hour later, something by the Pussycat Dolls was blaring through a set of speakers in a darkened common area. You were the fun kind of tipsy, where you started to care less about everyone else and just found yourself buzzed in that light, easy kind of way. You danced to the beat without a care in the world while Patrick sat on the arm of a couch and nursed his beer. 

His eyes were glued to your body as you moved, almost hypnotic beneath the red Christmas lights that had been stapled around the ceiling. Your shirt had ridden up, revealing a sliver of stomach that you either didn’t notice or didn’t care to cover up. 

The only thought running through his head? Art was a fucking idiot. 

You glanced over at him and nodded for him to join you. He didn’t move, so, not one to give up, you joined him over on the couch. When he went for a drink, you tipped up the bottom of the beer can and forced him to finish it, even as it spilled past his lips and down his chin. 

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

With a pleased smile, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the middle of the room to dance.

He shook his head as you tried to make him dance— your hands on his hips, pushing and pulling and trying and failing to make him move. “No, no. I don’t dance,” he explained, as firmly as he could stand to be.

“Because you can’t? Or because you think you’re too cool?” You asked, raising a brow. He rolled his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “C’mon, if you dance, I’ll tell you a secret.”

That did make him laugh. “What are you, five?”

With a shrug, you took his hands into yours and moved them to your hips. There was a hesitance in his touch, at first. But then his fingers splayed against exposed skin, and you were so warm. Your hips began moving to the beat beneath his hands. “See? We’re dancing,” you said, peering up at him through long lashes.

You looked genuinely victorious when he finally started dancing… kind of. It was less of an action and more of an acceptance. It had been abundantly obvious since the moment he walked into your dorm room that you wanted to end the night with him. Maybe it was because you thought it would hurt Art, or maybe it was because he was there and he was feeling the exact same things you were.

He’d done his best to resist out of some lingering sense that he could repair things with Tashi, and the hope that maybe Art’s spite would fade and they’d be friends again.

Despite skipping the whole college thing, Patrick wasn’t an idiot. He knew better. The second Tashi fell on that court, both of those doors slammed in his face.

And you were so close to him that he could smell the liquor on your breath. And Victoria’s Secret body spray. Mostly the liquor, though. He was barely moving, but you— you were something else. Hips moving against the thigh he’d slotted between your legs, arms trailing up his chest so you could sling them around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer. Even though you were grinding against each other like two horny middle-schoolers at their first dance, he’d had enough to drink that he didn’t really give a fuck. When he moved his hands from your hips to grab your ass, you gasped and laughed like it was the best thing in the world.

Your body moved so effortlessly that anything he could have possibly done would’ve looked clunky and clumsy. He groaned when you brushed against him just right, and he could tell by your smug expression that you knew exactly how you were affecting him. 

You leaned in, chest to chest. “Can I tell you the secret now?” You whispered, lips brushing against the line of his jaw. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I think it’d be a bad idea for us to fuck. We’re both in a bad place.”

“Mhmm. Bad idea,” he echoed. He wanted to reach out and grab your jaw, to tilt your face up and kiss you. One of your hands had slipped beneath the hem of his (Tashi’s) shirt, just barely teasing the skin there. It made him shiver and lean into the heat of your touch.

“But I still want to.” You sounded so earnest, so needy. Like you’d take anything he’d give you and thank him for it. “We can use each other to feel better, right? Just a nice, warm body and a rush of dopamine.”

It was exactly what Patrick had come to the fucking dorm rager for. To feel wanted and desired. For someone to look at him like he wasn’t actively failing at the one thing he was supposed to be the best at. 

But he was good at other things.

You guided him through the crowded hallway, way more packed than they had been before you’d started dancing. It was getting later, more people were falling for the siren song of R&B and beer. You were a siren of a different making— with much more dangerous consequences than a hangover.

It almost felt wrong to be back in your innocent, frilly little dorm with the intention of fucking your brains out. But the looks you were giving him were enough proof that he wasn’t the only pervert. Before you could get too far, he pinned you up against the door, displacing a dry-erase calendar in the process. 

You glanced down, eyes flitting towards the hearts around tomorrow’s date, anticipating the formal that Art had flaked on. Without looking back, you kicked the dry-erase board out of the way, a problem for later. 

His lips met yours in a messy clash— teeth knocking slightly until you found a rhythm with each other. Patrick Zweig kissed like he’d been at war for fucking years and had just returned home. He kissed like he had crawled out of the desert and the only promise of water could be found on your tongue. 

You’d never been kissed with that level of need and desperation— that desire— and you fucking loved it. The taste of his tongue licking into your mouth, the rumble of a moan against your own lips.

His hands were moving beneath your shirt, pushing it up as he went. A pretty whine slipped past your spit-slick lips as he squeezed your tits over your bra. Your hands stayed busy undoing his jeans. He moaned into your mouth when your fingers barely brushed against the bulge through the denim. 

“That feel good?” You teased, practically breathing the words into his lungs as you slipped your hand into his boxers. He groaned in response as your hand wrapped around him and pumped slowly.  There was something addicting about his need— you relished in the pulse of him, warm and bucking into your grip. And you wanted more. You wanted to be the one to make him come undone. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

His head fell back slightly as you brushed your thumb along his tip, the movement accompanied by another soft groan. The way you peered up at him with an earnest need to please made hot desire thrum within him.

“You could start by taking these clothes off,” he said, fingers roaming to tug at the strap of your bra. You started to move, slipping your hand from his boxers. Then you stopped.

“You’re not gonna help?” You asked coyly, goosebumps forming where his fingers trailed along your side, teasing at the band of the bra. 

That made a tiny smirk turn at his lips. “Does Art help?” It shouldn’t have turned him on— that little flash of longing for Art in your eyes. But it did. You nodded, shifting slightly to encourage more of Patrick’s touch. “Lift your arms.”

As easy as anything, you obeyed. No banter, no push and pull for control. It was so different than what he had with Tashi (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about), and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how it always was for you and Art (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about either). 

He tossed your shirt to the side and moved a single hand to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a quick movement that he’d perfected at sixteen. Painstakingly slow, he pushed each strap down your arms, until it fell at your feet and exposed your tits to the overzealous AC of the Stanford dorms. 

Your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and his mouth watered in a near-Pavlovian response to the sight. His hands moved back to your chest, so he could thumb over the sensitive buds and relish in the way you shivered.

The wood of the door was cold against your shoulders as you arched into his touch. Manicured nails fumbled with the button to your jeans— you twisted and shimmied them off before kicking them to the side.

Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you over to the bed. A grin played at your lips as he practically dropped you onto it, making a decorative pillow fall to the floor. 

“It was only, like, five steps,” you said with a laugh. Patrick shrugged and made quick work of his clothes. You sat up on your elbows to watch him shuck off his pants, then awkwardly hop on one foot at a time to remove his shoes and socks.

When he finally joined you on the bed, he was clad only in his boxers, which were sporting an almost comically large tent. He positioned himself over you, that shit-eating grin ever present on his face. “Can I go down on you?”

You laughed lightly in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

He nodded. “As a heart attack.” He nuzzled against your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, lemme make you feel good, okay? I live for this shit.”

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Yeah. Fuck. You can.”

He trailed his lips down your jaw, then your sternum. He stopped only briefly to suck each nipple into his mouth, making you squirm and arch into him. Your hand moved into his hair, and he moaned against your tit as you tugged slightly. 

You watched him kiss down your stomach and peel your panties down your legs with his teeth through half-lidded eyes. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he slowly kissed up one leg.

The sight made your stomach flip— the sheer desire of it all. Your mind flickered to Tashi, as it seemed to do more and more. Tashi got this same sight, felt the same lips on her skin, and heard the same groans and pants. You could’ve laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. At that moment, with Patrick on top of you, you were closer to Tashi than Art could even dream of.

A tap on the inside of your thigh was his wordless way of telling you to open up for him, to get out of your head and come back to earth. Your tummy fluttered as you spread your legs more and he slotted himself there with an arm slung across your stomach. 

“Fuck,” he said lowly, peering up at you. “You get this wet from just kissing?”

Heat burned in your cheeks at his obvious amusement, but you could tell he loved how responsive you were. His tongue traced you from your hole to your clit, making you cry out and twist your fingers into his curls. Quick, teasing flicks against your clit made your thighs tremble and squeeze around his shoulders. You were so fucking sensitive that it made him want to tear you apart.

It was messy— a sloppy mix of his spit and your arousal as he made out with your pussy. His nose brushed against your clit as he nuzzled deeper into you, moaning as his fervor was rewarded with more of your juices spilling onto his tongue. 

There was no method or precision to it, even though you were quite sure he could’ve had you coming undone beneath his fingers in no time at all. Patrick relished in every tiny reaction— in feeling your thighs around his head and your fingers in his hair. Relished in the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of your slick smeared across his face. 

Your back was arching off the bed, nails digging just shy of painfully into his scalp. 

He opened you up with one finger, then a second. Your cunt accepted the intrusion with ease, like you were made for it. For him. He crooked his fingers just so and you cried out pathetically. He pressed there, constant and firmly and your fingers tugged harder on his hair, moans increasing in pitch as your breaths came in pants. 

“I’m— I— fuck—“ words failed you as his lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked, making spots dance across your vision. In the absence of words, all you could manage were fucked out sobs and pitiful little whines.

Slick walls fluttered around his fingers, and your clit pulsed against his tongue. You were so easy to get worked up— a toy for him to wind up and set into motion. You came with a moan that would’ve made a weaker man cum inside of his boxers, your cunt spasming around the intrusion of his fingers. 

When he sat back and cleaned his fingers in his mouth, you were watching through half-lidded, hazy eyes. Tiny pieces of hair were plastered to your face and forehead, and you gave a breathless giggle as you looked up at him. 

“Holy shit,” you said with a grin as he shucked off his boxers and kicked them off somewhere across the room. 

“Feel good?” He asked, and pressed a kiss to your hip bone. You nodded wordlessly, feeling dizzy with need. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, peering up at him with wide eyes. The tip of his nose was shiny with your arousal, which made warmth spread across your cheeks. With a sheepish laugh, you reached up and wiped it away with your thumb. There wasn’t much you could do about the mess on his mouth and chin. “You’re all messy.”

He kissed you slow— leaving his tongue against yours, making you taste yourself mixed with his spit. It was less of a kiss than a series of slow laves of his tongue against yours. It felt dirty, and a little gross, but you couldn’t help but relish in it. You’d never kissed Art like that, would’ve never even dreamed of it. Patrick was an entirely different animal. 

You stayed like that for a while— just completely lost in the feel of him warm on top of you, grinding his cock against your cunt as he planted messy kisses to your lips. 

“Condom?” He mumbled the words against your lips when he finally grew impatient.

“Mhmm. Bedside table.”

He fumbled inside the drawer, grabbing glasses cleaning wipes two seperate times before he finally found a foil packet in the bottom of the drawer.  

He held it between two fingers, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You sure this’ll fit me? I’m bigger than Art.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not by that much.”

“Where it counts, though.” His smirk was smarmy as he tore open the foil with his teeth and rolled the condom down his length. He spat in his hand and stroked himself as he peered down at you, like he hadn’t quite decided how he wanted you yet. 

“Turn over,” he finally said with a pat to the meat of your thigh. You did as he said, almost hesitant as you turned over and settled onto your forearms, arching your back slightly. “Does Art ever fuck you like this?”

He held the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you with the tiniest amount of pressure. You took in a shaky breath and shifted, eager for more that he wasn’t going to give you yet. “Do you have to bring him up right now?”

No. He knew he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help himself at the same time. The thought of his Art in this same bed with you made it all so much hotter for him. He wanted to know how Art had fucked you, he wanted every detail burned in his brain. He wanted to be better, or maybe just be there with the two of you. 

It had gotten close. Once. Art was definitely fingering you under a blanket while the three of you watched a movie on his laptop across the room. Patrick’s thigh was touching yours— he could feel the way your muscles tensed and shook as Art played with you. He was close enough to hear the hitch of your breath. 

And if that hadn’t been enough to give it away, Art’s stupid fucking smirk and the obvious way his arm was moving would have.

He didn’t do anything then, but maybe he should’ve. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” He was slow as he sank into you, inch by inch. It could’ve been the position, or maybe his cocky bravado was completely founded, but he did feel bigger than you were used to. A soft moan was punched from your lips when he was finally buried to the hilt— your breath came in soft pants as you adjusted to the feeling of him. 

With your face pressed into your pillows, each breath you took flooded your senses with the smell of Art’s cologne. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as your thoughts were overwhelmed with him.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ tight,” he groaned. His fingers dimpled your skin where he held onto you. He moved one hand to rub the base of your spine in a way that could probably have been tender, on another day. You moaned pathetically into the pillows. “What? You need something?” 

One shallow, teasing thrust made your toes curl. “More,” was all you could manage.

“Can you take it?” Patrick cooed, smugness was practically dripping from his tongue. “Because I can go slow if you need—“

“You’re such an asshole. Just fuck m—”

A rough snap of Patrick’s hips cut you off suddenly. You cried out, grasping onto the bedspread feebly as he began to fuck you in earnest. 

Each thrust made the cheap, university-provided bed frame slam against the wall. The decorations you had hung up rattled, threatening to tumble right onto the floor and shatter, but neither of you even noticed. The moans slipping past your lips were pornographic.

But the sounds escaping you were nothing compared to the noises Patrick was making. Art had made an off-handed comment, once, about how much of a slut Patrick could be. You hadn’t really seen why until you got to hear the desperate, debauched noises he could make.

You slipped a hand between your thighs to rub at your clit and the feeling stole the air from your lungs. Your eyes rolled back, ass jiggling in time with each thrust.

Through it all, the memory of Art in this bed clung to you. Art, burying himself in the soft, wet heat between your thighs, flushed down to his chest and panting softly. His hungry kisses, melting sweet on your tongue like cotton candy. The whines that slipped past his lips, better than the prettiest music you could imagine. 

With each brutal thrust of Patrick’s cock into you, he punched out soft ah, ah, ahs from your lips. In your head, you just heard Art, Art, Art. Maybe that’s what you meant to say. 

You were probably in love with him. You were fucking his best friend. And it wasn’t even that simple. Patrick and Art and Tashi and somewhere between it all, you lingered. It was a giant clusterfuck of feelings and lust that you’d somehow tangled yourself inside of. Wanting someone so much, you want whoever has them just as badly. 

Maybe everything would’ve been a lot cleaner if you’d just locked the four of you into a room and stayed until every bit of tension had been fucked out. The idea of it all made you moan softly into the pillows. 

Patrick pulled you up suddenly, back flush against his chest as he continued to fuck into you. One hand grabbed at your jaw, turning you so he could press his lips to yours again, and the other squeezed at your tits. His mouth did a perfect job of muffling your moans— Patrick relished in feeling your pretty whines vibrate against his lips. 

“You feel so fucking perfect.” His words made heat flutter through you. “Need t’ feel you cum again. You have it in you, yeah? I can feel it.”

You nodded, eager to please. Pleasure was lapping at every nerve, lightning-hot. Your fingers rubbed faster at your clit as he pounded up into you. The whines escaping you were pathetic as your body crawled closer and closer to the edge. 

“Close,” you gasped out. Patrick licked into your open mouth, kissing you sloppily as you set a punishing pace on your poor, oversensitive clit. “So close— f-fuck—“

Your orgasm hit you suddenly. You clawed at his arm with your free hand, desperately seeking purchase as euphoria pulsed through your veins. 

“That’s it,” he groaned, his breath hot against your jaw. “Fuck— squeezin’ me so tight I can barely move— god—“

Your eyes were half-lidded as he worked you through it, rhythm only just beginning to falter as his finish approached. He pushed you back onto your stomach, manhandling your hips so your back was arched just like he wanted. 

You were reduced to whimpers and whines by the time he finally came— buried as deep as he could get, grip bruising on your hips. A few shallow thrusts were all he could manage before he pulled out, collapsing on beside you. 

You were catching your breath while he disposed of the condom in the cute trash can beside your bed, filled with gummy snack wrappers and broken pencils and old class notes. It felt like sacrilege. He laid back down, and you pulled a throw blanket over the two of you. 

With his head against the pillows, you wondered if he could also sense the phantom of Art’s presence there in the bed. Somewhere between you, forcing distance.

“So, when do you leave for your next tournament?” You asked. Unconsciously, you reached out to play with his hair, the same way you did to Art in times like these. “Soon, I bet. You usually don’t stay long.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” He asked, a tiny smile playing at his lips. His chest was still heaving with exertion. 

You shook your head. “I don’t want to get rid of you, Patrick.” He melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

In the morning, you’d wake up squished against Patrick’s side with the taste of sugary alcohol on your tongue. When you picked up your phone to see three missed calls from Art, it was easier to pretend that you hadn’t seen them at all.

thanks for reading :) if you enjoyed, please lmk by sending an ask, or whatever you wanna do <3

#challengers 2024 #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #challengers fanfic #my writing

[pierregazly]

you were my best friend first ꨄ  charles leclerc

charles leclerc x reader

warnings: fluff, charles is the sappiest drunk, monaco 2024, mentions of drinking/being drunk [1k words]

request: 🫶🏻 Charles Leclerc + prompt 8!! Thank youuuu 🤍 ["you were my bestfriend, before you were anything else, love."]

The Monaco sun shined down on him, his head was tilted back, embracing the warmth that radiated against his skin. Soft sighs of triumph leaving his lips as beads of sweat began to gather against his forehead.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes followed his every move. He was exquisite in every way, and it was like he just knew it. The love that emitted from your heart for the Monegasque man was never-ending, all-consuming, and exactly the type of love you had always dreamt of, had always daydreamed about when you thought of the person that would once be that person for you.

Your eyes still shined bright with unshed tears, the sounds of the Monegasque anthem being sung from around you prompting one small bead of liquid to drip down your face. The pride racing through your body was indescribable. You could practically feel Charles’ happiness, his sheer relief, coursing through your own body.

Arthur’s arm was tossed over your shoulder, pulling your body against his side as he screeched the lyrics of the anthem into the open air, his own cheeks riddled with tears of pride for his big brother. Really, everyone around you had red cheeks, and a copious amount of shed tears.

This was the moment.

The moment everyone in Monaco had been yearning for since he qualified on pole, since they realized that this may finally be his chance. His family, his friends, his country-folk, his Monarchy, it was the moment every single person had been rooting for him for, for years.

It felt like forever while you waited for him to make his way down from the podium, being stopped by every person he passed kept him occupied, a toothy-smile so prominent on his features as his arms wrapped around almost every person who put their arm out to stop him in his path.

Once your eyes finally made contact with his, he rushed over, throwing his arms around your body and pulling you tight against him. You couldn’t decipher the words he was yelling into your ear, but the tone, the happiness, it was so obvious. 

“You did it, you did it!” He eagerly nodded his head down at you, pressing his lips messily against yours, the smile as he did so prompting the corners of your lips to tug up alongside his.

Charles pulled back to look down at you, his glassy eyes conveying words you knew he couldn’t say right now.

“Thank you for being here, mon coeur. I’m so… just thank you,” he said.

You smiled up at him, your words caught in your throat as you tried to keep the looming tears at bay. 

“I’ll always be here, Cha,” you said, a soft smile gracing your face as you continued to look up at him, feeling like the two of you were stuck in your own little world.

It didn’t take long for the festivities to begin. People graced the streets, singing songs of celebration, the clubs began opening their doors, the champagne had already been popped.

The gala dinner passed by quickly, the starstruck feeling of being so close to the Prince and Princess of Monaco was diminished by the drinks that continuously felt like they were being magically refilled in your hand. Charles’ arm hadn’t left your lower back, his body having begun to mould itself to you the longer the night progressed. 

“Are you still okay to go to the club, mon coeur?”

Quirking an eyebrow up at him in confusion, you nodded your head with a slight laugh.

“Cha… tonight’s about you. I will go anywhere you want me to, my love. Just take my hand and drag me along,” you said.

A grin replaced the soft look on his face, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as he pulled your body tight against his again.

The music in the club was thunderous. There was no other way to describe the energy of the environment as anything other than triumphant. Everyone felt like this was a triumph for them, watching the person who had felt for years that Monaco could never love him back… to finally feel the love that he had always given so freely. 

Neither of you had realized how much you had drank until you were holding each other up, the Monaco flag held over your heads as someone; still unsure as to who, dragged the two of you along and out to an Uber. 

Charles giggled in your ear every time his feet flew out from underneath him, almost dragging the two of you down with every third step he took.

“Can’t believe you were really here to see me do it, baby,” he whispered in your ear, once the two of you were settled in the Uber and back on the road.

“M’good luck charm, mon coeur,” he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, prompting a shiver to shoot through your body.

“Oh Cha, wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You’re my best friend, my love,” you responded, a soft smile on your heated cheeks.

“You were my best friend, before you were anything else, mon coeur. Gonna talk about how I couldn’t have won Monaco without you during my wedding speech, mon coeur. Make everyone jealous, cause you’re so great and you’re all mine,” he rambled on, slurring his way through his multiple declarations of love for you.

Drunk or sober, the feelings that swam through your body had you nuzzling closer to the Monegasque as your apartment building came into view. You had loved him for years, had been the backbone of so many unfortunate weekend endings; had been there for every high and low in his Formula 1 career.

Every unhappy Sunday had led to this moment, Charles whispering declarations of love into your shoulder, as the banners and chants continued amongst the country. The raw, unfiltered love for the man beside you prompting drunken tears to fill your eyes.

He was Monaco’s hero, but he was your best friend first.

im so sorry it's taking me so long to get these out lol... i havent been in the biggest writing mood lately, but i finished a book tonight in two hours and decided i needed to finish this one. this one NEEDED to get written. love you all 💗

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 blurb #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fluff #f1 fluff #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 blurb #charles leclerc blurb #blurb #writing #my writing #charles leclerc writing #cl16

[lxndonorris]

home race - Oscar Piastri

Y/N x Oscar Piastri Theme: Smut (you've been warned) you're in a long-distance relationship with Oscar and surprise him at his "home race" x word count: 3250+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :) EN: Another big piece and I hope you'll like it. My first time writing Oscar.

You sat in your living room, staring at your phone. The screen displayed a countdown timer you set months ago when you and Oscar, your boyfriend, decided you could handle a long-distance relationship.

Living in the United States while dating a Formula 1 driver based in Europe wasn't easy, but the two of you made it work. You spoke every day, sent each other thoughtful gifts, and cherished the moments you could spend together in person.

The countdown finally hit zero. It is time for your big surprise.

Oscar is in Monaco for the Grand Prix, and you planned to surprise him for months since the season started. You told him you wouldn't be able to make it due to work commitments, but in reality, you managed to arrange everything perfectly, with a little help from the Mclaren Team.

You had your flights booked, your accommodation sorted, and a special pass that would allow you into the Mclaren motorhome, where Oscar would eventually be.

When you boarded your flight, you felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. You knew how much this surprise would mean to Oscar. The past few months have been challenging for him, dealing with the pressures of being a professional F! driver while missing you. You wanted to make this moment unforgettable.

After a long flight and a quick check-in at your hotel in Monaco, you head straight to the racetrack. You are wearing a Mclaren team hoodie, jeans, and a fitting cap, blending in with the team. You find your way to the motorhome and, with the help of a team member who is in on the surprise, get inside and wait for Oscar.

The atmosphere in Monaco is electric. The sun shines brightly over the azure waters of the Mediterranean, and the roar of engines echoes through the narrow streets of the city. The Monaco Grand Prix is one of the most prestigious races on the calendar, and the excitement is palpable.

The qualifying session just ends, and he pushes his car to the limit and secures second place on the grid. The team is ecstatic, and Oscar feels a rush of adrenaline as he climbs out of the car, waving to the cheering fans. 

Inside the motorhome, your heart races as you finally hear footsteps approaching. The door opens, and you turn around to see Oscar standing there, a look of shock and disbelief on his face.

"Y/N? Is that really you?" Oscar's voice trembles with emotion.

You smile, your eyes filling with tears.

"Surprise!"

Oscar closes the distance between you in an instant, wrapping you in a tight embrace. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling your familiar scent, and holds you as if he never wants to let go.

At the same time, the faint scent of him swirls around you, and with a deep breath, you take it in, closing your eyes for a second to relish in this moment.

"What are you doing here?" He murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't believe you're here."

"I wanted to be here for you, at your home race." You say softly. "I've missed you so much, Oscar Piastri Leclerc."

Both of you pull back slightly to look at each other, your eyes meeting with an intensity that speaks volumes. Oscar cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that escape down your cheeks.

"I've missed you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine."

You kiss—a tender and passionate kiss that seems to make up for all the time you spent apart. 

When you finally break apart, Oscar can't stop smiling.

"You look amazing in that Mclaren gear," he says, his eyes roaming all over you as they sparkle with admiration.

You chuckle, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I have to show my support for my favorite driver."

As you stand facing each other, the air between you seems to be charged with electricity. You feel the tension and excitement from qualifying still radiating off Oscar. 

Tentatively, you reach out, letting your hand run across his firm chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heaving chest beneath your fingertips. His whole body is slightly tensed, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush.

Oscar's eyes soften as he looks at you, a smile spreading across his lips.

"It's so good to see you," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

You smile back, your gaze drifting over his racing suit. "You look so good in that green and yellow racing suit, Oscar. Really, you do. It suits you perfectly."

The special suit, designed to honor Senna, clings to his frame in all the right ways, accentuating his athletic build. The vibrant colors contrast beautifully with his complexion, making him look every bit the star he is.

Oscar chuckles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Thanks. I didn't think I could pull off these colors, but hearing it from you makes me believe it."

Your fingers linger on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. "I missed you so much," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. 

As your hand continues to stroke his chest, you feel Oscar's hands move to your waist, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your jeans. He pulls you slightly closer; your bodies now mere inches apart. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter.

"Do you have some free time?" You ask, your voice soft and teasing, eyes glimmering with anticipation.

Oscar smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. "For you? Always."

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile, your hand moving up to his shoulder. "Good." You breathe deeply, feeling the tension between you increase even more. "Because I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

Unable to resist any longer, you lean in and kiss him passionately. The moment your lips meet, Oscar melts into the kiss, his arms tightening around your waist. The warmth and familiarity of the embrace make everything else disappear, leaving just the two of you in your own private world.

As the kiss deepens, you steady yourself against his firm chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. His hum of approval sends a thrill through you, and you take your time, savoring the moment, relishing the closeness you missed for far too long.

With a teasing glint in your eye, you reach for the zipper of his racing suit. Slowly, you begin to unzip it, feeling the resistance of the fabric give way. Oscar's breath hitches as you draw the zipper down to his tummy, exposing his tight black fireproofs beneath.

You let your hands slip inside, and stroke his chest. "You look so good," you murmur, your hands resting on the exposed fabric. The smooth, taut material hugs his body, accentuating his toned muscles.

Oscar's eyes darken with desire as he looks at your hands running across his chest, a mixture of amusement and longing playing on his features. "You're making it very hard to concentrate," he says, his voice low and husky.

You chuckle softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his fireproofs. "Good," you whisper, leaning in for another kiss. 

This time, it is slower, more deliberate; each touch and caress a reminder of the desire crackling between you.

As your kisses grow more intense, you feel the heat rising between your bodies. Oscar's hands roam over your back, pulling you even closer, as if he can't bear to let you go.

With your hands still roaming over his chest, you draw a line down to his abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips. Each touch elicits several low growls from deep inside his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. As you continue your exploration, Oscar leans his head back, his eyes closing as he savors the sensation.

You decide to take things a step further. 

"Let me help you." You breathe deeply, gently pushing the upper half of his suit off his shoulders. 

Oscar obliges, his breath hitching as you peel the fabric away, revealing more of his muscular torso. The sleeves hang down from his waist, the tight fireproofs beneath barely able to contain the immense tension building inside him.

His muscles bulge with each movement, with each breath he takes, the strain and excitement of the day evident in every contour of his body. You can't help but admire him, your hands now tracing the lines of his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin.

Oscar opens his eyes and looks at you, his gaze filled with desire and affection. "You're driving me crazy," he growls, his voice rough with need.

You smile with a playful glint in your eye. "Flex for me." You reply, your fingers continuing their journey across his entire upper body.

With a mischievous grin, Oscar obliges again, flexing his arms and chest, showcasing the impressive muscles that have been honed through countless hours of training. The sight makes your heart skip a beat; a rush of admiration and desire floods through you.

"Like what you see?" he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you let your hands roam over his flexed muscles. "You have no idea," you reply, your voice filled with genuine awe.

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling from deep inside his chest. "I'm just glad you're here to see it."

One of your hands traces the contours of his biceps, feeling the power and strength beneath your fingers, while you let your other hand roam freely across his chest and even further down to his crotch.

You feel his hunger building up inside his pants; the fabric bulges just along his member tenting visibly. With two fingers, you trace the tangible outlines of his lust again and again, eliciting more and more deep growls from his throat.

Oscar is thoroughly enjoying himself, responding to your teasing with a mixture of laughter and passion. You see the gleam in his eyes, the way he savors every touch and caress. 

Then, with a bold move, you slip one of your hands underneath his fireproofs, feeling the intense heat of his skin radiating against your palm.

Oscar's breath hitches at the sensation, his eyes so dark with desire. With a swift motion, he swipes the Mclaren cap from your head and lets it drop to the floor. A playful chuckle escapes his lips as he leans in, capturing your mouth in a deep, fervent kiss.

The kiss is electric, filled with a hunger that threatens to consume you both—the long separation and the yearning that built up between you. Your fingers splay across his warm skin, feeling the hard lines of his muscles beneath your fingertips. 

Oscar's hands roam over your back again, pulling you closer, before he takes the lead, guiding you through the room and across a huge empty wall. Gently, your back meets the wall, steadying the two of you fully. 

You feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, fast and powerful, matching your own. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you locked in your passionate embrace.

His hands are now all over your chest, his touch both soft and possessive. Each caress sends waves of electricity through you, making your pulse race as far as his race car.

Oscar's kisses trail down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in their wake. His lips are gentle yet insistent, making a path that sets your skin on fire. The sensation is almost overwhelming—a perfect blend of tenderness and desire that makes your heart swell with emotion.

Amidst your intimate moment, you take in Oscar's familiar scent, a comforting aroma that envelopes you in a sense of security and belonging—a mixture of his cologne, mingled with the faint trace of adrenaline from the day's events, and the subtle hint of his natural scent.

Breathing him in, you feel a wave of warmth wash over you, and his scent is like a familiar embrace, making it even harder to concentrate.

Now, his hands slide underneath your hoodie, his fingertips dancing across your skin. You shiver at the sensation, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The contrast of his warm hands against the cool evening air heightens your senses, making every touch feel even more intense.

"You're amazing." Oscar breathes against your neck, his voice rough with emotion. "I need you."

Your breath hitches, your hands grip his shoulders for support as you tilt your head back, giving him better access. "Oscar," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and affection.

His hands roam freely now, exploring every inch of your torso with a reverent touch. You feel the strength and control in his fingers, the way he holds you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You arch into his touch, your own hands exploring the hard planes of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. The fabric of his fireproofs is smooth and cool against your palms, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"Oscar." You murmur again, your voice barely audible as you revel in the sensations he is creating. "I need you, too."

He lifts his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

"I'm right here," he replies, his voice steady yet husky.

Licking your lips in anticipation, you let out a long, exhausted sigh. At the same time, you feel one of his hands make its way down your chest and right to your jeans. In one swift motion, he unbuttons it, just to make way for his hand to slip inside.

Your breath hitches right away as you feel his fingers tracing patterns in all the right places.

Even though it's hard to keep your composure, you manage to return the favor, letting one of your hands run down his back, along his spine, around his waist, and between his legs.

As you touch him, Oscar lets out a low, primal groan, the culmination of all the teasing and desire building up between them. His response sends a thrill through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

The tension is palpable; both of you are aching for a release, craving the other's touch.

Together, you help each other undress just enough to make it work. Panting and growling, he tugs at your jeans until they are sliding down to your ankles, so his hands stroke your thighs delicately.

Then, it's your turn to help him. Pulling at the suit clinging to his skin, the two of you manage to pull his length out of his pants, just for you to hold it and play with it.

Exhausted, Oscar leans in, kissing you passionately. You melt into him, offering yourself for what's to come next.

The moment he slides inside your body, it sparks a tingling sensation inside your stomach, and you let out a low grunt. Simultaneously, he moans right into your mouth, making it even harder to keep a straight face.

He is the first to take the lead again.

With your back against the wall, he begins to grind his hips against yours, rhythmically, sensually, and it is easy for you to catch up. The two of you move in sync with one another, letting out low growls, moans, and grunts.

Your hands wander all over his chest, stroking him through his firerpoofs. Oscar's breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. 

The sensation of your touch through the fabric sends waves of heat through him, encouraging him to increase the pace and strength of his thrusts. In return, he steadies himself against the wall behind you while his other hand lingers on your breasts.

Your movements are slow and deliberate; you are fully aware of his most sensitive spots, and you encourage him more and more. Pinching his nipples, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs, and feeling his muscles bulge harder and hader.

Panting and moaning, Oscar's body grows stiff and rigid; unable to contain himself, he bites his lower lip before he grunts angrily.

"Fuck."

You revel in the power you have over him and the way he responds so intensely to your touch.

With each stroke, you feel him growing even more aroused, his body still tightening instinctively to your touch. His hands grip your breasts tighter, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

The two of you move as one; every thrust sends you closer and closer to the edge, and the way he grunts deeply tells you he feels the same.

As you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, you know there is no turning back. Your passion burns bright, consuming you both in a whirlwind of sensation and emotion.

With one final, heavy thrust, both of you let go of all that pressure and tension and scream out in ecstasy.

Several exhausted moans leave Oscar's lips, and he leans forward, grateful for the wall steadying him. At the same time, you lean your head back, moaning deeply.

You rest your head against his shoulder, swallowing hard. His body embraces yours right away; his firm shoulder is the perfect place right now.

Out of breath, the two of you barely regain your composure before you lock eyes again, both of you smiling contently.

"That was so good." He moans, exhausted, before he leans in, kissing you deeply.

"Oscar." You breathe into him, kissing him back.

After your passionate moment, you share another tender smile, your hearts still racing with the intensity of your connection. 

With gentle touches and soft kisses, you help each other get dressed again, your movements slow and deliberate again.

As you adjust the sleeves of his fireproofs, you look up at Oscar, your eyes filled with affection. "You were amazing today," you say, your voice filled with pride. "I am so proud of you."

Oscar smiles back, his expression softening. "I am so glad you are here." He replies, his voice tinged with gratitude.

As he begins to change into fresh clothes, you watch him closely, unable to tear your eyes away. 

Oscar moves with natural grace; every movement is fluid and confident. You can't help but admire the way his muscles shift beneath his skin as he removes his racing suit and tight firerpoofs.

He catches your gaze, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Sensing your admiration, he makes a little show out of changing, exaggerating his movements slightly as he slips out of his fireproofs and into a fresh pair of underwear you hand him.

You laught at his antics, enjoining the playful side of him that he reserves just for you. As you pull on the pair of jeans and the Mclaren shirt, you feel a surge of affection for him, admiring the way he looks in the team gear.

"You look amazing." You say. "But then again, you always do."

Oscar grins, his eyes shining brightly. "I have to look my best, especially with you around." He replies, his tone teasing.

With a final adjustment to his shirt, Oscar turns to you, his expression softening. "Thank you for being here," he says, his voice sincere. 

You reach out and place your hand on his chest again, gently stroking him once more. "I'll always be here for you." You reply. "No matter what."

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 smut

[ashwhowrites]

Hiiii I’m the anon that sent this: Reader gets broken up with by a guy that she actually really liked but in reality this guy was a douchy football player that was rude to her friends (but she didn’t know about that.)

It was meant to be a request if you’d wanna write it!

And id say that Eddie does have a crush on reader.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

The friend

Y/N waited years and years to fall in love. She grew up watching princesses find their prince, and she wanted to feel that. She wanted to feel loved by someone who chose to, someone who looked at her and would do anything to be with her. Even if he had to fight everyone to do it. She wanted to see what it felt like to be cared about.

To her, Greg did just that. She was smitten with the jockey football player the second he sent her a dazzling smile during a game. It was like his eyes found hers in the crowd, it was fate.

It didn't take long for him to ask her out and for her to say yes immediately. She was swept off her feet and never landed. He was sweet and romantic. He showered her in love and compliments. She thought he was perfect all around.

Eddie and her friends had other thoughts. Greg was two-faced but Y/N wasn't aware of that. Chrissy hated Greg, and she hated cheering for someone like him. He was selfish, cocky, and an ass. It took a lot for Chrissy to dislike someone, and she hated Greg, that meant something.

Eddie had two reasons to hate Greg. One reason was that Greg never had nice things to say to or about Eddie. Greg believed he was trailer dirt and a freak, just like everyone else. But Y/N didn't know that. The second reason was that Eddie was helplessly in love with Y/N.

Did he have the chance to go for it? Definitely but he was terrified. It was scary enough to tell a girl he liked her, but to tell his best friend? He wasn't sure he could handle the rejection.

Eddie and Chrissy grew closer over their dislike for Greg. Chrissy knew Eddie was in love with their best friend before Eddie realized it. Chrissy never understood how Y/N didn't catch on. Eddie was in no way good at hiding it. He stuttered over sentences, clumsier than ever, smiled the second she looked at him, and he'd do anything she asked.

Once Eddie saw her with Greg, he believed that was his sign that they would never be anything more. Eddie and Greg were two completely different people.

When the news broke out that Y/N and Greg broke up after almost a year together, many people had things to say. But no one would say it to her. Eddie felt relieved that his year of suffering was over. But he knew it was a matter of time before some new guy came along. He wasn't sure he could let that happen.

~~~

"I don't understand why he broke up with me," Y/N sobbed. Her head was in Eddie's chest as she soaked his band tee in her tears.

Eddie softly held her in his arms. His chin was on her head as his fingers ran through her hair.

"I don't either, babes." And he was honest. He couldn't imagine ever breaking up with her. She was easily the best person anyone could be with.

"Do you think it's because I'm not pretty enough?" She sniffled, her head facing him as she pulled back away, letting him search her face for the flaws she believed she had.

Eddie smiled and cleaned off her tears with his thumbs. Her red puffy eyes, wet cheeks, and trembling bottom lip. He couldn't lie to her.

"No. I think even right now you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Eddie was dead serious. A sense of truth in his eyes as he barely blinked. His voice was deep and low, with no sounds of jokes.

The intensity in his face made her nervous and shy. She dug her head back into his warm chest as she held him tighter.

"He's the idiot who let you go."

~~~

Eddie was patient as his best friend recovered from the breakup. Chrissy and Eddie high-fived behind her back, sharing smiles and looks.

"I heard you and Greg broke up! Congratulations that guy was a di-" Dustin's voice was cut off, replaced with a groan.

Y/N turned around confused, Eddie standing next to Dustin with a smile. Dustin held his arm with a whimper.

"Congratulations? What does that mean?" Y/N pushed further.

Eddie and Chrissy looked at each other, trying to think of a fast lie.

"I know someone who likes you! It's a congrats to him!" Dustin said with a smile as he covered his lie. He looked to Eddie for approval and his smile dropped at the look on his face.

"Who?" Y/N perked up. For once, after a long week of crying, she smiled.

"That's not his place to tell. Why don't we go to lunch?" Eddie said, grabbing Dustin's arm and dragging him down the hall.

"That was weird," Y/N said as she turned to Chrissy.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Y/N asked. Chrissy stood with a huge cheesy grin.

Chrissy snapped out of her daydream of Eddie and Y/N finally together. Quick with a lie.

"It's good to see you smile again, now let's go eat."

~~~

Another week passed. Two weeks since her heart was shattered but she could feel herself healing. She had to thank Eddie for all of it. He was always there, holding her as she cried and talking her through everything.

Her mind was still thinking about who Dustin was talking about. The idea of a guy liking her made her feel less insecure. Maybe Greg was the problem and not her. She drew blanks as she tried to think who it was.

She hoped it was Eddie, but that felt like throwing wishes in an empty fountain. She was nowhere Eddie's type. She wasn't edgy enough or listened to the same music he did. She barely understood Hellfire and his ideas. He wasn't much of her type either, but there was something about him that she would never find anywhere else. He was one of a kind and she figured that's why she fell for him so hard.

Eddie never made moves, so she figured he didn't like her. That's why she had no problem going out with Greg. She thought maybe if Eddie showed jealousy, she'd have her answer. But he was just the same, nothing changed.

She was staring at the wall as Eddie woke up from his sleep. His tired eyes took her in. He had his arms around her already, he pressed his chest against her back tighter. She felt her body get warm as his arms squeezed her against him and his face snuggled into her neck. The soft breaths of his nose hitting her skin, his warm body against hers. Do all best friends cuddle in the same bed?

"How long have you been awake?" His deep and tired voice made her bite her lip. She wiggled in his arms, he loosened them as she turned around to face him. She kept herself in his arms, snuggling closer until she was nose to nose-with him.

"I never fell asleep," she whispered

The moon shined into the room, reminding her she had been trying to sleep for hours.

"How come?" He asked, his palm flat against her back as he softly rubbed the bare skin as her tank top slid up. She shivered as his hands touched her skin.

"A lot on my mind," she said truthfully. She admired his eyes. No matter how many times she looked into them, the brown continued to take her breath away. She took in the rest of his face. The bridge of his nose, the red lips she craved to taste. The slight hair growing above his lip, she knew he'd shave in the morning, but she loved being the only one who got to see it. His frizzy hair spread out on her pillows.

"Greg?" Eddie asked, admiring her face the same way she was with his.

"No," Y/N said, "about who that guy is Dustin brought up." She nervously bit her lip as she watched Eddie's reaction.

"Oh, how come?" Eddie asked, he hid his nervousness with a yawn

"Do you know who it is?"

"Uh no," Eddie said his eyes looking elsewhere

"Then why are you looking away?" Y/N smiled, she poked his cheek

He nervously laughed

"I don't know who he is," Eddie said, looking into her eyes as he finished the sentence.

"Such a bad liar! tell me," she squealed excitedly. He groaned as she left his arms. Sitting up, she looked down at him.

"Why do you want to know so bad? Are you ready to move on?" Eddie asked, maybe this was an opening.

"I don't know. Feels nice to know someone else likes me. And depending on who it is, I think I'm ready to give it a shot." She shrugged

"I can't say who it is, but I'll give you some hints." Y/N smiled as Eddie sat up.

"He has dark hair and dark eyes, he admires your beauty. He likes how smart and creative you are. He loves it when you laugh, it makes his heart race. He smiles whenever he thinks of you. And he's been dealing with these feelings for years." Eddie said, too lost in his confession that he was scared he gave too much away.

"So you are close friends with him?" Y/N asked, she turned her head in confusion. She would not believe that any of Eddie's friends had a crush on her.

"I think I said too much," Eddie chuckled nervously and laid back down. His head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes. "Let's go back to sleep."

Y/N thought in silence for a few seconds. She thought long and hard about what he said. The guy he described matched his appearance. Eddie always complimented her looks and laughed at all her jokes. He seemed nervous to talk about the guy, scared he said too much, which meant he was worried she would find it out. He dragged Dustin away when he brought it up, which told her he was worried Dustin would spill the beans.

"Y/N?" Eddie asked, cracking open one eye

It was Eddie

Eddie had a crush on her!

"Y/N" Eddie said again, both eyes open as he went to sit up

But Y/N pushed his body right back down as her lips smashed on his. Eddie's eyes widened in shock as her lips moved against his. Her hands were on his shoulders as she leaned down.

After his shock, he kissed her back. His hands reached up and held her hips. Their kiss grew deeper as Y/N straddled his lap. He sat up, lips still attached to hers. He moved on hand up to her head and pushed her head further into the kiss.

Y/N felt every part of her body light up with electricity. Her hands moved into his hair. Something she spent years wanting to do. His lips tasted better than she imagined. He was soft but controlling. It made her head spin.

Eddie pulled away, his eyes heavy in lust.

"That was...wow." Eddie breathed out, he blinked a thousand times. Believing if he blinked hard enough, this moment would vanish. But to his luck and prayers, she was still on his lap.

"You are the friend," she said, breathy as she still waited for air to return to her lungs

"Uh yeah," Eddie nodded

"Thank god," she smiled before her lips smashed into his again.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites

[hello-eden]

Missing

Tim was missing

Tim has been missing for over 5 months now. This wouldn't be a usual concern for them if he had said he was going. After the whole going off the rails searching for Bruce when everyone thought he was dead and ending up blowing up League of assassin bases thing, Everyone decided it was best that there was a check-in. Gotham Vigilantes used the same system for the missions as the Justice League but after everything went on they decided to make their own.

They had a log on the bat computer for longer missions so people know where they're going. The check-in is usually once every 2 weeks if it's a deep cover Mission with trackers on at all times, but there has been nothing from Tim. 

Everyone didn't really notice at first Tim left at a very busy time. Tim texted regularly in the first week and kept up with everything that was going on, that most of them thought he was still in Gotham. When everyone noticed he wasn't there they thought it was just a regular mission, but when Babs needed him to double check something on a case file and realized he wasn't on the roster for no contact missions she started to get worried. Apparently the last time anyone had seen him was when he was in the bat cave for a drug screening after a very bad scarecrow attack. His trackers were offline. All of his emergency buttons and trackers were sending a signal even if it was not trackable.

The most worrying part was the silence. usually they would hear some whisper if they'd been captured or God forbid if he was dead but there was nothing. Everyone tried to use every contact that they could think of but no one could find anything.

until now 

Every single tracker on Tim lit up like a Christmas tree. It took barely a minute for everyone to start dispatching themselves to find him. Jason and Cass were the ones that were chosen to go. Tim ended up in an abandoned Laboratory. Everything they could find on the building in the paperwork was said to be abandoned just before building was finished. the second they saw the building in person you could tell that was wrong. it was definitely abandoned now but it looked like the people left in a rush. the people working there probably left a day or two ago. The dust barely just started to form.

When they looked on the trackers he looked to be in the basement level. As they walked through the building it was like every floor looked like it had been copy and pasted. Every room had white walls so it was easy to see the splatters of blood in the hallway leading to the room they were looking for. They were very concerned. The blood had specs of green that seemed to be luminescent even though the blood was dried. they feared for the worst.

Jason opened the door and looked inside with Cass not far behind.  The room had white walls like the rest of the building but instead of the normal White/ yellow headlights from the rest of the rooms they were bright Blue. There was blood just like the hallway even down to the luminescing green specs.  The room had two chairs on the side farthest from the door and a bed in the furthest corner. Tim was laying on the bed and looked to be staring at the ceiling. He had made no move to interact with them even as they got closer.

 “Replacement” Jason whispered to Tim once he was by the bed. When Tim didn't respond he grabbed his rest to feel a pulse.

Even though it looked like he was breathing it could be his mind playing a trick on him. Jason needed to feel his pulse.

Jason felt the pulse, it was slow but it was there. Jason looked over to Cass and said ”he's alive all right”.  Relief very clearly in his tone. Cass's shoulders relaxed only a little after hearing that.

They looked him over trying to figure out why he wasn't responding. His heartbeat was slow like he was asleep but Tim was a light sleeper unless he was knocked out or drugged he usually woke up the second someone touched him. he didn't look to be hooked up to any machinery and the place had been abandoned for at least the day before they arrived. he wasn't even wearing his vigilante outfit, he was in civilians clothes.

Once they realized they were getting nowhere with this they looked around the room as it was becoming clear they couldn't wake him up nor was he an immediate Danger.  They decided to look  around only the rooms near the one that Tim was contained in to make sure that there weren't other people there as that floor seemed to be a containment unit. Jason decided to look in the other rooms while the Cass stayed in Tim's in case he woke up.  As Jason left to search, he looked around the room. she ended up finding Tim's bag underneath the bed pushed to the furthest corner away from the door. Cass sat down on the floor with her back leaning on the side of the chair.  She searched through the bag.  The more she looked through the more confused she got.

She couldn't find Tim's phone neither civilian nor hero. She couldn't find his laptop but she did find a tablet that she knew Tim hadn't had before. she would question if this was Tim's bag if not for the wallet and ID she found in the front pocket. She found small things like a package of tissues, a water bottle, chapstick and some of Stephanie's hair ties. Cass could tell that they were Stephanie's due to the fact they were all purple.

She found a hidden Pocket as she was looking through the lining of the bag. It looked to be a syringe filled with glowing green liquid. The same green that seems to be in the blood from the hallway. In the same pocket there seems to be a folded file with medical scans stuffed in between. As Cass went through the bag there was one question that had been on her mind since the beginning.

 Why was Tim here?

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #batfam #batfamily #please add on #will i finish it? who knows #do i have plot? yes #will i explain the plot? no #i what see what people think the plot is

[akxmee]

𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗠. //𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎.

He loved her since childhood, yet she married another man.

Words: 11.3k

Suguru Geto was never seen like a man interested in relationships. Not flings, not one-night stands, real relationships. Unlike his best friend satoru who used to have tons of girlfriends week after week, Suguru wasn't fond of it. Don't get him wrong, he did like to have his fun too, but once he had it and was satisfied he never once was seen again.

It's not like he didn't want a relationship either. He wished for the warmth of a relationship, he craved the proximity and he needed that closeness with someone, but not with anyone. Because he only wanted you.

He always did.

Everytime he felt some random woman's hand run through his hair, every moment he felt someone admiring his beauty, everytime he was sent gifts from some "secret admirer" on valentines, everyday he woke up next to some lady he met on a party..he wished it was you. No matter how many hands he held, they never fit his like yours do. No matter how many people he met, none of their personalities was made for his like yours is. Maybe that's why he never really even tried to establish a serious romantic relationship with someone, because he knows no one will fit him like you do.

"It's no use. If she doesn't like you by now, give up. Want something to smoke the pain away?"

Yeah, shoko said that to him more than once and he remembers it too well. He always ignored the last part, because Suguru knew you didn't like the smell of cigarettes from the way your beautiful face turns into an expression of disgust when you smell it. He has always been able to admire your beauty, even when he first met you as a child and decided to play with this pretty kid from the other class.

Oh, how he cursed the day that he met you.

He remembers it as clear as a day, it was a snowy day in primary school. He was in class, waiting while sitting on a chair while he waited for his patents to pick him up since they were late because of work. All the kids were already gone, and he was just staring at the floor while patiently following his teacher's orders.

—Psst!

He looked around for the owner of that sound. The door wasn't opened, and nobody was inside of the class too.

—Over here!

Suguru looked to his right, seeing another child standing on a chair to get part of their face visible through the tall window. The kid waved, and he found himself waving too.

—You look bored, want to play?

He looked around the classroom for a second. He was more than happy to have someone to play, but it was a classroom. What game could he play here, if it wasn't doing basic mathematical exercises?

—Bur there are no games here..

To his surprise, the child nodded.

—I know! But look.—The kid proceeded to signal to the opposite window, the one that had looks to the exterior of the school.—There's snow. We can make a snowman, like the movies!

He sounded interested in her offer. However, he was still not fully trusting you.

—Won't we get sick? I'll say it's your fault if i catch a cold!

He said, pointing at you with his finger along with a sly smile. Even if there was a dirty window between the two of you, he could still feel the warmth of the smile you just gave him then.

—No worries! I'll make sure you stay warm.

—You promise?

He looked at the child's innocent eyes that grew excited as he seemed to have agreed to play with her now. His lips curved into a smile due to this.

—I promise!

And he trusted her word. His mom once said that promises couldn't be broken once you make them, so that kid was responsible of him now in case he grew cold. He got off of his chair, opened the door and finally saw her whole, not just half of their face looking at him through a window. The child he has been talking to smiled as they got off a chair to get to his level, and he helped her get the chair back to the classroom it was borrowed from before going outside.

The kid was called Y/N, he learned.

And you were so fun to be with. He played with you, made a few snowmen, threw snowballs at eachother, and laughed the hardest for a long time when he hit you and you fell to a huge pile of snow. He thought you were going to be boring at first, that you were just one of those stupid kids who laughed at him because he claimed to see "spirits" or "curses" as he liked to call them, but you weren't. You didn't even understand what he meant when he talked to you about them, however you were sweet about it. You even said it was alright and that everyone has imaginary friends, he just has tons of them! That's cool, isn't it? Having so many friends must be cool.

For a moment, he thought it was cool too.

Not a curse, not a gift, but something cool only he could do.

And that single feeling of being someone "cool", someone interesting and not some crazy child, made him feel free for the hour he kept playing with you until his parents picked him up. He was scolded for being outside and catched a huge cold that had him in bed for two whole days, but it was okay. He liked the way you kept him entertained that day, so he forgave you for breaking the promise.

Yeah, he liked you.

Suguru sighed, those memories he thought he would eventually forget coming back to him. He was a shy kid, and you made him get out of his comfort zone. That little you tore down his walls and stepped all over his beloved silence until he began to hate it as much as you did. Now, there was no place for it when you were together and he got used to you yapping everytime just like Satoru. Only difference was he actually enjoyed your voice, he found the tone you spoke to him with quite relaxing.

He noticed how you always had a different tone for each person.

It was endearing, to say the least. Suguru loved the way you called for him, the way his name sounded so sweet from your lips. When you talked to him, he noticed your voice was soft. Softer than usual, soft as if you knew you didn't have to raise your voice for him to understand you better. Sometimes there wasn't even a need to say something for him to understand you, but he still pretended he didn't hear you just to listen to your voice once again.

He adored your voice.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the reason he was calling you to tell you this instead of texting you right now.

He thought about it once again, how brave he was being right now when as a teen he couldn't be able to even look at your face despite being your childhood friend. It was all because he had just discovered he had this silly crush on you, wasn't it?

Oh, how he cursed the day he fell in love with you.

It was when he recently joined the jujutsu tech, as far as he remembers. You two were then at his home, with a bottle and a half of alcohol empty, doing both a celebration and goodbye party. He got into the college, but that only meant he was leaving you behind to go and live in Tokyo while you stayed at his childhood town. That explains why you were completely drunk, drunk enough to look at him and not think about how he was going to leave next week.

—Going to fall asleep already?

You looked at Suguru with sleepy eyes. Right, you two were on the sofá with some of those random pathetic TV shows at 3am as background noise as you leaned on his shoulder and he talked about the people he was going to have class with. None of the ones he described to you seemed interesting since, for you, your Suguru was always going to be the strongest. However, you listened to him carefully anyways like you always do.

—No, I won't.

He chuckled.

—Right. I'll be guessing you're spending the night here?

He felt a slight nod against his shoulder.

—You even dare to think i won't?

—Not at all, m'am.—You rolled your eyes at the formal nickname, getting your head off his shoulder as a punishment. You also intended to get up to be more dramatic, but a hand on your waist stopped you.—You're drunk, i wouldn't recommend standing up just yet.

You looked to the side, meeting his half lidded eyes and cocky smile as he talked to you. A slight blush crept its way on his cheeks due to the alcohol, but didn't sound drunk at all despite all of that.

—So what? It's time to go to bed anyways, Suguru.

—You actually intend to go to bed knowing how tipsy we are right now?

—No, but i do want a blanket from your bedroom.

He looked at you and wondered if you were serious. Alcohol warms people up, so how could you be cold? It was winter, but his house was surely warm enough to stay hot and comfy.

—Hell, are you sick?

The hand on your waist pulled you closer to him and as a result you ended up with your head on his chest. Next thing you knew, a pair of soft lips were pressed on your temple for a few seconds until the feeling of them disappeared.

—You don't seem to have a fever.

You looked up, not caring about what he just did and how your actions could be misunderstanded if someone walked in right then. You were always this close to Suguru. You didn't mind being this close to his chest, neither did you care if he pulled you by the waist, and the feeling of his lips on your forehead to check your temperature was just another of the things you've grown used to. Not only that, but you were too drunk to even give it a second thought. Hell, he could have kissed you on the lips with the excuse of checking if you're sick and you wouldn't have thought anything bad about it because of how sleepy you were getting.

And he knew that.

He just didn't know why he wanted to do it so bad.

That time when he was leaning in to kiss your forehead his tired gaze lingered on your lips for a bit, nothing too weird. You were wearing that lipstick shade he helped you pick, and it suited you really good! It was okay, so why did he feel the urge to ruin it until his lips were of that shade too? Why did he feel like he was doing something wrong by pulling you into his chest, thinking of this as something that wouldn't be quite considered friendship?

—Hey, Suguru.

Your voice interrumpted his thoughts. You were still on his chest, now in a comfy position and playing with a strand of his loose dark hair. The man simply looked at you, mumbling a soft "mm?" waiting for you to keep going even if he knew you were just going to tell the most carefree thing ever since you were drunk.

—I've been thinking, and i'm really glad you're the one I get to call my best friend.

Best friend.

Yeah, he needed to get that carved into his brain urgently since that was what you two were, are, and will be. There was no space to even think about something as complex as some kind of attraction to his kind of cute childhood friend, and he was once again reminded of it. All the times he got butterflies just because you held his hand like you always do, he needs to get rid of all of them. All of the times his heart raced because of a silly kiss on his cheek, the long hugs, the late night talks about life..it needs to stop. It was dirty to think of you in a way beyond friendship when you saw a brother in him, and he knew that. You didn't see it the way he wanted you to, so he had to start forcing himself to think the way you do.

It should be easy, that's what he thought when he first felt this strange around you.

Yet, it was anything but easy.

So with a sigh, he placed a hand on top of your head while the other one rested on your lower back. He positioned the two of you so you completely lay on the couch and turned off the TV, admiring how you didn't even question his actions as you waited for an answer to what you said a few seconds ago.

—Yes, i'm grateful you're my friend too.

"Liar", he thought.

But what could he do? He doesn't like you anymore.

It's clear now,

He entirely loves you.

The phone made a sound, and it once again stopped him from daydreaming.

—Suguru?

He heard you talk from the other line. The man smiled just by hearing you call his name.

—Y/N.

Suguru called your name back, his voice was deep and sweet, and had this endearing sweet touch that made it sound like he was purring your name.

—It's late, why did you call me?

You didn't even sound worried despite the fact that he was calling you so out of nowhere, this was a normal thing. He kept quiet for a bit, he could hear some utensils being moved around.

Perhaps you were at home, cooking?

That's good, he loved your cooking. You made food for him several times, so many that he lost count. Seeing you cook while he waited leaning on the kitchen's counter made him dream of a universe where you cooked for him everyday. Oh, how he imagined you cooking something for him as he got from work. You and him, at home, married and not friends. That's the perfect life, the life he desired next to you.

However, it was not possible.

He exhaled.

—I'm not going to attend your wedding.

He didn't even get to keep talking, and the sound of a metal object —some cutlery, he guessed— hitting the floor was already interrupting him.

—What do you mean?!

You asked him desperately, getting worried. What did he mean by not coming to your wedding? Was he crazy? He was one of the only people you specifically wanted to see at your ceremony. You wanted to spend your special day with him, who you considered part of your family at this point. You wanted to recieve an speech from him congratulating you as he promised, you wanted him to joke about how your husband's family was so dry, you wanted him to see you in your wedding dress.

And he did, too.

He just wasn't able to.

—Suguru!

You called for him, waiting for an explanation. He stayed quiet for a second, the only thing you could hear from his line was the sound of heavy steps and wind. He was walking through an alley, leaning on the wall once he was there.

—Listen, i can't.

—Why?!

He wondered about what excuse would suit best right now to give it to you. "I love you" he wished to say, but was it really relevant when you were soon to marry another man? How could he even dare to be as selfish as that, letting you know of all of the times he took advantage of your friendship to have an excuse to hold you? How could he, as a man, ever think of saying such a thing? However, you did deserve to know the truth. Was he really going to tell you?

He shook his head, a bittersweet smile in his face.

—I can't, Y/N. Something just came up, and I-

—Something more important than your best friend's wedding day? Really, Suguru?

—Yeah.

He hated the way your breath hitched at that, the way he could feel the pain in your voice. Because the pain you felt, he felt it even worse. Everytime the smallest of the corners of your heart broke, his whole soul shattered.

—And you can't even give me an explanation?

Your voice cracked. He just stayed quiet, and you got your answer.

Your tone changed this time.

—I hope you're glad of what you've just done. Don't you dare to call me again, Geto.

You hung up, and he knew he fucked you up.

His last name was spat with what felt like venom through his ears, the feeling of not hearing you calling out his name with a cheery tone had him at the verge of tears. It was his decision, so why was it so hard to do this to you? You were supposed to be the only woman he could ever love, and he just hurt you.

His shaky hands threw his phone across the street, frustration getting over him.

Fuck it.

He crawled along the alley still leaning against the wall for support, sitting on the ground once he reached the edge of it. His breathing was accelerated, he didn't know if it was due to stress or the stinging pain coming from his shoulder.His head leaned back as he hissed in pain, clutching on his arm.

Or what was left of it, anyways.

Blood stained his hands, which he didn't even realize were paler than usual. He left out a shaky breath, recalling all of the things that happened faster than he could ever imagine. He was beat up by this kid called Yuta, ruined his relationship with you and was about to die, all in a span of time of a few hours.

It was for the best.

—Suguru.

A voice called his name. For a second he thought he would see you, but the voice was too masculine to be yours. His mind must be playing games on him.

He opened his eyes, seeing a white haired man he knew a little too well.

—Ah, Satoru.

Satoru looked at him with those eyes, those eyes that used to be filled with emotion now looking empty. His friend kept quiet, so Suguru kept talking.

—You know, just had a chat with your wife. We might have fought a little.

Yes, Satoru's wife. That was no one but you, the only woman he could have ever desired, taken from him by his best friend. He was mad at first, hearing that you and satoru were offcially dating.

Satoru knew he liked you, so why?

He was crazy, refused to talk to Satoru in private or when you were not looking. He placed his trust on Satoru when he said he would respect his crush, and he betrayed it. He didn't even understand why would he do such thing when Satoru was known for having like.. four, five? girlfriends in one month. He didn't want his best friend to break your heart.

But then he saw it.

He saw the way Satoru looked at you and noticed how you looked at him back.

Fuck, you loved eachother.

Because he knew that gaze of yours, he dreamed of it more than he could ever count. He wished of the day you would look at him like that, but Satoru got that dream come true before him. He cried until the next morning that day, cursing fate for giving him a heart that wasn't his, but yours. He cried because no matter what he did for a decade, Satoru got you in just two years.

Was it Satoru's eyes? Was it his pale hair? Perhaps you thought he was unattractive. He knew he was always going to be less than his best friend, but he thought that maybe you would choose him and not the strongest.

But you didn't.

And with time, he learned how to live with it. He helped Satoru pick anniversary gifts for you, supported your relationship with him, calmed you down when you and Satoru fought, helped satoru pick a ring and propose to you... Hell, he was going to be Satoru's man of honor at your wedding too. How could he not? You looked so happy when you gave him that handwritten invitation letter inviting him you to your wedding with another man while his heart crushed in silence.

But everytime, he smiled at you.

Because you were happy, and Suguru wouldn't want anything but that.

And that's why he, even though he took the thing he wanted the most, smiled at satoru who was looking at him in this pathetic situation where he didn't even have an arm and was covered in blood. Yes, he had no bad things to say about his best friend if he was the one making you happy.

—Told her i wouldn't attend the wedding. You must understand why, huh?

Satoru tried his best not to let his serious and professional expression fall at Suguru's words. He seemed as if he was so calm, but he knew what he was thinking. The white haired man simply kneeled down in front of him.

—She used to like you too.— He spoke in a low voice.—A year before we started dating. Remember when she started to wear ponytails? Asked me what your type was and i said that because i didn't actually know.

Suguru's eyes darted towards his friend's, looking for the slightest clue that would indicate that he was lying. He wasn't, he knew that gaze.

—Why are you telling me that?

—Thought you would want to die with a happy thought. I know you still..

"You still love her" he wanted to say, but suguru's chuckle didn't let him continue. Satoru saw the widest smile he could have seen in his best friend's face since years and years ago. He laughed and laughed, forgetting about the pain he was feeling at that moment. More than feeling like he lost a chance, he felt glad; not because he didn't even realize it, but because of the fact that if you liked him once, that would only mean you had looked at him. It was okay, because you laid your eyes on him and he was chosen by you. He was worthy enough to be liked by you, and he felt his younger self scream of joy inside of him.

That made him even happier, because It means that maybe, in another universe, he gets to make his dream come true and finally date you withouth having to worry about ruining your friendship. In another universe, maybe he gets to be the reason of your happiness. A universe with no curses, where you two live separated from the world and live a married life with children.

Yeah, nothing could make him happier than that.

So he closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall, relaxed and ready to accept the fate his friend was going to give him. His smile didn't ever fade, grateful for what Satoru told him.

—At least curse me a little at the very end..

—AUTHOR'S NOTE: honestly not really happy with how i've written this fic, i was kind of rushed. However, hope you liked it!

It's not edited, so let me know if there are any mistakes.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru x you #geto x you #suguru fluff #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto fluff #geto angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru fluff #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fanfiction #jjk fanfic #fanfic #gojo imagine #jjk drabbles #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru headcanons #gojou satoru x reader #suguru geto #jjk suguru

[7ndipity]

He Forgets Your Birthday

Yoonig x Reader

Summary: You’ve always had a complicated relationship with your birthday, but Yoongi’s always there to comfort you. Until he isn’t.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: angst, comfort, swearing, suggestive at the end

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

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You never really liked your birthday.

For as long as you could remember, you could sense the looming feeling of dread and unease each year as the date drew closer. You don’t know what it was exactly, maybe it was because of how you were raised, maybe it was just a quirk of your personality, but whatever the reason, you could never shake the feeling of guilt, as if you were a burden to those around you.

Over the years though, you had been lucky enough to find a circle of people that, while they might not fully understand your feelings on the subject, made a point to make sure you felt special and remind you of how much they cared for you whenever that fateful day rolled around.

One of the best at this was Yoongi.

Yoongi had always had a particular knack for being able to read your emotions and understood your feelings about your birthday, he wasn’t exactly fond of his either, but that didn’t stop him from worrying whenever he noticed you growing more quiet and withdrawn as it approached.

He never pressured you to share what was going on in your mind in those times, but he always found little ways to let you know that he was there for you and to show how much he loved you.

It was never anything super elaborate; last year, the two of you just went to the movies, because he knew there was a particular film you’d been dying to see.

It never really mattered to you what you did though, so long as you were together, you were happy.

Though, time together had been rather hard to come by the past few months.

Yoongi had been busier than ever, traveling and working relentlessly in preparation for his new album. Most nights he was holed up at the studio til 2 or 3 in the morning working on songs.

You worried about him over extending himself, but he assured you that he had it all under control, that he was able to keep up with everything.

It was another one of those late nights at the studio as he sat hunched over his soundboard when the sound of his phone finally managed to break through his hyperfocus.

Glancing at his phone, he face pulled into a slight frown as he read the text notification from Namjoon.

“How’s Y/n?”

“Fine, I think. Why??” He sent back, confused by the random question.

“Idk, she just seemed a bit down earlier when I sent a happy b-day msg”

“Her birthday’s not till tomorrow-

”Oh fuck.” He swore out loud, checking the date on with a sink stomach as he realized his horrible mistake.

Jumping to his feet, he felt his heart drop again at the sight of the time on his phone screen.

10:02pm.

“Fuck.” He cursed again, nearly running down the hall to the elevators. He couldn’t believe he’d mixed up the days so badly. How could he have fucked up something like this?

Had you realized yet? Most likely, he hadn’t heard anything from you since your usual morning texts. You must’ve been so upset, how was he ever going to make up for this to you?

He practically ran up the stairs to your apartment, knocking frantically on the door and begging that you weren't so mad that you wouldn't answer.

As soon as you opened the door, he tackled you in a crushing bear hug.

“Yoongi, what-?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He mumbled into your neck.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” He felt you stiffen slightly.

Pulling away to look at you, his heart broke further as he noticed the faint redness around your eyes.

“I got the days mixed up, I thought it was tomorrow,” He explained guiltily. “I’m so sorry, Jagi.”

You looked down, nodding slowly.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, voice still somewhat croaky from your earlier bout of crying.

“It’s not, though. I should’ve been here.” He said, growing more upset with himself.

“You’ve been busy, I get it.”

“That's no excuse,” He said. “I still fucked up.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi, really.” You said tiredly, wanting desperately to just forget the whole thing.

“No, it isn’t-” He insisted, gripping onto your hand as you tried to draw away.

“Yoongi, please.” The last word comes out far more broken than you intended it to, betraying your true emotions that you’d been trying to stamp down all evening.

Before you could help it, the tears you had been trying to hold back broke free, dripping down your cheeks and onto your joined hands.

Yoongi instantly pulled you to his chest, hugging you tightly as he backed the two of you into your apartment.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jagi.” He whispered over and over, softly stroking your hair as your tears dampened his shirt.

After a few minutes once your sobs quieted, he pulled back to see your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently.

You nodded.

He led you over to the couch, still keeping you close as you sat silently for a moment.

“Are you angry?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head, biting your lip.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He pleaded, his dark eyes boring into your own.

You thought for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“I know that you love and care about me” You began slowly. “And I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, but… not hearing from you, not even getting a text or something… I don’t know, it just kinda stirred up those old feelings and thoughts of how easily I could be forgotten, what if people don’t actually like me, what if they just tolerate me in their lives...”

Your voice was almost inaudible by the end, not wanting to fully admit the deprecating thoughts that were going through your mind.

Yoongi teared up at your words. He knew he’d asked, but hearing you say it aloud broke his heart; to know he’d scratched those old wounds and caused you to doubt yourself crushed him inside.

“Look at me,” He said seriously, turning to face you. “Those thoughts? Nothing could be further from the truth. You mean more to me than anything in the fucking world. I know I fucked up today, but I need you to know that there is nothing that could ever make me forget about you. You are the first and last thought in my mind every single day. Understand?”

You nodded, wiping away a few more stray tears that had slipped out.

“C’mere.” He pulled you into another tight embrace, kissing your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You muttered, tucking your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you want, we could still do something? Try and enjoy the last couple hours of the day, at least?” He offered

You shook your head. “I just want to be with you.”

He nodded, shifting around on the couch and pulling you onto his lap, holding you close.

“I love you.” He whispered again, running his soothing hands over your hips.

“I know.” You said, equally soft, cradling his face in your hands as you drew him in to connect your lips.

He kissed you deeply, trying to channel just how much you meant to him through the action, hands coming up to hold your waist, pressing you even closer.

He would never hurt you like this again, he swore to himself, pressing you closer to him. He would do everything in his power to remind you how much you meant to him every chance he got.

You sighed, looping your arms around his neck as you let yourself drift in the feeling of him all around you, the scent of his cologne, the soft sounds that left him as his lips drifted down the expanse of your throat, the way his hips twitched beneath you when you tugged at his hair.

Suddenly, he tipped you back on the couch, coming to hover over you, breathing unsteady as he stared down at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0o0o0ooo @universal-travel-er @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi oneshot #yoongi angst #yoongi comfort #yoongi fluff #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts drabble #bts one shot #bts scenarios #bts comfort #bts angst #bts fluff #7ndipity

[nathaslosthershit]

Time Flies (slowly) [LN4]

(Read part 1 here) Summary: Years later, Lando hasn’t forgotten about the one that got away. A/N: here is a happy ending after all the angst in part 1

There was so much anger and resentment, so much hatred, after the breakup. Lando's now ex-girlfriend had graduated medical school. What was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life was overshadowed by the overwhelming feeling that the one person she wanted there with her, the man who had stayed by her side (even while across the world), wasn’t there. 

But she was too proud to reach out, as was he. As Lando stalked her private instagram on one of his spam accounts she forgot to remove from her following, he felt the urge to call, or even just text a simple “congratulations, I am still unequivocally in love with you by the way”. Maybe that was too much though.

With a career like hers, she wasn't out of the clear once she graduated, she still had what felt like millenia left of training to do. So she threw herself into her career. She didn’t want to think about her ex, so she didn’t give herself time to think. 

That worked for a while. Two years went by and she had been on top of her game. Training to work as an ER nurse had been difficult but rewarding. At first, only months after the breakup, she had a hard time but her philosophy of “working so hard you are too tired at the end of the day to think about how you lost the love of your life” had done her good for a while. 

But, she had started to slowly fray at the edges. Sleeping just enough to sustain her but not enough to make her feel rejuvenated. Eating small meals to get her through the day but not enough to feel full. She thought she could get through it.

It wasn’t until she had a 22 year old that had gotten into a racing accident that she really realized how bad she had been feeling. All of the feelings she had been pushing down immediately came charging back up when she saw a tanned boy with curly brown hair. As she helped give him the medical care he needed, she kept reminding herself of the same thing, it's not Lando, Lando is okay, it's not Lando, Lando is fine. It wasn’t until she had tipped a cart full of sterilized tools over that she realized how much she was shaking. One of her coworkers, another nurse on her floor, had to drag her away while she insisted she was fine. She continued on, or at least tried to, until she had made a few too many minor mistakes and was forced to go home. 

Walking into her flat, she made it just a few steps before she broke down. Exhaustion took over and she was unable to even get up after she cried herself to sleep right on the rug. Hours later she had finally gotten the energy to shower and then rot in bed. After what felt like eternity of  staring at the ceiling, she grabbed her phone, hovering over the call button on Lando’s contact that she had been so unable to block, much less delete, over the past two years. 

At what felt like rock bottom though, why not start digging some more?

Pressing the call button, she started to panic, wondering what she would say, till she finally heard his voice for the first time in years. “Hey, this is Lando, pretty busy at the moment, leave a message at the beep!” Voicemail. She had gained confidence for the first time in years and she was sent straight to voicemail. 

It was loud in the club Lando was in. He had started off the night with friends at a nice restaurant and after enough drinks had been passed around, drinks that he declined, they ended up at the club they currently were in. Most of his company was off with their significant others, or dancing with people he just met, while Lando was sitting and talking to a woman who had confidently approached him earlier.

He didn’t feel the phone vibrating in his back pocket when he had his arm around her as they made small conversation. It wasn’t until he started to get nauseous from the smell of alcohol everywhere that he went to the bathroom to check his phone, seeing he had missed a call from the person he thought about the most, even after years apart. 

Since the breakup, Lando had been a mess. It wasn’t his idea to break up. They had issues that they definitely needed to fix, issues they should have talked through instead of letting them snowball for so long, but it shouldn’t have ended the way it did. The minute they hung up those years ago he wanted to call her right back- no, he wanted to book a fight and see her immediately. 

Maybe it was the hope that had ignited in him for the first time in forever, maybe it was the second hand intoxication from being in a club full of drunk people, but Lando pressed call back, praying to hear her voice.

She had had enough time to realize that calling him years after she broke up with him was a stupid decision to make, so of course after it got declined she turned her phone off for the night. She didn’t have anyone else who would contact her anyway.

Because of this, she missed the first call Lando made, then the next seven. It was like an addiction he quickly picked up. After that sliver of hope came back, he couldn’t stop the thoughts that crept in. 

He thought it might have been a mistake on her end, she did ignore the rest of his calls- scratch that, the line was immediately cut the moment he tried to call back. 

But the little voice in his head kept saying ‘try again, maybe she will pick up, maybe there is hope’.

He didn’t sleep the rest of the night. He didn’t sleep the most of the next night either, not till he gave into the voice in his head and bought a plane ticket. 

As Lando sat on the flight, his mind ran through some of his favorite memories over their relationship, then, once those ran out, he imagined what it would be like when he showed up on her doorstep once more. He’d have a lot to explain, like why he was suddenly on her doorstep of her new apartment he had no actual reason to know the address to, something he was given by a good mutual friend who was very tired about hearing both sides moaning about how single they were.

It was all a blur as he landed and swiftly ran through the airport. He hadn’t packed more than an overnight backpack, deciding if this went horribly he would immediately go home to mop around, and if it went amazing he’d figure something out.

Standing in front of her doorstep now, he quickly knocked before he lost all remaining confidence. 

“Lando? What the fuck?” Was all she was able to get out. She would have felt insecure about how disheveled she looked if the man standing in front of her didn’t also look just as terrible. 

“I know, I know. This makes no sense, I have no reason to be here, and it's weird that I know your address.” He replied, correctly guessing every question she had but not giving a single answer to any of them. 

“At least you are self aware.”

“I had to see you, it was genuinely ruining my life. After you called and I missed it, I tried calling back for hours. I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t sleep because all I could think about was why you called. If you had needed help, if it was a buttdial, or if you finally wanted to speak to me as much as I needed to speak to you after these few years. It's so strange feeling so many feelings for someone you broke up with too long ago to still be in love with. That relationship- our relationship was so far from perfect, long distance was too hard for either of us so instead we just phoned it in and stopped trying. But I just really miss you and I really want to make this work.”

This was crazy, both of them realized. Crazy of him to travel to another country after missing one phone call, crazy to have hope after years of silence on both ends, crazy to think that they could mend a relationship they both had let fall apart without giving it a fighting chance. But this was that fighting chance, this was the moment that could make or break them.

But she didn’t have anything to say, she couldn’t think of anything to say. So, when she pulled him by the collar and kissed him harder than he had ever been kissed, she hoped that he got her message.

It would be a long road to recovery, but it would be worth it.

Tagging: @eviethetheatrefreak, @96jnie, @youreverydayfangirl, @jxnellat, @eringaitskill, @slytherinholland

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #lando x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader

[bluesidez]

HEY POOKS. Could you write a DBF!Miguel x dancer!reader. He just loves to watch her dance in competitions and recitals and helps her practice her routine by counting out 8’s for her <333

( maybe he can give reader a reward for doing so well but idk 🤭 )

[Rehearsal]

lab tester: Anonymous Participant (Hi @snails-doodles22) 🩻

summary: Miguel keeps you grounded as you prepare for a dance competition. 

content warning: age gap (abeg she’s 21+), secret relationship, fluff, like two suggestive?? lowkey explicit scenes so MINORS BEWARE, a few thoughts of frustration/failure but nothing serious just the thoughts of an artist

word count: 1.9k, halfway proofread

a/n: Hi hi!! This one was really a challenge for me!! and Idk if I’ll write DBF again ngl Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! I leaned more on the age gap aspect of the relationship and pulled from how I felt when practicing for my own recitals/competitions 🤠! (I get extremely snappy and mean lol)

A Grand Adage (as best as I, not a professional ballerina but I practiced for 3 years, can explain) is a slower dance move where you stretch your leg to the front, side, and back without losing your balance. You also have to switch legs…I think. It looks like it takes a LOT of core strength, especially without a partner.

I don’t think I mention it in the story, but I’m imagining this Miguel to have salt and pepper hair, but like, in its early stages. So only a few strands of gray. 

“Damn it.”

The music started to sound more and more jaded as you failed another Grand Adage after powering through the more fast-paced part of your routine. 

You don’t know why you had the bright idea to add the most pain-inducing ballet moves to your contemporary piece, but you were starting to hate yourself for it. It was supposed to represent a crash and burn of rushing perfection which was ironic because you were feeling those emotions tenfold.

“You’re not going to get it if you keep trying to force it like that.” You heard Miguel from across the room and the music finally stopped. “It’s a pause between those last two counts. You know this, chiquita.”

You huffed out a chuckle as you got up, “Knowing and doing are two different things. I know what’s coming, which is why I keep anticipating it and messing it up.”

“The studio is all yours for a few more hours,” Miguel sighed. “Take a breath and try it again.”

“That’s so easy for you to say. You’re not the one busting your ass,” you mumbled as you got back into your starting position. 

Miguel crossed his arms, head leaning on the wall above the barre, “You want to say that again?”

You dropped your arms and stared at him, face blank. 

After a minute or so of you going silent, he unfolded his arms and beckoned you towards him. 

You dragged your feet to get to him, hands hugging yourself. 

“I know you want this to be perfect, but snapping at me isn’t going to help that.” His hands made their way to the back of your thighs, rubbing up and down the tightened muscles. 

“I’m sorry, I just-” you rubbed your eyes with your palms. “The competition is so soon and I keep fucking the routine up.”

“And you’ve also done it perfectly countless other times. You’ve got this! I know you do. I’ve seen how much work you’ve put into dancing and that’s not going to change.”

“But Miguel-”

“But nothing. I’ve seen how you become a new person on the stage. You demand the attention of your audience in a way that your peers can’t. You’re captivating and alluring so I’m not going to sit here and let you think otherwise.”

You look at him with a face that says “I know you’re right, but I don’t want you to be,” and just fall onto his lap, wallowing in his arms while you breathe in his cologne. 

He nuzzled you on the head, hands patting at your ass, hands warm and firm through your tights, “Now can you try again for me?”

“Can I have a kiss?” you say, lips rivaling a rubber duckie. 

He chuckles at you but obliges, heart too soft when it comes to you. 

You get up with new ambition, taking a deep breath as you stride back to the middle of the room. 

“I’m going to count out loud for you this time, is that ok?”

“Yeah,” you reply, arms molding into a sharp form. 

When the music starts this time, you hone in on Miguel’s voice, taking leaps and turns with his timbre. Your heart thumps all the same, but your brain isn’t as loud. 

As the Grand Adage comes again, Miguel’s voice stays calm, never wavering. You tighten your core and lift your leg high, hands framed beautifully and foot pointed sharp as you hold your arms above your head. As you bring your leg back down to begin to turn, your heart almost stops when your body remains stable and strong. You can’t believe it but try to keep the piece's emotion steady. 

You switch legs without trouble, eyes catching Miguel watching your form in the mirror. His face is serious but you can’t hear that in his voice, making you feel fuzzy. You keep up the pace, repeating the same move but gearing up to do an Illusion.

Like a flash, you bring your leg down and bend your body, foot spinning swiftly to perform the trick. Your heartbeat is roaring in your ears as you move through the rest of the routine, mind too excited from your success to completely portray the ending emotions of dance. 

Once you finish, you’re quick to get out of your position, face lit up as you turn to Miguel. When you run to him, you’re screaming with glee. He only stumbles a bit when you jump in his arms, body wrapped around him like a koala. 

“Miguel! Did’ya see it? Oh my god, I can’t believe it,” you laughed as he spun you around.

“I told you you could do it, amor. You just needed to get out of your head.”

“Ok ok, three more times and I think I’ll be ready to leave.”

“Well let’s get busy, chiquita. We’ve got work to do.”

You run through the routine again and again, becoming more confident each time. After every successful routine, Miguel’s praises get more and more loving. First a deep hug, then a few pecks to the lips, then a makeout session that has you squirming for more. 

“Is your dad picking you up today?” he said, lips on your neck.

You turn your nose up at the mention of him, “No, I took the bus.”

“Could have asked me to drop you off.”

“You were at work, Miggy. Didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother,” he stopped to move his forehead to yours. “You can come over tonight. You need to relax after all of this hard work.”

“And what do I tell my dad when he asks where I am?” your eyes pan from his eyes to his lips, fingers reaching up to go through his hair. 

“Tell him you’re at a girlfriend’s house.”

You twist your mouth to the side, pretending to think.

“How are you planning to relax me?”

“A hot bath.”

You snickered, knowing better than to believe that was all he was planning to do, but taking his word for it. 

Hours later when you were laid on your back, hands gripping the sheets below you and Miguel holding your legs up as he stroked deep inside, your suspicions were confirmed. Your skin was soft from the bath and your muscles were like jelly after he spent an hour massaging every tight muscle out of you. The room was full of him, his smell surrounding you, and the noises of him attending to your every need. With every cry of his name, he brought you closer to the horizon. 

On the day of your competition, you didn’t even look at Miguel before you went on, nerves too bad. If he gave you a pep talk, internally, you would be appreciative, but externally, you might tell him to leave you the fuck alone. 

Knowing how you get, he supported you in the best way he could by sending you messages and a light breakfast in the morning. 

“Break a leg, chiquita”

“Not literally of course”

“I’ll be waiting for you once it’s over”

“With a surprise :)”

It was enough to fill you with anticipation, ready to give it all on the floor.

Once your number was called, you went to the center and got into position. The crowd was dark enough to feel like it was just you in the room, but your heart knew otherwise with how fast it was beating. 

When the music starts, it’s like Miguel’s voice is a soundtrack playing through your memory. You can’t see him, but you can feel him in the crowd cheering you on. Your feet move across the floor, body tightening and relaxing when needed. Your face wears a frustrated expression, portraying the sentiment of everything falling out of control. Your leaps and turns come one after another moving your form across the stage. 

The Grand Adage comes to you like lightning, you don’t even notice you’re doing it until it happens. The muscle memory takes over and you transition to the Illusion like it's nothing. Your mind wanders as you go through to the end of the routine, finishing strongly with your pose on the floor.

The cheers of the audience are what bring you back to reality. A feeling of relief washes over you as you stand and bow, smiling brightly. 

Standing with the other dancers from your category, you don’t expect the judges to call your name for first place, so when they all turn to look at you, you feel like you might have walked out in your underwear by accident. 

It isn’t until you’re handed a bouquet of flowers and a trophy that it dawns on you that your hard work has paid off. The check was no measly amount of money either. 

Looking out to the crowd, you can see Miguel standing up with his hands cupped over his mouth as he yells. Your family is standing next to him cheering as well. You wave at them, jumping up and down in excitement. Only you can see the wink Miguel gives you. 

When you meet them out in the lobby, you have to stop yourself from keeping your attention on Miguel. 

“You did amazing, honey,” your dad says, squeezing the life out of you. “That flip thing? I don’t know how you did it, but wow!”

“It’s called an Illusion,” Miguel shakes his head. “Keep up.”

“What are you, her coach or something?”

“C’mon you guys,” your mom fusses. “Don’t start bickering in the building. At least wait until we get dinner.”

“‘M gonna ride with Miguel,” you say to them. 

Knowing how much you like his car, your parents think nothing of it and walk out to their own car. 

Once they’re out the door, he turns and gives you a deep kiss, “You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you.”

“I just remembered what you said. Kept it in the back of my mind while I performed.”

He smiled and wrapped his hands around your waist, “Yeah?”

You nod and bring his lips to yours again. 

“Where’s my surprise?”

“Always so impatient.”

“You wouldn’t like me any other way.”

“Tienes rázon,” Miguel chuckled. 

Miguel brings a sparkly gift bag to your attention, placing it in your hands. You reach into the bag, tissue paper falling to the floor. You pull out an envelope and a long velvet box. 

You open the box, eyes glittering when you see the necklace inside. 

“Miguel, this is adorable!” 

“Here,” he takes the necklace out of the box. “Let me help you put it on.”

You turn and focus your attention on the envelope, fingers sliding under the sealed flap. 

Your breath halts when you pull the tickets out.

“To Paris?”

You turn to him once your necklace is latched together, eyes teary from happiness.

“You’ve been doing so amazing, I wanted to treat you to an amazing trip.”

“How much did this cost?”

“Nothing that you should worry your head about.”

You crowd his space, kissing his face all over, “Thank you so much, Miguel.”

“Of course. Anything for my girl.”

“I don’t want to go out to dinner now,” you sigh dramatically.

“Yeah? You know we can’t bail, though.”

“Not even if I give my thanks to you in the car?”

Miguel bit the inside of his cheek, watching you grin at him. He’s really way too soft when it comes to you. 

“Vamos.”

As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

#to the lab testers 🩻 #love lab drabbles 💊 #dbf!Miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel ohara #astv miguel #atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction

[lady-ashfade]

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ platonic!brother!percy jackson x Gn!Oldersibling!reader ๛Imagine.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 348

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: I have long nails on so sorry for the mistakes, angst/comfort, idk why this was sad, thinking after book 2 events.

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

the only thing you looked forward to was having chances to see your little brother, who is fighting his own battle and having to face it without you. you hated leaving. but with two powerful demigods in one house- you would have gotten him killed.

a part of him never forgave you and you could understand. the one job you had was to be there by his side to protect him and you couldn’t.

“Not really,” he exhaled and leaned over with his elbows on his knees.

the sunset was exactly like it always was, for years in this dreamland. the only place you could see him and talk to him was through sleeping. even when he thought it was in his head.

“You’re the bravest person I know,”

percy turns around and looks at you with a widen expression. did you mean him? this caught him by surprise and all emotions started to go crazy.

“You are so much more then what you realize, percy. so much more then me, then anyone else I know.” placing a hand on his shoulder and given it a small squeeze, trying not to get emotional at the tears in his eyes.

“And I know it feels like I haven’t been there, I know, but I love you so much. And despite being my little brother you are more of a hero than I’ll ever be.”

percy felt his body tense. something was being repaired in his heart and it made him feel warmth.

the thing you didn’t expect was him to lunged at you and pull you into a tight hug. his head rested in your chest as you sat stunned for a minute at this action.

all you ever wanted was for him to know how much you loved him.

“Thank you,” percy whispered. finally you wrapped your arms around him while the corner of your eyes failed to keep the tears inside.

you held him just as tight as the day you felt, like it was the last.

𐀔 please don’t repost my fics on other websites. This is my writing. And I don’t own the characters just y/n.

ᱬ requests are open for this fandom.

#percy Jackson #Percy jackson x reader #platonic x reader #platonic percy Jackson x reader #platonic!percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #platonic percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #imagine #angst to comfort #angst #comfort

[zorosprincess]

Alexithymia

PRONOUNCED - alex·​i·​thy·​mia | /əˌleksəˈTHīmēə/ DEFINITION - the inability to identify and express or describe one's feelings.

PAIRING - Tsukishima Kei x Reader WC - 7.5K (oops) GENRE - Smut, Angst, Fluff CW - oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, im insane?

PREV PART | MASTERLIST

The three days that you had to wait until the party felt like they took forever.

It was three days of avoiding telling Aiko and your other friends where the hickeys and the bruises came from. Three days of trying not to give a snarky reply whenever Tsukishima spoke - and missing the drop in his features whenever you neglected it.

Three days of leaving your shared classes just before the bell rang so that he didn't have the chance to catch you in the halls.

Now, however, you were both trapped in Aiko's house with the rest of the team and selected other close friends. You knew this house like the back of your hand and if you really tried, you could completely avoid him and every other person in this house all night.

But then, if you were going to do that, you might as well have not come. Aiko would have had your head for that. So instead, you chose to do something that you knew would piss Tsukishima off. You latched yourself onto someone that he hated.

Kageyama Tobio.

You had spent all night flirting with Tobio and it honestly, had you feeling mentally drained. He was cute, you wouldn't deny how absolutely adorable he was and how easily he flustered made you laugh. But he was also so so oblivious.

Oblivious to the batting of your eyelashes as you looked up at him. Oblivious to the soft touches on his arm while you over-exaggerated laughs.

You'd been at it for nearly an hour now, overdoing your flirting with Kageyama without so much as a glance towards Tsukishima. You really didn't have to look to know he was watching.

You could feel it. His eyes, drilling into your back, golden as the sun and burning just as hot. All it would take was a bump to send him over the edge you'd brought him to. You just couldn't seem to press the right button yet. A bump. A bump was all you needed.

A bump was what you got. Straight to the back from someone you didn't see as they passed behind you.

You lost your balance easily, the alcohol aiding in your unsteady legs as you felt yourself start to fall. Tobio was just as quick in catching you. His arm wrapped around your waist at lightning speed, pulling your body into his.

At that moment, you'd forgotten all about what you had been trying to do to Tsukishima. Your hand, the one not holding on to your drink, braced itself on Tobio's chest.

"Are you okay?" His voice came in a whisper, compared to the half-shouting you'd been communicating at to be heard over the music previously. It made you realize just how close you two were.

You swallowed hard as you felt his chest vibrate under your hand while he spoke, his defined muscles pressing into your skin. You looked up at him in awe, your cheeks heating up as you nodded lightly.

You froze for a second, he really was pretty and it was a shame that he was taken. That and that you weren't actually into him. It was a shame that even though your face heated up at the proximity, your usual snarky demeanor dropping, there were no feelings that flooded you except for the wish that you could swap him with Kei.

You shook the thought from your head as quickly as it entered and quickly detangled yourself from his hold. You glanced off to the side, willing your face to cool down. "Sorry, I'm so clumsy." You laughed lightly.

Just as Tobio's hold released you, a colder grip wrapped itself around your wrist harshly. "Excuse us." Tsukishima's voice came out clenched and before you could register his face or even turn back to catch Tobio's reaction, you were dragged away through the crowd.

"What the hell!" You tried to shout, to yank your arm back. You were only met with silence, his grip tightening as he continued to drag you along.

You caught a glimpse of his face as he expertly weaved through friends and strangers alike, no one paying either of you mind as you passed them. His eyes were fixed forward, eyes trained on something you couldn't quite see yet. His jaw was clenched so tight that you swore you could see every muscle of it outlined through his skin.

Your back met the door of a closet, only a split second after you'd seen it, as he shoved you inside. You watched him glance over his shoulder briefly, making sure no one noticed as he slipped in after you.

You waited for the door to close and the second it did, soft light from the bulb hanging above you filling the room, you shoved him as hard as you could. Pride filled you as he stumbled slightly from the force but you couldn't take the time to revel in it right now.

"What is your problem?" You hissed the words at him, shoving again. He had to take a step to steady himself. "Where the fuck do you get off dragging me around like that!?" You snarled at him, going to shove him again. He easily stopped you this time, prepared for it; he snatched your wrists out of the air and pulled your body flush to his.

You froze against him. Heat filled your face again, similar to how it just had with Tobio, the proximity getting to you. You hated that your fight faded from your body as his hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing along your lower lip.

You let him part your lips gently as you stared up at him, caught under his gaze and the soft touch of his rough fingers. His eyes softened as they trained on your lips, but only for a moment. They hardened again as he made eye contact, grip on your jaw tightening. You grimaced at the feeling, eyes beginning to water.

"Don't fucking look at him like that again." A possessive growl came from his chest, vibrating against your body. It took every ounce of your willpower to jerk your jaw from his grasp.

"What are you talking about?" You felt the fire flare up behind your temper. You matched his glare, stubbornly looking up at him in a challenge.

"Kageyama!" He nearly shouted the name and quickly lowered his volume as he realized it. "Kageyama and you giving him that fucking look."

The words fell out through clenched teeth as he pressed you into the wall. His hand wrapped around your throat, not roughly, just lightly to pin you in place. You swallowed down the fire of your temper, letting it leave your eyes and flow into your cheeks. You hated how easily he could reduce you to what you were now - staring up into his eyes, drinking in the golden sunlight of them and knowing that you would regret it the second you looked away.

"This look." Tsukishima's fingers tilted your head towards him more, tracing the column of your throat, his face came closer to yours, eyes soaking in every curve of your face. "The look you're only supposed to give me. The one you get when I hold you like this-"

The look you got when you were drinking in every feature you could and thinking how beautiful he was up close. Thinking about how much you were going to hate when he let go.

"The one that tells me you're mine." He growled in frustration again and the softness that had started to creep into his eyes left again. "Don't fucking look at him like that again." He pressed you harder against the wall, lips falling to your neck. "Promise me."

Your eyes fluttered shut as you held on to the last shreds of your resistance. "What am I supposed to promise?" You refused to let yourself fully give in to him yet.

"That you're only going to look at me like that." His words were as rough as his hands were as he grabbed at your clothes, attempting to push them off your body. "Only fucking me." You whimpered as his hands dragged you impossibly closer to him.

The sound of something crashing from the other side of the door made reality crash down on you with it. What were you doing?

Your hands found purchase on his chest again, and again you roughly shoved at him. "Don't tell me what I can and can't fucking do." You growled as he stumbled back, his touch leaving a searing pain in its absence. "I'm not fucking you in this closet at a party full of our friends."

He quickly moved in front of the door as you reached for it and you groaned in exasperation. "Fucking move, you stupid lamppost."

"Please." Your eyes snapped up to meet his as the word fell from his lips. Your anger seemed to falter as you took in the pleading look in his eyes. "Let's leave here then." You couldn't reply, your eyes only widened as his hands came up to cup your face, thumbs softly stroking across your cheeks as he kept your face tilted up at him. "Just come home with me."

His voice was soft and it seeped through every crack in your already feeble resistance, filling you up as your heart squeezed in your chest, willing you to walk away from this back and forth you had.

"Please, y/n, come home with me." The nail in the coffin of your heart. You nodded without thinking and then you were being pulled out of the closet and back through the crowd.

His grip on you was softer this time, an arm wrapped around your waist rather than fingers gripped around your wrist. Guiding instead of dragging. You couldn't take your eyes off him, everything else was merely a blur as you wove towards the front door and then to his car.

You finally came to as you stopped at a red light two streets away from Aiko's house. The leather of the seat stuck to your bare thighs as you stared out the window. Neither of you dared to speak, tension so thick in the air as you almost didn't even acknowledge each other's presence. Almost. His palm lay heavy on your thigh, fingers sprawled across it, burning through your skin.

You let him drag you out of his car when it was stopped and up the path to his dark house. Every step you took, you ignored the same part of your brain begging you to run from what was stirring inside of you. To leave before the last of your will to hate Tsukishima broke away.

The second that the door locked behind you both, his lips were on your again. It was bruising movements as he nipped at your lips, invaded your mouth with his tongue. He lifted you easily into his arms and carried you down the hall. Every one of your senses were flooded with him.

You inhaled his cologne with every breath you took, the scent dizzying to you as he swallowed the soft moans you let slip out. Your back hit the door of his room and he supported you with one arm under your ass as his other reached blindly for the handle.

He ground his hips desperately into yours as he opened the door, the heat in your core slowly flooding your whole body, craving more of his touch. Your doubts were suffocating you but all you could do was kiss him more as he slammed the door shut and pushed you back against it.

He dropped you back to the ground and pushed you to your knees without a word. Your legs didn't give much of a fight as you fell easily, his hand coming to cup your jaw roughly to keep your head against the wall and at eye-level with the bulge in his pants.

His thumb pressed between your lips, dragging and hooking onto your lower teeth to pull your mouth open. Your tongue brushed across the top of his nail and he groaned in response.

His eyes hungrily watched your lips as you ignored every protest your brain was making about letting him get away with this. His free hand gripped the neck of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in a fluid motion.

You trailed with the him of his shirt, your eyes traveling up his torso, drinking in every ripple in his muscles as they flexed under his movements. When he was free of his shirt, as much as you could stare at his body all day, you made sure to bring your eyes back to his face - where you truly couldn't help yourself from always looking.

Your fingers fumbled with the button on his pants, undoing them as quickly as you could without letting your eyes leave his face. You pushed them down with one hand as the other immediately wrapped around the length of him, easily pumping up and down. He stepped out of his pants as you did, kicking them to the side as his hips involuntarily bucked towards you.

You felt his thumb leave your mouth and you licked out, tongue wetting your lips along with his tip. He responded with a hiss at the sudden sensation and his hands quickly wound themselves into your hair.

Impatience flooded both of you and you quickly wrapped your lips around him, sucking him in the way that you'd grown accustomed to. Your tongue stroked along the familiar veins running down the bottom of his cock as he pressed further into your mouth. His head fell back as a soft moan left his lips, his fingers tightening their grip.

You whined around him as he pulled lightly on your hair and bucked into your mouth again. "Fu-fuck." He moaned, looking back down at you and hardening his gaze, any softness he wanted to treat you with leaving his features. "Do that again."

It was a command you followed, moaning around him again, sending vibrations up his length as he held your head against the wall, thrusting against your gag reflex. Tears sprung to your eyes as the entrance of your throat clenched around his tip. Tsukishima moaned again and pulled your hair.

"Come on, I know you can do better than that." A smirk pulled onto his lips as he ushered in the challenge, pulling back from your mouth a little bit, so his cock rested comfortably on your tongue. "Do better."

One of his hands left your hair and tapped on your cheek lightly as you hollowed it out, sucking gently on him. His eyes were locked onto your own watery ones, refusing to leave them.

"Fuck you look so pretty like this." You whimpered at the roughness of his voice compared to the words that it formed and your jaw went slack for him. Open for him to use.

He thrust back in quickly, reveling in the way some of the tears in your eyes started to fall as you hit the back of your throat again. Your chest heaved as you tried to relax your throat, to ease the ache, and he pushed further in.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your throat involuntarily tried to push him back out. Your head tried to jerk backwards but the wall behind you and his grip on your hair refused to let you move even an inch.

He thrust hard a few times, spit collecting around the corner of your lips, mixing with the tears the dripped down your cheeks as you gagged around him. "Yeah, fuck, like that." He groaned but pulled back lightly, leaving his tip in your mouth.

You coughed and sputtered, gasping in air from the small space he left you. But the panting coming from him above you sent heat pooling between your legs despite trying to catch your breath. You willed yourself to look back up at him.

His face was flushed a pretty pink as his eyes watched the drool fall from your lips, down the length of his cock, and onto your chest. The look of him there, so enraptured by you, made you stick your tongue out more, trying to open wider for him.

He thrust in again, picking up a fast pace. Gags and obscene noises were pulled from your throat. Your tears ran hot down your cheeks, your body contracting as you gagged, more of your saliva soaking his cock.

His tongue poked out of his mouth as he held onto your hair tighter with one hand, the other running through his own hair, mussing it while he moaned loudly. His head was dropped forward, eyes locked onto your face as he fucked your mouth.

"Look so fucking hot on your knees for me." You let out a strangled whimper and he growled out as he felt the sound travel up his length. "Fuck, only ever look at me like this." You made a pathetic attempt at nodding up at him and he breathed out a laugh, picking up his pace. Your lungs burned as he narrowed his eyes and got rougher with his thrusts, like he remembered why he was mad in the first place. "Never going to fucking look at him like this."

He let out another loud moan while he abused your throat, losing a bit of control to his thrusts. You lifted your hand, prepared to tap out of the assault. He stopped on his own accord before you got the chance.

He pulled away from you quickly and you realized how much his grip had held you in your place. Your hands braced on your knees as your body fell forward. You gasped around the saliva falling out of your mouth and down your chin, mixing with your tears.

His hand wrapped around your elbow and hauled you to your feet before you could clear your head. The ache in your knees caused them to buckle when your weight was set on them and you knew that you would fall if he wasn't supporting you. You only had to deal with being on your feet for a few seconds before they left the ground again as he tossed you onto the bed.

His hands were back on you before your body could stop bouncing onto the mattress from the force. Roughly gripping your hips and easily tearing your clothing from your body.

"So fucking gorgeous like this." He praised softly as his hands trailed from your hips to your thighs. His hands changed again, from their soft grazes to a rough grip on the backs of your thighs as he spread them, hooking your knees over his elbows.

You squealed in surprise, head feeling dizzy from his treatment as he yanked you towards him with hands on your waist. Your eyes fluttered, moaning as you heard him spit onto your exposed cunt.

You had barely registered the feeling before you felt him slam his entire length into you with a single thrust. Your eyes flew back open and a loud, squealing gasp left your lips, your nails finding home digging into his forearms.

"Fu-fuck. K-Kei." You stuttered as his head fell forward with an elongated curse of his own.

"Feel so fucking good around me." He didn't even give you a second to catch your breath before he was pulling out and slamming his hips back into yours again. The angle was just right and your vision got blurry as you immediately started to feel your orgasm building.

He offered you no mercy as he battered against your g-spot, his pace fast and rough, unforgiving as unfiltered moans fell from your lips.

"Kei!" You cried out, your grip tightening as you felt your back arch, pressing your chest closer to him. "Kei fuck- I'm gon-" You were cut off by the form of your own half moan, half scream that tore from your throat as he fucked into you even harder at your declaration.

"Fucking already?" Condescending as he let out a scoff, the bit of it was taken away by the moan that left his lips immediately after it. "Fucking cum on my cock then baby," he permitted, "cum the way that only I can make you."

His grip on your waist dragged you down, across the bedsheets to meet every thrust he gave and you whined at the possession he had over you.

A slew of curses rolled off your lips, slurred by your own saliva and your tongue that couldn't quite cooperate with you, as you felt your entire body tense up. You clamped down around him and his eyes squeezed shut, determined to keep his pace and angle.

You could barely feel it as your back arched off the bed, your head falling backwards as your orgasm crashed into you like a freight train. One of his arms moved to keep your back arched like that, giving him a deeper angle as his pace, his roughness refused to let up, fucking you through your orgasm.

The sound in your ears felt muffled, but you could still hear the wet slap every time his hips met yours again. The sounds got progressively louder, sloppier as you gushed around him. Your orgasm didn't even make him pause. The tip of his dick brushed against your g-spot with every thrust into you.

It felt like he was trying to get even deeper inside of you as you clawed at his arms and choked on moans and cries of pleasure. You weren't sure if that goal was possible, but damn did he try.

"You take me so fucking well." Your body clenched up again at the praise he pushed out through his teeth. "Yeah," he responded to your body, "you like being told that?"

His eyes held yours and you could almost pinpoint an emotion behind them that you couldn't read. Almost but not quite, not having the time to focus on it as he gave you another particularly hard thrust. Your head fell to the side again and you waited for his next comment. Waited for the degradation that came from him every time you fucked.

"Prettiest fucking thing I've ever seen." He growled out and a gasp ripped from your lips. You swore you must have misheard him.

As if he could read your mind, he leaned forward, his chest pressing against yours. One of his hands came up to grip your jaw, bringing your face back to his, forcing you to hold his eye contact.

"Cum again pretty girl, give me another one." And with the way he was looking at you, the words falling from his lips against yours as he continued his rough pace... your body had no choice but to comply.

You tumbled over another edge that you hadn't even registered being close to. Your vision of him blurred out around the edges, white spots decorating the image. He swallowed every moan you gave with breathtaking kisses and reciprocated with moaned praises into your mouth.

"Just like that baby." He cursed as he fucked you through your orgasm, trying to draw it out. "So fucking beautiful for me." He let out a broken moan and his thrusts started to get sloppy. "All mine." He possessively gripped onto you, his voice begging for you to comply, to corroborate.

"All yours." You whimpered back through a moan.

You kissed him again as you registered his own muscles tightening up, his length twitching inside of you. The moan that he let flow into your mouth was high-pitched and broken. Pulling your body impossibly tighter to his, you felt him paint your insides with his own orgasm.

He collapsed onto you for a second before rolling off, disconnecting your bodies as he did so. You both laid there in almost silence, your legs dangling off the bed and chests heaving as you were surrounded by the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath.

As your vision cleared up, the tingly feeling in your body had begun to be replaced with something else. The tightening in your chest as you thought about the words that had fallen rom your lips. Words you desperately wanted to be said with love. But you knew better.

You knew that tomorrow you would see your friends and he would pretend that he didn't know where the bruises that littered your skin were from. You would lie for him. Tomorrow, he wouldn't even look your way as you watched his every movement and hung onto every sarcastic comment that left his tongue.

You couldn't do this anymore. Let yourself be confused by this. By him. You needed to stop thi-

"I don't need anyone else seeing you like this."

Your eyes snapped open and your head turned to look at him, so quickly that you were sure you heard it crack. That was the least of your concerns. You didn't even remember your eyes having fallen closed or hearing his body shift so that he was looking at you.

9 simple words.

That was all it took to reignite the hate in your veins for the man next to you. You pushed yourself up, ignoring the scream from every fiber in your body at the movements.

"Yeah, I get it Tsukki." You whispered it, shaking your head as you searched for your underwear first. You spotted the fabric and made for it. "Don't want anyone else to see me under them and looking like at them like that and-"

You cut yourself off as you slipped back on your underwear, furrowing your eyebrows at why your vision was blurry again. You could hear him shift behind you but your focus was on your hand as it came away from your cheeks, wet. Tears. Great. You clenched your teeth and brushed away all the wetness you could and worked on finding your bra next.

"That's not-" Tsukishima groaned and you heard his feet hit the floor as he got off the bed, "y/n would you wait a second." He voice was softer than usual but you refused to look up at him, spotting your bra by the door.

"Listen, Tsukishima." You clipped your bra into place and grabbed the shirt laying only a few feet away. "This has been fun, really." You sniffled and quickly his it with a clearing of your throat. "Great stress relief and you're a great fuck."

You forced the words out, letting the words freeze over as you pulled the shirt down over your torso and turned to find your shorts. Tsukishima stepped into your path. He'd pulled his boxers back on but you were too busy to care.

Busy with holding back all your emotions. You chose one to zero in on and you let it out. "Get out of my fucking way." You growled out, fixing your eyes onto his chest with a glare, refusing to look up at his face, knowing that you would break if you did.

"Stop fucking walking around." He grabbed your upper arms to hold you in place as you tried to push past him again. "Just, would you listen to me!"

"I don't know where you get off!" You shouted then, trying to rid yourself of his grasp, struggling unsuccessfully. "We're not together." You seethed and his grip loosened. "I'm not your fucking girlfriend." The words burned as you spit them out and you barely registered his arms dropping away from you.

"What makes you think that you can tell me what to do!?" You shoved at his chest and he took a step back. You spun on your heel and tried to locate the shorts you'd been wearing. "You can't fucking play with me like this." It was quieter than your shouts, but you knew he heard.

He was in front of you again in a second. This time, his hands cupped your face and forced you to look up at him. "Just give me five minutes. The quietness of his voice made you freeze, your eyes locking with his.

Worry was written all over his face, pouring from his furrowed eyebrows to his glazed over eyes. It drifted past his lightly parted lips, to the tensed up muscles of his body as he stood rigidly in front of you. It seeped from his hands holding your face softly and contaminated you too.

His worry kept your eyes locked on his and your body frozen in place. Stopped the words in your throat and the breath in your lungs. A sudden heaviness that neither of you were used to.

"Please, don't go." He whispered, begging you. "Please just stay. For one more night."

You can't help but think your ears were faulty because you could have sworn his voice cracked the slightest before he continued.

"I know you hate me. God you have every right to. But just let me have you for one more night. I need you for one more night." Your chest tightened as you looked up at him, a rush of emotions overloading you and you couldn't figure out which one to feel most. "I don't want anyone else to have you this way. To see you this way."

You chose to feel the hurt the most and opened your mouth to yell at him. He only cut you off again.

"Just shut up for a second!" He clenched his eyes shut as he raised his voice. You stopped and he sighed, opening his eyes again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" he swallowed and slowly re-established the eye contact he'd broken.

"I'm trying to tell you, but I don't know how." He let out a frustrated huff of air and you could swear that there were tears starting to form in his golden eyes. "You have to understand," he begged, and this time you knew his voice definitely cracked, "I've never done this before." He looked down at you with such a softness that you could feel every ounce of hatred starting to leave.

"Stop looking at me like that." You whispered, pleading with him as you tried to grasp onto the feeling of hating Tsukishima Kei. The feeling that was slipping through your fingers. The one feeling that had been protecting you from him.

"I can't." He sighed and started again.

"Y/n, I don't want anyone else to see you the way that I see you. to see how you nibble on your bottom lip when you're trying to keep up with taking notes in class. To see how you look when your fingers subconsciously change your hairstyle at least three times a day. And every time I look back at you it's like something about you has changed because of it.

"I don't want anyone else to look at you the way that I do, to see you in every state and still be filled with the same feelings. To live off of your need to reply to every sarcastic word I give you with one of your own. I don't want anyone to struggle to gather their thoughts around you the way that I do. I don't want anyone to steal glances at you when you're not paying attention."

He groaned in frustration as you looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to process what he was saying to you. "Dammit!" He shouted and turned his head to break the eye contact again. But his hands never left your face. "It pisses me the hell off that I can't stop fucking looking at you." He turned his head back to look at you again.

"Please don't leave yet." He whispered the plea, leaning down to bring his forehead to yours. "I don't fucking hate you." His eyes searched yours for confirmation, for resistance as he went to close the gap between your lips. You didn't offer any. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips brushed against yours softly. "I fucking wish I did."

You gasped into his kiss as his hands cupped your face softly. He didn't make you lean up far to kiss him like he usually did, instead bending to your height, meeting you where you were, molding his body to yours instead of the other way around. His body trying to beg you to stay. He didn't have to. You weren't leaving.

The warmth that was filling your body was different than the usual heat that came when he touched you. His hands that usually seared their brands into your skin now smoothed over your body and left a softer warmth in their wake. A feeling that spread across your skin like wildfire without any pain, consuming you from the outside before filling up your insides.

His hands fell from your face and traced softly down your sides until they rested on your hips, drawing you closer. "Please." He mumbled against your lips as his fingers found the hem of your shirt. You stepped back and pulled the shirt from your body before finding your way to his lips again.

"Wanna show you." He whispered the words into your lips before moving to your neck, kissing the skin softly. The feelings that were gracing your skin left you gasping for air, completely foreign coming from him. Foreign but completely welcome.

His fingers unclipped your bra clumsily, none of his usual smoothness present as his fingers trembled against your bare skin. Like it was the first time he was touching you. His grip came to your ribs, his fingers splaying out, covering as much space as they could as if trying to touch every inch of your skin.

"Kei." You moaned his name softly as he kissed across your collarbone. He brought his face back to meet your eyes and you could see his adam's apple bob as he gulped nervously. "Please." You whispered. It was the permission he needed. He connected your lips again, desperately parting yours with his tongue as he deepened your kiss.

He guided you easily back to his bed with a tenderness he'd never shown you before, easing you onto the mattress before climbing over you.

He hovered for a moment, eyes following as his fingers traced down your side to your hips to hook around your panties. His eyes burned into your skin as he looked at you silently, and you had to force yourself to stay put, to ignore the need to curl away from the intensity of it.

"You're so beautiful." Your eyes glassed over again and you were glad he didn't see it as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. His fingers passed over your skin lightly, his lips following, pressing soft wet kisses to your torso that had you letting out quiet breathy moans.

"I swear I was made just for you." He whispered as he pressed a final kiss into the divot of your hip. Your hips bucked lightly towards him, a gasp leaving your lips at the mix of his words and the attention to the sensitive spot. He pulled down your panties and his boxers quickly, moving to hover over you again.

His lips connected to yours again and you wound your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer to you as he lined himself up with your entrance. "I love you, y/n." He whispered the confession against your lips, letting you breath it in as he pushed into you slowly.

The feeling of him filling you up again left both of you moaning into each other's mouths, unable to tell which sound was elicited from you. It had only been minutes since he was last inside of you, but this time, it felt so much different.

You let the last sliver of hatred for Tsukishima Kei slip out of your system as he moved slowly against you. Drawing out as he pushed his tongue inside of your mouth and drinking in your moans as he pushed back in, slowly.

"Could never feel as good as I do with you." He whispered, one of his hands lifting your hips slightly, changing the angle he pushed into you at.

"Fuck Kei." You gasped out at the sensation, head falling back against the pillows as he head of his cock brushed against your g-spot.

"Nothing sounds as sweet as when you say my name." He whispered into your neck as he repeated his motion, pulling another soft moan of his name from your lips.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He groaned, head falling into the crook of your neck as he panted against your skin. You could feel his weight shift, he tried to keep it mostly off of you while trying to ensure as much of your skin touched as possible. "You're an angel sent to me." You felt yourself tighten around him as you gasped and he let out a soft moan.

"Kei." You whined as you felt his fingers find their way to your clit, dipping to collect some of your combined arousal before rubbing tight circles around it. "Please."

You whimpered as you felt your orgasm start to build from the way his cock brushed perfectly against your insides in a steady rhythm. Soft curses and moans fell from your lips as he continued the languid pace, no rush between you this time, just letting your bodies fit together on their own terms.

"I'm all yours." He mumbled into your ear. You turned your head and caught his lips with yours again, open-mouthed kisses mixing the sounds of your moans. "Please, let me be all yours." He begged into your mouth and you nodded mindlessly. He pulled away a fraction, "just say the words," his voice cracked as you felt his thrusts stutter.

"Mine." You whispered back, kissing him again. You gasped as you tightened your arms around him. "You're mine." You whimpered and his fingers picked up their pace between your bodies. Your back arched up into him and you whined into the kiss, feeling yourself start to tip over the edge.

"Cum with me, please." He begged, voice whining into your mouth as he sent you both tumbling over. Your body tensed up, tightening around him as his hips lost their rhythm and he spilled into you.

He held himself inside of you with a grip on your hips as he continued to kiss you. He kissed you as you settled from your dizzying release, all of your emotions crashing over you both.

When he finally pulled out and rolled off of you, you were still panting for air. Trying, still, to get a grasp on what had just happened as emotion after emotion tidal waved over you.

"Please," he whispered, and looked over at him - really looked at him.

His blond hair was damp and messy, sticking up in a way that you were sure only you were allowed to see. His golden eyes were watching you carefully through the frames of his glasses, slightly glazed over but analyzing your movements like they always did.

His face was softer than it usually was, like it was when he was listening to music and thought no one else was around. There was no glare that furrowed his eyebrows together, not even the smirk that you loved so much was painted on his lips. The lips that were panting just like yours.

The ones that had spilled the words 'I love you' just minutes ago.

His fingers finding yours brought you back to reality again. "Please stay with me." He begged, you realized that he still thought you were going to leave as his fingers wove into yours, gently squeezing.

"I know that I'm hard to love," he whispered, water gathering in the corners of his eyes, "but please, please stick it out." He refused to break eye contact as you let him pull your body closer gently. "I swear that I'll be better."

You sighed and moved closer to him, settling your head under his chin. You could feel his body tense for a second before his arms wrapped around your frame.

"For someone so intelligent," you whispered, letting your fingers trace along his collarbone, watching the goosebumps that appeared under them, "you really can be such a dummy." You sighed and kissed his skin softly, pressing one to every small freckle on his skin that you could see.

"I never hated you." You mumbled out and lifted your head to look him in the eyes again, so he could see the sincerity in them as you said your next words.

"I've always loved you Tsukishima Kei." You pressed your lips to his and you both let out the breaths that you'd been holding, your emotions flooding into the kiss. "Only you."

Bonus: 

You sat on the bench in the mall quietly, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face resting in your hands as you watched an excited Shoyo pull his girlfriend up to an ice cream cart as she wore a faux-annoyed look on her face, only smiling at him when she thought no one except he was looking. You smiled and tugged on the sleeves of the oversized jacket you were currently sporting, the one that was sizes too big for you and smelled of your favorite scent.

You sighed and stood up slowly, letting your limbs untangle themselves and your jacket fall down over your leggings. You'd gotten here earlier than you'd meant to which meant that you were stuck third-wheeling with Shoyo and Amaya while you waited for the rest of your ragtag group to appear.

You didn't have to wait long before Aiko was slinging an arm around your shoulder and pinching at the loose fabric of the jacket with two fingers.

"Whose is this?" She questioned, tilting her head as she inspected it. "It looks really familiar." You laughed a little and went to answer, only to be cut off by another voice.

"Yeah, I feel like I've seen it before." Tobio was now standing on the other side of you with a thoughtful look on his face as he joined Aiko in the inspection of the item of clothing.

"It's mine." Kei's emotionless statement send all four of your present friends into what you're sure was a short circuit. It only heightened the effect when he pulled you back from the two by your sides and wrapped his arm around your waist, lightly pinning you against him.

"Why are you touching her?" He glared at Tobio from over your head but you laughed and lightly hit Kei's chest, calming him down as you made contact with him.

He looked down at you, a soft smile gracing his lips before he cleared his throat and his lips turned back into a straight line. The only thing still giving him away was the slightly pink tips of his ears as he pulled you further from Tobio and closer to where Tadashi was now standing with Aiko.

"When did this happen!" Aiko shrieked and you were suddenly aware that all of your friends were finally appearing just in time to gawk at Kei's arm wrapped around your waist.

You opened your mouth to try and explain but were cut off by Amaya's voice this time. "Yeah, well, we knew you were fucking, but no one thought you'd actually go public with it." Your jaw dropped and Kei awkwardly cleared his throat.

You felt your face heat up as your grip on Kei tightened. "I think I kinda want some food now." You awkwardly tried to change the subject and create a getaway from the impending questions.

"I could grab some if you'd like." Tobio offered and you quickly shut it down as Kei turned to him with a glare.

"No," you laughed as you began pushing Kei lightly towards the food court, "no it's okay. We'll be back." You walked quickly away from the protesting of Tadashi and Aiko who were demanding explanations of you and let out a loud sigh as you got out of earshot. "I don't want to go back."

You looked up at Kei who was glaring over you towards Tobio still.

"Do you forget he had a girlfriend and is just being nice to me?" He froze and his glare slowly softened as his eyes trailed back to yours. You smiled as his cheeks flushed a little and he grumbled under his breath. "Still just a dumb lamppost," you teased with a smile.

He rolled his eyes as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in easily. The smirk that you loved so much making its way onto his lips as he towered over you. "Keep talking, you little shrimp."

TAGLIST - CLOSED

@tetsuskei @universal-s1ut @cl-0-vr @kei-tsuki21 @ezraslights @integers

#tsukishima smut #tsukishima kei smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima fanfiction #tsukishima kei fanfiction #𓇻 Dark Side Writing #𓇻 HYHM

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 12

part 1, prev part

The Chief walks into the hospital room the next day in full uniform. Pulling out his key ring and setting the key in the lock. The cuffs open, clacking against each other as he takes them back.

Eddie is free.

“I owe you an apology, I should have taken these off a long time ago.”

Wayne looks at the Chief, wondering if he should be grateful or angry. “Why happed with the feds?”

“They agreed to point the other way. Still looking for a fall guy, but it won’t be your nephew. I made sure of that.”

“Thank you.”

The Chief huffs. “Don’t be thanking me. You should thank Harrington, he really knocked some sense into my head.”

That seems to happen often. Through his actions, the way that he talks to people. The way that he’s respected Wayne’s boundary to leave him and Eddie alone. The way he cares for Dustin. Cares for Eddie even when Wayne didn’t want him too. Fought for the things he knew were true, never giving up.

Wayne really needed to talk to him.

“I hear he’s been getting better,” the Chief continues. Taking the seat next to Wayne.

Wayne nods. “Yeah, wakin’ up slowly. Should be able to talk again in a few days.”

The Chief nods. “I know I was really dragging my feet to get the cuffs off, but my offer still stands. If you need anything, feel free to give me a call. I still can’t tell you everything that happened, but as time goes on, you’re going to have a lot of questions. I can hopefully give you some answers. Lend a hand when you need me to.”

There’s going to be a lot of things that Wayne will never understand. Life has shown him that already. There were things that he didn’t understand before and learned to.

He can do it all again. Try to ignore the need for answers and try to understand. Have the patience he had when Eddie was younger. As he was learning how to be the person Eddie needed him to be.

“I appreciate that, Chief.”

“Please, just call me Jim.”

Jim leaves a little after that. Giving Wayne some space. He goes on a walk a little while later. Wanting some fresh air. Coming back to see Dustin heading down the hall, Steve sitting peacefully in the waiting room. Looking a hell of a lot better than yesterday.

“Can I talk to you?” Wayne sits down across from him. Ready to actually have a conversation with him for once.

Steve sits up a bit straighter, trying to make a better impression. “Yeah, sure.”

Wayne clears his throat. “I owe you an apology. You never gave me a reason to treat you the way I did and it was harsh of me to assume things about you. It’s not an excuse, but I was angry at a lot of things and seein’ you walk out of here fine while Eddie’s not. . . It was an easy thing for me to be mad at.”

“I don’t blame you. I think I would have reacted the same if it was my kid in Eddie’s position. You really have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I do,” Wayne insists. “You all clearly went through something that I don’t fully understand. I had no right to keep you from seeing him.”

Steve has a look a mix emotions. Like he’s fighting between gratitude and sorrow. “Would it be ok if I saw him now?”

Wayns nods. Walking down the hall with Steve to Eddie’s room, letting him sit in the chair next to him. He swears that he sees tears start to form in Steve’s eyes, but he blinks them away before he can confirm.

“Where’s the kid?” Wayne asks.

Steve clears his throat. “Visiting Max. She’s doing a lot better now.”

“That’s good.”

“He looks so different,” Steve says after a break of silence. “Like the energy of him was sucked out.”

Wayne nods, having felt the same way for a long time.

“I know I didn’t know him that long, but.” Steve takes a breath. “During that week, he was really starting to feel like someone who could become a friend. I was really looking forward to becoming his friend.”

“What happened to him?” Wayns asks, desperate. “What happened to you?”

Steve meets his eyes, a troubled look resting on his face. The want to tell him but the knowledge that he can’t. “I wish I could tell you, but I legally can’t. I know that probably doesn’t make it better.”

“It doesn’t. But I appreciate you trying.”

Dustin comes in and reads his chapter like he always does. Having to pull up another chair since Steve stole his. They leave shortly after it’s done. Giving Wayne a few minutes to himself before he has to leave for work.

He leans closer to Eddie’s bed, placing a hand on the empty bar. Afraid to touch him, to do anything to make him worse. But he hasn’t said much in the days he’s been here. Too hopeless to imagine that Eddie could hear him. Today, he decides to try.

“Hey, kid. I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you much in the past week. You must think there’s somethin’ up. That you did somethin’ to make me not talk to you. That’s not the case.”

Fear like this is something that Wayne never wanted to experience. Losing a child is something that a parent never wanted to even think about. Let alone live through. And while Eddie isn’t technically Wayne’s kid, he is in all the ways that matter.

“Truth is, I was scared. I thought I lost you so many times in the past few weeks. Each time I came in here, I thought would be the day that the nurses told me you were really gone. That I lost my son.”

Words get choked in Wayne’s throat as tears fall down his face. Things he’s been too afraid to say all coming out at once.

“But I didn’t. You’re still here. And you’re gettin’ better and I am so proud of you.”

Eddie opens his eyes, looking toward Wayne. His fingers tense, raising slightly towards Wayne’s hand. Wayne places his hand on top of Eddie’s squeezing it tight.

“Nothin’ you could do could ever make me not proud of you.”

Note: I’m not crying, you’re crying. Jesus why do I do this to myself. Also this concludes chapter three, now posted on my ao3. Back to Dustin's POV in the next part

part 1, part 2. part 3. part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

#chills right to the marrow fic #this fic is going to be so long #i am now realizing #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #wayne munson #wayne pov #steve harrington #jim hopper #eddie munson #finally somewhat concious #everyone lives/nobody dies #hospitals #pre steddie

[peterman-spideyparker]

Virtuous Person (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Things have been nuts, but I finally have some time and pulled this out of my drafts. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You have been seeing Matt for about three months now, and you are so happy that he is in your life. Conversation is easy, you're relaxed with him, and you feel yourself. But when some kissing turns into something spicier, you confess something to Matt.

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, kissing, allusions to sex (Matt does a sexy hip roll during a takeout session), reader is a virgin

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 929

You hum in delight as you slurp up your last noodle. “Ordering in was definitely the right move for tonight,” you say as you wipe your mouth. 

“I couldn’t agree with you more, angel,” Matt says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Are you finished?”

“Mm,” you hum as you get up. “But you’re not. Finish eating. I’ll take care of the trash.”

Matt gently protests, but you run your fingers through his hair, effectively using it as an off switch so he will do as you instruct. It works for a short while, allowing you to clean up the mess from dinner and allowing Matt to take a moment for himself, however brief, before he gets up to dispose of his trash and wrap his arms around you.

“I can take care of all of this later,” he murmurs into your neck. “Come and sit with me. I missed you all day.”

“Oh, you have?” you goad as you walk in step with one another back to his couch.

“Mmhm. I missed your voice, how soft your hair is—.” Matt plops the two of you down on the couch, the leather squeaking as it takes the brunt of both of your combined body weights as you sit atop of your boyfriend. “—your touch.”

You nuzzle into him, lightly pressing your lips against his cheek. “My touch like my hands and skin, or like my kisses?”

“All of the above.”

“Well, if it’s all of the above . . .” You rest one hand on the side of his face, leaning in to kiss him. The scruff of his five o’clock shadow tickles, making the embrace all the more enjoyable as he gets more and more into it. We both carefully reposition on the couch so you are off of his lap and on your own cushion, giving you better leverage for your kisses. The embraces are sweet and bubbly, absolutely blissful as you start—filled with the kind of giddy, lighthearted joy that teenagers feel when they have their first love and their first kiss. The eager excitement builds as the kisses go on, moving from more innocent embraces to exchanges filled with passion, a desire that begs to be fulfilled. Matt takes the lead, one hand cradling your face while the other rests on your waist, carefully guiding you to lean back on the sofa.

You smile as you embrace, Matt caging you in as we chase kiss after kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss, causing you to moan in delight. As your heart races and your fingers rake through his hair, the kisses grow more intense, and you feel Matt grind against your hips. You hum in surprise, breaking the make out session as you pull back to look at him.

“Are you okay?” Matt pants softly, his blind eyes desperately trying to scan your face and pinpoint what’s wrong.

“I-I’m fine,” you swallow, your brows pulling together. “I-I just wasn’t expecting—I mean, what you did with your hips felt nice—like, really nice, but I, um . . . I, well, I haven’t really . . . I . . .”

Matt’s mouth gently falls open while his eyebrows rise in perfect arches. “Oh,” he breathes. “You’re a v . . .” He looks like he regrets the consonant sound as soon as it escapes his lips. “. . . virtuous person.”

You feel your cheeks flush as you close your eyes in embarrassment. “No, hey, listen!” he tries to correct.

“Can we just forget I ever mentioned it? We can just go back to kissing like it never happened, and I can die of embarrassment later tonight when I get back to my apartment.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“Please?” You hate how that one little work makes your voice crack, giving away your emotions and insecurities so easily.

“Hey,” Matt whispers tenderly, wiping away a tear that slipped out of the corner of your eye. “It’s okay.”

“Ugh!” you grumble. “It’s just so embarrassing! And it’s even more embarrassing when I have someone I love here with me who . . .” He looks at you like a sweet puppy, begging you to finish your sentence. “. . . who is the most wonderful, loving, magnetic person that I know. Who deserves, well, everything. And I can’t give him that.”

Matt dips his head, kissing you long and slow.

“You,” he whispers, softly and tenderly, packing an incredible amount of love in that single word, “are the most amazing, warm, caring person I know. I love you, too. And I never want to make the person I love feel uncomfortable in any way.”

“It’s just a really big thing for me. I don’t know why, but . . .” You shrug, feeling heat burn all over your skin. “I was going to wait.”

“Okay,” he nods, his sightless hazel eyes sparkling as he sits us up on the couch, pulling you up with him. “We’ll wait. I’ll wait for you.”

“Matt, listen, I’ll get it if you—.”

“I don’t want you finishing that sentence. I’d never be that shallow.” He tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. “If the woman I love wants to wait, then I will wait with and for her.”

“Matty . . .” you breathe. He just smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you once more before gently brushing away some tears of yours with his thumb.

“I mean it. You’re worth it. I will wait for you.”

You match his sweet smile, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m a very lucky girl.”

“I can guarantee you, angel, if anyone is the lucky one in this relationship, it’s me, because I have you.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​ @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

#matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Alright, time for another Merlin au! This one won the last poll, marked as "an au featuring Arthur being an idiot"!

In this au, set sometime in the three years between season 4 and season 5, Arthur, Merlin, and the knights of the round table get ambushed by a large pack of ferocious wyverns while on a quest. This time, Merlin couldn't be subtle about using his dragonlord commands to pacify them, and that was the only way to ensure that they would all make it out alive. So, Merlin uses dragonlord commands to make the wyverns leave and, in the process, reveals that's he's a dragonlord. However, he at least managed to keep his magic a secret through the ordeal, so he's got that going for him.

Arthur is, of course, rather upset about Merlin keeping this secret from him, and is even more upset when he learned that Balinor was Merlin's father and guilty that he didn't support his friend through mourning his father as Merlin had for him. However, Arthur can also keep things in perspective. After all, dragonlord powers weren't actual sorcery, apparently it was a magic-adjacent gift that Merlin had inherited at the moment of his father's death, whether he wanted to or not. Besides, it wasn't like Merlin chose to have the ability, so Arthur couldn't really hold the ability itself against Merlin.

And anyways, Arthur mused to himself at their camp after Merlin came clean to the knights the night after the the wyvern attack, it wasn't like there were any dragons left. The only thing Merlin could do was command wyverns. While that could perhaps make him a threat if he wasn't the most harmless person Arthur knew, they didn't even encounter wyverns that often.

So, Arthur was willing to just let this be a useful little trick that Merlin could use on the off chance that they ran into wyverns. Still, the image that the whole situation gave Arthur, an image of Merlin being a formidable, powerful dragonlord with devastating dragons under his command, was rather amusing.

So, as Arthur settled in for the night after hearing the last of Merlin's explanation, this wasn't going to be a big deal. Sure, he was still hurt that Merlin kept this a secret from him, but Arthur could understand why. Uther had killed all of the other dragonlords, so it made sense that Merlin felt unsafe with his father still on the throne, and since they didn't run across wyverns often, there was a very real chance that Merlin just forgot about his ability entirely until it was relevant again. That was a very Merlin thing to do.

So, everything was fine. Everyone with them looked comfortable with Merlin, and he knew that they would keep this a secret for Merlin's sake. If word of Merlin's dragonlord abilities got out, Arthur could always publicly grant him a pardon. After all, it wasn't like he had ever hurt anybody with it. The only thing he seemed to do with it was send wyverns away.

Arthur quietly snorted to himself at the thought. Oh no, the terrible powers of Merlin the dragonlord, telling some wyverns to shoo.

Arthur relaxed into his bedroll, listening to the knights settling in to sleep and their fire crackling a few feet away. The quiet noises were peaceful, but were broken a few minutes later by Leons seemingly innocuous question.

"Merlin, if you were already a dragonlord when we rode out to face the great dragon, did you do anything with your powers? I assume you're the reason Arthur made it out alive through the whole ordeal."

Merlin froze where he was sitting, a myriad of emotions passing through his face before his expression settled on a grimace. Arthur sat up, interested in hearing Merlin's answer. What truly happened that night with the dragon? In the comfort of his own mind, Arthur admitted that Merlin's explanation of Arthur slaying it was... unlikely, at best, considering that Arthur was unconscious at the time.

"Well, you'd be correct Leon. It took me a while to figure out how to use dragonlord commands, since I never got any instruction on how I was supposed to command Kil- the great dragon. I'm truly sorry that I wasn't quick enough to save the other knights."

Merlin hung his head low, with what looked like shame. Arthur frowned at his manservant. Surely Merlin couldn't hold himself responsible for their deaths? Every knight had similar guilt, telling themselves at night that they should've been faster, should've been better, should've been more aware, then maybe some of their friends would still be with them.

Every knight learned the same lesson: those thoughts were the path to madness. It was disheartening to see that misplaced guilt on Merlin as well.

Luckily, before Arthur had to try to articulate that, Leon seemed to have similar thoughts, and spoke to Merlin with a soft, reassuring smile.

"Merlin, they volunteered for that mission, and they knew the risks. You are not to blame for the dragon's actions. Now please, tell us, how was the dragon actually defeated?"

Merlin nodded at Leon's words, but the guilt remained on his face.

"I, uh, was able to find my dragonlord voice after Arthur was knocked from his horse. He hadn't managed to hit the dragon, and he was about to kill Arthur, but I couldn't let that happen."

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, who was valiantly trying to ignore the warm fuzzy feelings blooming in his chest at the thought of Merlin slaying a dragon single-handedly just to protect him. He wasn't some maiden in a children's tale!

"But, when I gave the order to the dragon to stop attacking, I- I couldn't-"

Merlin swallowed thickly before continuing.

"I couldn't kill him. He was the last dragon, the last of my kin. So, I ordered him to leave. I banished him from Camelot and forbade him from ever harming another human again."

This time, Arthur froze where he was sitting, and he could see that the knights were in similarly tense states. Poor Leon turned a rather disturbing shade of pale.

Finally, Arthur spoke up with a forced calm tone, the type that was only a thin veneer to panic.

"Merlin, you don't mean to tell me that the dragon is still alive? And it could return to Camelot to finish what it started?"

Merlin looked at Arthur and tried to reassure him, but Arthur could barely comprehend Merlin's words through his rising panic.

"Well, yes, he's still alive, but dragons physically cannot disobey orders given by their dragonlord. He cannot return to Camelot at all, unless I call for him."

Merlin tried to give him a comforting smile, but Arthur wasn't sure he could feel any sort of comfort at the moment. He locked eyes with Leon, who wasn't faring much better with his own panic. Dear gods, that monster was still out there! They had all been living under a false sense of security! And all the while, Merlin was smiling at him like there was nothing wrong at all!

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to think through the haze of his panic. Right, Merlin hadn't killed the dragon. That made sense, since Merlin hated killing anything at all, much less the most dangerous monster on the planet. Right. But, according to Merlin, the dragon physically couldn't enter Camelot or hurt any humans.

Information, what Arthur needed was more information. If he had more information, he could come up with a strategy to keep Camelot safe from the dragon indefinitely. Merin's orders had worked for now, but there was no guarantee that those would work forever.

Forever... wait a minute...

"Merlin," Arthur called out frantically, fueled by an awful thought. "How long does a dragonlord's order bind a dragon?" Please say forever, please say forever...

Merlin's eyebrows shot up, apparently not expecting Arthur to ask such a question.

"Well, any dragonlord's order is fully binding to a dragon up until the original dragonlord rescinds the order or the dragonlord dies, whichever comes first."

Arthur felt panic's icy fingers wrap around his heart. Arthur despised even thinking about any hypothetical death of Merlin's, couldn't fathom an empty life as the king without his friend, but this, this information put a whole new layer of dread onto the though, which Arthur previously thought wasn't even possible. He could see the other knights catching onto his logic as well, while Merlin still sat on his log, looking at all of them confusedly.

If Merlin somehow died, then his banishment on the dragon was lifted. And if that happened, there would be no dragonlord left to stop it from reducing all of Camelot to ash. If Merlin died, then Camelot was doomed.

This new knowledge sat heavy in Arthur's gut, putting him on edge. Balinor had been killed from a bandit's crossbow bolt, something that Merlin faced regularly while following Arthur around. All it would take was one lucky shot on a bandit's part, and all of Camelot would die.

One bandit attack gone wrong, one assassin from Morgana, one accident on the training field, one illness contracted from a patient, and all of Camelot would go up in smoke.

Wait... dragons lived for thousands of years... and Merlin would, if Arthur had his way, live for at least a hundred years, but everyone died eventually. The dragon would surely outlive Merlin, and then the only way that Camelot would still stand was if there was another dragonlord! But Merlin was the only one left, and it was passed down from...

from father to son.

Arthur choked on air as he realized it. Good god, what had his life come to?!

If Camelot was going to survive, Merlin needed to have a son, and have one quickly. For the continued survival of Camelot to be ensured, Merlin needed to find a wife and get laid.

Arthur wanted to start laughing hysterically. The fate of his kingdom rested upon Merlin's ability to sire a child.

Arthur stared at Merlin as the other man tried not to squirm under the shocked gazes of all the knights. Ok, he could do this, his kingdom would be safe from the dragon, he just needed a plan.

First, they needed to get Merlin back to Camelot, where he would be safe and away from murderous bandits. That part was easy enough, they were already heading back to the kingdom anyways. The knights had estimated that it would have taken them another three days to reach Camelot, but with all of the knights sharing Arthur panic around Merlin's safety, for both the sake of their friend himself and the kingdom, they were able to make it back in only two days.

For those two days, Merlin seemed more confused by their frantic and panicked behavior than anything else. His shocked and embarrassed face when Percival had helped him on and off his horse - "so he doesn't fall and get hurt", the gentle giant had rationalized - had been very amusing. All the while, Arthur planned out what they would do when they returned and repeatedly reassured Merlin that no, he wasn't too mad about Merlin letting the dragon live since Merlin could at least keep it away.

Then, they needed to ensure Merlin's protection in Camelot. Granted, there weren't many dangers in Camelot, but the clumsy fool could find danger anywhere. With his luck, Arthur would bet that Merlin would trip over some stairs in the castle and wind up bleeding out! That could be remedied by assigning knights to guard Merlin at all times in Camelot and keeping Merlin physically by his side as much as he could. Merlin raised an eyebrow at his new guards and schedule, which kept him glued to Arthur's hip at all hours of the day, but otherwise said nothing (besides a little mocking about how Arthur couldn't get anything done without him. Arthur tried not to think about how the familiar taunt rang far more true than he had ever realized.).

(Merlin, on his end, took these measures as a sign that he had lost Arthur's trust with the admission of letting the dragon live. What else was he supposed to think about knights following him 24/7 and being kept in Arthur's line of sight more than ever before?! Merlin consoled himself that it was by far more lenience than he had been expecting. Arthur hadn't threatened him, he wasn't being executed or exiled, Arthur was still treating him as a friend, and he had every chance to earn Arthur's trust back again. Really, if his punishment as just having to be with his knight friends at all times, then he could happily live with that.)

Still, Arthur didn't know how to go about the final part of his plan: ensuring that Merlin would have an heir to inherit his dragonlord powers and keep Camelot standing for generations to come. Of all of the trials and quests he'd faced, this one seemed to be the most daunting of all: finding a woman attracted to Merlin.

Arthur eventually settled on a plan. He'd have Gwaine accompany Merlin on long walks around the castle and the lower town, and the knight would report back to Arthur on which ladies had caught Merlin's eye, and which ladies Merlin had caught the eye of. Gwaine had a way to spotting attraction between people, something he frequently used to gather ammunition to tease his fellow knights with. With any luck, there would be some overlap between the two lists, and they could find some nice woman for Merlin to settle down with.

After a few weeks, however, Arthur found himself having to re-evaluate his plan. While Gwaine had reported that there were a good number of young ladies in the lower town that seemed to fancy Merlin, Merlin didn't seem to have eyes for anyone, which made their mission trickier.

Eventually, Arthur resorted to inviting Merlin over for dinner with him and Gwen, hoping to flaunt to Merlin how great the married life was and how Merlin was getting older and was running out of time to settle down and have children. To his disappointment, Merlin didn't seem to get the hint, instead telling both of them how much he appreciated them including him in their time together when they didn't have to. Arthur had to swallow back frustrated screams at his friend's obliviousness.

(Gwen, meanwhile, was perplexed by Arthur's push for Merlin to find a wife. At first glance, she would think that Arthur was worried about Merlin never settling down and starting a family, which was something Gwen sometimes worried about as well.

However, Arthur's push was more vehement than a concerned friend's. There was something there, some underlying passion forcing him to push Merlin towards a wife.

When Gwen finally realized the truth behind Arthur's efforts, it broke her heart. Gwen knew that her husband could be a bit old-fashioned in some ways, and that the prejudices that he must have grown up with as a noble were not easily shaken off, but still, that wasn't an excuse to be homophobic towards Merlin!

Gwen had figured out about her friend's preferences during the Lamia's attack, since Merlin was the only man unaffected. Truthfully though, Gwen had suspected long before that, given how Merlin had looked at both Lancelot and Gwaine. And while it was shocking for Gwen, she would support her friend no matter what!

So, she was very disappointed in Arthur's behavior. Arthur must have somehow learned about Merlin's preference towards men during their last quest, and now he was trying to pressure Merlin into finding a wife! She agreed that Merlin deserved a lovely family, but Arthur should not force him into the nobility's narrow definition of family! If Merlin wanted his lovely family to involve a husband instead of a wife and that's what made him happy, then that is what they all should wholeheartedly accept!

Gwen really needed to give her husband a stern talking-to before he could hurt Merlin with his prejudice!)

(Merlin, meanwhile, is far too sleep-deprived and stressed over keeping Arthur safe and the prophecy to even think about romance or starting a family. His disaster bisexual ass has too much on his plate right now.)

So, Arthur tries everything he could think of to find Merlin a wife. Unfortunately, Arthur is not nearly as good of a wingman to Merlin as Merlin was to him. Arthur had hosted many balls and feasts, making sure to invite attractive ladies around Merlin's age, but Merlin didn't even bat an eye at any of them.

Perhaps the only thing more frustrating than Merlin's lack of attention towards any of the young ladies of the court was the fact that, now that Arthur was looking for signs of anyone's affection towards Merlin, he could see how many members of his own court were smitten with his manservant.

And Arthur was just baffled because how?! How was that possible?! That Merlin, a lanky beanpole of a man with a blinding smile and charming wit and unending loyalty and eyes he could get lost in...

Where was Arthur going with that? Oh right. Merlin, with all of the suaveness of a wet sock, was somehow the object of desire for most of the ladies in waiting. Arthur was entirely baffled by it.

And just when Arthur thought that it couldn't get any worse, it did. It got so much worse when his wife sat him down and started lecturing him for some sort of prejudice that he was showing against Merlin by pushing him towards a wife, because apparently Merlin's eyes didn't stray towards women at all.

Look, Arthur knew that some of his own knights preferred the company of men, and he wouldn't begrudge them something like that. To each their own. But if Camelot was going to still be standing for Arthur's heir, Merlin needed to sire a son of his own.

After Arthur explained to Gwen the situation that they were in with the great dragon still alive and Merlin's life being the only thing holding the beast back from destroying Camelot, Gwen also became grave with the realization that they were stuck without a solution that would keep Camelot safe for the next generations.

Arthur moped around for a few weeks, unable to think of a single solution for the situation he had found himself trapped in. How on earth was he supposed to get Merlin to have a biological son if Merlin doesn't even like women?!

Wait, but Merlin had liked a woman, at one point. Perhaps his preferences had changed, but at one point, he was willing to sacrifice himself, to willingly confess to sorcery in front of Uther Pendragon, in order to keep the woman he loved alive. And Arthur knew that love like that didn't die easily. And Arthur should know, since he loved the same woman in the same way.

From then on, Arthur kept a keen eye on Merlin and his wife. He knew that his wife would never be unfaithful to him with Merlin, and Merlin had been nothing but supportive towards Arthur and Gwen's relationship, even when Arthur himself had given up on it. Still, Arthur knew that if Merlin had eyes for one woman in the world, it would have to be Gwen. He saw the way that Merlin looked at Gwen sometimes. Merlin didn't look at any other woman that way.

Gwen had confessed that she had romantic feelings towards Merlin at one point, and Merlin certainly had some sort of feelings for Gwen that went beyond platonic. Arthur swallowed dryly as he thought about it. Could... could that be the only way?

(Cue slowburn Mergwenthur, with Arthur trying to set up Gwen and Merlin together with a heavy heart, while the other two are kinda oblivious and mistake it as Arthur wanting a threesome, which they would be more than happy to go along with, along with Arthur slowly realizing his own feelings for Merlin.)

(Meanwhile, since Arthur's crap at communicating, Merlin doesn't actually realize that it all started because they thought that they needed Merlin to have a son to keep Camelot safe from the dragon after Merlin was dead. Upon Arthur finally telling him, Merlin then has to awkwardly informs them that he's immortal and doesn't really need to sire an heir.

Arthur, understandably, screams into a pillow at the news that his efforts were pointless, while his lovers laugh gently at him and start kissing him to make up for all the stress he had to go through.)

And that's all for this au! I hoped you liked Arthur's himbo-ness shining through one again!

Thanks for reading through my ramblings! :D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin au #merlin prompts #merthur #arwen #mergwenthur #mergwen

[amoremainslayer]

Oh imagine this!

You and Ricky are in an FWB type relationship. But from the start you loved Ricky and hoped he had the same feelings for you... One day you dared to express your feelings while talking to him alone in the school bathroom and also said sorry. "Rui, I'm sorry for crossing the line, I couldn't control my love for you:(". You said that while holding his slender fingers tightly as if afraid he would really leave you.

Fingers Intertwined

Pairing : Shen ricky x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, smut

Warnings: Sad sex, fwb, semi-public sex.

A/N: I didn't know what exactly you wanted so i just mixed angst with smut, hope thats alright. Its barely any smut tho😭😭

The sound of the door falling into the lock echoed through the room, but the blackhaired guy infront of you was the only thing you could think about. He seemed perfect, atleast to you. You admired the way his hair fell down his pale skin perfectly, his sharp nose and his deep eyes.

His demeanor, way of loving, laughing or hating made you admire him. It awakened a deep sense of longing in you, that you wished didn't exist. Because to him, you were mere lust. A soulless doll to fulfill his desires. You were like a forbidden froot, something so desireable yet dangerous, that it had to be kept secret.

You knew that what the two of you had going on, was a mere agreement to fulfill eachothers lust. To let go of the stress that builds up because of school and work. You knew that after you'd spend endless nights together, acting like lovers and worshipping eachothers body's, you'd still be just friends.

Yet deep in you, there was hope. Hope that all those sweet words he coaxed you with were not just meanless words. That the way he cared for you, touched you and made you feel like the most loved person, wasn't just because he wanted your body.

You hoped, that what he desired wasn't the monotonous shell you lived in, but your beating heart. The heart, that was beating for him.

"Why did you call me?" His deep voice pulled you out of your trance and you blinked a couple of times. Thinking about confessing always seemed so easy, but with Ricky now standing infront of you, it felt like your throat was tied up.

"I.." You trailed off, eyes watching as his slender statue leaned against the sink "I want to break off our agreement" You said, looking into his eyes in hope of seeing any kind of reaction.

His face remained indifferent, but you could see confusion in his eyes. He tilted his head softly "Why?" He spoke as he crossed his arms "Are you dating again?"

You could've sworn a hint of jealousy was laced between his words, but a look at his cold face left you doubting that. You gulped, your eyes flickering to the ground.

"No I.. I broke the rule" You whispered, barely audible to Ricky's ear. He raised a single eyebrow, pushing himself off the sink while staring down at you. Both of you knew what it meant, how could anyone of you ever forget?

The most important rule in your agreement ; Never, and absolutely never, fall in love with eachother. It was something the two of you have always taken alot of worth in.

It seemed so easy in the beginning. So easy to fuck deep into the night, all the stress fading into pleasure. But maybe it became harder, when those rough fucks became intimate love making. When those kisses didn't feel worthless anymore.

You blinked a couple of times, feeling tears well up your eyes "Rui I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to" You began stuttering, your hand searching for his slender fingers. You held onto them, panic rising up in your chest as the feeling of loosing him dawned on you.

You were too weak to look into his eyes, the fear of rejection leaving you staring at the floor. Only whine you felt his index finger beneath your chin, you looked up.

His demeanor was cold, but his eyes were full of emotion. Emotions you've never seen on him. It felt wrong, seeing the pity in his eyes. You wanted them to look at you like you were his one and only love, not like someone he pitys.

"You know I could never love you" He whispered, his breath hitting your cheek. Your heart ached at those words, the horrifying realization lingering deep in your veins. You knew he was right, how could he ever love someone like you?

And even if he did, it would've never worked out, right? The two of you were too different in each and every aspect of your existence.

He began kissing the tears of your cheeks, sadness lingering in the walls of the bathroom. You sobbed silently, fingers gripping onto his clothes like he was the last thing holding you on earth.

"It hurts" You whispered while your voice displayed pure vunerability and pain. His hands wandered to your waist, caressing it slowly as he spread his kissed down to your neck.

"It'll stop eventually love" He mumbled. There it was again, those loving words that lead you on. Were you really just a game to him? A doll he could play with until he leaves her in the corner of his room?

His pale fingers swiftly wandered beneath your skin, stroking along the fabric of your panties. Soft whimpers left your lips, your cheeks still stained with your tears.

"I'm sorry I couldn't control my love for you.." You mumbled, your body aching to be in his. He shushed you, slowly entering you with your fingers.

A moan left your lips as you cried again. Pain and pity filled your body. The feeling of your heart breaking in small peaces leaving your body pained. But you also felt pity. Pity for yourself, just as Ricky pitied you.

You managed to fall in love with a guy who would never love you back, leading you on. You knew what kind of pain was ahead of you. You knew that he wasn't good for you. Yet you were here, letting him use your body again after confessing your love to him.

You pitied yourself, but you were in love. And people in love, do the most horrifying things merely because their heart aches to be held by a certain person.

His finger stroked along your clit softly, luring gentle moans out of your mouth. You gripped onto his shoulders, letting your forehead rest in the crook of his neck as your tears stained his shirt.

With one last stroke thrust of his fingers, and one last stroke along your clit you finally came, reaching your high as a vunerable moan escaped your lips.

It would be the last one to be lurked out by Ricky, both of you knew that. Both of you knew that after this, you'd never talk again. Both of you knew that after this, he'd be living his life like normal, while you'd start your journey on healing.

He pulled his hand out of your pantie, his fingers wandering to your mouth to let you taste yourself. The sight of his sharp eyes looking down at you with such a caring, yet indifferent look confused you.

But what did you expect, Ricky wasn't someone to reveal his true emotions easily. He stroked your head softly, gazing into your eyes one last time.

"Don't hurt too much" He whispered, it made you believe he actually cared for you, but you knew it were empty words. With that he left you alone, your body leaning against the sink as you shattered completely.

Maybe it was meant to be, for him to break your heart and use you for the mere reason of lust. Maybe it was something to learn from, to move on from and use wisely in the future. But right now, it seemed like the only thing that could help you heal were his hands in yours, fingers interwined.

#amoremainslayer #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #amore's thoughts💋 #zb1 hard hours #zb1 smut #zb1 imagines #zb1 angst #zb1 ricky #shen ricky #ricky x reader #zb1 ricky x reader #ricky smut #ricky #ricky shen #zb1 #ricky angst

[misseviehyde]

CONFISCATED - Part 1

"AGGGGHHHHHH! I FUCKING HATE YOU, I WISH YOU'D DIE!"

Lawrence winced as the screams of his hysterical teenage daughter rang in his ears and she slammed the door to her bedroom so hard, the house shook and plaster fell down.

Bella was volatile at the best of times, but by confiscating her phone - the most important thing in her life, her Father had really just set her off.

He could hear sobbing and crashing in her room and knew she was trashing it. He knew from experience that Bella would try anything to get her phone back... threatening him, threatening to hurt herself... begging, screaming, pleading, lying... it was kind of sad. She might even try to contact her Mom, but even though he and Beth had separated, they still parented together and it would do little good.

'Since when did teenagers get so addicted to social media?' he thought. He'd noticed his daughters addiction to her phone had been getting worse and then when another parent had contacted him to say Bella was bullying her daughter he had decided to act.

He'd been pretty disappointed to see the mean messages calling the other girl a fat loser. He knew Bella was a popular girl and obsessed with her looks, but he hadn't realised she was so mean. It seemed everyone was afraid of Bella and she liked it.

Lawrence had decided that he needed to get his daughter back on track. She would be moving out soon and he didn't want his legacy to be a spoiled toxic bitch who thought she could treat other people like dirt. Bella seemed to think the only thing that mattered in life was money and status.

"I better go through here and see what else she's been up to..." he mused.

Scrolling through the phone, Lawrence was a little embarrassed to see the clothes and outfits his daughter had bookmarked as things to buy. They were all skimpy and expensive... he wasn't sure he approved. There were also pictures of boys in her phone and he didn't want to think about his horny daughters crushes on other men.

As he scrolled through, his eye was suddenly caught by an app he had never heard of. Brat App.

Opening the app, Lawrence saw it was some sort of social media app. It seemed you scored points for posting selfies and completing tasks and then you could spend those points buying outfits and upgrades.

Bella had obviously been playing it a lot. She had accumulated a lot of points. Perhaps she'd been saving up?

Intrigued Lawrence opened the avatar menu.

CREATE NEW AVATAR?

He clicked the button and a 3D doll appeared. It was female - you could only have a female representation it seemed. The name Loren had been randomly generated. He went with it.

Clicking on the doll, Lawrence saw you could spend points to buy different features. He began to play.

Hair: blonde. Body-type: Princess. Makeup: Pink

Each selection changed the avatar making it more attractive and feminine looking. Lawrence found it strangely addictive. Strangely pleasing to shape and mould the avatar, to watch it getting prettier and prettier.

Make her bitchy. Make her mean.

He wasn't sure where the intrusive thought came from but it felt good. Yes... why not make the avatar look hot and mean. A bully... even worse than his daughter.

Yessss. Make her super popular... make her an IT girl.

He selected the toxic femininity personality trait and pushed the natural leader button. Loren was going to be an Alpha girl.

More... make her meaner. Make her a total nightmare. Make her completely evil.

The intrusive thoughts felt really good and Lawrence saw that there were other options besides physical. He began to play with those. He cranked the popularity slider to maximum. He selected Head Cheerleader. He selected the slider for wealth and pushed it as high as it would go.

Make sure she knows how to fuck. She has to be the best at everything. Make her a fucking dirty slut...

Lawrence didn't feel embarassed as he entered the sexuality tab. It seemed so natural now to adjust Loren and make her nastier.

Sexual Orientation: Likes boys but will make out with girls. Sexually confident - switch. Likes to be fucked by Alpha's, but peg and dominate beta boys.

He noticed he'd nearly spent all of his daughters points. She'd really been saving, but he'd had enough points that he could pretty much max out all of Loren's stats.

The avatar was now of a mean, bullying, rich brat. She was the Head Cheerleader and a completely cruel delinquent who got whatever she wanted. She oozed toxic femininity, was an avatar of lust and desire and clearly had no morals. Loren was the most evil bitch it was possible to be.

COMPLETE AVATAR AND TRANSFORM?

Lawrence stared at the big button flashing at the bottom of the app. What did that mean? His thumb hesitated over it. Something wasn't right here.

Push it loser. Push it and see.

Lawrence felt like something was influencing him. Something external... yet also something within himself. Something hungry and dark and desperate to be free. Something that had seen its chance and was going to take it.

He pushed the button...

Lawrence screamed in pleasure as pink lightning blasted out of the phone and engulfed him. Bones cracked and skin tightened as with a howl of orgasmic pleasure he began to transform.

Long blonde hair cascaded from his scalp and makeup simmered across his features as his drab clothing became hot and sexy. Breasts grew and his dick shrunk away and his ass inflated out.

Loren was becoming a reality.

Pussy lips opened as body hair receded and a hot blonde teenage slut rolled her pretty eyes in ecstasy. Nails shot out, thick makeup covered her face and the new bitch giggled in glee. This felt amazing.

"Ohhhhh fuckkkkk yesssss," she hissed as her transformation completed.

Loren blinked. She looked down at the phone in her hand. What... a.... rush.

She smirked and standing up walked to the mirror to admire her perfect body.

She was eighteen... she was popular and she was horny.

This was going to be a lot of fun...

The end?

#evie hyde #bitchification #m2f transformation #bully