#he used and it just. it gets me fucked up

[nanaslutt]

nanami overstimulating himself to make sure his pretty gf gets off >.<

minors and ageless blogs dni

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

telling nanami “don’t stop” when he’s fucking you because youre sooo close, but he’s at his limit. he tries to relax his kegels so he lasts longer but he can’t help it, it feels too good and you’re so tight around him as you’re working up to your orgasm he can’t help but cum inside you

he keeps fucking you though his orgasm, teeth gritted and eyes rolling back in his head. all he wants to do is freeze up and let his body jerk and flex and he fills you up, but he can’t just leave you unsatisfied. it’s taking everything in him not to stop thrusting, his groans are so loud in your ears.

he abruptly pulls you on top of him and bounces you in his lap, his legs are shaking from overstimulation but he needs you to get there. “use me, make yourself come on me sweetheart.” his words are rushed and breathy, but he manages to get them out. you place your hands on his chest and slow your bouncing, feeling his come start to drip out of you.

“but you already came, ken.” you reason, your voice just as ruined as his as he helps you rock your hips back and forth on his pelvis. his cock is twitching, and his abs are spamming from overstimulation. every atom in his body is telling him to stop fucking you because it’s too much, it feels too good it hurts, but he can’t leave you hanging.

“i know, finish yourself off. don’t worry about me, I can take it.” and take it he does. you start bouncing on his lap and nanami has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from crying out. his tip is so sensitive and you keep thrusting it right against your sweet spot, it’s making him dizzy.

nananmi’s thighs are pressed together to tight, his legs are nearly crossing as his body tries to excape from the painful pleasure, but he grunts and breaths through it. he’s already hard again, forced to get up from your warm walls fucking him and sucking him in. it doesn’t help that you’re so much wetter from his orgasm now, it’s so fucking much tears well in his eyes.

“kento, kento.” you cry, and nanami nods, biting his lip as he forces his eyes open to find your clit with his thumb. he rubs quick, sloppy circles against the little bud, his body shaking and jerking when he feels your walls tighten around him. “come, come honey, f-fuck.” he doesn’t curse a lot during sex, but this called for it.

the second he feels you orgasm around him, his balls draw up and he’s cumming too. his back arches and he wraps his arms around you, keeping you flush against him and still while he fills you up. his eyes are crossed and he swears he’s seeing stars behind his eyes from his hard he’s cumming.

“don’t move.” he grunts in your ear, his sensitive cock twitching with his aftershocks against your walls. if you moved again he would pass out, his tip is probably so red it’s going to ache when he pulls it out of you. “don’t move until… until i tell you to.” he grunts out, biting his lip as he feels his cum overflow from your pussy and drip down his dick.

[crushmeeren]

just imagine taunting touya or katsuki while having sex… asking if he can handle you… telling him he can’t make you cum

i am losing my mind 😭 i love ur works!

friend, this is…. diabolical. I LOVE IT. [and thank you.] /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

༝ ᭝ ༝ brief warning for some degradation used by touya. ༝ ᭝ ༝

master list link. ༝ ᭝ ༝ @pixelcafe-network

༝ ᭝ ༝ katsuki ༝ ᭝ ༝

This is something I can see very clearly happening when you first start having sex with Katsuki.

It’s the third or fourth time. The burn in your thighs worsens the longer you bounce on Katsuki’s cock, and sweat beads in the valley between your tits, trailing down your sternum.

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t become like pulling teeth to convince him to hand over the reigns.

Now, you brace your hands on his firm, flushed chest, supporting your weight, and roll your hips back and forth in his lap. The tip of his cock presses firmly against your g-spot, and you’re rewarded with hot sparks of pleasure bursting in your pelvis with each slow circle of your hips.

Katsuki’s fingers dig desperately into your waist, nails pinching your skin, and his breath catches when your pussy squeezes him. His lids flutter briefly and a low moan spills from his lips.

You grind slowly, studying the open and fucked out expression on his face. Then you grin.

“You sure you can handle me Katsuki?” You tease, a sweet heat curling up your spine when you deliberately push your hips back even harder.

Katsuki scowls, the pink blush on his cheeks turning scarlet. “Fuck you. I can handle you just fine.” He jerks his hips upwards to emphasize his point, cock sinking in even further.

Your small, delighted gasp dances in the air, pussy clenching on its own accord. “Pretty sure I’m fucking you. You already look like you’re about to cum. What, a big bad hero like you not gonna be able to make me cum this time?” With a smug smile you lean in close, nails biting into his pecs as you whisper. “I thought you were supposed to be number one at everything, Dynamight.”

Katsuki’s eyebrow twitches, jaw clenching tight as he grinds his teeth to dust.

“You think I can’t make that fuckin’ pussy cum, princess?” He asks hotly, grabbing a handful of your ass. The sharp sting of pain makes your pulse thunder in anticipation, the heat in your belly rising a few notches. “You’re gonna scream my name. Better yet, I’ll make you cry out for “Dynamight”, but he won’t save you.” A wolfish grin curls the corners of his mouth.

Your lips part in surprise as he shoves you off his lap, soft blankets cushioning your fall. He manhandles you like a rag doll onto your belly, yanking your hips into the air, looming over your back to shove your face into the sheets with hand to the base of your skull.

“Katsuki!” Your cry gets muffled by the sheets, a calloused palm raining down on your ass so harshly you’re certain his handprint will remain as evidence. He laughs meanly, readjusting his hips and pushes the slick tip of his cock to your pussy.

He clicks his tongue behind teeth in disapproval. “That’s not the right name, princess.” His voice is strained as he slides back inside you, bottoming out with a harsh smack of his hips against your ass. He plants one hand by your head and tangles his fingers through your hair with the other, yanking your head off the mattress. “Go on, cry out for Dynamight,” he murmurs in your ear, warm breath tickling your skin.

Katsuki draws his hips back, cock slipping out halfway, before brutally snapping them forward and filling you entirely.

“Dynamight!” You wail, the next breath becoming a choked off gasp.

His chest rumbles with a moan. “That’s what I was lookin’ for, such a good girl.”

By the end of it, you’re a jelly limbed pile of mush in his bed, voice scratchy from overuse. You’re never going to let him live down the fact that’s it’s so damn easy to get under his skin.

༝ ᭝ ༝ touya ༝ ᭝ ༝

Pushing your boyfriend to his limit usually results in being burned.

It’s not a secret that Touya is terrible at keeping his cool, hotheaded temper rising to the surface whenever you take it a step too far. But, to you, the ends justify the means. Especially when it comes to sex.

“Hell yes, fuck yourself back on my cock just like that baby. So goddamn hot,” Touya says through his teeth, one scarred hand resting on your tailbone to guide your movement. Your fingers fist the pillow supporting your head, cheeks blistering with heat as you work his cock in and out of your pussy. The hot, slick friction is amazing, but not enough.

You pant softly, frustration welling in your belly. “Yeah? It’d be even hotter if you put in any effort to make me cum,” you say with bite. Touya stiffens behind you, fingers suddenly grasping your hips with intent to bruise. He yanks you backwards, forcing a yelp out of you when the tip of his cock is shoved up against your cervix. You squirm with discomfort, but you can’t move an inch.

“The fuck did you just say?” His voice is coated in ice.

Yet, you keep digging your own grave. “You heard me.” You glare at him over your shoulder before turning back. “Seems like you can’t handle me,” you say arrogantly, resting your flushed cheek on the cool fabric pillow of your pillow.

For a second, you think you may have stunned him. Then, the skin on your hips seems to start sizzling under his palms. It’s bright and searing, stealing your breath for a moment, and then you’re flipped onto your back within the next second.

Touya bullies his cock back inside you without another word, hand molding to the bottom of your jaw to keep your mouth shut. The look in his eyes is wild, a cruel grin on his lips when he leans in close until he’s a centimeter away from you. Your pulse thunders, kickstarting a rush of adrenaline.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are talking to me like that, sweetheart. But you’re lucky as hell I want to be inside your tight little pussy so badly.” He starts to shallowly rock his hips. “Otherwise I’d leave you alone and go jerk myself off.”

Your eyes dart across Touya’s face, his blue eyes bright with something like mania. Sick satisfaction curls in your chest, and you manage to keep yourself from smiling. He’s playing right into your hands, just like every other time.

Touya releases your jaw, hooking his hands under the backs of your knees and pushes until they sink into the mattress, folding you like a blanket. The angle makes it feel like his cock’s inside your stomach and you gasp, clutching at scarred wrists.

“Right there Touya, please!” You plead, back arching when he rewards you with a heavy thrust. Touya rolls his eyes, but he bends to your whim and picks up his pace. He smirks like he’s the one in control, lids lowering as his gaze stays glued to where he disappears inside you.

“My little whore,” he coos. “You’re not gettin’ any relief until you fuckin’ squirt for me, do you understand?” There’s no room for argument in his voice, and you nod, goosebumps littering your arms.

You’ll taunt him again and again and fucking again, if only to drive him up the wall and coax him into rearranging your guts.

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ cowboy!rafe always snuck into farmer's!daughter!reader's room to give her a goodnight kiss.. but what happens when their innocent little kiss turns into something much more?

warnings: sweet fluff, flirty banter, brief flashback, daddy kink lol, sneaking around, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rafe covering your mouth, crying, overstimulation

a/n: i’ll be opening req’s soon! lately here i’ve been wanting to get out some of my own prompts since over half of my works are all req’s.. but i’m excited to see what you girlies send me! find more of farmer’s!daughter!reader and cowboy!rafe here <3

wc: 1.2k

“open up, doll face.” you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as rafe lightly tapped on your window. he made you so giddy, you scrambled up from the warmth of your sheets, unlocking the hatch before helping him climb in. “i thought you weren’t coming..” you whispered, pouting up at him as he snickered. “y’gotta have faith in me, sweetheart. when have i missed a goodnight’s kiss?” rafe cupped your face, both of you smiling against each other’s lips before melting into one another.

you always felt so warm and fuzzy inside when you and rafe got to share your secret little moments together, the simplicity of just being together without having to worry about someone catching you two made both of your hearts swell. rafe knew how to sweep you off your feet with a single kiss, a string of giggles tumbling from your mouth as he not-so-quietly threw you onto your bed. “rafe!” you scolded him, your heart beating in your ears as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“my daddy is next door! what if he hears..” you slapped his chest playfully, the man above you arching a brow. “daddy? i thought i was your daddy.” your cheeks heated in embarrassment when you recalled the quickie you two had in the barn not too long ago. rafe had you bent over a hay bale, his thrusts making you unable to speak until he asked you the golden question.

“hmmph! fuckin’ say it. tell me what i wanna hear, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?”

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, rafe smiled as he shook his head down at you. “you just thought about it, didn’t you?” snapping you out of your flashback daze, you laughed when he leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the column of your throat. he smelled like soap, the slight stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. as if your hips had a mind of their own, you grinded your clothed cunt against rafe’s thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the lack of friction.

“hey,” rafe cupped your tits through your flimsy night top, “you thought i wasn’t coming tonight, right? that’s what you said.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion before a gasp slipped from your mouth. “yes..” rafe trailed a hand underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. “so why don’t you have any panties on?” you froze, eyes flickering down to where rafe ran a finger between your folds. keening, you couldn’t help the moan from leaving your lips.

rafe stared at you for a moment, his eyes growing dark as he clamped a hand over your mouth. “i’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. ‘think you can stay quiet for me?” of course you couldn’t.. and rafe knew that. you stared at him with wide eyes, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took himself out of his pants. “i mean it. we don’t want your old man chasing me down with that shotgun of his, now do we?” you shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance.

you shrieked, his hips rolling into yours as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt. if it wasn’t for rafe’s hand muffling your scream you’re sure both of you would be in deep trouble right now. rafe rested his head on your pillow, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he started thrusting. feeling his weight on top of you like this had easily become your favorite thing, the closeness of it all made your heart sing. “fuck, i could never get used to this.. ‘feels like the first time all the time.” he grunted.

you held onto his wrist, your thighs hugging his waist as he kissed the side of your face. “taking me so fuckin’ good, you were made for me, yeah?” you whined, your eyes watering as rafe continuously hit that soft spot inside of you. your headboard started hitting the wall, a smirk gracing your boyfriend’s features. “rafe!” you whispered, tearing his hand away from your face. “s-slow down!” you attempted to push him away while simultaneously trying to keep your noises to yourself.

rafe picked up his pace, wrapping a hand around your throat. “can’t..” you shook your head, your chest rising and falling as the knocking of your headboard only got louder. rafe cursed under his breath when you cried out, working fast to get you turned over so he could push your head into the pillows. “what did i tell you?!” he scolded, landing a smack to your ass. you didn’t have any time to react to the stinging sensation on your backside, your orgasm washing over you once rafe started stroking your clit.

you fisted the sheets underneath you, biting down on your lip as white hot pleasure blinded your vision. rafe made no attempt to soothe you, instead he wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling you up as he nipped at the sensitive skin in the curve of your neck. “sweetheart?” you gasped when your father’s voice sounded from the other side of your bedroom door. you cleared your throat, frozen in place as your door knob rattled. “answer him.” rafe spoke in your ear, his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“what?!” you stammered, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as rafe continued to rub hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “answer him or i’ll make you scream.” you wanted to shoot a sassy ‘you already did’, but you didn’t dare chance it. your chin wobbled, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. “y-yes?!” you called out, glaring at rafe over your shoulder when the sound of his hips slamming into you bounced off of the walls. “you alright in there?” you bit the back of your hand, your head falling weakly.

“is this a girl thing or somethin’, should i call your aunt?” your cheeks heated, a chuckle sounding from the man behind you. “no! i’m o-okay!” rafe pulled your hair again, his lips close to your ear as he whispered the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. “what would your pops think, huh? catching his perfect little angel getting fucked like this..” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your knees slipping out from under you when rafe pushed you flat on your sheets.

“alright.. goodnight!” you ignored your father’s voice, the only thing your brain allowing you to process was rafe cumming inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your hips. “shittt,” he hissed, “son of a— fuck!” it was his turn to cover his mouth, his muscles constricting as you practically milked him for all he had. you reveled in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up, the thick ropes still connecting you two even after he pulled out.

you sighed, both you and rafe panting in the small space that was your room. “you okay, doll?” rafe kneeled down at your side, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. blinking at him, you nodded before pulling him next to you. “it’s really late..” you yawned, glancing at the little clock on your bedside table. “i know.” rafe grumbled. there was nothing he hated more than having to leave you like this. wrapping his arms around your waist, rafe waited until you fell asleep slipping out of your window again.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter one

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 2.4k

-

a/n: first series! it won’t be super long, but I hope you enjoy. send requests for more fics!

-

“Matt, you can’t back out now!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at your best friend where he lays on his bed, setting his phone down to look up at you.

“I’m sorry, love, something came up and I can’t make it,” he apologizes, shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t get out of it.”

You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. You had a family wedding to attend and already RSVP’d with a plus one, which was supposed to be your best friend Matt, who had lovingly agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend for the night. Your family was super invasive about you getting a boyfriend, and you wanted to avoid all of the comments and questions by just pretending to have a boyfriend for one night at the wedding, but your plan was falling apart.

“What am I supposed to do? I already told everyone I was coming with somebody, they’re gonna know I was lying if I show up by myself,” you tell him, trying to rack your brain for any ideas.

“You could bring Nick,” Matt suggests, picking his phone back up and going back to scrolling.

You scoff. “Yeah right, like Nick could pretend to be straight for an entire night. He’d be caught in less than an hour.” You shake your head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to Matt. “I’m gonna have to go on, like, Bumble or something and find some random to go with me.”

Matt looks up at you over his phone, waiting for you to lock eyes with him before he starts to speak. “I mean… I know one other guy you could ask.”

You tilt your head, excited to hear the suggestion, before you realize who he’s talking about and your eyes widen, head shaking rapidly. “Absolutely not,” you put your hands up, pointer fingers crossed over in an X. “I am not asking Chris, no way.”

Matt raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. “I told you I knew someone, I didn’t say you’d like what I said.”

You roll your eyes. “He would never say yes to me anyway, even if I did want to ask him.”

Matt shrugs. “Maybe. You could always bribe him, he loves a good bribe.”

You think about it for another moment, knowing it would be easier to get Chris to do it than it would to find some random guy to go to a wedding as a first date, but the thought of spending an entire night next to Chris made your skin crawl.

The two of you had never really gotten along, even with you being around as much as you were, you guys never clicked, in fact it was the complete opposite, always insulting each other any chance you got, ignoring each other, and always avoiding being in the same room by yourself, even if only for a few moments.

“I mean… I could try but I really can’t promise I won’t kill your brother, Matt,” you half joke, but not really. “Might turn you into a twin.”

“That’s fucked,” Matt laughs, using his foot to kick you lightly. “I‘ll still be a triplet, even if you kill him. I’ll just be a triplet with severe depression and no will no live.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you tell him through a laugh. “Your life would be so much quieter, wouldn’t that be nice? You’d secretly thank me for killing him.”

Matt shakes his head at you with a smile, though his eyes tell you he thinks you’re crazy, before looking back down at his phone.

“Killing who?” A voice sounds from the doorway and you look up to see the man of the hour staring back at you, a disinterested look on his face.

“You,” you smile sweetly up at Chris.

“That’s nice,” he says, flashing you a fake, tight lipped smile before turning to his brother. “Hey, can you take me to go get food?”

Matt groans and throws his head back, closing his eyes. “But I’m so comfortable,” he whines.

You take a deep breath and consider your options. Chris, who you hate but have known for years, or a random guy who might be a serial killer? You’d definitely be safer with Chris, but the thought of having to be near him without his brothers for an entire night seemed like hell. Especially having to act like you were pleased to be in his presence.

“I’ll take you,” you speak before you can stop yourself.

Both Matt and Chris look at you with shocked expressions, Chris having a bit of disgust in his eyes.

“I’d rather starve, thanks,” Chris replies. “Matt, c’mon seriously, can you take me?” He asks again.

“Chris,” you say in a stern voice, standing up from the bed and walking towards him. “Let me take you. I need to talk to you.”

Chris watches you walk past him through the doorway and then looks back at Matt, shooting him a confused look, to which his brother just shrugs, before he leaves to follow you, finding you by the front door slipping your crocs on.

“The fuck is this about?” He asks, trotting down the stairs to meet you by the front door. “You in love with me or some shit?”

You look up at him with an unamused expression. “You wish I was in love with you.” You huff. “I told you, I gotta talk to you.”

You open the front door and head outside towards your car, opening the drivers side door. You look behind you and see Chris standing in the doorway, staring after you. “I’ll buy your food,” you tell him, and he immediately shuts the door behind him and walks up to your car. “You should’ve led with that!” He says.

You both get in your car and you start driving. “Where do you want to go?” You ask him, turning your head to see him on his phone. “Chris,” you push, reaching out to smack his phone out of his hand, causing it to land on the floor.

“What the fuck, dude. Unnecessary.” Chris huffs, reaching down to grab his phone, but he tucked it between his legs instead of going back on it. “I don’t know, McDonald’s?”

You groan. “You always get McDonald’s. Can’t we get like Popeyes or something?”

Chris looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Well I didn’t know you were gonna eat, too, jesus. Sure, Popeyes is fine.” He goes for his phone again, but you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him.

“Wait,” you start. “I actually do need to talk to you.”

Chris sighs and puts his phone away in his pocket completely, looking over at you. “Okay, spit it out then.”

You flash a glare at him quickly before returning your eyes to the road. “So… Matt was going to be my plus one for a wedding I’m going to, but he can’t go anymore because something came up, and I can’t ask Nick because he’s gay and that just won’t work, and so that just leaves you.” You tell him nervously.

“So what if he’s gay, your family homophobic or something?” Chris asks, annoyance lacing his voice.

You sigh and pull into the Popeyes parking lot, pulling into a spot and throwing the car into park before you turn your body to face Chris. “No, they’re not homophobic. It’s just… I kind of told them I was bringing a boyfriend.”

Chris stares at you for a moment before laughing, completely unserious. “You? A boyfriend? That’s hilarious. I can’t believe you’re lying to your family about having a boyfriend.”

You don’t laugh though, you just drop your eyes down to your lap, knowing that this was exactly how the conversation would go.

“Wait a minute, that means you want me to pretend I’m your boyfriend? Fuck no, I’d rather be single for the rest of my life. Forget it, dude, you’re shit outta luck with me.” Chris shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

You nod and start backing out of the spot, heading towards the drive-thru. “Yeah I figured that was how you’d respond,” you murmur.

You guys order your food, and you still pay for it, staying true to your word, before heading home. It was a quick but quiet ride back, both of you getting out of the car without a word, not even a ‘thank you’ shot your way. You take your shoes off and head back up to Matt’s room, seeing him in the same position you left him in, only now he was watching a movie, and you got in his bed to join him with your food.

“How’d it go?” He asked, reaching out to steal one of your fries.

“Exactly how I expected it to go. He laughed in my face and said he’d rather be single for the rest of his life than pretend to be my boyfriend,” you tell Matt, looking down at him from where you sat.

Matt smiles up at you, reaching out to pat your leg. “Sorry, kid. You tried.”

You nod and look up at the tv screen, starting to eat your dinner.

-

The next day, you’re sitting on your couch panting your toes and watching your favorite comfort show when you hear the doorbell ring, startling you as you weren’t expecting anybody over today. You look down at your toes and swear under your breath, seeing that you smeared polish along your skin.

You set down the polish on the table and stand up, walking to your door and pulling it open, jaw dropping in shock when you come face to face with Chris, the last person you expected to show up at your door unannounced. You almost wanted to rub your eyes in case you were mistaking him for another triplet, but you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you.

“Chris?” You question. “How did you get here?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I ubered?” He says like it’s obvious. “You gonna let me in or what?”

You take a step back and let him into your house, shutting the door behind him. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say, sitting back down on your couch. He follows and sits at the opposite end, looking over at you.

He ignores your question, watching you as you continue to do your toes, cleaning up the mess you made. “Why not just get your toes done?” He asks.

You look at him with an annoyed expression. “Costs money? Why spend money when I can sit around and do it myself?” You go back to painting your toes. “Why are you here?”

Chris shrugs. “Been thinking about what you said yesterday, about the wedding.”

You stop what you’re doing and put the polish back down, turning your attention on Chris completely. “Did you change your mind?” You ask him.

He sighs and licks his lips before speaking. “Consider it my charity for the year,” he smiles, tilting his head at you. “But I need a small favor from you.”

“A favor in return isn’t charity, Chris, it’s like… eye for an eye or whatever.” You look at him deadpan. Of course he’d want something in return, he could never do something for you out of the goodness of his heart.

“Whatever, dude, you want my help or not?” Chris asks. “If not I’ll just leave, doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You huff and give in. “Fine. What’s the favor?” You ask him.

He pulls out his phone, scooting a bit closer to you on the couch. “There’s this girl that will not stop hitting me up and she’s driving me crazy. I told her I’m not interested, I’ve ignored her messages, I even blocked her on snap to see if she’d get the hint but she still texts me every day.” He shows you all of the unanswered messages and your jaw drops.

“Holy shit, what does this girl see in you?” You laugh, reading how desperate she was for Chris.

“Funny,” Chris replies, unamused.

“What does this have to do with me?” You ask him, looking back up at his face.

“I think it’s only fair if I pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding, you pretend to be my girlfriend on social media. Only for a few weeks or until she stops messaging me. Plus, you’re way hotter than her. ” Chris tells you, and by the tone of his voice, he’s completely serious.

You feel heat rising up your neck and you try to get it under control before your cheeks turn red. “You think I’m hot?” You ask him, a teasing lilt in your voice.

“Not the point,” he replies.

“So you tell me that you would rather be single for the rest of your life than pretend to be my boyfriend, and now you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?” You clarify, and he just nods, like it’s no big deal. “Pretending to be together at an event is one thing, but you want to take photos to look like a couple? That’s a little… intimate don’t you think?”

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a big boy, you’re a big girl. Don’t think you can handle a little physical touch without falling for me?” He smirks, leaning in closer to you.

You grimace and reach up to push his shoulder away. “Gross, dude. I could have sex with you and still not fall in love with you and your terrible personality.”

Chris gasps, fake shocked, throwing a hand to his chest. “I am a very good lover, why do you think this girl won’t stop texting me?”

Your eyes widen. “You had sex with her?!” You shriek. “Chris, no wonder she keeps blowing your shit up!”

Chris groans and throws his head back, leaning it on the back of the couch. “It was supposed to be a one time thing, I don’t know why she’s so hung up on me!”

You find yourself giggling a bit before you stop and clear your throat, not wanting to give Chris the satisfaction of making you laugh. You compose yourself and shake your head, clearly disappointed in the boy across from you. “Fine, I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend, but no kissing! I draw the line at kissing.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry, I don’t want to kiss you,” Chris cringes. “So… I guess we should start planning this?”

You nod and smile towards him, placing your hands in your lap as you guys start to figure out how to execute both individual plans.

-

a/n: this chapter is SUPER short but it’s kinda just to get a feel of the fic and how it’s gonna play out. I really hope you guys like this series im so nervous about it!!

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[ugh-yoongi]

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your��� well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

[astonmartinii]

i still miss the smoke | ollie bearman social media au

pairing: ollie bearman x fem singer ex reader

where there’s smoke, there’s fire and maybe we miss the warmth

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

y/nfanpage

liked by kimiantonelli, user1 and 102,309 others

tagged: yourusername

y/nfanpage: folklore is finally out and i say for everyone: thank you y/n!!!! another banger i believe, what did you guys think?

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user2: my ears have been BLESSED

user3: she really looked inside my brain and created the exact thing i needed

user4: and THIS is why i have a parasocial relationship sorry!

user5: you can tell she's been writing this a long time because she still sounds so in love

user6: i don't want to be that person that makes all her music about the men but like she's so obviously still in love with ollie

user7: she put the songs invisible string and the 1 on this record and didn't think we would see that she's so in love still

user8: maybe she's hoping that he'll listen and call her?

kimiantonelli: HE BETTER FUCKING CALL JESUS CHRIST

this comment has been deleted

user8: why did an account with over a million followers just reply to me and then delete his comment?

user9: babe that was soon-to-be mercedes f1 driver kimi antonelli (he's ollie's current teammate)

user8: WHAT?

user10: surely this is a sign?

user11: mum come pick me up they've made up yet another conspiracy about y/n and ollie getting back together

user12: 1. they're still in love argue with the wall 2. fuck ur mum

user11: excuse me?

user12: i said what i said, kimi commenting has proved the fact ollie clearly misses y/n as much as folklore proves she misses him

user13: as an f1 fan it still actually boggles my mind that ollie was actually with Y/N Y/LN

user14: no it's crazy because when he got called up in saudi arabia the first thing charles said to him was 'why didn't you bring y/n we wanted to meet her'

user15: also like the way the viewer count spiked for saudi with all the y/n fans watching

user16: well some of us didn't leave so now i have another expensive hobby and an unhealthy attachment to both of them

olliebearman

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 409,300 others

tagged: kimiantonelli

olliebearman: back to the action this weekend

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user17: thank you for my daily dose of bearnelli

user18: i can't believe both will be on the f1 grid next year 😭

user19: i hate that they won't be teammates

user20: you can't separate them they're like bonded cats

charles_leclerc: so when are you growing some balls and calling y/n?

olliebearman: huh?

charles_leclerc: answer me quickly oliver or you're not getting my car in FP1

olliebearman: i don't think you can do that?

charles_leclerc: do you wanna find out the hard way?

olliebearman: i know we have this cool father son thing going and i love that but STAY THE FUCK OF MY LOVE LIFE

charles_leclerc: i don't appreciate your tone young man

charles_leclerc: and i loved folklore and want my vinyl signed :P

olliebearman: go to a meet and greet like a normal person?

charles_leclerc: JUST CALL HER FOR FUCK SAKE

user21: so everyone lost their minds over the summer break i see

user22: well i hate to say it but they have a point - y/n is in the likes

user23: they're feeding my delusions i fear

kimiantonelli: we look like a couple here.... which reminds me ... you could be in a relationship ... if you just PICKED UP THE DAMN PHONE

olliebearman: do you fucking mind?

kimiantonelli: don't speak to me like that :(

olliebearman: this is my instagram page?

kimiantonelli: you keep fucking moping and it's bringing the mood down so do something about it for the love of god

olliebearman: stop airing me out online? I SAW UR TWEET

kimiantonelli: and yet she's still in your likes THERE'S STILL TIME JACKASS

user24: we're trusting these fools to drive f1 cars?

yourusername: i can see all of these comments?

this post has been deleted

f1insider

liked by user25, user26 and 21,843 others

tagged: olliebearman

f1insider: ollie meeting fans this weekend - one fan has stated that when she asked ollie to sign her y/n y/ln shirt he was more than happy to and said that his favourite song from the new album is invisible string and said "i'm still holding my end"

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user27: so he's freaking out about charles and kimi airing him out in public when he's spouting poetry to random f1 fans

user28: I WAS THE FAN and let me tell you bro was GOING THROUGH IT

user29: how so?

user28: well first of all he did a double take when he first saw my shirt and took time to properly look at it before signing - he knew in less than 5 seconds what his favourite song was and had this far off loved up look when he said about the invisible string

user29: oh he's so down bad

user30: the way i just know kimi was there groaning up a storm

user28: you would be correct

user31: someone needs to get that dude some compensation for real

user32: bro is coming into his f1 career known by the wider community as the guy who is the eternal third wheel to a couple who have been broken up for six months

user33: i'm sorry he can't say he's still holding onto the invisible string and just expect us all to be normal about it ?

user34: you can tell he's been with y/n though because before that the most eloquent thing he's said is when he sent carlos his condolences like he DIED

user35: we can't even say he's doing it for her attention because how did he know that the fan would run to social media

user36: based on how kimi is right now i'd put a lot of money on him going on like this at all times

user37: all this to say i hope they get back together because i think seeing y/n at an f1 race would send me into cardiac arrest

user38: she'd be up there for best ever wag i won't lie

user39: i do think she'd be the best but that's also because arguably ollie is more her wag

user40: they've mastered the lovestruck look of watching the person you love doing what they love

user41: we're all going to look so dumb if they never get back together

user42: SHUSH

yourusername

liked by kimiantonelli, olliebearman and 3,209,577 others

yourusername: you thought i was done? my bonus track 'the lakes' is out now!

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user43: STUNT ON THEM HOES

user44: this is such a funny comment in the context of how the music actually sounds

user45: okay well she's stepping on the girls' neck and hearing the snap like autumn leaves on the ground

charles_leclerc: amazing song once again y/n!

yourusername: thanks charles :)

charles_leclerc: now, what are we doing about this heartbroken son of mine?

yourusername: excuse me?

charles_leclerc: don't play coy with me miss, i know you're just as pathetically sad as him so why don't you get ur head out of the sand and call him up !!!!

yourusername: you know i saw all of your comments shouting at him to do the same thing

charles_leclerc: i'm standing on business - he was the one who deleted the post

yourusername: does he know you're doing that on my post as well then?

charles_leclerc: don't be stupid i know that fool still has your notifications on i can hear his phone buzzing every time you reply - he's trying to play it cool in the engineering meeting

yourusername: and you don't have to?

charles_leclerc: i told them it was a family emergency

yourusername: charles ????

charles_leclerc: whether you like it or not you are my grid daughter in law and so it does personally pain me when you IDIOTS don't see what is right in front of you - it's not like you have to use messenger pigeons, you can make it work

user46: i know ollie is going to have a heart attack when he finally reads this comments

charles_leclerc: he just snuck to the toilet and i could hear him drop his phone from the meeting room

olliebearman: STOP ARE YOU INSANE

olliebearman: also this is not "family drama" i was genuinely worried something had happened :/

yourusername: come on ollie you should know not to trust that man by now

user47: i know ^^ this is crazy but like bro THE LAKES ??? i swear in an interview y/n spoke about it was her and ollie's dream to spend christmas by the lakes?

user48: WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

user49: plus the replies??? basically remarried

user50: genuine question for everyone in the comments talking about her getting back with this mystery man - why did they even break up?

user51: ollie was starting his f2 season that was going to secure him an f1 drive and y/n was starting an album cycle and finishing a tour so they broke up because of distance :(

user52: NOT FOR LONG :P

olliebearman

liked by charles_leclerc, kimiantonelli and 1,204,377 others

tagged: yourusername

olliebearman: i took her to the lakes where all the poets went to die (i didn't let her die)

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user54: WE HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE BACK

user55: shout out to kimi antonelli, you survived king

yourusername: you're such a cutie pie

olliebearman: just for you

yourusername: thanks for pushing me in the water and insisting on giving me mouth to mouth .... i think it might have been a front to kiss me tho

olliebearman: sue me, i've missed it :(

yourusername: you'll never be without it ever again

olliebearman: yay 🥳 🎉 😀 !!!!!!!!!

user56: why is he such a fucking nerd when his gf tells him she loves him

user57: he's so fucking real

charles_leclerc: FUCKING FINALLY

kimiantonelli: don't pretend you were on the front line old man

charles_leclerc: old man???? i'm 27

kimiantonelli: okay grandpa do you need directions to the nursing home

charles_leclerc: coming at me when fernando exists is a choice

kimiantonelli: i don't see fernando here complaining up a storm ?

fernandoalo_oficial: i am not taking sides here but the one time i have had a full conversation with ollie this season was during the pre-race parade and he spoke about y/n the whole time

yourusername: awwwww that's so cute bear :3

olliebearman: i told you i am obsessed with you

kimiantonelli: you don't say

olliebearman: just because you can't make references to bearnelli being real now

kimiantonelli: it's not real /??????????

yourusername: ???????

user58: just got her boyfriend back and is immediately has to battle his homoerotic situationship with his teammate

yourusername: i will never be free

olliebearman: he's just a funky lil guy babe, it would be rude to leave him out

kimiantonelli: yeah i'll take it!

kimiantonelli

liked by lewishamilton, olliebearman and 731,044 others

tagged: olliebearman, yourusername

kimiantonelli: WAR IS OVER

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user59: the way this man will never let them forget anything about this

user60: i know he's getting his evidence for his best man speech

kimiantonelli: you make a great point

olliebearman: that's a bold assumption that you would be my best man?

kimiantonelli: do not piss me off this morning oliver

yourusername: you can be my man of honour kimi :)

kimiantonelli: score !!!

olliebearman: how did we get here?

yourusername: i am weaponising your homoerotic tension against you

olliebearman: sure, you got me there

user61: are these people ever normal?

user62: nope!

user63: i know the merc and haas PR teams are shaking in their boots

user64: tbf i think haas will be welcoming it - i mean all the y/n fans will probably get the ollie merch next year ?

haasf1team: WE LOVE YOU Y/N 🥰

haasf1team: new wheel guns here we come - thanks y/n fans!

yourusername: thanks for being our lil messenger pigeon for these rough six months, we love you kimi <3

olliebearman: we're so lucky to have someone like you in our lives, forever grateful

kimiantonelli: i know i complained the whole time, i love you guys and i'd go through this weird three way conversation all over again

charles_leclerc: okay now this is all done @yourusername when are you coming to the paddock i have a lot of vinyls for you to sign!

yourusername: you've been very loud throughout this whole situation, why should i?

charles_leclerc: BECAUSE I LOVE YOUR MUSIC

charles_leclerc: and plus i do really want the best for both of you so i let kimi play nice cop

kimiantonelli: you were NOT in on this?

charles_leclerc: YOU'RE WELCOME 😉

olliebearman: let's all smile and wave

yourusername: 😃

kimiantonelli: 😃

yourusername

liked by kimiantonelli, charles_leclerc and 4,298,400 others

tagged: olliebearman

yourusername: i knew you were still the 1 for me x

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user66: back to flexing their love on us again

user67: i am cripplingly lonely but i am so happy for them

user68: honestly i think i've been through this breakup with them i also deserve compensation

yourusername: i only got so many hampers i'm sorry gal

maxverstappen1: is now an okay time to ask for tickets to the tour?

yourusername: yes! i'll grab you at a race and we can discuss what shows you want (spoiler alert it mostly lines up with the f1 calendar)

yourusername: also @charles_leclerc take notes on how to ask for things

maxverstappen1: schooled again bozo @charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: EXCUSE ME I AM NUMBER 1 Y/N FAN ON THE GRID I AM ALLOWED TO BE INSANE ABOUT HAVING YOU IN THE PADDOCK

olliebearman: .... you're the biggest y/n fan on the grid?

charles_leclerc: you of course don't count

yourusername: you know what? sure! i'm just confused at this point

user69: i think this six month breakup rotted all of our brains at this point

user70: charles being a y/n fan makes a lot of sense tbf

user71: at least he didn't do the corny thing of just pretending his gf is a fan

olliebearman: i did say i'm still holding onto the end of the invisible string

yourusername: and if i told you i never let go either

olliebearman: then i know we were always meant to be

yourusername: ugh i love you

olliebearman: i love you more

kimiantonelli: i love you guys too :D

yourusername: 😭 😭 😭 we love you too kimi

olliebearman: we love you kimi :3

fin.

note: my ass finally finished a draft GOOD LORD and a first one for OLLIE !!!!!!!

[mrsstarkey1]

getting rafe hooked on dress to impress

my fav thing i’ve ever written i can’t even lie

word count: 1.2k

obx masterlist

you yawned loudly and abnoxiously as you walked into rafe’s bedroom. you kicked your shoes off, grabbing one of rafe’s t-shirts from his drawer, changing out of your uncomfortable clothes. “didn’t think you were coming back, it’s late as fuck.” rafe said, looking at you oddly as he sat up on the bed against the headboard.

“longest fucking day of my life. need to unwind.”

rafe smirked, reaching his whole body over the bed to grab your forearm. "like the sound of that," he mumbles.

you let yourself move toward him, but you groan, “not like that.” rafe momentarily pouts, but doesn’t let go of your arm. in fact, he pulls you closer onto the bed with him urging you to cuddle up into him.

he snakes his arm around you, soft fingers tracing circles into your side. "wanna talk about it?"

you yawn and shake your head, "nah, can we just watch a movie or something?"

rafe nods, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand. "you don't wanna watch some chick-flick do you?" he asks, grimacing already.

you sigh dramatically, “i guess not. fast and furious?”

rafe obligies, satisfied with your suggestion. you get comfortable on the bed, your head rested on rafe's shoulder and your phone rested on his chest as you scroll through tiktok.

about 20 minutes later, you see a video about the new halloween update on dress to impress and gasp before you can stop yourself. rafe jumps slightly, eyes wide. “jesus christ, what’s wrong?”

"sorry, nothing," you grin apologetically, "can I borrow your laptop though?"

he looks at you like you've lost your mind, but he still grabs his macbook from the nightstand, handing it over to you. you sit up excitedly, leaning up against the headboard.

you open the laptop and sign into your roblox account, side eyeing rafe as he gives you an odd look. "the fuck are you doing?"

"playing a game," you respond innocently.

he raises his eyebrows, "roblox? wheezie used to play that shit.. when she was 8," he says, judging you hardcore.

you glare at him, "you don't understand," you sigh. "just watch me play, it's genuinely fun."

he watches you click on dress to impress, making a disgusted face. "yeah I can't defend you on this one," he says and you shove his shoulder.

"well have you ever played dress to impress?" you ask him.

"obviously not," he says, his sassy side on full display.

"well don't judge then. just watch and i'll let you play a round when i'm done," you say with a smile, patting his cheek softly.

"hell nah," he says, directing his attention back to the movie.

you shake your head, giving up on getting him to play. you start a round, looking around at all the new pieces they added. the theme is holiday for your first round, so of course you do halloween.

you notice rafe's eyes on the computer screen as his curiosity clearly starts to creep back in despite himself. he watches as you piece together combination of a witch hat, spiderweb dress, and dark boots.

“what even is this shit?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly intrigued.

you grin, not taking your eyes off the screen since you only have a minute left. “you compete with other people to make the best outfit based on a theme. you'd be pretty good at it, you've got great style," you say, trying to persuade him.

he gives you a look, shaking his head, "sounds dumb as fuck," he says, and you just laugh. he's silent for a moment before turning slightly to have a better view of the screen, "so what you just like... dress them up and shit?"

you nod, watching the time run out. "yes, then everyone votes on each outfit and the top 3 get on the podium. see," you point to the screen, "the voting's starting now."

an outfit that's completely off theme struts down the runway and you grimace, "see like that one's ugly as fuck so i give it a 1. oooh look, this ones mine," you say with a proud smile. "doesn't she look great?"

rafe shrugs, "i guess."

you ended up getting third place, losing to two terrible outfits. you curse under your breath, before turning to him. “you wanna try a round?” you smile, looking up at him.

rafe scoffs, glancing back at the movie, but curiosity gets the better of him. “alright, fine, hand it over.” he takes the laptop.

"okay the theme is beach day," you tell him.

he hums in response, looking around at the clothes aimlessly. "rafe, you gotta pick something that actually matches,” you say, stifling a laugh as he pairs a yellow bikini top with neon green shorts.

"shh, I have a vision," he says, dismissing your words. "wait why the fuck doesn't she have a face?"

"you gotta go to the makeup and hair room, over there," you point at the screen.

he scrolls through the makeup options, finally decided on one. "mhm, she bad ain't she?" you chuckle, knowing rafe is secretly loving this.

time runs out just as he adds the coconut drink, and you see him watching the screen eagerly, waiting for the voting to end. one girl dressed in long pants and a jacket walks out and he looks over at you, disgusted, "this bitch didn't even look at the theme." all you can do is laugh and nod your head in agreement.

when rafe places second, he smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. "ha," he says, "i did better than you."

you roll your eyes. "yeah you're done playing," you say, snatching the laptop back.

the next night, you texted rafe that you were gonna come over after your morning shift and you didn't get a response, which was odd. you let yourself into his house with the key he'd given you. "rafe?" you called out, walking into the living room. "you here?" no response.

you furrowed your eyebrows, walking up the stairs. maybe he was just in his room, you thought, taking a nap or something. you creak open his bedroom door, met with the scene of him sitting on his bed, looking intently at his laptop.

his eyes shoot up to look at you and he slams his laptop closed, guilty look in his eye. you raise your eyebrows, "what were you doing?" you question him, walking toward the bed.

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, shaking his head. "nothin.'"

your eyes narrow, "were you watching porn?" you joke, sitting down next to him.

he sighs, "worse.." he trails off. he mentally debates for a minute, before pulling his laptop back into his lap, opening it slowly to reveal dress to impress on full display.

your hand shoots to cover your mouth, laugh escaping your lips anyway. all he does is glare at you, "this is your fucking fault."

you lean into him with a laugh, "I know I know, sorry. don't be embarrassed, rafe." you press a kiss to his lips.

as you kiss him, you can’t help but laugh again, glancing at his screen. "okay wait that's actually a cute outfit. you're getting good," you nudge him, "fashionista," you add quietly with a chuckle.

he looks at you straight-faced, "I'm only playing this dumbass game because you dragged me into it. i was just bored so,” he gestures to the screen.

“sure, rafe, whatever you say,” you tease, cuddling up beside him. "feel free to keep playing, don't stop at my expense."

he scoffs, but gives in and restarts the game.

you wrap your arm around his middle and watch as he puts together outfit after outfit, the grin rarely leaving your face.

you just love your little fashionista.

----

requests are OPEN 💌

[randombush3]

que te quiero

alexia putellas x reader

prologue

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 3217

content warnings: just you fucking wait

notes: i slaved away to get this out asap lol

They list your injuries in an awkwardly ascending order: best to worst. You suppose the doctor’s callousness is more professional than malicious – and maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t panicking at the sight of such long, uninteresting words – but he makes it sound clinical (his job) and it’s hard to remember not everyone feels the excruciating pain you are slowly growing accustomed to. 

You wince at your thoughts’ poor choice of words. 

Apparently, you don’t remember much. In the week that you’ve been awake, you’ve been subject to every test, question, and assessment possible, all answers coming out with the same result. 

You know your name and when you were born. You know that you have a degree in Literature, but that you’re now a lawyer with an extensive library instead. You can speak all the languages you’ve ever learnt (that’s a different part of your brain, says the doctor when you ask how). They ask about your parents, your brothers, and names easily roll off your tongue, the childhood fear of hospitals still present (god, there is something that you wish had been forgotten). 

Still, the nurses approach you with sympathetic smiles, replicating the expression when they converse quietly with the worried-looking woman who visits you every day. She’s called Alexia, she tells you, staring at the gap between you as though she is a stranger to being so far apart. 

Although it was blurry when you first woke up, once Alexia reveals her name, you’re certain you recognise her.

“I’ve seen her somewhere,” you tell your favourite nurse, chipper that you’ve worked it out. In an attempt to jog your memory, you’ve kept the small TV in the corner of your section of the ward on all afternoon, sort of missing the noise your committed visitor brings with her. “And she’s not here today, Isa, because she’s there.” You point at a figure running around on a football pitch. “Alexia Putellas. She’s famous!” It explains the secrecy and the inexplicable absences. You suppose a slightly different structure of her job allows her to visit at unconventional times, too. 

“Mm,” Isa hums, not quite committed to this conversation. “Let’s save the discoveries for your chat with the doctor, yeah? He should be here any minute now.” 

On cue, the pot-bellied man appears, clipboard in hand, bottom lip between his teeth. His perception leads his gaze to the TV, which, in turn, causes him to watch your reaction to the match. Growing insecure of his scrutiny, you press a button and watch the screen go black. 

“Good afternoon,” comes his greeting, clipped and determined to not waste time. You try to find comfort in that: maybe you aren't in the worst shape in this hospital. “How are your ribs feeling?” 

“Battered.” 

He writes that down. “You’re on the highest dosage of pain medication. We’ll need to start weaning you off soon, too. Especially due to a family history of addiction.” Your eyebrows furrow, and his pen scratches at the paper once again. “Okay, Y/n. Can I have a seat? Are you comfortable?” 

You take a moment to acknowledge the ache in your abdomen and head. He assumes your silence is a ‘yes’ and Isa is dismissed. “You shouldn’t be looking at any screens,” he says calmly, with the faintest hint of disappointment. “It will not aid your recovery.” 

“How am I supposed to remember anything if I can’t use… sources to help me?” you protest. 

“That is exactly what I have come here to discuss. We’ll start bit by bit. The more open you are to this, the quicker you will be released from hospital.” He smirks. “And I know that you are desperate to leave.” 

…

The stands of the stadium echo with jubilation as the final whistle blows. Alexia barely hears it due to the noise, still reeling from her penalty, proud to have scored in front of such a special guest. She’d made an ‘A’ with her fingers as she had celebrated. 

Despite her teammates’ dallying on the pitch, never in a rush after a win like this, Alexia is jumping the barrier and barreling through the crowd to get to the seats she’s been keeping an eye on for the whole match. Her mother is barely offered a ‘hello’ before Alexia is wrapped in a tight embrace. She won’t admit that the force of the impact winds her a little. 

“You played so well!” squeals Amaia, voice muffled in the sweat-soaked jersey. She seems almost giddy, which is a hefty improvement considering your current situation. 

Alexia laughs, bending down to Amaia’s level, her hands resting on the girl’s shoulders. Tears prick at her eyes but she hopes it isn’t that obvious. “You saw my penalty, right?” 

She’s met with enthusiastic nodding, Amaia’s eyes widening with excitement. “Vaig veure la A! It was for me, right?” 

“For you,” Alexia confirms, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Amaia’s head. Despite her efforts, the softness of the girl’s hair – the way she clings once more to Alexia’s body – is disarming. And Amaia speaking Catalan always gets her emotional. 

She wipes her tears when Amaia pulls away. 

This is difficult. Alexia is trying her hardest, but nothing is the same without you. She finds herself looking at the seat beside Amaia, expecting to see it filled by you, but it’s not; it’s empty. You are still at the hospital. You don’t even remember who Alexia is. 

You don’t remember the past eleven years, they think. Which means no Amaia, no Alexia, no Barcelona. 

It has broken Alexia’s heart. 

Her mother places a hand on her shoulder. “Go and get changed,” she instructs gently, in the same way she has been since the accident. Eli has become an engine, a guide. “Alba said she’d meet us at the restaurant.” 

Alexia swallows, embracing her mother. In her ear, she whispers, “I think it’s time for Amaia to see her.” Her mother’s touch remains firm, grounding her. She breathes out, and it is only now that her lungs ache that she feels like she can no longer hold it together. But Alexia is determined, and she will not crumble. 

Not in front of your daughter. 

“It’s your decision, Ale,” Eli murmurs back, her tone steady and calm. She’s seen how tirelessly Alexia has navigated these past weeks, juggling her team, her grief, her hope – all while trying to keep Amaia’s life as normal as possible. “You have done everything you can. If you think she’s ready, she’ll be ready.”

Alexia pulls back and nods, a quiet determination settling over her face. The thought of bringing Amaia to the hospital without the stability of a coma to predict her reaction has been weighing on her ever since you woke up. But, even though this step is more of a stumble, it seems to be in the right direction. 

"Now, go and get out of this kit. Amaia and I can only pretend you don’t smell for so long," Eli jokes, hand guiding her toward the locker rooms. Amaia is practically bouncing at Alexia’s side as they make their way down the tunnel, still buzzing with excitement over the game and ten goals scored. 

Not everyone is so plagued by misfortune in their personal lives – a reminder which is stark as Alexia passes the conga line of her teammates, all thrilled with their (superfluous) scoreline and exploiting the night off that Pere has allowed right from the get-go. A few of the girls wave at their captain as she walks past, but most feel uncomfortable shoving their elation in her face, aware of the shitstorm she is going through. 

The girls do keep plaguing her about what you had thought of their ‘Get Well Soon’ card, though. Not that Alexia has found an appropriate time to give it to you yet.

“Will she be awake?” Amaia suddenly asks, her voice breaking Alexia’s thoughts. Her expression is open, hopeful. Her eyes have the same shine as yours do in this light. 

Alexia glances down, her lips forming a soft, bittersweet smile. "We’ll see, Amaia," she says, brushing a stray lock of hair from the girl’s face. "We’ll visit, and we’ll see."

Inside the locker room, Alexia changes quickly, her mind already racing ahead to the visit. She imagines you there, perhaps looking out the window or glancing at her with that blank confusion that still cuts her deeper than she’d expected. The nurses have told her that you’re growing more restless with each day, becoming harder to occupy. You sound like a pain in their arses, which is comforting, because at least you are still you. And your questions! Alexia is unsurprised that the doctors rock-paper-scissor for ward duty. 

When she emerges, mood lifted by the thought of you continuing to be a nightmare, Eli and Amaia are waiting by the door, Amaia now clutching a small bouquet of flowers that must have been retrieved from Eli’s car while Alexia was changing. She’s holding them proudly, as if they might be a magic cure, as if a burst of colour is exactly what’s needed to bring you back.

“Ready to go?” Amaia asks, instinctively high-fiving Mapi as she walks out with Alexia. 

“Exciting plans, Capi?” her friend questions. Alexia’s look says it all. Mapi lowers her voice, allowing only Alexia to hear her; “you are strong. You will be strong.” 

“Let’s go,” prompts Amaia. Her impatience was very much inherited. 

After shooting an unconvincing look of confidence to her friend, Alexia nods, holding out her hand for Amaia to take. “Okay, okay. Say goodbye to Eli.” 

Kisses are exchanged. Alexia promises to come for dinner, even if she will be late. 

Amaia plays Taylor Swift in the car. The whiny music gives Alexia a bit of a headache, but at least it’s loud enough to dull the absolute din of her screaming thoughts. And when they arrive, it’s all too familiar for Alexia’s liking. 

She has her route to you memorised. It’s magnetic and intrinsic, and a desperate part of her is clawing at the hope that, somehow, you will have regained everything that has been lost in the day she hasn’t seen you. Before entering the ward, she tries to prepare Amaia, but the girl is as unstoppable as you can be and there is no intervening before she is at your bedside, greeting you like you remember who she is. 

…

A lot of what the doctor tells you are things you struggle to believe. Like, last year, you were made junior partner of the law firm you work at. They’re based in London. You used to live there – you moved after you’d finished your degree, bored of Bilbao and of home and of knowing every person in your world. Another confusing one: your brothers actually visit you, as though you are forgiven. 

Which sparks an aged memory. Two lines in the bathroom at the university. 

“Am I pregnant?” you ask, feeling the colour drain from your face at the idea that you might have lost the baby in the accident. 

The doctor waits patiently for you to remind yourself that eleven years have passed. 

“I was pregnant.” Nothing comes back to you, though this would be an appropriate moment for it to. The rest of the story hangs loosely at the back of your throat, unable to be spoken. You look at the doctor for help. “Did I keep it? I’m not – I wasn’t planning to.” 

“She’s called Amaia.” 

“Amaia…” you repeat. A painful realisation settles in you. How did you feel about becoming a mother? Why did you? When did they forgive you, and was it because of her? 

“Your mother’s name, I believe,” continues the doctor, “although you can remember that.” 

“I barely knew my mother.” She had died when you were very young. She didn’t feel like yours to grieve. To you, it was just time off school, hospital visits, and watching the rest of your world fall apart. You find yourself swallowed up in guilt – anger. How did you let this happen? How could you forget what must have mattered the most? “I want to see her,” you resolve, attempting to sit upright and pretend the movement doesn’t send a searing pain through your chest. “My… I want to know what she looks like.” 

Your patience need not extend for too long, as Alexia and Amaia arrive only two hours after the doctor departs. 

The sterility of the ward is no match for the warmth they exude, and you can almost sense them coming. It’s both comforting and unsettling. You refrain from telling Alexia that you know who she is. 

You have no time to, really, because there is a girl, average height with a bouquet in-hand, barreling towards you the moment you lay your eyes on your visitors. She’s loud enough to make you wince, which, in turn, earns her a sharp warning from Alexia, even further away than usual. She is watching you closely, awaiting your reaction. Her arms are folded across her chest, hair scraped into a damp ponytail, and she is withholding the emotion she wants to express because Alexia, you’ve learnt, isn’t really that kind of person. You often find yourself wondering how she first opened up to you. How long did it take? 

You want to ask, but Amaia – Amaia – begins to speak. Her voice is unfamiliar, her accent failing to reflect any time in Bilbao she might have spent with you. She speaks at first in Spanish. You hardly hear what she is saying, too focused on examining her features. 

She does look like you. Or, rather, pictures of you from years ago. Your father’s eyes, your nose. A smile that you can’t help but reciprocate. You try to remember what her father looked like, but nothing comes to mind and Amaia seems to have been unresponsive to his genes.

“Amaia,” you interrupt, not to cut her off but to test her name on your tongue. It’s foreign to you, but it suits her. She beams. 

“Do you remember me?” 

And what the actual fuck do you say to that? 

Your hesitation is telling. Alexia stiffens from where she had relaxed on the fringes on the section. 

“It’s okay if you don’t.” You look up at her, unaware that you had bowed your head in the first place. She has kind eyes, you think. And she must be clever, because it is not what she says, but that she says it in Euskera. 

“I missed you,” you say. It slips out, but you mean it. Well, you assume you missed her, and therefore it is a logical thing to come out with. And, also, you are aching inside from seeing the life that you have created standing right in front of you. A life you were not going to pursue. 

Amaia does not cry, but she delicately unfurls your clenched palms and shapes her hands to link with yours. You want her touch to bring it all back. It feels like jumping off a skyscraper when you are met with nothing, still. Instead of the flood of recollection you long for, there is a faint, ungraspable feeling of something you cannot name. 

After a silent pause, a movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. Alexia steps forwards, her arms still crossed, her expression unsure and more than a little guarded. There is a sudden swell of gratitude in your chest, more for her presence than anything specific, and, without thinking, you smile at her. 

“Congratulations,” you say, voice just above a whisper as though Amaia will be unable to hear. “I saw you on the TV. You scored, didn’t you?” 

Alexia’s eyes widen a fraction as she glances at Amaia, who is proudly informing you, “ez behin, baizik eta bitan”. Alexia manages a small, almost bashful smile, her hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. For a woman so publicly celebrated, she seems to struggle to handle your praise. 

“Thanks,” she says awkwardly, eyes not quite meeting yours. “It… wasn’t a huge match but,” she grimaces at the sound of her voice, “I wanted to play my best for, well, for you guys. Amaia was there, and you… Well, I suppose you were watching it on TV.” She doesn’t feel inclined to show you the band of pre-wrap around her wrist with your name written on it, hiding it under the sleeve of her hoodie, or tell you that you were there with her, like you always are. 

Something tugs at your heart. It’s obvious that she is desperately holding back emotions, likely for Amaia’s sake. She looks away for a moment, regaining her composure, then turns back to you with a steadier expression. Amaia glances between you both, unnervingly perceptive for a girl so young. She squeezes your hands a little tighter. 

In the silence that follows, Alexia finally speaks up again. “I… didn’t want to crowd you, but,” her tone drops into something more serious, “I’ll be back again tomorrow, and, actually… Your doctor and I have been discussing the idea of you coming home soon.” 

The word hits you like a bullet from too close a range; it’s almost too fast to register before the damage is done. 

You don’t even know where you live. In your mind, you have never been to Barcelona, let alone have a home here. And yet there is an inexplicable warmth in Alexia’s voice that makes the idea feel… less absurd. 

She clears her throat. “In three days, if you’re ready,” she softly adds, eyes glimmering with hope in a fearful way. 

Later, Alexia stands just outside the ward, talking quietly with your doctor as Amaia sits nearby, focused on the little bouquet of flowers she brought for you, picking at a petal here and there. Alexia watches your daughter for a moment, the girl’s calm focus oddly grounding. 

“She’ll need a lot of rest and minimal stress,” the doctor says, drawing Alexia’s attention back to him. “But it’s promising. Her physical recovery is progressing, and though her memory may take longer, familiar environments could help.”

Alexia nods, though the doctor’s words bring only partial relief. “I can make things as calm as possible for her at home,” she says, trying to avoid sounding like a child begging for a present she knows she will not receive. “We have spare rooms, and lots of pictures to look over. And she hates hospitals. You’re lucky to have her disorientated, else she’d be kicking up a big fuss.”

The doctor lets out a tired laugh, but makes no attempt to agree that you haven’t made his life slightly more difficult than it needed to be already. “It will be an adjustment for everyone, but it is important that you are looking after yourself too.” 

Alexia’s gaze drifts back to the door of your room, and she swallows hard, steeling herself. The doctor’s words linger but they do nothing to curb her determination. She would do anything for you, and if you fell for her once, you can fall for her again. 

After another quiet moment, the doctor pats her arm lightly. “Three days, then. We’ll make sure she’s as prepared as she can be.”

[eclipsen-smiles]

I doubt any of you want to know but I love talking about them so-

Eclipse’s version (I’ll do Chai’s on my art account.)

Any variation of “I’m fine” or “it’s fine”

Basically never. They’re/we’re SHIT at verbal affection.

Also practically never, unless around either their world’s family or the bloodpack.

Childcare.

Yes. They don’t think of anything. They just can. Their human form is small and pathetic looking, they use it for pity. (I do. I’m tiny. I look young. It’s so so so easy to get idiots in trouble.)

Favourite show: ever after high. They will never mention this. Ever.

Fuckshit. Probably. Or just “GET YO ASS OVER HERE.” With their gf…… the SpongeBob theme. Eclipse is still childish at heart.

There’s actually a list.

Nothing= anon

Friend= distant.

Name = talked once or twice.

Nickname= close

Hun/bud/pal/pet names= family or extremely close. Or if they’re concerned.

It depends on the situation. It’s a weird mix. They can be very rough, but they’re usually gentle at the same time.

Random facts about mental states. Usually things that make people feel better. (Ie; fun fact, you’re face is distorted through your eyes, so how you see yourself isn’t what other people see.)

Trust me. You’ll tell. (They’re already behind them.)

People being dumb. Or people trying to insult them. (Please. Try to. It’s hilarious.)

Always. I don’t think they know how to smile naturally at this point.

With their finger. Or hand.

Home: kinda dull, calm. Work: silent, disassociated. Friends: HYPER. ABABABA. MISCHIEF. PRANKS. alone: no facial expression.

Idiots.

Memories. Others, idk.

Luna. Believe it or not, but their version of lunar is almost MORE psychopathic than them…

Panic. Not because of the person, but because they’re trapped. (One, that shouldn’t be possible. two, agoraphobia.)

1:Unknown. 2: the astals. Specifically the higher ups.

Uhh.. eye contact, I guess. They’re fine with it, but they know others aren’t.

Hilariously, normal work hours. And taking breaks.

OHHH BOY LET ME TELL YOU- (reminder: luna is a ghost.)

Bold of you to assume they only took one.

Uhh.. random facts from plants and animals to history to cooking. They’re 600+, they’ve had a LOT OF FREETIME.

Laughter.

A “dont do drugs” pencil. Responded with heavy laughter.

A break. I pled the fifth (death.)

“Your funeral”

Heavily different because of the topic of their work. Personal= eh whatever. Work= oh fuck oh shit

.. seeing luna happy actually causes the most guilt.

MONEY PRINTING. WHO NEEDS A JOB WHEN YOURE GOD?

Silence and a glare

Family/not super close friends/people who look up to them: very calm but visibly happy. Close friends/people close to them/people who don’t necessarily hold them highly: ABBABABABABABAB

…so…many

Tartarus. “Can’t kill him yet. He still has use.” But DAMN DO THEY WANT TO. (Tar is a corrupt ass in their au btw.)

Actually nothing serious. Like… nothing. Besides secrets others have told them.

Hahehakfjkwnf. One that I have. Juggling.

Excluded. They hate having people include them just for pity. Though that’s if they know. (Same philosophy as me. Just being invited is enough. Even if I can’t come or I don’t have to actively participate.)

Depends. If the person looks annoyed it’s “what an ass.” If they look neutral or uncomfortable, it’s quickly “are they okay?” or “am I too imposing?”

Unknown at the moment.

Guilt and tragedy coping. Self explanatory

They’re quick to assume people being uncomfortable or afraid is because of them. They will not mention this.

Any. Since built in language processors, but probably Spanish since is such a direct translation language.

Shoes/socks in the house. What’s the fucking point. Take em off.

Listener. Make them talk? They’re autistic. You. Will. know.

EVERYONE FROM THIER ORIGINAL WORLD. EVERYONE. they either are still on the “glad they’re dead” bandwagon or the “holy shit he(moon) killed a mostly innocent dude.” Wagon.

Girlfriend. Friends. Family. Literally anyone they know. Hey, who coulda guessed, the person grappling with their past is a people pleaser!!

Nope. Politely decline

Hhhhhh….. past morals I guess? The old belief of corporeal punishment? (they don’t now.)

“Hun” when they’re concerned.

Self explanatory (mod is a lawyer…. Eclipse is at heart..)

The blood pack or their gf. (Too much shit has happened for them to NOT believe the pack. They’re safety is top priority)

Freeze to fight in normal situations. Straight to fight in dangerous situations. Freeze to “JEESUS” in safe situations.”

Destroying worlds. It’s their job, sure, but they’d much rather stop what’s CAUSING it.

Gf usually. But she’s back on the “hub world” so probably no one.

Eating. Sleeping. Drinking…. Self care.

ALL OF THEM.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

[starkeysprincess]

Duuuude ugh I thought about what it would look like with stepbro!rafe making you cum for the first time cause you told him you’d feel funny sometimes so you’d try to get off but then it felt like you had to pee and you’d stop and the innocence he’d get off on…

-like I can see him at the start of your fucked stepsibling relationship him just liking to grope and fondle you and then one day when he’s stressed he just needs something to smack and rough up so he calls for you “you gonna let me play with my favorite little ass?”

-once he has you over his lap spanking and gripping you while he watches TV, you’re getting wet and tell him you feel funny and never really felt what happened after cause you were scared and so he points out his bulge under your lower tummy “you did that sweet baby. get that empty head working and see if you can figure out what you need” and before you know it he’s helping you grind on his lap, talking you through it, praising and degrading you until you finally feel your first orgasm. “You wanna feel that again, you come to me, I’ll take care of you, princess, but head upstairs, now I gotta show you how to take care of me for being such a good big brother”

warnings: stepcest, spanking, dry humping, reader is 18+

he practically uses your ass like a stress ball, whether squeezing and kneading the fatty flesh or giving it a harsh smack whenever you’re nearby; he just can’t help himself, especially when he was under immense stress. "rafey?" your voice called out, entering his bedroom when you heard him call your name. his hand encircled your wrist, pulling you further into his room, and locked the door.

"what's wrong?" you frowned, noticing the distressed look on his face. "nothing your pretty little head needs to worry about, alright? i'm just stressed, s'all," your stepbrother murmured.

"is there anything i could do to help?"

rafe didn't have to think twice at your question, "mhm, i have a whole lot of stress to relieve. you gonna let me play with my favorite little ass?". his fingers play with the ends of your hair, sensing your hesitation, “c’mon, princess. you wouldn’t want your stepbrother to be stressed, would you?” he faux pouted. you shook your head, "no, i wanna help you if i can.".

"yeah? you're such a good girl. always wanting to make me feel better, huh?" he licked his lips, sitting on the edge of his bed before pulling you to lay across his lap. his hand ran up the back of your thigh to the hem of your oversized shirt, pushing it till it bunched around your waist, revealing your perfectly plump ass.

“missed this sweet little ass,” he groaned, kneading the soft flesh. a small yelp slips from your lips when his large palm harshly lands on your ass, making your body jolt forward.

you could feel the band of his ring leaving an impression on your sensitive skin with each delivered smack. your skin felt hot, the stinging sensation slowly fading into pleasure as he alternated between slapping and massaging your red, swollen ass. you squirm in his lap, your panties soaked and sticking to your cunt. “what’s got you squirming, hm?” rafe teased, his hands gripping your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to see a wet patch seeping through the thin material.

“oh, you like this, huh? i could tell by how much of a mess you’re making, ruining these pretty little pink panties,” he chuckled. “rafe…” you whine, your cunt pulsing with need. he bucks his hip, his bulge pressing against your lower tummy, “feel that? s’all cause of you sweet girl. need you to get that pretty little head working and see if you can tell me what you need.”

“i-i don’t know,” you stammered, “you don’t know? you and i both know that’s a load of shit,” rafe tsks.

"guess i have to show you what you need then, huh?" he chuckles, pulling you up till you're straddling his lap. his hands find your hips, holding them steady as he guides you to rut against his lap. he grins to himself, licking his lips when he hears your breath hitch in your throat as his bulge grinds against your clothed cunt, "feels good, yeah?".

you nod weakly, burying your face into his shoulder, encouraging rafe to push and pull your hips back and forth. you press your face further into his shoulder, muffling the small moans that slip from your lips, "that's it, keep making those sounds. let me hear how good it feels," rafe cooed. his palms slide to your ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave bruises, his own hips bucking to meet each roll of your hips.

a sharp gasp erupts from your throat when your clit bumps where the tip of his cock rests, making your body squirm, and your hips start to roll against his. "there you go, just like that...show me how much of a desperate little slut you are," rafe groans, grinding himself harder against you, matching your rhythm.

"please..." you whine, trying to halt your movements as you feel an unfamiliar tightening in your lower belly. "shh, just let it happen, sweet girl. s'okay, i got you," rafe reassures, his grip on your hips tightening.

rafe buries his face into the side of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, “c’mon, baby. cum f’me, want you to show me how much you need me.”. you cry out against his shoulder, your cunt clenches around nothing as your orgasm washes over you.

your body slumps forward into his chest, your breath tickling his neck as you pant for air. rafe's thumbs rubbed soothing circles onto your hips, “good girl, you did so good.".

"hey, look at me," he rasps, his hand intertwining in your hair, pulling your head back to make you look at him. "if you ever wanna feel that again, you come to me, understand? i'll take care of you, okay?" he brushed your hair out of your face.

"okay," you whisper, nodding in response. "good...now i gotta show you how to take care of me for being such a good big brother. can you do that for me?" .

[kurthorton-moving]

thinking ab all the little things kurt does that no one would really consider self harm in a normal everyday situation but that when it comes to kurt are Bad Signs and are ways for him to inflict suffering on himself and are proof of his mental state being bad

[nemkero]

atla au but nothing changes except sokka is taller and zuko is shorter

[randsomhogue]

THIS. SO MUCH THIS. I have had friends try and explain to me that because of the biden-harris admin's handling of the israel and palestine conflict they felt obligated to abstain from voting. I had to restrain myself from going off on them, because their pointless display of puffing out their chest and showing how morally superior they are to the rest of us has not only royally fucked our country, but their shortsighted selfishness just got the rest of palestine killed. They got pissed when I brought up that by getting the man who was good personal friends with netanyahu elected, they are just as culpable for those deaths as he is. They tried to counter by saying the dems weren't doing anything anyway and there was no real interest in a ceasefire. To which I may have gone to far and said: No shit! No politician in history has ever given a shit about civilians dying in a country that wasn't their own. It was only through political pressure from the people and the press that any lives could be saved. But your display of self righteousness proved that you don't give a shit about palestinian lives either. The only thing that even remotely had a chance of saving lives in palestine was pressure from the american people, and now they are going to be too busy trying to survive that they won't have any time to try and create political pressure.

Minor rant over. Tl;dr not voting on principle was fucking stupid.

[pinacoladamatata]

blink and you'll miss it moments around skyhold....

[umbrellacam]

de-aged baby Tim but it happens during Prodigal when he and Dick still barely know each other and are supposed to be holding down the fort in Gotham by themselves and also Dick's life is already in extreme early 20s shambles

Dick!Bats:

Baby Robin!Tim (with oversized domino falling off his face): (burbles) Dbbb? BUH-MUH-MUH.

Dick!Bats:

Dick!Bats: nope nope nope nope NOPE

Huntress (rolling up warily): hey...Batman. what was that lightshow - oh, that is a baby.

Baby Robin!Tim (waving his hands delightedly): He-ba-ba!

Huntress: ...Heb-- wait a minute, is that Robin's uni--

Dick!Bats (bundling Tim and the Robin uniform into his own Bat cape and using his best Bat growl): the situation is under control, move along. (sweeps away)

---

Dick: (reading the manual to the new Batmobile to try and activate the baby carseat configuration that has to be in here somewhere, please god)

Tim: (yanks on the end of Dick's ponytail and sticks it in his mouth)

---

Dick: (standing in front of Drake Manor gearing up to hand baby Tim over to his actual family, thank fuck this will no longer be his problem--)

Dick: (remembers (a) Jack Drake is still in a wheelchair and (b) Tim laughingly telling him the funny family story of how Janet left Jack in charge of Tim for one (1) girls night when he was a year old and came back to diaper rash because he hadn't been changed in six hours, haha Dad was so embarrassed, like "so by every two hours you meant every--??")

Dick: y'know what I've helped babysit Lian how hard can this be

---

Dick (with formula in his hair, spit-up all over his shirt, juggling a red-faced wailing Tim and a corded phone held between his shoulder and his ear): ROY. ROY MAYDAY.