#(please no-one buy that ring if they see these tags & look it up

[playingplayer2]

I've had 4 hours (almost exactly ajejejzhhhhhndbiznskansbz) of sleep since around 4pm on Sunday... It's almost 6:30am on Tuesday. Please end me :)

[gamesetart]

sweet 'n easy

Art thought dating you would be enough. He's content to have your heart, wait until marriage to have your body, too. But it's proving really difficult when you look like that.

tags: art donaldson x fem! reader, open relationship, guided masterbation, reader's kind of messy in this one (corruption), religious themes/corruption of religious themes. nsfw. minors DNI.

a/n: this is part of what im referring to as the open relationship au and im more than expecting to write more about this dynamic! im also very open to suggestions about it

Art Donaldson is a Good Christian Boy. He's a good, smart young man. He wears his thin silver purity ring on his left ring finger. He wears a delicate silver cross on a chain around his neck. He used to sing in the church choir, and now he spends his Sundays volunteering with the children's sector and frequenting church picnics. If it wasn't for tennis, he'd probably be a priest.

You're not right for him, and he knows it. Guys like him aren't made to marry girls like you - girls with low-cut tops that show off the top hem of your lacy electric purple bra. Girls who wear low, low-cut jeans with your matching purple thong hanging out the back. Girls with butterfly-shaped tattoos hovering on your lower back. Girls who spend weekends drinking and clubbing and dancing with absolutely no room for Jesus.

But there's just something about you. Maybe it's your attitude, the way your hand flies up in class whenever you know the answer to a question, the way you speak, with such clarity, such conviction. Maybe it's the way you walk with your friends across campus, beautiful and assertive, a pack of wild hounds. You're terrifying to him. A force of nature, a thunderstorm. Art's managed to get caught up in your jet stream, but it doesn't mean he's any less scared of falling out. You and all your hot, brash, party-girl friends. You and the 'bitch pack', as some of his friends have taken to calling you and yours. The sorority girl, frat party, dim clubs, bitch pack. Girls like you don't give guys like him the time of day: you're too pretty, too powerful, far too high up on an entirely different social ladder.

But you're different. You're sweet. He's watched you stop to pet stray kittens. He's seen you volunteering to donate blood at the campus blood drives. He's seen you stop to help a girl pick up her books even though you were already late to class. He's seen your notes in his biology lecture, your cute, bubbled handwriting and your array of gel pens. He's seen you buy an extra coffee at the campus cafe for a friend. People contain multitudes, or whatever, right?

So maybe it's no surprise when you end up paired up on an assignment and you bring him back to your dorm room. Maybe he shouldn't have been so stunned by the boy band posters and the stacks of fantasy novels and the stuffed bear sitting on your bed. Maybe he shouldn't have been thrown off by your framed pictures - family, friends - and your collection of Beatles CDs. Just a girl. A normal, nice girl. Who lays out all her notes for him, glances up with a sweet smile, and asks,

"Where d'you wanna start?"

He didn't mean for it to go any further than that. For the study visits to start happening at night, after dinner. For you to start blowing off club nights to curl up on your plush blue shag carpet next to art, pointing out lines of text and highlighting things with a bright pink marker. For you to start eating with him at lunch, talking about your lecture, laughing over some stupid thing your professor said or did. For him to start seeing you, really seeing you, and liking that you saw him, too. It happened before he even registered it. Somewhere, somehow, Art Donaldson fell in love.

It's different than how he felt with Tashi. This isn't that painful, all-consuming desire to please, to have her notice him, the obsession with the idea of her and her tennis. This feels sweeter, kinder. This feels like what he used to read about: fireworks in his heartbeat, butterflies in his stomach, the giddy thrill of First Love. A slower, ennobling sort of love.

If he had it his way, he'd date you. Flowers. Expensive dinners by candlelight. Picnics. The works. Court you for the four years you were at Stanford together, then propose once you graduated. Spend a few years engaged so he could do his tennis, make a good amount of his own money. Save until he could plan a dream wedding. Honeymoon somewhere pretty and exotic, like Bali or Punta Cana. Then the country house and the kids, the white picket fence. Except, Art doesn't really ever get things his way, does he?

"I... I don't know," you say slowly, digging your heels into your carpet. You can't meet his sad blue eyes. You can't bear to. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. It feels alien, even in your head.

He stares at you, crestfallen. Your heart plummets and you race for an explanation, for some way to explain this without blaming him. Because it's not Art at fault, it's his Faith.

"It's not that I don't like you!" you scramble. "I do, really, Art, I do. I just... a girl has... needs, you know? There are things I'd want that I can't ask you to give me. Things I can't take from you."

You both know what it is. You'd never ask him to give up on or waver in his faith for you. Never. You like Art how he is. But you know you'd be wanting. You know you can't wait until your wedding night.

"I... I'm just not the dating type, Art," you explain mournfully. "And you don't want to date a girl like me, anyway, trust me. You deserve someone nice."

"But... you are nice," Art says, and he really does look like you've just torn his heart out and stomped on it. It's horrible. It's awful. And you feel like a monster for doing it, but what can you do?

He doesn't have a solution until a full week later. He pretends (to you, and himself) that he came up with it all on his own, when in reality it was Patrick's idea. Patrick's suggestion, murmured over the phone in cloying low tones, luring him in like sailor to siren, bee to honey, moth to flame. Art, for all his cleverness, for all his ability to read Patrick like a book, could not see it. He trusted Patrick. He should have, he's sent Patrick some of your pictures, talked about you endlessly. But Patrick was on tour, far, far away, where he could do no harm. And Patrick was taken, as he was so keen to remind Art all the time.

"She doesn't have to fuck you, man," Patrick muses. "Date her. Be her good boy, be her fuckin' sweetheart. She can get dicked down with someone else."

"You're suggesting my girlfriend cheat on me?" Art laughs, and even saying it, my girlfriend, even in hypothetical, makes his heart do a flip.

He can practically picture Patrick's face, screwed up with a mixture of pity and disdain. Poor Art. "Nah, man. I'm suggesting an open relationship, you know? Let her fuck who she wants, she's gonna come home to you."

The conviction in Patrick's voice makes Art's heart somersault. Because there's something about that idea that makes his pulse quicken. Patrick's right. You'll come home to him, your heart - the thing that really matters - will be his. He doesn't like the possessive thing that curls up in his chest and purrs at the idea. But he doesn't fight it.

"What if you didn't have to wait with me?" Art asks.

He's twirling a highlighter over his fingers. Cross-legged on your plush duvet, working at a piece of spearmint chewing gum. Gum you'd offered him, gum that you now kept a small stash of in your desk drawer for evenings just like this. The project you'd been paired up on was long over, the proud 96% sitting in your Stanford grading inbox. Now you're just regular homework buddies. Art sought you out for homework he missed because he was at practice and lecture notes he didn't get. You don't mind. You enjoy it, actually. You just wish you could give him more. Hate that you couldn't be what he deserved. It almost feels like leading him on, when he sits with you until the wee hours, sharing diagrams and passing your textbook back and forth. When he brings you your morning coffee before class, or you bring sandwiches and Gatorade to his practices.

Except now, apparently, he has a solution.

"What?" you ask, blinking at him. "What d'you mean?"

Art flushes. Soft pink. Mostly around the ears, you've noticed, red against the gentle gold of his curls. Evening rose.

"I mean, what if..." he looks away. "You know. You went out with me. Dated me. But you could... 'hook up' with other people when you needed to."

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. Art Donaldson. Is sitting on your bed, asking you for an open relationship? Are you dreaming? Has the world suddenly gone mad? Did you go to bed last night and wake up in an alternate dimesion?

"You... are you suggesting... what I think you're suggesting?" you ask faintly.

He nods, ears burning a truly impressive shade of crimson. You suppose you should be flattered, really, the lengths he's going to date you. Most guys would have given up by now, egos bruised, feelings hurt, hearts shattered. And with most guys, you would have been firmer, clearer, colder. Meaner. But Art isn't most guys. Art is sweet.

"I-- shit, Art, wouldn't you rather just date some other girl like you?" you say helplessly.

"I don't want another girl, I want you," he replies plainly. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like there's no other answer.

And that's all it takes for you to agree. It's impossible to say no to those baby doll eyes. The two of you set ground rules - you don't tell him who or where or how, just that it happened. He doesn't ask you any questions. No one leaves you any marks. Immediate friends, such as Art's tennis circle and his church friends, are off limits. And that's that. He's your boyfriend now.

Art thought it would suffice. He likes being with you. Holding your hand while you walk to class. Seeing you in the stands when he plays a match. Chaste little pecks here and there. But you're like a pit of quicksand, a hurricane. You draw him in quicker than he thought possible, and now he can't breathe, can't think, can't move. The corruption is slow, certain, and inescapable.

He starts to find himself wanting more.

A kiss in his dorm room that deepens instead of stops, one hand cupping your jaw, the other floating to rest on the small of your back, above the waist of your low jeans, on the warm, bare skin there. A glance that feels more than affectionate, his eyes roving over your collarbone, the glint of your skin in the sun, the line of your bra beneath your sheer, tight shirt. He sees you smile at another guy and a hot flash of jealousy surges through him as he wonders if this is one of the guys you're fucking, if that guy, that random piece of shit, gets to touch you, see you, feel you. He tamps it down, and it feels too little, too late.

You'd be a fool not to notice. Stupid, not to feel the press of his hard-on when he hugs you from behind. Not to sense the shift in the way he kisses you, tongue slipping past your lips, hands sliding down further than they usually do. He plays it off, always. An accident. The heat of the moment. But you know. And because you're weak, because you're a terrible person, because ruining Art Donaldson is the most beautiful thing to ever happen to you, you let him.

"Art, do you ever touch yourself?"

He falls off his chair in his hurry to spin around and look at you. From the floor of your dorm, he stares with wide blue eyes and pink cheeks. "Wha--"

You shrug. "You know. Do you ever..." you make a crude gesture with your hand, and he buries his face up to his nose in his collar.

"No," he says, muffled into his tee shirt. "It's sinful."

It takes every fibre of your being not to laugh. He's so precious, so pure, sometimes you wonder why a guy like him could ever be interested in you at all. Your looks are one thing - you know you're hot. But Art likes you. He likes you even when he can't fuck you. He liked you even when you told him you wouldn't date him. He likes you because you're you. Which makes you feel a little shitty about what you do next, but you can't help it.

"So, what, when you're hard, what do you do?" you press casually. "Send up a Hail Mary and wait?"

Art's ears, which peek out over his shirt collar, are so red they could have been on fire. He shakes his head, a little frantically. He flushes easily, you notice, blood flowing quickly whenever he's even mildly embarrassed. It conjures images of his cock, whatever it might look like, red and aching with need. And you feel a lot less bad, the mental image of Art's dick fuelling the way you lean over, sliding off your chair to join him on the floor. You kneel, hands resting on your knees, and you know he's getting an eyeful of your tits. You keep your eyes on his face.

"Show me," you murmur. "I won't touch you. I won't even touch myself. I just wanna see."

He stares at you like you've asked him for his social security number and all his credit card info. Which, honestly, he probably would have given up a little easier. And you're an awful person, because you know the effect you've had on him, especially these days, you know that Art will probably do anything you ask of him, just for the pleasure of pleasing you.

"Please?" you wheedle, cocking your head to one side lightly, staring up at him through your lashes.

And, really, how could he say no to that?

"I-- okay," he says, and he tries to pretend like he's relenting a lot more than he actually is. Pretends like he's doing you a huge favour, as if his cock isn't straining at the mere idea.

Art doesn't jerk off often. He's only ever used his hand once - the single time Patrick showed him. After that, he'd cried in the bathroom and washed his hands so many times he got a contact allergy. But he's figured out an alternative. One that doesn't involve him touching himself at all. So he slides off his sweats, all too aware of your steady eyes on him. You look at him like you've never seen legs before, as if you haven't seen him at a thousand practices. You look at him like you want to eat him.

He tries to tell himself that's not what's making his cock throb in his boxers. He keeps those on, more for his sake than yours.

"You can lie on my bed," you offer innocently.

Art almost moans. Because it's your bed. Because it's yours, and when he lies down it's almost like lying with you. When he buries his face in the pillow, he can smell you, your vanilla and roses body wash, and, beneath it, the gentle smell of you. It's your sheets he starts to cant into, hips rolling in a familiar motion as he starts to work away the desperate pressure in his cock. It's your pillow he bites in a futile attempt to muffle his moans. And when he looks up, eyes half-lidded, he can see you watching him. You're biting your lip, looking flustered, and it's the cutest he's ever seen you, and he moans your name without meaning you.

You keep your promise, hands folded neatly in you lap as you watch Art rut into your bed like a wild animal, like he's in fucking heat, like your sheets are a person and he's fucking it. Like your sheets are you, you realise, as his eyes meet yours and he whines your name. He's pretending he's fucking you. It's hard not to give up and shove one hand into your panties, but for his sake, you try. Art's moans are almost musical, and with a sharp slap of embarrassment, you're reminded of the sounds he makes when he hits the ball at practice. The same whining grunts of exertion, except now they're fuelled by pleasure, spurred on by the desperate grind of his hips into your sheets, not a fucking tennis ball.

"Oh, oh, fuck," Art's voice gets a little higher. "Oh, fuck, it's so good--"

You can feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you shift slightly. His movements grow a little more erratic, hands balling up into white-knuckled fists into the soft fabric of your sheets. You drink it all in while you can - his ears are red, his cheeks are pink. You follow the curve of his ass in his boxers. You stare at the muscles in his thighs. The bones of his hips.

Art gets breathy when he's about to cum. Breathy, very whiny, almost crying if you're being honest. You file that information away for later.

"Please, please, can I?" he gasps, staring up at you with pupils blown wide with lust. "Can I cum, please, fuck, need it, need it-- you-- fuck, please?"

It's surprising he can even string together a full sentence. "Of course, baby," you murmur, already resolved to not changing your sheets until after you've cum in them too.

Another nugget of information: Art favours a deep grind when he cums, like he's looking for a place to put it, to bury it, looking to breed, to mark, to keep. The sight of him pushing his hips as far into your mattress as he can before he cums, a cry of your name and a shuddering breath slipping from his lips, will probably fuel your nighttime ventures for the next few weeks. You'll use it when you find your next hook up, it'll probably send you right over the edge.

You don't know when you started thinking of Art while you fucked other guys. You just know that now, it's tricky to get off without it. It's hard enough biting your tongue so you avoid saying his name. Now, you'll have the image of his face when he cums locked in your brain forever.

"Shit," Art curses, still breathless, sitting up to examine the sticky mess soaking from the front of his gingham boxers, all the way into your sheets. "Sorry."

You just shake your head. "Don't worry about it. That was... really hot. That's actually how you get yourself off?"

He nods, embarrassed. When he shuffles off to shower, borrowing your shower caddy and a towel, you wait until your door click, and then you practically rip open your nightstand. It takes less than ten minutes with a vibrator and the memory of Art's voice moaning your name for you to add your cum to his. You imagine his hips fucking into you, not your sheets. You imagine pulling his stupid fucking purity ring off and wearing it like some fucked-up engagement ring. His hands are so big, you'd probably have to wear it on your thumb. His hands. You imagine them grabbing you, holding you, sliding up your skin. You wonder what it would be like to have him revere you, not his God. Worship you. You want him to, you think. The idea of him shattering every promise he's ever made, just to be inside you? It sends you over the edge with a muffled cry of his name.

It's that feeling, that messy need for him, that drives you to that frat party. You told him, obviously, and while he seemed sort of put-off when you mentioned you were probably going to sleep with someone, he told you it was okay. Told you to be safe.

You wish you could tell him, but you're worried it'll scare him off. Don't worry, Art, every guy I fuck, I pretend he's you. And now I'll have the knowledge of exactly what you look and sound like when you cum to help me out! Not exactly girlfriend material.

Still, you're thinking of Art when your eyes land on a boy playing beer pong. He's tall, all messy black curls and tanned skin. Handsome, too, if you're being honest, in a messy, frat boy-y kind of way. Hook up hot. You're thinking of Art when he waves you over, holding up a beer like it's a peace offering. You're thinking of Art when you give him your name and ask for his.

"Patrick," he tells you easily. "Patrick Zweig."

[raitonsfw]

𝟸𝟻𝟶 𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 ꨄ

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Gojo was a big fucking spender, whether you liked it or not. Almost every clothing item he owned ranged well over the price of 150 000 yen, even his shoes; sometimes those were more expensive. Coming home one day from work, there’s a pink gift bag (complete with a lil bow and all) sitting pretty on the ottoman for you. As you opened it, black expensive lace peeked back at you and so did the price, zeros going on for miles on the tiny tag.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, boyfriend!gojo, rich!gojo, dirty talk, lingerie (and the tearing of it), grinding (if you squint), fingering, cunnilingus, slight breeding kink, p in v intercourse, creampie, insecurity (about how much gojo spends), corny pick up lines, sayings, & jokes, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, pretty, princess, good girl), lovedrunk, feral, & pussywhipped gojo (man loves you, would hang the moon for you fr), a surprise near the end (i said he loves you goddammit)

a/n: happy february 1st (finally can say it without the queue messing up my schedule) anyway, here's my second valentine for you loves! i hope you enjoy, until next week! 💌 wc: 3.4k. v-day m.list | m.list

a/n pt 2: p.s. i'm such a sucker for writing gojo kinda cringey. alsoo its not my best work but i did what i could!

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

Coming home was the biggest mistake you had made in your entire life, because what the fuck was this? Your fingers held up a piece of lace material, black in color and you puzzled at it as you noticed that the lingerie piece barely looked as though it’d cover anything; thanks to your million dollar boyfriend.

“It’s gorgeous, huh?” You heard his promiscuous voice ring out through the living room at just the right time, when your voice cursed him to the high heavens. You nearly jumped out of your skin, the lingerie falling near your feet and you turned quickly to face him, his hip popped against the doorframe.

“Satoru!” Your face was bright red, the blush spreading down your neck and you hid your face underneath your sweatshirt sleeve with a scowl. Gojo was in his usual sorcerer uniform, complete with the black blindfold covering the vivid blue and you still tried to shy away from him even though you knew you couldn’t. Not when his eyes saw all, saw the way yours glistened at the thoughtful gift.

“Hey sweetheart. Like the gift?” 

“I told you not to buy me any more lingerie…” You huffed, glancing at the tag as you went to put the set back in the bag. There was an infinite amount of zeroes littering the price tag and you almost dropped the lingerie piece again– in utter shock that the fucking price was over 250,000 yen. “Oh my God…”

“Oh, please. I know you, you don’t wear lingerie sets more than twice. And last time I checked, I tore the last one.” He smirked, walking towards you with a tiny skip in his step and your hands trembled as you smoothed the lace over with your delicate fingers. “Besides, your favorite store was having a Valentine’s Day sale and I just had to have you in that.” 

Right, it was Valentine’s Day soon. 

“A sale?! This doesn’t look like a price tag for a sale. More like someone’s monthly rent, -toru.” You frowned, feeling Gojo’s strong arms fold underneath your waist and he took the fabric in his hands. Unfurling it from its tangled confines, he draped it over you with a gentle hum of a tune evading your surroundings.

“Hold it like that for me.” Gojo murmured as he stepped around you, standing in front of you while checking behind him as he backed up slightly. He focused on you, his fingers coming up to ‘snap a picture’ and you blushed profusely when you saw the dopey smile that mustered up on his face. Your blush turned into another scowl though as you remembered the price of it, how could he just spend money so fruitlessly?

Gojo lifted his blindfold for a few seconds to glance at your figure; you could see the gears turning in his head and you wouldn’t be very surprised if he sprouted an erection right then and there. But he also noticed your glowering eyes and his lighthearted demeanor faded away, a worried look washing over his face.

“What’re mad for, baby? I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to spoil you.” 

“You spend so much on me, I’m not worth that much.” You muttered, starting to fold the lingerie set to put it back in the bag; away and out of sight from you.

You usually liked Gojo’s sweet gestures, gifts piled at your doorstep like it was Christmas every month normally but this time it just seemed a bit out of place– you knew him to flaunt his wealth alot but this? He’s never gotten you something so expensive. You couldn’t accept such a generous gift that would be soiled within minutes of wearing it.

“Excuse me? Where’d you learn that crazy talk from?” Gojo said with an exasperated gasp, coming to embrace you and you didn’t answer him as he pulled you close. His hands feathered through your hair and honestly you couldn’t breath through the fabric of his jacket, the turtleneck part of it threatening to strangle you as he squeezed himself around you in a tight hug.

“Don’t ever think that! I would buy the world for you if I could manage to fit it inside a gift box.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh into his chest, his words souring after they sat for a minute. “That was so cringey, Satoru.” 

“You still love me though, perks of being me… I think?” Gojo let go of you, holding you by your shoulders now and you reached up to slip his blindfold fully off. He blinked through the dimness of the apartment, his eyes fixating on you once more. 

There was something that just made you feel so in love with him, everytime you managed to zero in on those hypnotic eyes of his– almost every bad thought melted away and yeah, you were definitely overreacting. 

Let the man spoil you, if he so wishes.

“Yes, I still love you.” You fonded, planting a luscious kiss against his lips and he had no qualms, his mouth instantly moving against you eagerly. Gojo softly moaned into the kiss, one of his hands snaking down your back towards your ass and you squeaked out as he gave you a tiny swat against the plushness of it.

“Great, now go try on the lingerie.” Thrusting the bag back into your hands, he grinned at you and there was no way in hell you could deny him– not with the way he looked, so ecstatic to see you in the precious lace garments he bought you.

Putting it on wasn’t much of a struggle, it fit you nicely in all the right places. The full length mirror did you just enough justice, staring back at a body that had devious curves and everything in between the skimpy lace that barely covered your intimates. You weren't all that self conscious, though you weren’t sure what you’d do once you were in front of Gojo. Where would he look first? 

Would his eyes lay against your breasts that bobbed in the lace, perched up prettily or would they drag to your soft thighs, cuffed in the garter belt holding up the thigh highs that accented the set? Would they focus on your mound and in the middle, your drenched pussy staining the thin fabric or would he drool over everything all at once? 

“Baby… Are you done yet? I’m getting lonely.” You heard him mewl outside the door, a soft tap from his knuckle echoing through the bathroom and you nodded to yourself, adjusting little bits and pieces of the thread to make sure it sat perfectly for him. 

You paused with your hand on the doorknob. Why were you so goddamn nervous? 

“You have it on? C’mon, let me see already.” 

As you opened the door, Gojo wasn’t in front of it anymore. Instead, he was seated on the lavish sofa that met in the center of the room, his head lying lazily against the back of it with his arms extended. His thighs were spread apart on the cushions, his legs folding outwards and you could already see a lush bulge in his trousers, peaked with interest as he waited impatiently for you. You wanted to skip the shame of twirling for him and just sit yourself right against it, sit yourself down on it and just–

Gojo’s head snapped up– he must’ve sensed you– and his bright eyes zeroed in on your face first. Then they trailed down towards your body, drinking in the adorned curves of the lingerie on you and his mouth fell open in a quiet sigh. “Y/N…” 

You walked towards him, a small sway to your step and his hands pressed down against the sofa as you neared him. They nearly white knuckled it, his mouth still open and his eyes flickering over every crevice of the threads decorating you– his knees had quickly pressed together and you’ve never seen him so flustered in your entire life. Sure, you’ve modeled for him here and there with other gorgeous sets; but this was different. 

Was this your Satoru? The ego induced maniac who could and would knock you off your feet with a single flirtatious remark? It was refreshing to see him like this– reduced to nothing but boyish clouded lust.

“You going to say something other than my name, baby?” You asked, pureness reining your voice and you purred inwardly when he was still speechless. You eyed at the seam of his trousers, noticing the way it tented up considerably just from a few seconds of gazing you over. “Satoru?” 

“Hi, yes sorry. Come here.” Gojo’s hand faltered slightly as he reached for you and you happily obliged, straddling his lap. A low hum escaped him as you sat flush with his clothed cock against your heat, his legs spreading apart again to let you sink down onto him comfortably. “Holy hell, is this heaven ‘cause you look like–” 

“So help me if you finish that sentence, I’ll take this off.” You interrupted, getting ready to move off of him but his hands grasped your hips greedily. 

“That’s what I’m hoping for, angel.” A naughty grin crept up on his face as he pulled you into a warm kiss. Yeah, it’s definitely your Satoru.

His tongue slid past your lips easily and his eyes slipped shut, drawing you closer to him– faintly aware of the slickness that roughed up his trousers. You bit his lip seductively and a startled moan spilled into your mouth heavily, his hips subtly rocking up into you. It was needy and desperate and everything you ever wanted to hear and feel from him, because of course he was already riled up– just look at you.

His fingers looped inside the lace of your panties, rubbing his fingertips against the seams of it and you hummed as they curved towards the where you needed it most. His other hand fondled your breast, the flesh of it spilling out over the cups and all he wanted to do was press a tender kiss to your nipple, sucking it in between his teeth to nip and tug til it reddened with overstimulation. 

“Are you going to touch me or…” You shook him from his daze, earning a sarcastic snort from him.

You moaned quietly as his hand immediately slipped underneath the fabric, toying with your nipple until it hardened and a gentle finger swiped through the slick that collected inside your panties. He tsked, “Already ruining the lace, so filthy…” 

You let out a tiny huff, intending to apologize when two of his fingers sunk through your arousal and you leaned into him with a whimper. Gojo didn't hesitate to mark up your neck as soon as you moved forward, his teeth grazing alongside the nasty bruises and your hips jutted out as he expertly curled his digits into you. You whined into his ear– a glorious symphony if he must say so himself– and his thumb pressed into the swell of your clit. Sucking a languid hickey against the near front of your neck, he noticed you had started to move against him– fucking your perfect cunt down onto his pliant fingers.

Every roll of your hips, his cock got some action as well; as your clit rubbed against the tip of his cock that threatened to burst out of his trousers now. Holy fuck, he was straining too– he knew you could feel it as you sat right against it. He was losing his train of thought more and more by the second as you panted out, he needed more– so much more, his dick was nearly crying as it leaked out tiny droplets of precum in his boxers. If you weren’t so lost in pleasure at the moment, you would’ve noticed the small wet spot forming in the fabric– his jujutsu uniform’s probably going to need to be dry cleaned.

He would finish his pick up line if he could speak, his voice not quite there anymore– you looked like a heaven sent angel veiled in the lingerie of a hell spawned devil. 

From his angle, Gojo could see the swell of your ass lightly jiggling, the lace barely covering it and the flesh of your thighs sat beautifully against his own and honestly he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you, his vision blackening with lust as you worked yourself fully open on his fingers now. His cock ached so fucking badly and he vaguely noted to get you crotchless lingerie next time so he could just slide right in without needing to fumble with the weird straps. 

When your breath hitched in your throat as your clit spasming directly against the frenulum of his cock, his tip desperately trying to dip into the lace through his thick fucking clothing– he lost it.

“Fuck it…” You heard him growl against your laced breast as he popped it out of its cup, the entire bralette tearing on impact. You gasped at the ripping sound, but you were too delirious to scold him as his fingers started fucking faster into you to keep you quiet about the torn lingerie. Gojo snagged your nipple in his mouth with a frantic moan, his fingers coated with slick as he pulled them out quickly to tear off your panties. They shedded easily and you were left with remnants of lace pristine against your body, another gasp coming from you as you realized what he did.

“-toru, what are you–?!” 

Before you could finish your sentence, your entire figure was thrown against the cushions of the sofa and his shirt and trousers were stripped from his body. His eyes were trained on your ripped lingerie and you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on in his head until he yanked the rest of it off, excluding your thigh highs. And now you were exposed in front of him and he was out 250,000 yen; because he just couldn’t keep his composure.

“I’ll buy you another set, I swear– though I can’t guarantee it’ll survive…” Gojo said under his breath, planting kisses down the span of your chest. He trailed them towards your tummy, innate circles rubbing into your hips and he shuddered at how the garter belt sat snug against your waist– and how easy it was to tear off, his teeth latching on it with fervor. You gasped as you felt the band snap, your thigh highs falling  down slightly where they sat as they were no longer held up by the precious lace. 

He grabbed the extra lace from his mouth and threw it somewhere across the room, his tongue immediately delving into your tight heat. A broken whine was coaxed from your throat as he fucked it in and out needily, quiet pants breathing over your cunt. Gojo’s hands grabbed at your thighs, pressing his nose straight into your clit as he lapped at everything he could reach and you couldn’t help the wanton moans that leaked from your mouth, your hands grasping at his snowy hair.

He was downright animalistic at this point. You carved his shoulder blades with your nails, desperate for him to drive you over the edge; your impending orgasm making your legs tremble. “Satoru, shit– c-close…”

“C’mon, cum for me, pretty.” He murmured into your cunt, slightly muffled and you keened up into his mouth– ultimately fucking yourself on his tongue. And God, did he groan at that; his hums of utter satisfaction basically sent you spasming through your climax. Your hands flew to the edge of the sofa, clutching tightly as you rolled your hips into the insane pleasure– into his mouth that lapped up every drool of arousal that leaked out from your convulsions. He was vain with it too, looping out his fucking name against your folds to claim you as you whimpered his name.

“T-Take me with you to shop next time.” You managed out as you sat up on your elbows, looking down at him while you came down from your high. “I’ll decide what you can and can’t rip.” 

Gojo tutted out a laugh, coming up to hover over you– his chin glinted with your juices and you reddened at the sight of how goddamn needy you were. “Fine, baby– now arch your back f’ me.”

His cock prodded your entrance, slender fingers wrapped around the base of it as he guided it into you greedily and you threw your head back against the arm of the sofa with a whine. You did exactly as he said; you arched your back into the intoxicating pleasure, his cock stretching you out and filling every bit of space you could give him. He fit perfectly within you everytime, which made you dizzy with lust as you hooked one hand around the back of his neck.

“Always take me so well, princess.” Gojo purred, not bothering to let you adjust as he started to snap his hips into you. “Fits like a glove, huh?” 

You were so sore already– from the last orgasm wreaking havoc– but you couldn’t get enough of his long cock drilling into you, every thrust kissing your cervix and making your walls clench around him with whimpers drowning out the riveting squelches. You managed to look up at him, his fingertips nudging into the plush of your thighs, against the sleek material of your thigh highs and you knew he wasn’t going to last very long. 

His eyes were already rolling back into his head at every fill of his cock dragging against your walls, his jaw slack and you were surprised at how pussy whipped he was– normally he’d watch you religiously writhe underneath him. His hair was disheveled as he ran his hand through it before frantically gripping your thigh again, panting out curses and you inadvertently squeezed hard around him at the action with a high pitched moan. 

“Oh– fuck, holy shit..! Keep squeezing me like that, we’re g-gonna have to go shopping–” Gojo groaned out, his cock pounding into you harder now, pleasure coursing through your entire body as he hit your sweet spot dead on. 

“F-For more lingerie?” 

“No, for a fucking crib.”

“Fuck, Satoru– faster.” You whined out, completely obsessed with the thought and you felt your second climax tremble through your thighs, straight towards the throbbing of your cunt. ‘Cum in me, -toru…please.”

Gojo didn’t answer you, too wrapped up in your pretty pussy with hefty moans pouring out of him and his fingers slipped down towards your clit. He rubbed circles against it, interchanging his angle to fuck you deeper, faster– and you could feel how close you were.

“Got another surprise for you on Valentine’s Day, baby…” He started babbling, his chest rising and falling as he rutted into you. His eyes slipped from his cock, creamy and wet from your arousal, to your eyes now. “Involves a little jewelry piece, think you’ll love it… Think you’ll love me even more.” 

You didn’t hear him though, too caught up in your release caving in every sense you had and replacing them with pure euphoria. You couldn’t fucking see, hear, even think as it overtook your body. You came so hard around his cock, clenching and unclenching which brought Gojo to his own release rather quickly. He stilled in you with a harsh whine and his eyes squeezed shut as he came in you, white ropes leaking out rather abruptly. 

He repeated soft praises like ‘good girl, take it all…’ and ‘gonna make sure none drools outta you, so good for me’ a few times in a needy tone, collapsing against your chest afterwards. Gojo buried his face into your neck, smoothing his hands over the thigh highs you had on. 

“I’m so sorry about the lingerie, Y/N…” He apologized, his eyes glancing up towards yours as he moved over to litter kisses on your cheek. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, I promise. You’ll pick out your Valentine’s Day lingerie set and I’ll watch you model it for me–”

You interrupt him with a soft kiss, humming against his lips. “It wasn’t my money, it was yours, you idiot.”

Gojo blinked at you, then a mischievous look crossed his face. “How about a nice pink set this time? Frilly, rose hearts covering your perky nipples and–” 

“Satoru.”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ red, orange and white (smau) ੈ✩

pairing :carlos sainz x fem reader ( piastri best friend )

summary : the admin is confused whether to support red, orange or white

fc: Thylane Léna-Rose Loubry Blondeau

a/n : This is a series, let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts ! it was requested anonymously, thank you for requesting it 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,399,278 others

mclaren to have someone look at me like lando looks at the trophy, LANDO NORRIS WINS THE DUTCH GRAND PRIX 2024

view comments

user1 the caption got real chat

user2 admin, we need to talk, YOU DO NOT EXPOSE ME LIFE LIKE THAT

mclaren oops 😬

user3 LETS GO LANDO

user4 admin, can we get more pics of Lando and the trophy ?

mclaren anything for my fans ~ lando

user5 who is the admin!?

user6 @ mcynburger, it’s private tho

user7 the username 🌝

user8 the whole grid follows her 🗿

user9 she is pretty popular with the fans as well, she joined the same year as Oscar, they are besties

user10 friend goals 💪🏻

user11 admin, will you make your acct public ?

mclaren can’t take away all the attention from little lando and oscar

user12 WHA-

user13 I can smell tea ☕️

oscarpiastri Admin, this a professional account, meet me and I will show you who’s little

mclaren chat, things got serious

user14 COMING TO HELP YOU ADMIN

landonorris aren’t you supposed to be Oscar’s best friend y/n?

mclaren who is that ? It’s just admin here

user15 not lando exposing her

user16 I wonder how Zak feels after seeing his company account used for bestie fighting 🫶🏻💀

liked by ospastry, chillijr, hamsandwich and 178 more

mcynburger mama @ lilyz and papa @ ospastry please buy brother a shirt

view comments

norizz you are just jealous of my muscles

mcynburger shirtless picture coming up

ospastry Y/N NO! LANDO CAN YOU NOT !? Y/N STOP DOING SHIT THINGS AND NO NUDE PICTURES FOR GODS SAKE !

chillijr blonde really suits you !

mcynburger thank you so much Carlos 🧡🫶🏻

lordperceval lando, mate you just got lucky 🫷🏻

mcynburger YOU DID NOT JUST -

norizz bury your grave mate

lordperceval what-

mcynburger WE STAFF WORK SO HARD TO GET THE BEST CAR, AND YOU CALL IT LUCK !? THE engineers WORK THEIR BRAIN OFF, THE PR’S MANAGE ALL THE SPONSORS, THE finance TEAM MAINTAINS THE BUDGET AND THE SOCISL ADMINS ENSURE THAT THE FANS GET JOY AND YOU CALL IT LUCK !?

lordperceval o my lord, I am extremely sorry

mcynburger wait, till I post a Ferrari hate post in the official account

hamsandwich please don’t hate Ferrari 👍

mcynburger only because the goat it going to Ferrari 😤

chillijr my unemployment ?

albono hellooo!?

chillijr forgot I joined Williams

mcynburger it’s ok, I will post a william love post because Carlos is going there 🫶🏻

liked by chillijr, alexmieux, ospastry and 247 others

mcynburger hate the tifosi driver, not the tifosi red

view comments

chillijr me too hermosa?

mcynburger YOU ARE NOT TIFOSI ANYMORE 🫶🏻😤 I will never stop loving you 💪🏻

ospastry can you like stop romancing him ?

mcynburger stawp, I need to find a date to go for your’s and lily’s wedding

lilyz aww, Oscar is all giggly now

mcynburger send pics * money on the way *

lilyz I would never - * sent *

ospastry I have said it hundred times, STOP STEALING LILY

mcynburger my ring finger is for lily, middle one is for you

norizz index for me ?

mcynburger how does the index even work ?

norizz number 1?

mcynburger number 1 what ?

maxtheax driver? No.

hamsandwich fashion sense ? No.

ospastry best friend ? HELL NO.

georgie British accent ? No.

chillijr romantic? No.

norizz I AM BRITISH 🙄

mcynburger ok stop, no one bullies norris and oscie if it ain’t me 😗

alexmieux you look hot

mcynburger out of context but not more than you

lordperceval my gf is the hottest

albono 👀

max1 👀

mcynburger NOT ANOTHER FIGHT

mcynburger ALL GIRLIES ARE HOT, MEN ARE EW ( EXCEPT OSCIE AND CARLOS )

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,484,389 others

mclaren the end of this season is sneaking up like the third pic 😮‍💨 8 more races before the constructors 🧡

view comments

user1 admin favours Oscar 💀

user2 well, she is his best friend ?

user1 huh?

user2 he said in an interview, his best friend joined mclaren because of him

user3 a girl bestie ?

user4 RED FLAG OSCAR

user5 can you guys let one couple of friends stay sane ? not all men cheat with the girl bf

user6 I think Oscar should be the worried one because y/n is always after lily

user7 Zak will cut her salary after the last pic 💀

mclaren I got a bonus 🧡

user8 ADMIN, MORE LANCAR CONTENT

mclaren done, your majesty 🫡

taglist : @sainzzreputaticn @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @goldenmclaren

@taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @formula1-motogpfan @npcmia @hc-dutch

@nuccibeboo2 @amberjazmyn @nataylia-f1 @fastfactory @sltwins @hoeforlifee

@scarletwidow3000 @kissesandmartinis @d3kstar @mayusaatma @willowsnook

@forza-dolce

[deliciousangelfestival]

Another Ending - 1 | Bucky Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The weight of the assassin's body presses down on you, pinning you to the ground as his sword hovers dangerously close to your throat. Every muscle in your arms strains as you hold your gun up, barely keeping the blade away from your neck.

The cold metal of the sword gleams under the dim light, a stark reminder of how close you are to death. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, are unreadable, but you can feel the murderous intent radiating from him.

Sweat drips down your forehead, mixing with the dirt and blood on your face as you grit your teeth. With every ounce of strength, you manage to growl, "You're dead to me."

For a split second, you see it—hesitation. The assassin’s grip falters, his focus wavering. That’s all you need. With a desperate shove, you push him off, the sword sliding away from your neck as you scramble to your feet. Your heart pounds in your chest as adrenaline takes over, and you start running, not daring to look back.

The echoes of your past, the regrets, and the pain are left behind as you sprint away. You know that you’ve bought yourself only a few precious seconds, but at this moment, it’s enough. You leave the assassin behind, along with everything that once bound you.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

The lodge is warm and inviting, nestled comfortably by the edge of a tranquil lake. Large windows allow sunlight to pour in, casting a golden glow across the rustic wooden floors. The living room is cozy, with a soft, earth-toned sofa positioned near a stone fireplace. You push the sofa slightly, adjusting its angle to better face the window, where the view of the lake creates a peaceful backdrop.

As you finish, the sound of the doorbell rings through the house. You straighten up, smoothing a hand over your clothes before heading to the door. When you open it, a smile crosses your face.

Standing there is Lori Grant, your niece. She’s dressed in a green shirt and black pants, her short hair with bangs framing her face beneath thick glasses. A pink backpack is slung over one shoulder, and she’s dragging a suitcase that looks far too big for her small frame.

“Hello, Aunty,” Lori greets you, her voice bright with excitement.

“Where’s your mom?” you ask, glancing past her.

“She just left,” Lori replies, stepping inside and immediately struggling with the weight of her suitcase. She lets out a frustrated “Ugh” as it catches on the doorstep.

You can’t help but chuckle softly. “Let me help you with that.” Gripping the handle, you lift the suitcase easily, though you wonder why a 13-year-old needs so much luggage.

As you bring the suitcase inside, you ask, “Are you hungry? I bought some tofu for you.” Your older sister’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you of the strict health-conscious diet she keeps Lori on. She’s made a name for herself online with her healthy recipes, and now she’s on a book tour promoting her new cookbook.

Lori looks up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and hope. “Aunty, I’m so excited to be here. I can finally get away from the food my mom makes.”

You laugh, a warm, understanding sound. “Oh, thank goodness. How about fried chicken or lasagna?”

Lori’s face lights up, her hands clasping together as if in prayer. “Why not both?” Her eyes shimmer with anticipation, almost teary at the thought of indulging in something she’s missed.

“Yes!” you reply with a grin, already planning the feast.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The two of you cook together, filling the kitchen with the mouthwatering aroma of fried chicken and lasagna. The sizzle of the food and the warmth of the stove creates a cozy atmosphere, and before long, you’re both sitting at the table, enjoying the meal.

Lori, barely looking up from her book, eats with a hearty appetite, tearing into the fried chicken and savoring the lasagna.

You glance at her, amused by how engrossed she is in her book. It’s refreshing to see someone her age so absorbed in reading rather than staring at a screen. She’s been glued to that book ever since she arrived.

“Is it a good book?” you ask, taking a sip of your water.

“Yes. The best,” she replies without lifting her eyes from the pages.

You smile and ask, “What’s the book about?”

At that, Lori snaps the novel shut and looks at you with excitement blazing in her eyes, as if she’s been waiting for this moment. “Oh, Aunty, this is the best book! It’s full of adrenaline, mystery, and romance.”

You raise your eyebrows and nod slowly, recognizing the same spark in her that your older sister often has. “Let me guess, a royal romance?”

Lori shakes her head enthusiastically. “No. It’s set in modern day. It’s an enemies-to-lovers story where both are spies from different sides. They have to decide between love and their duty.”

You nod again, your expression thoughtful. “That’s impossible in the real world.”

Lori huffs, rolling her eyes playfully. “That’s why it’s fantasy, Aunty. Geez, you sound just like my mom.” She returns to her book, burying herself in the story again.

You chuckle softly, setting your glass down as you gather your plate and stand up. “Well, usually betrayal happens in those stories.”

Lori looks up, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. “That’s right! There’s a part where the male character betrays the female character.”

Your hand slips, the plate clattering into the sink, but thankfully it doesn’t break.

“Aunty, are you okay?” Lori asks, concern in her voice.

“I’m fine. My hand just slipped,” you say, brushing it off with a smile.

Lori gets up, carrying her plate to the sink. “I’m already done. I’ll help you with the dishes.”

“Thank you,” you reply, appreciating her help.

As you both wash the dishes, you ask her about life at school. Lori tells you all about her friends, her classes, and the things that make her happy.

“Do you have a crush at school?” you ask, a teasing note in your voice.

Lori hesitates, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Well… there is one boy. His hair and smile remind me of the male character from the spy book.”

You nearly drop the spatula but manage to catch it just in time. What’s gotten into you today?

“What about you, Aunty?” Lori asks, her tone curious.

“Me?” you respond, a bit caught off guard.

“While living in this lodge, have you ever met a farmer with a six-pack, a cute café owner, or a cool police officer?” Lori asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You gasp, her question catching you by surprise. “Your mom mentioned you’ve become quite the chatterbox.”

“Aunty, your life is a dream. You have it all—except a boyfriend,” Lori says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t fully understand what you do for a living, but she knows from her mom and grandparents that you’ve traveled the world and are now enjoying the fruits of your hard work.

You place your hands on your hips, eyeing her with a mock sternness. “How long have you been staying with Grandma?”

“Three weeks,” Lori answers, wiping a plate dry with a clean cloth.

“That explains it,” you say with a chuckle, ruffling her hair playfully. Your mother has a habit of prying into your love life, and you’ve overheard her sighing over the phone, saying, ‘I’m afraid she’ll die single.’

“But seriously, Aunty, why are you still single?” Lori asks, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

You look at her, a sigh escaping your lips. “When you’re older, you’ll understand that life is complicated. There’s no guarantee of a happy ending.”

“Seems like you don’t believe in romance anymore,” she says, her voice soft but probing.

“Lori…” you begin, but her words strike a chord in you. Kids have a way of getting straight to your feelings. You head to the living room, trying to shake off the conversation and turn on the TV. With a sigh, you throw yourself onto the couch.

Lori follows you, still determined to rekindle your belief in romance. But then, something catches her eye. “Aunty, what’s on the second floor?”

“Just a storage room. Full of dust and spiders,” you reply, waving a hand dismissively.

“Can I go up there?” she asks, her enthusiasm barely contained.

“Go ahead,” you say, smiling at her eagerness.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you hear her running feet thudding up the stairs. You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. What happened to the little girl who was afraid of spiders? Maybe the influence of that action-packed novel, the fantasy world, pulled her in.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Lori’s eyes lit up with excitement as she explored the second floor, her steps quickening with each new discovery. It felt like a treasure hunt to her, the dusty corners and forgotten items fueling her curiosity.

She opened old boxes, sifted through forgotten knick-knacks, and rummaged through piles of clutter. Her heart raced with the thrill of the search, every creak of the floorboards adding to the sense of adventure.

Then, tucked away near the Christmas decorations, she spotted a plain, unassuming box. It didn’t look like much, but something about it caught her attention. With a soft gasp of anticipation, she opened it and found an old, bulky laptop inside. The device was covered in dust, its once sleek surface now dull and scratched.

“Wow,” Lori whispered, her eyes widening in awe. She lifted the laptop carefully and opened it, running her fingers over the keys. “Clicky, clicky. Love this keyboard,” she said, delighting in the tactile response of the keys beneath her fingers.

Unable to contain her excitement, Lori ran downstairs to find you, clutching the laptop in her arms like a prized possession. “Aunty, look what I found! This is so old, and I love the sound it makes!”

You glanced up and your eyes widened in surprise. “Where did you get that?” you asked, a mix of surprise and concern in your voice.

“Near the Christmas decorations. Can I turn it on?” she asked, her eyes shining with eagerness.

You shook your head, a hint of hesitation creeping into your tone. “It’s been a long time since I turned it on,” you admitted, memories flickering at the edge of your mind. You had pretended the laptop didn’t exist for so long that it had slipped from your thoughts entirely.

“I’ll throw it away,” you said, reaching out to take the laptop from her.

But Lori quickly pulled it back, guarding the laptop protectively. “Even if it’s broken, I could use this for throwback videos,” she argued, her determination evident.

You sighed, seeing the pleading look in her eyes. “Fine. You can have it,” you relented.

“Thank you!” Lori beamed, her smile so bright that any irritation you felt melted away. She hugged the laptop close and dashed off to the guest room, eager to play with her new toy.

Inside her room, Lori’s excitement was palpable. She carefully plugged the charger into the old laptop and pressed the power button, holding her breath in anticipation. But the screen remained dark, the laptop unresponsive.

Her enthusiasm waned slightly, but she didn’t give up. Determined, she searched online for ways to fix old laptops, flipping the device upside down to look for a serial number or brand name. But the markings were too faded to read.

Her hope began to crumble as she realized the laptop might never work again. With a sigh, she set it aside and opened her suitcase, revealing stacks of novels inside. This was the real reason she had wanted to stay with you—to immerse herself in her books without anyone bothering her.

As the night wore on, the clock crept closer to 10 p.m. You yawned, feeling the weight of the day settle in, and turned off the TV. Before heading to bed, you decided to check on Lori. When you peeked into her room, you found her already fast asleep, curled up with a new book clutched in her hands.

You smiled softly, understanding now what was in her suitcase. With a gentle chuckle, you carefully adjusted her sleeping posture and tucked her in, whispering, “Good night.”

As you left, you saw the old black laptop still plugged in, silently charging in the corner. It had been nearly seven years since you last thought about it. You shook your head, a mix of relief and resignation washing over you. It was better if that thing stayed dead, buried in the past where it belonged.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The next morning, Lori woke up feeling cozy under the blankets. She glanced around, realizing she must have fallen asleep while reading her book again. The comforting silence in the room was a welcome change from the usual yelling of her mother.

This is why staying with you was such a great idea. She turned her attention to the old laptop, remembering she had left it charging all night.

With renewed hope, she quickly jumped out of bed and moved to the laptop. She pressed the power button, but the screen remained stubbornly black. Disappointment settled over her like a heavy fog.

Then, she heard it—the faint hum of the laptop’s fan. Her eyes widened, and a gasp escaped her lips. She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Yes!”

Just then, you called from the kitchen, your voice carrying cheerfully through the house. “Lori! You’ve woken up? I’ve made breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry yet,” Lori replied, her focus still on the laptop, waiting for the screen to light up.

“It’s bacon and eggs,” you added, a hint of a smile in your voice.

The mention of bacon and eggs immediately captured Lori’s attention. It had been ages since she’d had a breakfast like that. “I’m coming!” she called out, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

Without another thought, Lori dashed out of her room, leaving the old laptop to continue its quiet struggle to turn on. Her excitement for breakfast had completely overshadowed her frustration with the laptop, and she hurried to the kitchen, eager for the delicious meal you had prepared.

After breakfast, Lori returned to her room, and her excitement about the old laptop reignited. As she entered, she was stunned to see that the laptop had finally powered up completely.

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the outdated app icons, which looked dull and unappealing. Despite their lack of charm, something else caught her eye: the email application.

Curiosity piqued, Lori navigated to the email app and discovered a list of old emails. She wondered if the laptop could connect to Wi-Fi. To her delight, it could. She connected it and noticed a new notification. Her heart raced as she clicked on it, only to find a single new email dated five years ago.

“This is like something out of a novel,” Lori whispered to herself, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the email.

Her gasp was audible when she realized it wasn’t spam or a work email—it was a love letter. She read the email with growing excitement:

Subject: An Apology and a Request

Hi,

I hope this message finds you well. I’ve been carrying a heavy heart and wanted to reach out, even though it’s been a while. I left the organization and have started a new life, but I’ve realized that it won’t feel complete without you.

I’m deeply sorry for everything that happened and for the pain I caused you. I know that I have no right to ask for anything, but if there’s any chance for us to meet and talk, I’d really like that. I’m not expecting anything, but I hope we can find some closure.

Yours,

B.B

Lori’s eyes sparkled with excitement. This was even better than the romance novels she had read. She couldn’t believe her aunt had an ex who had been missing her all this time and had finally reached out after five years.

Feeling a burst of inspiration, Lori unplugged the laptop and raced downstairs to find you. “Aunt! Look! Look! Someone sent you an apology letter!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

You were busy preparing to head out to your bee farm, dressed in your suit. The sight of the old laptop suddenly turning on and Lori’s enthusiasm about the email caught you off guard. You knew exactly who had sent it, and it brought a wave of mixed emotions.

With a sigh, you closed the laptop, noticing Lori’s disappointed look. You knelt to her level, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Lori, sometimes it’s best to leave the past where it is.”

“But…” she started, her voice trailing off.

You stood up, adjusting your head protection for the farm. “Just enjoy your time here,” you said gently, then headed out of the house.

Lori sighed, her heart heavy with the sadness in your voice. She could sense the pain behind your words and felt that maybe this person was someone special to you. A sudden idea struck her, and she rushed back to her room, placed the old laptop on the table, and began typing a reply.

With her knowledge of romance novels, she crafted a short but heartfelt response:

Subject: Re: An Apology and a Request

Hi B.B,

Thank you for your message. It was a surprise to read your letter after all these years. I appreciate your honesty and the courage it took to reach out. I’m still processing everything, but I’m grateful for your apology.

Maybe one day we can talk, but for now, I hope you find the closure you’re seeking.

Take care,

Y/N

Satisfied with her words, Lori clicked “Send,” feeling accomplished. She hoped her reply would bring peace to her aunt and the sender.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

A few days passed, and Lori grew increasingly nervous. She kept checking the email, but no new notifications appeared, only that eerie computer-generated voice. You noticed her restlessness; she fidgeted with her fingers and paced around the room.

“What’s wrong? Feeling bored?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood. “We could go out for a while, get some fresh air.”

“Eww… no,” Lori replied, wrinkling her nose at the thought of the hot sun and heavy gear. She enjoyed the freedom of staying with you, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about adventures.

“I’d rather stay here, curled up with my book—” Lori was cut off by the familiar, unsettling notification sound.

You flinched at the sound too, a chill creeping down your spine. Lori quickly ran to the laptop, her heart racing with excitement as she saw the red dot notification. She opened the email and skimmed the reply: "I received your message. We need to meet. I’ll find you soon."

“Aunty, look! This person wants to see you. Isn’t it romantic?” Lori said, her excitement palpable.

Romantic my ass, you thought, feeling a cold shiver as you read the email. You abruptly shut the laptop and started packing Lori’s things. Your sudden, frantic movements startled her.

“Change your clothes. Wear something practical and put on running shoes,” you instructed, your voice taut with urgency.

Lori’s eyes widened with concern. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Forget the books. We have fifteen minutes, Lori. Now!” You dashed to your room, grabbing essentials with swift, practiced motions.

Lori, bewildered but obedient, quickly followed your orders. Fifteen minutes later, both of you were ready and in the car. You sped away, your face set in grim determination.

In the passenger seat, Lori clutched the seatbelt tightly, her voice trembling. “Aunt…”

“Lori, did you not hear me? Some things are better left in the past,” you said, your tone cold and firm.

She nodded slowly, her anxiety mounting. “But why?”

Before she could ask more, a deafening explosion rocked the car. “BOOM!” The blast made Lori flinch as she turned to see your house engulfed in flames. Her face pressed against the car window, eyes wide with shock.

“Oh my God. Is that your house?” Lori’s voice was barely a whisper.

You kept your gaze fixed on the road, your face pale and determined. “This is the reality of espionage. The hardest part is when someone tries to kill you.”

Lori gasped, realization dawning on her. “You’re a real spy!”

You didn’t answer, but the silence was deafening—a resounding confirmation.

“And the person who sent the email is another spy!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah. But unlike the novels, we’re not looking to fall in love. We’re trying to kill each other.” Your words sent a shiver down her spine, the gravity of the situation settling in with chilling clarity.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

At the gas station, you and Lori were picking up essential supplies. Your disguise—a dark hat, sunglasses, and a coat pulled tight—wasn't exactly subtle. But Lori's eyes sparkled with excitement.

“This is so cool!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with admiration.

“It’s not,” you muttered, your voice strained as you tried to mask your growing unease. The thrill of the moment had been replaced by a harsh reality. “I’m taking you to your mom.”

Lori’s enthusiasm faltered as she noticed the tension in your body. “But Aunt… why are you running away if this person wants to see you?”

You sighed heavily. “Because—”

Your words trailed off as a shiver ran down your spine. You felt eyes on you and slowly turned to face the source of your unease. There he was, striding towards you with a purpose.

The man stood tall and lean, his dark hair tousled and his leather jacket catching the dim light of the gas station. His face was striking—handsome in a rugged, intense way. His presence radiated strength and determination.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky didn’t break stride or acknowledge you. His pace quickened, and your instincts kicked in. You reached for your gun, but before you could draw it, a loud BANG! shattered the tense silence.

“Kyaaa!!!” The sound of the gunshot set off a wave of screams from everyone inside the store, including Lori. The chaos erupted around you, but you and Bucky remained focused.

You threw yourself in front of Lori, protecting her with your body. Bucky did the same, his gaze locked on the threats.

“You—” you started, trying to catch your breath.

“We don’t have much time,” Bucky cut you off, his voice a low growl. He grabbed your arm, pulling you up, and snatched his own gun. Without another word, he started firing, taking out the shooters one by one.

You joined him in the fray, your movements sharp and efficient. Bullets flew and bodies hit the floor. Bucky’s sharp eyes and quick reflexes contrasted with your precise, practiced shots.

“Your aim’s getting rusty,” Bucky grunted as he took down another opponent.

“Shut up,” you retorted, focusing on the task at hand.

In no time, the immediate threat was neutralized. You both made a break for your car, adrenaline surging. Bucky took the driver’s seat, his expression grim and focused.

“Wait…” you began, but Bucky cut you off.

“Just put on your seatbelt first,” he said tersely, glancing at you with an intensity that brooked no argument.

You complied, snapping the seatbelt into place as Bucky threw the car into gear. The ride was tense, an awkward silence hanging between you and Bucky. Lori, however, was brimming with curiosity.

She tugged at Bucky’s leather jacket, causing him to glance at her. The way she looked at him, her eyes wide with awe, reminded you of how she had always romanticized the world.

“Are you the one who sent that email to my aunt?” Lori asked, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and expectation.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t respond, turning his attention back to the road.

Lori turned to you, her eyes glowing with revelation. “I get it. Both of you were spies! But you couldn’t be together because of your jobs! A forbidden love! This is so romantic!”

"!!!!!"

Your jaw dropped, and Bucky’s expression shifted to one of utter disbelief. The two of you exchanged a stunned look, unsure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed by Lori’s innocent but surprisingly accurate guess.

The air in the car seemed to crackle with the weight of her words, as the reality of your intertwined past and present hung in the balance.

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If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

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[5sospenguinqueen]

Bright Lights, Big City | Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando and his girlfriend enjoy their first non-F1 related holiday together in NYC.

Warnings: Swearing. Suggestive comments.

Female reader. Faceclaim Loey Lane

Requested by Anon. "can u do a lando x plus size reader smau of them spending time in nyc. also if it’s not too much to ask can the fc be loey lane please"

Sorry it's not very long but it was hard to find plus!size images, most of them were actually gorg mid!size girlies.

Main Masterlist

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YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and others

YourUserName say i’m turning big girls into hoes, oh goddamn 

641 comments

User1 as you should be! empower the big girls 

landonorris yes, ladies and gentleman, that is MY girl 

→ maxfewtrell yes, lando, we all know. we’ve all known for the past year

→ landonorris just making sure some of these men don’t forget it 

User2 i love you so much. you’ve made me learn to love my body so much more

→ YourUserName comments like this make me cry. you should love your body! 🤍

lilymhe the dark hair suits you so well 

→ YourUserName thank you for making sure it didn’t stain my face 

→ lilymhe part of my role as your full-time wife

→ alex_albon whoa, hold up 

→ YourUserName you can’t claim her. where’s her ring, albon

→ User3 takes notes, norris

User4 is lando really dating her?

→ User5 i know. we were all shocked that he managed to bag such a hottie

→ User4 i meant, he seems like he could do better

→ User5 we know what you meant and you’re wrong

→ landonorris @ user5 agreed

User6 i love how you can tell that lando still has control over his insta because he is usually the first to comment on his girl’s posts unless he’s actually in his race car

→ User7 and the fact that he never fails to comment in her defence 

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landonorris just posted

liked by pierregasly, lnfour and others

landonorris NYC has been a blast  tagged: YourUserName

2,906 comments

User8 this was such a calm caption for lando. has the pr team finally gotten to him? 

YourUserName pretty boy 

→ User9 i bet he’s blushing, kicking his feet right now

→ maxfewtrell can confirm 

→ landonorris @ YourUserName you could spit on me and i’d thank you

→ User8 nevermind… pr hasn’t got him

User10 okay but that second picture 🥵 everyone say thank you y/n

YourUserName that view looked even better when you had me pressed against the window

→ landonorris 😉

→ User11 these two are prs biggest nightmare

→ oscarpiastri can confirm

danielricciardo can’t believe you took HER and not me

→ YourUserName it’s been a year, you need to move on now, daniel

→ danielricciardo homewrecker! 

→ landonorris i’ll always cherish what we had

→ danielricciardo liar!

→ YourUsername @ maxverstappen1 come collect your man

liked by kellypiquet

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxfewtrell, landonorris and others

YourUserName when visiting the big apple

766 comments

landonorris bark bark woof woof 

→ mclaren this is why you keep getting pulled into pr meetings 

→ User12 nurse, he got out again

YourBFF i knew when i convinced you to buy that bodysuit that you would look hawt in it

YourBFF2 i am no better than a man 🍒👀

charles_leclerc forza ferrari! 

→ landonorris no! 

→ YourUserName sorry charles but i’m contractually obliged to say papaya forever

→ alex_albon i knew he forced you to sign a contract to be his girlfriend

→ georgerussell63 no way she would date him otherwise

francisca.cgomes oh my, i seem to have dropped something 🩲🩲

→ pierregasly excusez-moi

→ YourUserName you heard her. she’s my kiks now

landonorris look as much as you want ladies and gents but don’t forget that i’m the one who gets to take it off at the end of the night 

→ carlossazin55 i miss when you talked like this about me

→ YourUserName @ landonorris how many boyfriends do you have

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YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and others

YourUserName i finally got to see my first broadway musical!! 

844 comments

User13 lando norris seeing a broadway play was not on my 2024 bingo list 

→ YourUserName i think he enjoyed it more than i did

→ landonorris don’t tell people that! i have a reputation

→ User14 no you don’t pookie 

lilymhe xoxo gossip girl

→ YourUserName you know you love me

User15 i can’t believe lando norris and y/n y/l/n are in new york city the same time as me

→ User16 they were watching the same play as me and i missed them!

User17 i saw them walking around central park and the way he looks at her

→ User19 i love the fan that got a video of him tripping over a tree root because he was too busy looking at her 

User1 this so cute. lando really is the blueprint 

User2 yes, queen. get a guy who is more obsessed with you than you are of him 

landonorris you were gone half an hour! i turned around and you had vanished, and i couldn't find you! 

→ YourUserName the hot dog guy saw my mclaren hoodie and asked me if oscar piastri was my favourite driver. then we ended up talking about how much that lando norris guy sucks 

→ User3 somebody please tell me this is real 

→ maxewtrell yes it is. i was there. the poor guy had no idea who she was. it was hilarious 

→ YourUserName i made a friend

→ oscarpiastri piastri for the win! 

→ landonorris @ YourUserName how could you even joke about this. no sex for you tonight

→ YourUserName babe, like you could last a night without sex 

User4 i love her ability to make lando seem like just some guy who simps for his girlfriend and not THE lando norris

→ User5 no literally, you see them together and she’s always ✨her✨ and then he’s just there

User6 they’re feeding us this week

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landonorris just posted

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and others 

landonorris 🧡💛

3,001 comments 

danielricciardo you two are so cute. it makes me want to kill myself 

→ landonorris do you want us to tell you that you have so much to live for

→ danielricciardo @ maxverstappen1 he’s being mean to me

→ maxverstappen1 please apologise or i’ll have to listen to him crying all week

YourUserName i love you so much 🩵 thank you for the most amazing weekend x

→ landonorris i love you the mostest 🥰

→ User7 guys, they’ve said the L word!! 

lilymhe @ francisca.cgomes we’ve lost her

→ francisca.cgomes and to a vroom vroom boy, no less

→ lilymhe the horror

→ alex_albon @ pierregasly should we be offended?

→ pierregasly about losing our girlfriends or being called vroom vroom boys?

→ YourUserName my girlfriends 

georgerussell63 i don’t think that last pic is pr approved

→ mclaren it’s not but we’re letting it slide because they're cute

YourUserName wait a second, did you scribble over the logo on my shoes

→ landonorris can’t be posting unsponsored brands, babe

oscarpiastri i don’t think i ever needed to know you like that

→ landonorris you’ve seen worse

→ oscarpiastri and heard! i keep asking zac to make sure we don’t have hotel rooms next to each other, and each time i’m let down

User9 okay but your OTP could never 

User10 they really are the hottest couple 

User11 i want them both to step on me

User12 lando norris, the man that you are

User13 he could run me over with his car and i would thank him

                          liked by YourUserName

[wintfleur]

omg stella telling her brothers she’s starting an only fans as a prank!! they would kill her

౨ৎ it’s just a prank!

﹕─┈ pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X siblings! Hughes brothers )

°. — details ( g; fluff, humor. w; Stella being a little goofy and her brothers are being protective. wc; 2.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( omg nonnie you are a genius, I had so much fun writing this !!! So sorry it took so long for me to get out. I hope you guys enjoy it !!! )

°. — ( in no way am I meaning to offend anyone who does do only fans or anything like that, by writing Stella’s brothers not being supportive of her doing only fans. I hope that makes sense )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

Stella was laying in her bed ⸺ well technically the guest bed in the guest room in her brother's jack and Luke's apartment. She was having her annual visit, and it was the time of day where her brothers were both napping, and she wasn't in the mood to go out by herself. She was honestly feeling quite bored not having her brothers around to annoy, that's why she was aimlessly scrolling through TikTok. But her boredom was quickly healed when she watched the latest TikTok lily sent her, a mischievous smile forming on her lips as her mind already formed a plan. 

Stella swiftly slipped out of bed and grabbed her hoodie and put it over her tank top before leaving the room. She heard the faint sound of her brother's voice coming from the kitchen, she could tell that they just woke up from their tone. Both of her brother's heads turned to her as she walked into the kitchen, Luke giving her a tired smile as Jack just groaned and rested his head on the cold island counter they were sitting at. “Can you grab us the milk?” Jack groaned tiredly and Stella rolled her eyes but got the milk for them, nonetheless, setting the carton next to the box of cereal the two were about to destroy. 

Stella pulled out a box of fruit snacks and set them on the counter, only using that as a distraction so she could prop up her phone to film them without them seeing it. She started the video and gave the camera a wink before she turned around and faced her brothers who were shoveling cereal into their mouths. Stella leaned back against the counter and asked, “Can one of you drive me too best buy?” 

 “Sure! What do you need at best buy?” Luke was quick to agree, wanting to spend more time with his little sister, Jack looked at Stella curious on what she needed at best buy, he was about to open his mouth to offer to give her his card, but she was already talking. “Oh! I need to get a ring light, i left mine at home.” 

“Why do you need a ring light?” Jack askes with a confused frown. Stella had to stop her lips from curling up into a smile at the genuine confusion, oh her poor brothers have no idea what they're getting into. Stella gave her brothers a smile and tries her best to sound as calm as she could as she speaks “Oh i need one to film my new only fans video and i left mine at home.”  

Stella bit her lip and turned to face the counter, pretending to do things, knowing that she would not be able to face her brothers without bursting out into laughter. The camera perfectly got both of her brothers' reactions. Luke choked on his cereal in shock and started coughing. Jack dropped his spoon in his bowl as his body went still in shock as he looked at the back of his little sister's head. 

“What did you just say?” Jack asked his sister, hoping that he and Luke heard wrong. There was no way she was serious ⸺ she couldn't be. Stella let out a quiet breath and tried to collect herself before turning around to face her brothers. She turned back around to face her brothers, holding everything in so she wouldn't laugh, she gives them a smile pretending to be unbothered “I need to get a ring light so i can film my on⸺” 

“We heard you!” Luke quickly cut Stella off after catching his breath from his fit of coughs, he shook his head in disgust he did not want to hear his sister repeat it. Jack looks at his sister in fear and shakes his head no, repeatedly muttering no under his breath. Poor boy was stressed. “Stella, you can't be serious! You can't have only fans” Jack nearly shouted as he placed both of his hands on the island counter. 

“And you sure as hell can't film your . . . your videos in our guest bedroom” Luke scoffs his face twisted in disgust, he did not need to know this about his sister, and he did not need to think of what she could be doing in their guest bedroom. “Gross” Jack whined in disgust at his younger brother's words. 

“Why not I really need the money” Stella did her best to frown, giving her brothers her puppy eyes that she knew always worked in her favor, but this time it was different, they were not going to fall for it. Jack's eyes nearly pop out of his sockets at his sister's revelation, she was doing this because she needed money? He quickly reached into his pocket for his wallet while Luke questioned her in shock “Money? Your doing this for money?” 

“Obviously” stella giggled with a shrug of her shoulder, gently biting her lip to hold in her laughter when she sees Luke hold his head in his hands and jack hold out his wallet for her “Here take my wallet, buy whatever you want as long as you delete your account.” 

“Awee you're going to buy my ring light for me?” Stella playfully cooed as she reached for the wallet, very much enjoying messing with her brothers. Luke's eyes widen and he quickly snatches Jack's wallet before she could grab it, over his dead body. Luke scoffs at the audacity “Neither of us are going to sponsor your bad decisions.” 

“Oh, trust me i don't need any more sponsors” stella stated as she tried her best to sound innocent and oblivious. Luke's mouth dropped in shock and Stella was sure she was going to see steam coming out of Jack's ears any second now. Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket with a mission “Thats it I'm calling Quinn, he can talk some sense into your delusional ass self.” 

Stella’s eyes widen and she quickly grabs jacks' phone out of his hands before he could get the chance to call their eldest brother, she also wanted to pull this prank on Quinn when she comes to visit, and she wasn't going to have them ruin that even though she wasn't really looking forward to it. Stella quickly shouted when she noticed the two heated stares from her brothers “Wait! Wait! It's just a prank!” 

Neither of her brothers believed her until she broke out into a fit of giggles and turned around to grab her phone, lifting it up and showing them that they were being filmed. A loud laugh leaves her lips at the sight of her brother's reaction to her phone. Both of their shoulders sag in relief and Jack drops his head onto the island counter and lets out a loud groan of annoyance, while Luke just crosses his arms and glares at his sister. Yes, he was relieved that it was all fake, but his heart was almost beating out of his chest from the stress she just put him through. 

Stella gives the camera a small smile before stopping it, she slides it into her pocket and clears her throat and gives both of her brothers an awkward smile. She could tell that they both were a little upset from the prank. Stella tries her best to sound enthusiastic as she asks her two now grumpy brothers “Who wants to help me plan out the same prank for quinny!” 

Now that got a smile on both of their lips . . . 

Now Stella was way more nervous to pull the prank on quinn than she was with Jack and Luke. Quinn was different. She knew it was just a prank, but she was still scared to see Quinn’s reaction. She was honestly going to blow the whole prank off, but she was starting to get annoyed by the many texts from an impatient Jack asking her if she's done it yet. Not only was she nervous to do it, but there was also just not a good time for her to do it yet. 

She has been busy almost every day, going out with her brother almost every day, Elias and Brock joining them. She was having a great time, so she really didn't want to ruin it by pranking her older brother by making him believe she was starting an only fans account. But she said she would, and Stella doesn't go back on her word. Ever.  

Stella quickly glanced at her brother who was focusing on the video game he was playing on the living room tv. They were spending the day inside, neither of them wanting to go out during the hot day. Stella discretely sets up her phone against a pillow next to her, her phone getting a good view of both of the siblings who're sitting next to each other. 

Stella lets out a nervous sigh before quickly starting the video and leans back on the couch, letting her phone get a great view of both of their side profiles. Quinn was leaning forward with his arms on his knees and a controller in his hand. Stella sat Criss cross on the couch and tilted her head to look at quinn as she spoke “Quinn i have to tell you something.” 

“Hmm yeah, what is it?” Quinn quickly glanced back and forth from his sister and the tv a few times before settling his gaze back on the tv. Stella nervously bit her lip for a second, quickly glancing at the camera before looking back at her brother. She spoke calmly “I think I'm going to start an only fans.” 

Quinn physically recoiled in shock at his sister's words, and the both of them were surprised that his neck didn't snap with how fast it turned to her. The controller dropped out of his hand and hit the rug covered floor. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not believing the words coming out of his sister's mouth “Excuse me?” 

“I’m thinking of  ⸺ “ 

“Why the fuck are you thinking about that?” Quinn asked in a sharp tone as he fully twisted his body to face her. Stella felt her lips twitch up at how high his tone got; it always did when he was upset. Stella pursed her lips before she could smile and ruin the prank, she continued to speak calmly “A lot of people have asked me  ⸺ “ 

“Who the fuck is asking you that?” Quinn questioned stella, his tone angry as he thought of people trying to convince his little sister to start an account, fucking perves his hissed in his mind. No! Quinn was not going to let this happen. She must not be thinking straight, he continued to think. 

“You’d be surprised, apparently I'd make a lot of money!” Stella pretends to be excited at the thought, even giving Quinn a smile. Oh, he's so going to kill me, Stella thought to herself as she watched her brother's concerned expression turn into anger. Quinn shook his head in disbelief, bringing his hand up to rub at his temples as he closed his eyes, a sigh of stress leaving his lips before he opened his eyes and looked back at his sister. 

“Estella, you are 19 years old! You should still be playing with your barbies or somethin!” 

“The minimum age is eighteen . . . I’ve been researching it” Stella hummed as she nodded, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling at the dramatic exhale he let out.

“Oh, is that right” quinn muttered sarcastically under his breath, he didn't know how to approach the situation. He definitely did not agree with the idea of Stella doing that, but he also didn't want her to feel like he was judging her or was disappointed in her . . . but he knew it was a little late for that from his reaction. Quinn let out another sigh before speaking much more calmly “Stella . . . is this really something you want to do?” 

“I think so” she mumbled, starting to feel bad from how stressed he looked. 

“Well, I um . . . all I ask is that you really think about it okay?” Quinn spoke softly as he reached for Stella's hand, softly squeezing it. Yes, he wanted to forbid her from doing it, but he also didn't want to take her choice away from her, she had to make the choice herself, and he didn't want her to feel embarrassed to talk about things with him. He continued to speak as he locked eyes with Stella “This is a big decision, you know. Once things go on the internet, they never come off. Just really think if this is what you want to do.” 

Stella internally awes at Quinn's words, his initial reaction showed that he did not agree and was not happy with her words, but he calmed down and gave her a mature and sweet response. Quinn lets out a surprised “Oh!” when he feels Stella lunges towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder for a hug. Quinn is confused for a second, but he quickly returns the hug. Stella squeezes her eyes shut and speaks loud enough for her phone to pick it up “It's just a prank.” 

“What!?” Quinn exclaims as she pulls back from the hug, a giggle leaving Stella's lips at the confused look Quinn gives her. “It's just a prank quinny” Stella gets out between her loud laughter, her head tilting back against the couch. Quinn let out a heavy sigh, his body still tense even with the confession of it being a prank, he had to make sure “So you're not going to make an only fans?” 

“No, I'm not, don't worry!” Stella continues to giggle, her laughter only getting louder when Quinn lets himself lean back on the couch, his hand resting over his fast-beating heart. Quinn shuts his eyes and lets himself calm down, his body relaxing. “Oh, thank god!” 

“Why would you do that stella! Are you trying to kill me?” Quinn quickly shouts as he sits back up, many questions running through his mind. Who gave her the idea to do this? Why would she do this? And do you think I can guilt trip her into cooking dinner? 

“It was Jack's idea!” Stella was quick to throw her brother under the bus, quickly reaching to grab her phone to pause the video before it got too long. Quinn's eyes widen, and a look of betrayal comes across his face at the fact that she videotaped the whole thing. The last thing the camera gets is a shocked Quinn looking over a giggling Stella's shoulder. 

Stella tilts her head to look at her brother who got really quiet, her eyes widening at the glare he was giving her. She noticed a familiar look of mischief in his eyes, and she quickly got up from the couch and rushed down the hallway to hide in the guestroom, just as she closed the door, she heard the sound of his loud footsteps and the sound of him shouting. 

“Estella!” 

stellahughes has just posted a TikTok!

[caption: do you guys think jacks gonna be mad i blamed him? ]

username1 is Luke okay? I thought he was going to pass out from how hard he was coughing

username2 I- the way she blamed Jack. I can’t 😭

username3 they were stressing omg!

username4 the protective glare Quinn gave Stella when she said people were asking for it 🤭

username5 stella sweetie, are you okay?

Stellahughes no, I’m hiding from Quinn in the closet 🫤

Qhughes Hmm good to know

username5 did I just get Stella Hughes killed 😳

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°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lxvelyzoe @lovings4turn x )

[nottsangel]

Rafe Cameron as your boyfriend

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, nsfw at the end

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the relationship

so. fucking. protective.

everyone in the outer banks knows that you’re his so they all know better than to touch you

if you’re at a party together, he either has his arm around your waist or he will keep an eye on you from the other side of the room, making sure no one makes a move on you

“rafe, please, I can take care of myself!” he would simply let out a chuckle as his grip on your waist tightens

“come sit on my lap, pretty girl” he says as his gaze is focused on the random guy that keeps checking you out

will walk over to him afterwards, “look at her again and I’ll kill you, alright?”

spoils you so much. doesn’t let you pay for anything

randomly texts you “buy yourself something nice, princess” after he transfers money to you

wheezie and sarah are like sisters to you

“rafe, can I please please record a tiktok video with y/n?” “god, wheezie, just leave us alone for a second, alright? we’re busy” but you’re already getting up and making your way to wheezie as rafe rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh

you’re the only one he truly trusts and cares about

affection

his hand is always on your waist or lower back

he doesn’t really like physical touch in public unless he feels threatened. he will make out with you in front of everyone with his hands on your ass if that’s the case

has trouble expressing how much you mean to him in words so he mostly does it through physical touch; lots of making out, hugs, hand holding, cuddling, forehead kisses etc.

plays with your hair while you’re cuddling <3

arguments

manipulative.

arguments can get very heated and he can say a lot of hurtful things to you. he has a very short temper

he will leave the room, slamming the door shut but will eventually come back after a few hours, crying and apologising to you

“please, just… don’t leave me. I can’t live without you, baby, please”

arguments with rafe are extremely mentally draining, but he is aware of his flaws and tries to do better for you

“I…I’m sorry baby. I love you, you know that, right?”

nsfw

always in control

if you’re in public together and he eyes you up and down with a smirk, just know that he’s horny and he’ll take you to the car or a public bathroom for a quickie

does not care who hears or sees you. all that matters to him is that everyone knows you’re his

“scream my name, baby. let them know who you belong to”

buys you so much lingerie. he loves going lingerie shopping with you and watching you try it on before he buys you everything you want

lots of degradation, hair pulling and choking

“my pretty little slut. you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth”

loves fingering you with his rings on so you can feel the cold metal against your cunt

marks you with hickeys all over your body

“rafe, please. everyone will see them there” “I know, that’s the point”

can edge you for hours. especially when you’ve been misbehaving

“my poor baby. you wanna cum? then use your words and beg for it”

breeding kink!!!

fingers you after he came inside of you to keep it all in

immediately falls asleep after sex while his arms are wrapped tightly around you

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated since they keep me motivated to write more!!

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🏷 tags (join here): @vxntxque @goingbackt0505 @locker42 @wanturvideo

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: toyin’ with them older guys

pairing: bartender!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 | masterlist

summary:

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder.

But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation.

Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

author’s note: thank you to everyone who hyped me up to post this when i wasn’t sure how i felt about it. your comments mean the world 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - no cordyceps outbreak, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol references/consumption, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild violence (in the form of Joel kicking someone out of his bar), brief reference to Sarah’s mom and divorce, tinder dates, bribery, dirty talk, begging, pet names, praise kink, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

There’s a bar near the university that you love to go to for multiple reasons.

For one, they have great drinks. For two, their loaded tater tots are the best drunk food you’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

But the number one reason, above all else, is the grumpy bartender and owner, Joel Miller.

The first time you saw him, he was challenging a kid with a fake ID, his arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing the strain of his flannel over his biceps. When the kid tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before marching him out of the bar and kicking him to the curb.

Your friend had to remind you to breathe.

He hosts a trivia night at the bar on Tuesday nights, the perfect excuse to see the man weekly. You sit at the bar each time, scribbling your answers on the notepad as you sip on a vodka cranberry and sneak glances at the older man while he works.

One night, you were struggling to answer a question about where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed when Joel leaned across the bar, bringing his lips close to your ear to say, “New Zealand.”

You’d gotten the point, thanks to him. And from that day forward, he’d linger near your corner of the bar, watching to see if you needed help with an answer. Eventually, you started showing up earlier and earlier for trivia night, just for the chance to talk to him.

You told him about your PhD program and the research you were conducting. You wanted to be a psychologist, but for now you’re just a perpetual student. You miss winter weather in Colorado, but appreciate not having to store a giant jacket anywhere in your small apartment. Your favorite season is fall, and your favorite holiday is Halloween.

He tells you about buying the bar a few years ago, after his divorce from Sarah’s mom and ensuing custody battle had been finalized, an investment he made with his brother Tommy. They’d fixed it up themselves and made it a popular local spot. His favorite movie is Indiana Jones and he prefers whiskey over any other drink.

It’s no surprise that along the way you’d fallen in love with the man.

Too bad he’d never feel the same.

————

Joel remembers the first night he saw you. Your rosy cheeks and tipsy smile as you leaned forward to say, “Vodka cranberry, please. With lime .”

“Lime, huh?” He remembers saying. You nodded your head vigorously.

“The lime is the best part,” you insisted. He chuckled.

“Not the vodka?”

“Gross, no.”

He tossed in three lime slices and you shimmied your shoulders with glee.

You come into the bar, alone, for trivia night on Tuesdays now. You’re a fountain of random facts, but every once in a while he’ll feed you an answer to help you out because he likes the smile that you give him in return.

He has no right to be looking at you the way that he finds himself doing every week. Eyes wandering to the way your jeans hug your ass or drifting to your cleavage when you rest your elbows against the bar.

But between the conversations and the trivia and the sweet smiles, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Which is why when you come to trivia night with a man who wraps an arm around your waist, Joel loses his goddamn mind and does the stupidest thing ever.

You get up to go to the bathroom and Joel leans across the bar to address the guy, keeping his eyes on the bathroom.

“I’ll give you $100 if you leave right now,” Joel says.

“What?”

“Hundred bucks if you walk out that door and don’t talk to that girl again,” he says again. He digs his wallet from his pants and pulls a bill out, setting it on the bar top.

Without further question, the man grabs the money and stuffs it in his pocket as he heads out the door. Joel feels a flash of guilt when you return from the bathroom and look around for your missing date.

“Said he had an emergency,” Joel lies. He’s surprised when you look relieved.

“He was kind of boring, anyways,” you shrug, dragging your notepad and pen closer to you. “He probably would have just dragged us down.”

Us, Joel thinks.

He could get used to that.

________

Your friend, Marie, had convinced you to try out Tinder. She was absolutely certain you were missing out on the love of your life by not swiping mindlessly through profiles that held no interest to you.

You weren’t about to confess your unrequited love for the local bartender to get her off your case, so that’s how you ended up on a date with Michael. He was a law student and liked kayaking and hiking.

You liked neither of those things, but he had curly brown hair and you had a type, so why not give it a shot?

You didn’t have it in you to be too upset when you returned from the bathroom only to find out from Joel that Michael had left. Joel slid you another vodka cranberry with lime and your night went as it always did.

When Marie asked you the next morning how the date went and you told her he bailed, she insisted on picking your next one. She chose Scott, a financial analyst at a local bank.

You’re starting to think Marie doesn’t know you very well.

Regardless, you show up at the bar for another trivia night date. Scott is tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a suit to a bar. When you comment on it, he pulls a face and says he came straight from work.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to not have real jobs,” he says. You blink at him, surprised by the hostility.

That hostility continues when Joel approaches the two of you at the bar, lips turned down in a scowl, and Scott decides to order for you.

“She’ll take a vodka water with lemon and I’ll have Bulleit, neat.”

Joel raises his eyebrows at Scott, his eyes flicking to you briefly, before he sets a plastic cup on the bar top. He holds Michael’s gaze as he pours a shot of vodka into your cup, before using the soda gun to dispense cranberry juice. You have to bite back your smile.

“Vodka cranberry with lime,” he says, sliding you your drink. “And your whiskey will be right out.”

“That’s not what I ordered,” Scott replies.

“Yeah, but it’s what she would’ve.”

Scott sputters, face going an alarming shade of red with his indignation.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, taking your drink with you as you head to the bathroom.

________

“I’m not paying for that drink,” the blonde asshole says, knocking his knuckles against the bar for emphasis. Joel huffs a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. I want you out of my bar,” he says, planting both hands on the wood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my bar.”

“I’m on a date!”

“Not anymore.” Joel rounds the bar and gets up in the little weasel’s face. “Get. Out.”

The boy’s eyes go wide, like he realizes that maybe Joel isn’t playing around. He scrambles from his barstool, standing to his full height like he’s about to challenge Joel.

“You can’t kick me out, old man,” the blonde snaps.

Joel’s had enough. He fists a hand in the starched white shirt collar, driving him back towards the exit. The other patrons move out of the way, some whistling and cheering Joel on. He shoves the man out the door and looks at the doorman.

“He doesn’t come back inside,” he says. “And you? Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Joel returns to the bar as you’re walking up. For a moment, he worries that you may have seen him acting like a caveman getting rid of his competition, but you look around in confusion.

“Where’s Scott?” You ask.

“He forgot about somethin’ at work,” Joel says. Your brow furrows.

“Kinda weird that’s happened to me twice now,” you comment.

Joel just shrugs.

________

You don’t tell Joel about how you saw him throw Scott out of his bar that night.

You’d just left the bathroom when you saw Joel stomp out from behind the bar, his eyes dark and fixed on your date. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but based on the affronted way Scott was responding, it wasn’t anything good.

You crept closer to the scene, but stayed amongst the crowd. Joel marched Scott backwards with a fist tangled in his collar, shoving him out the door.

“And you? Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Your mouth went dry at his words and your mind reeled at the implications. Was he doing this from a place of friendship? Or…could he maybe feel the same way you do?

Only one way to find out.

You call up Travis, a good friend from undergrad who still lived in town.

“Trav, I need your help,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Burying a body type of help or financial type of help?” He replies easily.

“Actually, more experimental.”

“I don’t swing that way.”

“No, listen to me, I have a hypothesis,” you insist, explaining the situation to him. How you’ve been on two dates at Joel’s bar but each time, the men have left without another word. And how after what you witnessed, you’re inclined to believe that it’s not a coincidence.

You ask Travis to come with you to the next trivia night. All he needs to do is pretend to be there on a date with you. A bit of hand holding, maybe an arm around the waist. Nothing more.

“But what if he tries to threaten my life?” Travis asks.

“Well…I mean…every experiment has risks,” you reply flippantly. He sputters indignantly down the line. “I’ll buy you your drinks and get you tater tots.”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Fine. Extra jalapeños and I’m not getting well liquor.”

“Thank you!”

________

You come into his bar with another man. His arm is draped over your shoulders as you approach the bar and Joel has to set the glass he’s drying down before it shatters in his hands.

“Joel! This is Travis,” you say, gesturing to your date. He forces a smile, reaching a hand across the bar to shake his hand.

“What can I get started for you?” Joel asks. The man, Travis, orders an old-fashioned with top shelf whiskey, while you request your regular.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as Joel is pouring the drinks. You weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms and Joel leans in to address Travis.

“I’ll pay you $100 to leave this date,” Joel says.

Travis smirks. “Make it $200.”

“Are you serious?”

“That depends, are you?”

Joel’s eyes flick towards the back of the bar and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out four fifties, dropping them on the bar.

Travis pockets the money before adding, “You know, there’s cheaper ways to get the girl.”

“Get out,” Joel grunts. The younger man laughs his way to the door, and you appear at the bar a moment later.

“Where’d Travis go?” You ask.

“Oh, he—“

“Can I get an order of the loaded tots?” Travis asks, cutting Joel off from making up an excuse for his absence and sitting back down on the stool beside you with a shit eating grin. “She owes me.”

“Owes you?” Joel asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, she lost a bet. I told her I could get the number of that guy over there in less than three minutes and she doubted my charm.”

“Travis and I went to undergrad together,” you explain. “We just wanted to hang out and catch up.”

Shit.

________

Travis decides to leave after two plates of loaded tots and one too many drinks. You help him call an Uber, but you stay behind as the bar starts to clear out.

It’s just Joel behind the bar, wiping down the wood and setting bottles back to their rightful spots as you sip from a cup of water. The kitchen has closed down and the music has been shut off, leaving the two of you in loaded silence.

“So…,” you say, twirling your straw in your near empty cup. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Joel’s shoulders go tense before he releases a deep sigh, turning to face you. The bar separates you, and it feels like miles of distance when all you want to do is get your hands on him now that your hypothesis has been proven.

Joel Miller likes you. And he’s been sabotaging your dates because of it. Perhaps you should be more upset, but all you can feel is an effervescent giddiness bubbling in your veins.

While he struggles to find the words, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You reach across the bar, hooking your fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him forward. You lean over to meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

You pull back and look into his eyes. The coffee colored brown of his irises seems darker, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

________

Joel’s got one hand on the wheel of the truck and the other resting on your thigh. He has to keep a hand on you because he’s worried that if he doesn’t anchor himself, he’ll wake up from this dream.

You kissed him. You reached across the bar and dragged his lips to yours in a way he’d only dreamed of doing a thousand times since you’d sauntered into his life.

He can’t help the small smile that tilts his lips up at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” You ask, your voice teasing. He glances at you.

“You do, darlin’,” he says. He relishes in the pink that blooms across your cheeks at the pet name.

Joel drives to his house, parking the truck in the driveway of his little bungalow. His bachelor pad, as Tommy calls it.

Maybe not for much longer.

He circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you down from the cab. He keeps his hand on your low back as he leads you up the porch steps and through the door.

You toe off your shoes in the entryway, letting them join the pair of sneakers Joel left by the door. You’re wearing a pair of socks with tiny cats printed on them, the sight so endearing to him he can’t hold back his laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’, just…like the look of you here. In my house,” he says.

“Yeah?” You take a step closer to him, toe to toe as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging your body against his. The heat of you even through the layers of your clothes sends a shiver down his spine.

You press your hands to his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders before linking them behind his neck.

“You gonna give me a real kiss?” You whisper back. Your lips are so tantalizingly close that they ghost across his as you speak.

He closes the distance, lips dancing with yours as he kisses you senseless. The feel of you against him, moving with him, sends sparks skittering across his skin. He’s unable to hold still, hands roaming from your back to your waist to your hips as your mouths part and your tongues tangle with increased desperation.

Joel slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, crouching slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your core slides against his growing hardness and he groans at the sensation as you let out the neediest whimper.

He wants to hear more.

He walks you both through the empty house until he reaches his bedroom, tossing you on top of sheets still rumpled from last night’s sleep. You scramble to sit up on your knees, moving to the edge of the bed and curling your fingers into the waist of his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock, Joel?” You ask, voice all breathy as you stare up at him with your big doe eyes. “Please?”

Joel’s mouth has gone bone dry. “Yeah? You want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart?”

You nod your head, fingers working on the buckle of his belt. His hands work in tandem with yours to get his fly open, shoving the denim down his thighs until he can step out of them. His cock tents his boxers, a wet spot already apparent on the fabric and he watches as you reach a hand out to stroke him, a groan escaping him at the feel of your warm palm against him.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Joel commands. He lifts his own shirt over his head as you unbutton and remove your pants, shimmying the tight fabric down your legs. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches you lift your shirt up and off.

His eyes rove your body hungrily. Your perfect tits and gorgeous curves, the way you flush beneath his gaze.

“Come here, baby,” he says, crooking a finger. You come to stand between his legs and he reaches around your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers.

“You’re rather skilled at that, Mr. Miller,” you tease.

“I’m old, not dead.” He slips the straps from your shoulders, tugging the last barrier between him and your tits away. “God, baby, these all for me?”

“Mhm,” you him as he wraps his hand around the weight of one breast, thumb teasing your pert nipple.

“Tell me somethin’,” Joel asks, “why’d you bring all those boys around when you knew you needed a man?”

You lick your lips. “Didn’t know if the only man I wanted would want me back.”

Your voice is small and vulnerable as you say it, and that just won’t do. “Don’t just want you, baby. Need you.”

Your face lights up in the brightest grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, digging his fingers into your hips. “S’why I had to play dirty.”

Your smile turns downright salacious. You drop to your knees, running your hands up his thighs. “Show me how much you need me, Joel.”

________

Joel shoves his boxers down, exposing his cock to your hungry gaze. It’s gorgeously thick, the head a dark red from his arousal, a pearl of precum sitting in the slit. You lean forward and dart your tongue out to gather it.

“Don’t tease, sweetheart,” Joel says through gritted teeth. You keep your eyes fixed to his as you take him in hand, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head before taking him further into your mouth.

His hand is instantly in your hair. Not pressing, but his fingers tangle in the strands and tug deliciously against your scalp. He moans as you take him as far back into your throat as you can manage.

“Fuck, your mouth is better than I ever dreamed,” he says, voice rough.

“You’ve thought about this?” You ask when you draw back for breath, hand pumping his length in place of your mouth.

“‘Course, baby. These pretty lips wrapped around me, beggin’ for me to make them all swollen and used,” he says, standing and bringing a thumb to your lips and swiping it across their spit slick surface. “Open up.”

He uses his thumb to press against your bottom lip, opening your mouth as he takes his cock in hand and feeds it slowly between your lips. The smooth, hot length of him dragging across your tongue makes you moan.

“You like that, baby?” He growls, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. “Like me usin’ your mouth how I want?”

You try to nod, your movement restricted by the grip of his hand that’s returned to your hair. There’s spit trailing down your chin and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from the effort of keeping your mouth open for his thick length. You know you must look like a mess but with Joel staring down at you with his lust drunk expression, you feel on top of the world.

“I gotta fuck you, baby, will you let me, huh? Let me feel that pretty little cunt strangle my cock?”

You hum around his length and he withdraws, tugging you up by your hair and pulling you into the dirtiest kiss, all tongue and teeth and blatant desire as he turns your bodies, shoving you down onto the bed.

Joel slips an arm beneath your low back, using it to pull you up the bed as he crawls on to join you. He positions himself between your legs, tearing the soaked fabric of your panties down in a frenzy.

He slides his fingers through your wetness before bringing them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan.

“Christ, I’m gonna feast on you for hours, baby, but I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says.

“Then fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg, lifting your hips so that his cock slips through your center. “Come on, wanna feel you.”

He lines himself up, pressing into you with a delicious stretch, the slight sting of it making you whine. He shushes you, not stopping until his hips press against the back of your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making him go impossibly deeper. “Tell me when I can move, sweetheart.”

You shift your hips restlessly beneath him. “Please move, Joel, wanna feel it.”

Joel pulls back before slamming forward, the force of it making you slide up the bed as all the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. His grin is sharp as he does it again and again to the tune of your desperate cries.

“Joel!” You cry, clawing at his back with each thrust. “Fuck, yes, yes!”

He withdraws abruptly, the loss of him as you clench around nothing making you whine pathetically. With a bruising grip on your hips, he twists your body until you’re on your belly, ass in the air and chest pressed to the mattress.

Joel slides back inside your tight heat, a palm slapping across one cheek then the other as he resumes his powerful thrusts.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A hand presses to the back of your neck for leverage, changing the angle yet again. “Can you cum for me? Can you soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, I bet you can.”

You nod, the movement restricted, but you can’t form words. All you know is the feeling of Joel pounding into your body like he owns it.

The hand on your hips moves to the front of your body, fingers finding and pinching your clit. You sob against the mattress, the sheets wet beneath you from tears and drool.

“Come on, baby, fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Won’t fill ya up until you do.”

That’s the visual that does it. The thought of Joel finishing with you, inside of you, dripping out of you too much for your lust addled brain. With a shout, the thin remnant of your control snaps and you pulse around him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, sweetheart, good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his hand leaving your neck as he sits up, his tempo fast and sloppy as he chases his release through yours. “You want me to cum in this tight little cunt, honey.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to slur, muffled by the sheets. With three more harsh thrusts, he does as promised, spilling inside of you with a shout.

He slows before withdrawing, your body collapsing against the mattress without him there to hold you up. He chuckles as he flops beside you, dragging you into the cradle of his body.

“You done playin’ games with those boys?” He asks, smiling smugly against your neck.

“Yeah, think I might be into older guys,” you tease. He pinches your hip, making you laugh.

“See if I ever help you during trivia again.”

________

Joel’s standing in front of you, arms crossed with a scowl on his face as you stare up at him with pleading eyes.

“Come on, baby, help me out,” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Last call for an answer to our final question! What is the only song credited to all five original members of the band Fleetwood Mac?”

Joel sighs, biting back his smile. “The Chain,” he tells you. You scribble the answer, running your paper up to the emcee. When you return to the bar, you lean across the polished surface and tug him towards you, planting a kiss to his lips.

He drags you back for another kiss. And another.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow

Join the tag list here!

[swiftedsturniolo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐘!𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐗 𝐏𝐎𝐂!𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐘!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐀/𝐍: let me know if anyone wants to be on the tag list for any of my other stories! 💖

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: yes i did go back and update this lolol 👍

you had seen the ad's for it, you had seen it all over social media, you had seen it everywhere and you had become completely infatuated with it. the "pheromone perfume" had become so viral, that it was almost every video you saw. so you had to buy it.

see chris had no idea what was happening. when you told him you were buying something special, his mind went immediately to some lingerie you were going to surprise him with later.

when the package did finally arrive, you were grinning from ear to ear. unboxing it from its fragile packaging, you finally held it in your hands, thinking it's the best seven dollars you had ever spent

when date night finally came, it was a friday. chris had just gotten back from filming with his brothers and they all wanted to go out to dinner. he obviously told you, i mean cmon, your his girlfriend. chris almost bursted through the door and sprawled out all over the bed.

"hi to you too, chris." you giggled, surprised by his actions. he leans his head up and gives you a wave.

"hard day?" you decide you need more of an answer out of him.

"mhm." he mumbles through the comforter, but you could still her him bluntly. he finally picks his head up. "nick and matt were arguing and getting on my ass the entire fucking video," chris huffs, as he gets up to pace the room. "and now they wanna go to dinner to apologize."

your lifted a brow. "are you gonna go?"

"duh, i can never turn down some food." he makes his way over to you. "also hi my gorgeous, beautiful girlfriend. you look so pretty right now." he kisses your forehead.

"hi baby, so am i invited to this dinner?" you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

"of course, ma, be ready in like 20, i'm hungry as fuck." he breathes out, taking off his shirt and finding a better one to put on.

you smile to yourself and go to put on a better outfit.

after what felt like 20 hours of getting ready, you finish and you decide to top it off with your newest purchase. the pheromone perfume.

you lather the roll of perfume on your neck, wrists, hands, arms, and down your thighs. you giggle to yourself, knowing how chris is gonna react. speaking of chris, here he is bursting through the door.

"hey, you ready?" he looks up from his phone and walks over to you.

"mhm." you slide a ring on your finger and clasp on your necklace. "lets go."

you get up from his gaming chair, heels tapping on the hardwood floor, and walk past him. he's looking down when you walk past him but as soon as he catches your scent, he's all over you.

"is that a new perfume your wearing?" he questions, you grin and tilt your head to the side. "no? the same one i've been wearing."

he walks over to you and shifts your hair so your neck is fully exposed to him. he takes one big wiff. "hey, i feel violated!" you laugh.

"definitely not the one i've smelled on you." he puts your hair back and hugs you.

"mm you smell so good, ma." he breathes on your neck and you try and push him off.

"thank you, now cmon can we eat now?"

you are currently sitting next to chris in the car. he has his head on your shoulder, basically in the crook of your neck, still breathing in your scent. "you smell so good, ma," he waves his hands at you so he can get more of the scent.

"what is that?" he questions. you shrug your shoulders in sarcasm.

"move to my lap." he demands. you look at him like he has said the most disrespectful shit in his life. he clears his throat. "can you please sit on my lap my precious beautiful girlfriend?"

you laugh, "cause you know fucking better." you move onto his lap and his arms go to your waist and his puts his head on your shoulder again.

at the resturant, he doesn't even bother to sit on the opposite side of you at first.

"chris go to that side, you know how i feel about couples sitting on the same side of the booth as others."he complains, but reluctantly agrees.

"you just smell so good, it's actually hurting my head a little." he chuckles.

after dinner, you guys both drove home and got ready for bed. washing your face and listening to music, you feel a pair of hands go to your hips. you look in the mirror and see the familiar face of your boyfriend.

"hi chris." you say flatly, being over to wash your face in the sink.

chris smirks and presses up against you. "hi ma,"

you look up from washing your face and put a towel on it to dry it. "i'll come cuddle in a bit  just need to finish-"

your cut off by chris turning you to face him and kissing you. the kiss didn't last very long. it was needy from chris and relaxed from your prespective. after you were done kissing, he breathes out. "come to bed now, you just smelt so good today, all for me, i gotta repay you somehow."

you laugh, "chris your insane."

"insane for you." and with that, and a slap on your ass, he's out the room, waiting for you so he can repay you.

[libraryofloveletters]

Choo Choo Trains

Lance Stroll  x Fem!Reader

Warnings: lance is an uncle!! (chloe and scotty have a kid in this lmao), he's got some rizz as the kids say, sweetness all around, frantic lance for a moment there.

Word Count: 537

Author's Note: sorry for the wait, these have been all over the place lately lmao

--

Uncle Lance promised his nephew a toy train and when he remembers, he scrabbles last minute to find something.

Toy stores are a popular place all season around but especially during the holidays.

Seeing that you are one of the only toy stores in town, you tend to work longer hours than most. It was nearly 10 and you were just about to lock the doors, making sure to put the last set of boxes on the shelf.

The bell rings above the door, you groan internally as you step out of the aisle. There's a man, fluffy brown hair on his head, he brushes the snow out of his hair as he looks around, the panic on his face was evident.

"Sir, we're closed," you tell him, glancing at your watch just to make sure of the time. "It's 10:06, we closed 6 minutes ago."

"Please," he huffs, passing a hand through his thick hair. "I won't take much of your time, just let me grab one thing."

You sigh, not having the heart to kick the man out. "Is there something in particular that you're looking for?"

"Uh," he starts, feeling a bit bad that he rushed in, despite you being closed, and still not having a clue what he was gonna get. "I'm not sure."

"Who are you buying a gift for?"

"My nephew."

"How old is he?"

"3," the man smiles and you nod. "Well, from my experience, most boys that are three tend to leant towards superheroes or trains."

The man's eyes light up, "trains! He loves trains!"

You nod, smiling as you lead him through the aisles to the back where you had a massive display with different types of trains. "I don't have time to go through all of these, because I'm sooo late for dinner and you're closed but uh.." He looks at the different boxes and picks up the biggest one, "yeah, this'll do."

Unable to contain your laugh, your hand covers your mouth. "Is that all?"

His brows furrow. "Do you think I should get more?"

"No," you shook your head. "I just meant, like do you wanna get anything else?"

"Oh!" he laughs, shaking his head. "No, this is good."

He follows you to the front to cash out, "want me to wrap it?" You asked, already setting the box on the green wrapping paper. He nods, glancing at your name tag. "Thank you, y/n."

"You're welcome.." You trailed off and he caught on. A hand pressed to his chest. "Lance." You nodded, "you're welcome, Lance."

After wrapping the box up, you stuck a bow on it and handed it over to Lance. "I hope your nephew likes it and that you aren;t in too much trouble for being late to dinner."

Lance smiles, "thank you, for everything."

You were tossing out the scraps of wrapping paper when you heard Lance call for you. "Are you open tomorrow?"

"We are, from 8am to 10pm. Are you bringing your nephew back?"

"Maybe," he smiles, "but either way I'll be back."

"Toy shopping for yourself, Lance?" You smiled, chuckling.

"No," he smiles too. "I'll be back to ask you out, y/n. Have a good night." He waves to you with a smile, heading out the doors and leaving you with very red cheeks.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Family No Matter What | Bang Chan

-> Pairing: Bang Chan x Single!Mom Reader

-> Request: from anon

-> Synopsis: Chan didn't expect to find his family on a flight back to Korea.

-> Warnings: Mentions of an absent father.

-> Word Count: 1,023

-> Requests: Open until 31st June 11:59pm

Bang Chan Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

Chan is on the plane heading back to Korea after spending time with his family. He starts to unwind after the plane takes off, when he suddenly hears a soft whimper nearby. As he opens his eyes, he notices a mother and her baby sitting next to him. The mother appears exhausted and overwhelmed and is desperately trying to calm the baby before he starts crying. Instead of being annoyed, Chan's heart immediately softens at the sight and he does what he can to capture the baby's attention.  

Once he has the baby's attention, the baby's cries start to subside. Chan starts playing peek-a-boo and making silly faces with the little one. The little boy starts to giggle and clap his little chubby hands, causing Chan's heart to completely melt into a puddle of goo.  

The mother looks at him with gratitude in her eyes, silently thanking him for his help and kindness. As the flight continues, Chan continues to entertain the baby, until he falls asleep. 

The mother relaxes as she sees her baby fast asleep, his little fist clutching her shirt.  

"Thank you so much," she says turning to look at Chan. "This is his first flight. I had prepared for him to be grizzley and unsettled." 

"I'm glad I got to help," he smiles. "I'm Chan or you can call me Chris." 

"I'm Y/N and this little guy is Haneul," she introduces. 

Chan and Y/N engage in casual conversation while baby Haneul peacefully sleeps. Y/N reveals that she is a single mother, as Haneul's father left before his birth. It has been just the two of them since Haneul came into the world 9 months ago. Y/N also shares that she was in Australia visiting family whom Haneul hadn't met until this trip. Half way through the flight, to give Y/N's arms a break, Chan even offers to hold Haneul for a while. Haneul remains asleep until the plane touches down on the tarmac.  

After the plane lands, Chan stays behind to help Y/N with her luggage, offering his assistance. Although he offers her a ride, Y/N assures him that her sister will be picking her up. Y/N once again expresses her gratitude for his kindness and company, to which Chan waves it off, happy to have been able to help. 

Spotting her sister as they leave the luggage claim, she waves to her older sibling before turning to Chan one last time. "If it's okay, I'd like to buy you a coffee sometime, when you're free of course." 

 "I would love that," he smiles. 

"Great!" she exclaims, her face lighting up as she looks relieved.  

Chan takes out his phone and unlocks it. They exchange phone numbers and part ways with Chan promising to text her as soon as he finds out when he’s got some free time. 

 3 YEARS LATER:  

"Chris? Haneul?" Y/N questions as she enters their home finding the lights off and no one seemingly home. She’s just gotten home from spending the day with her sister, getting the full spa treatment and getting her nails and hair done. After hanging her handbag on the hook and removing her shoes, she walks further into the house. 

Upon entering the living room, she switches on the light and is completely taken aback by what she sees in front of her. Her boyfriend and their son are dressed in their finest attire, surrounded by a beautiful arrangement of rose petals in the shape of a heart. To her astonishment, Haneul, who is now almost 4 years old, is holding a sign that reads, 'please say yes'. 

"What's happening?" she stammers, taken aback.  

That's when Chan takes out a ring box and kneels down. Haneul stands beside him, brimming with excitement. 

"We wanted to make this moment special for you," Chan says looking at Haneul before looking back at her, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" 

Tears well up in her eyes as she looks at the two most important people in her life, her heart overflowing with love and joy. 

“Say yes, Eomma!” Haneul shouts before she can answer. "Say yes so he can be my Appa!" 

She takes a deep breath and looks into Chan's eyes, her own filled with love. With a trembling voice, she lowers herself to their level, cupping Chan’s face in her hands and whispers, "Yes, Chan. I will marry you." 

Chan's eyes light up with happiness. He pulls her into a tight embrace, tears of joy running down his face. Haneul jumps up and down with excitement, knowing that they are now becoming an actual family.  

Letting go of each other, Chan kisses her, slipping the ring on to her finger before pulling apart again to bring Haneul in for a family group hug. Y/N kisses the top of her sons head.  

After a moment, they young family pull apart. Y/N takes her sons hands into her own and looks him in the eyes. "You know we've always been a real family right?"  

He nods, but his eyes betray him. Y/N and Chan have always been honest with him about everything including Chan not being his biological father, especially after all the rumours that started after Y/N and Chan started dating. Even though he would only be four in a few months' time and couldn’t really understand what was being said, they thought it would be best, if he knew the truth from the start instead of questioning all the rumours as he grows older. 

Chan also notices the uncertainty in Haneul's eyes and gently squeezes his hand, reassuring him. "No matter what anyone says, you and your eomma have always been my family, and nothing will ever change that. You're my son and I'm your Appa." 

Haneul's doubt slowly fades away, replaced by a radiant smile. He wraps his small arms around both Y/N and Chan. 

"I love you both so much," Chan continues, his voice filled with pure happiness as he embraces his family once more. 

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[cupcaketeddybehr]

when your credit card declines pt. 2

featuring: gojo, geto, and sukuna!!! sorry the storylines are all so drastically different LOL i made gojo's a meet cute 😅 also i've never written for sukuna before so i really hope you guys like it!

here's part 2 as promised! thank you so much to the lovely lovely @luvxoxo for the request!! ILYSM!!

for anyone who has a request/just wants to chat, my ask box is open!! (please please please please send me requests)

tags! <3 : @itawifeyy

Gojo

you sigh as you peer through the pastry display case at your favorite cafe. you came as soon as you got off work, but it doesn’t seem like you came early enough. with fifteen people in front of you, you’re sure that the three boxes of kikufuku, your favorite sweet treat, are going to disappear by the time it’s your turn. after dealing with annoying, entitled clients for the entire day, this brings your mood to a new all time low. unsure of what you’re going to end up ordering, you stay in the line, hoping that some kikufuku will be magically left by the tine you get to the front.

the man behind you doesn’t make waiting in the line any easier. either talking to himself or talking to someone who barely responds to him, he’s talking at a volume that’s making your ears ring. you have no choice but to listen as he excitedly gushes about the progress of his students at whatever school he teaches at. you assume that it’s the nearby jujutsu school you used to attend as a child. you feel the gusts of wind his exaggerated hand movements create on your neck. eventually, one of them end up accidentally smacking the side of your head. you turn around to yell at whoever's behind you when you make eye contact with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. you take in his expressive blue eyes and perfectly styled white hair. you’re wondering how he looks this good after a long day of work.

you two stare at each other a bit until the black-haired man next to him, who you assume is his friend (weird because you haven’t heard him talk the whole time), smacks him and hisses, “satoru, apologize”

satoru blinks and says, “oops, sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you,” still not breaking eye contact.

all anger suddenly leaving your body, you shake your head, “it’s okay” you stare at him a little longer, both of you waiting for the other person to say something. when neither of you do, you turn back around, a bit disappointed. maybe you were being delusional.

you drag your feet as the line in front of you gets shorter. you hear people shoving each other behind you, and you hold back a giggle.

“shut up, suguru”

you hear the two shove each other back and forth, careful not to hit you or anyone else with their antics.

when you get to the front of the line, you look into the display case again to look at the leftover kikufuku. to your disappointment (but not your surprise), there are none. turning to the cashier, you ask, “do you have any more of that?” as you point to the empty platter labeled “kikufuku”

she shakes her head, “sorry, all we have left are kikufuku pre-orders”

you frown, continuing to look at the display case, hoping to find something worth buying.

“you can have some of mine” satoru says from behind you. he looks at the cashier and asks her to bring his pre-order out from the back.

“no, it’s really okay i-“ you stop mid-sentence as you see the cashier come out of the kitchen with more kikufuku boxes than you can count. you can’t even see the top of her head. you look at suguru, who has his hand over his eyes, embarrassed. “i take it back.”

satoru laughs, “you can have a box!”

“ONE BOX? YOU HAVE SEVENTY”

“BECAUSE I PREORDERED”

you huff, ‘i guess… thank you, satoru”

he beams at the sound of his name, nods, and goes to look at the other pastries, asking suguru if he wants anything. currently, his eyes are only on the sweets in the bakery.

you take a glance at him as the cashier asks you to swipe your card for the box of kikufuku. you fish for your card in your wallet and then tap it on the machine.

“sorry, could you swipe that again?” the cashier asks. you panic and wonder how much money you have left in your account.

satoru suddenly looks away from the pastries and looks at you, “why are you paying?”

you’re confused, “i’m buying the box? if you don’t want me to anymore its fi-“

he steps beside you, asks the cashier to add a few more other sweet treats, and tells her to add your tab to his. “do you want anything else?”

“why are you being so nice to me?”

“maybe i want to take you out on a date” he says. “also- i never got your name”

“yes! uh- i mean, i’d love to” you grin, “and my name’s y/n”

he smiles and dumps the seventy boxes of kikufuku and bag of pastries on his friend. “suguru, hold this.”

grumbling, suguru takes the boxes and bag as satoru pulls out his phone.

“can i have your number?”

you nod, taking his phone and typing in your number and name with a little heart next to it.

“wanna come with me to this kikufuku shop tomorrow? i haven’t tried it yet” he asks.

“didn’t you just buy seventy boxes?”

suguru peeks out from behind the boxes, “he’ll be done with these by tomorrow.”

Geto

you walk through kyoto’s don quijote superstore with your boyfriend, suguru, on the phone. wandering the aisles searching for cheap peripera and romand lip oils and glosses, you can’t help but notice how shiny suguru’s hair looks through the screen. you swear that it’s reflecting light, sheen glistening as he moves around the house.

“sugu?” you begin, “did you change your haircare routine?”

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “noooooooo”

you gasp, betrayed. “you changed it and you didn’t tell me? is that why your hair looks so much better than mine right now?”

he doesn’t even try to argue that your hair is on equal footing, “maybe” he says, as he looks anywhere but you.

you glare at him through your phone, “we literally share the same hair care products. what have you been using?”

“i have a secret stash that i take out when you’re not looking” he sheepishly admits. “satoru told me that your hair looked better than mine the other day.”

you sigh, knowing how suguru is when it comes to his hair. “really, sugu? you’re letting your hair come between us?” you pout, jokingly. his entire ego relies on the appearance of his long black locks.

he laughs, “sorry, angel, my hair and i have a special relationship”

you roll your eyes, knowing that he would buzz his hair off if it meant saving you from a life or death situation. but that was the condition. you had to be on your deathbed. “can you at least tell me what products you’re using?” you beg.

“i use ten different products.”

“WHAT. you must be joking.”

he walks up the stairs and pans his phone camera to the stash of haircare products he’s apparently been keeping under the bed. your eyes widen as you spot every single one of the ten products. among them are hairbrushes, hair oils, dry shampoos, combs, and hair ties (the fancy spiral ones that don’t leave dents).

“why do i feel like this is the equivalent of you cheating on me”

he laughs, “baby, you’re being dramatic.”

“suguru. remind me which one of us keeps a secret stash of hair care products under the bed because he’s too scared to be tied for best hair?”

he clicks his tongue, “fine… i’ll help you find the products. but not all ten”

“why can’t i just use yours?”

“they’re mine.” he says possessively. “but i promise to help you find some.”

you grumble as he gives you step by step directions to the shampoo and conditioner aisle. apparently, he knows the way to the hair care aisle by heart.

when you flip the camera over, he points to the viral &honey shampoo and conditioner. “get that, angel. it’s a really good brand”

you two spend about thirty minutes picking out hair oils and hair masks before you’ve just about had it. “suguuuuu this is too much work” you whine.

he laughs and starts walking towards your garage. “i’ll be there in ten, okay?”

he arrives exactly ten minutes later and you take on a mindless, drone-like state, letting your boyfriend do all the work for you. you watch him as he squints at the labels of all the hair care products, making sure that they either contain or don’t contain a bunch of ingredients you can’t pronounce.

when it’s time to check out, you’re walking hand in hand to the cashier when he starts massaging his temples, “shit, i forgot the new tsubaki hair mask i wanted. i’ll be right back, okay angel?”

“okay sugu! get me one too!”

after looking at the ten person line, you decide that you might as well queue to save time. apparently, people move faster than you thought, because you’re at the front of the line with everything on the conveyor belt. you feel like your parent just left you at the cashier.

panicking, you glance behind you at the long line of people. no way you’re getting back in that. you decide to just tell suguru to come back another day for the hair masks. you double check the total and swipe your pink credit card on the machine.

“i’m sorry, could you try that again?” the cashier asks. you look at the screen and pray that the bold “DECLINED” message is just an error. when you go to swipe again, your card is snatched out of your hand before it’s even halfway to the machine.

“sorry i took so long, angel. i had to fight people for the last two hair masks.” suguru explains. “also- didn’t i tell you to call me whenever you’re buying something? you shouldn’t have to spend your money on anything.”

you breathe a sigh of relief, “usually, i would offer to pay… but i think i’m broke”

suguru stifles his laugh, “remind me to transfer money to your account when we get home, baby.”

you giggle and kiss him, “you’re the best!”

a week later, your hair starts looking a little shinier than his and the cycle begins again.

Sukuna

after admiring sukuna’s tattoos for months, you’ve finally psyched yourself up enough to get one.

you hold his bicep still as you color around his black markings with sharpie while he’s quietly eating his extremely rare-cooked (was it even cooked? you have no idea) steak. “kuna? what tattoo do you think i should get?” you ask as you hand him your phone.

he scrolls through your “tattoo” pinterest board with a look of distate. “these wouldn’t suit you, brat”

you frown as you glance at the pins he’s looking at. you had been hoping to get a cute little studio ghibli linework tattoo on your arm. “why not? I think they’re really cute.”

“something else would look better. those look weak and pathetic.”

you start to get annoyed when he takes a sharpie from your pile and takes hold of your arm. “kuna… what are you doing?”

“drawing your tattoo, obviously” he grumbles. he seems to be annoyed at the fact that you consulted pinterest before him.

the pen strokes on your arm lull you to sleep as sukuna draws all over your forearm, elbow, and bicep.

thirty minutes later, he flicks your forehead to wake you up. “i’m done, brat”

you yawn groggily as you take in the masterpiece on your arm. it’s an entire sleeve of beautifully drawn flowers.

“kuna… this is beautiful.”

“i know” he says, “it suits you.”

you grin at him, “awww thank you, kuna”

he nods, “you can look up the meanings of the flowers later.”

MEANINGS? your boyfriend knows the meanings of flowers? you know that he gardens, but you didn’t know that he loved flowers this much. “i love you so much! you’re so cute!” you squeal while you throw your arms around his neck.

“ditto… and don’t call me cute.”

you tug on his hand and pull him to the car, “let’s go!”

before you know it, you’ve been laying down on the tattoo bench for almost two hours. the piece is huge, and you’re sure that you’re going to be here until they close. sukuna sits beside you, brushing his long nails through your hair and squeezing your free hand with his other hand every time you wince.

at some point, tears are falling down your face. sukuna yells at the tattoo artist to get out while he wipes the tears from your face and kisses your forehead repeatedly. “you can do it, just a little bit more. it’s going to look so pretty on you”

you nod, squeezing his pointer and middle fingers with your hand.

when the tattoo artist walks back in, sukuna shoots him a glare before returning to his original position. an hour later, he’s stroked your hair so much that you’ve fallen asleep.

when the tattoo artist pokes your shoulder to wake you up, you take a moment to admire the beautiful spread of flowers on your arm. as you turn to tell your boyfriend, you realize that he’s fast asleep on the chair. now that you’re looking at him, you have no idea how he fit into that chair to begin with.

you quietly make your way to the counter to pay, trying not to wake sukuna. when you pull your credit card out of your wallet, it somehow suddenly goes flying right into sukuna’s hand.

he walks towards you , running a hand through his hair. “WOMAN. how many times have i told you that you’re not allowed to pay for anything in this relationship?” he snips, inserting his platinum american express card into the slot.

“oops”

“whatever, just don’t pull something like that again. i ordered you a credit card linked to my account. it’s coming tomorrow.” he says.

your eyes widen, “WHA-“

he clamps his hand over your mouth, “shhhhh… just accept it”

you nod slowly, “okay… thank you kunaaa”

“mhm” he says as he spins you to the side to get a good look at your new piece. “do you like it?”

“of course i do, you drew it” you say, staring adoringly into his eyes. “wanna tell me what flowers you drew?”

he points to each one as he names them, “alstroemeria, calla lily, baby’s breath, camellia, daisy, marigold, and rose”

“wanna tell me what they mean?”

“no. google it.”

later, when you go to google the flowers, tears well in your eyes at your boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

[alstroemeria (devotion and friendship), calla lily (magnificent beauty), baby’s breath (everlasting love), camellia (perfected loveliness), daisy (cheerfulness), marigold (power and strength), rose (loyalty and love)]

you come up behind him and jump on his back, kissing his cheek, “you’re the best”

the corner of his mouth lifts, “so when are we getting matching tattoos?”

thank you so much to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers and support banners 🫶

and thank YOU so much for reading! i appreciate you!

[the-kr8tor]

Hello!!! I have simple request if you don’t mind how about drunk Hobie with y/n…I wanna see how you would write their dynamic cause I love your writing <3

Thank you for requesting, lovely! 💛

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, drinking, cw vomit, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You wake up groggily to the telephone ringing loudly inside your shared bedroom. With one eye open, you blindly reach for the receiver, hand bumping all over the mess that is your bedside table. Bringing the phone to your ear, face squished on the pillow, sleep still clinging to your lashes.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks.

“Y/N? It's Ned” you wake up in a flash, mind already flashing to Hobie or his friends having some sort of emergency during their weekly get together. Is there a fire? Did someone get alcohol poisoning? Is he okay?

“Come get your man. He's gonna get kicked out with how loud the fucker is right now. The owner’s staring daggers at him”

Sure enough, there's a loud booming laughter in the background and what sounds to be glass shattering. Ned's swirling his words together but sober enough to put together a cohesive sentence. But definitely not drunk enough to handle his friends' shenanigans.

“Oh shit! Please hurry, he's telling everyone that he's Spider-Man, what a weirdo.” there's a rustling sound then the phone falls, banging on the wall briefly. There's fast footsteps and a muffled, “Hobie! Christ, that's your third fucking glass!”

There's roaring laughter, and an unmistakable voice. “Who you callin’? The coppers? You're no fun anymore, Neddy”

The dial tone ends and you're already putting on your trainers, taking your keys, wallet and coat. You don't even bother changing out of your pajamas, they look presentable enough, right?

The train ride was awkward. You in your pajamas, hair disheveled, and mismatched socks. Good thing there weren't a lot of commuters this late or the staring would actually get to you. There was an awkward silence when you stepped inside, but with you staring right back at them with your sleep deprived eyes, they looked away immediately.

You practically ran to the white horse pub, the party was in full swing, people with sloshing pints in hand and men drunkenly trying to walk straight. Hugging your coat closer, you tie them closed, scanning the pub for the familiar figure.

Spotting Hobie halfway up the table with Ned trying to drag him off, his laughs would make you giggle if not for him being so inebriated, chugging an entire pint while his other friends cheer him on, banging on tables and guffawing over the already loud pub. A friend you've recognized before joins him on the table, finishing his own pint. Hobie eggs him on with him tipping his friend's pint closer to the man's lips, while chanting: you can do it, mate!

The wood wobbles and you quickly make your way towards him. Ned sighs in relief, you smile apologetically before he changes course for the other friend on the table, almost tackling him off it.

You hold onto his leather jacket in an attempt to balance him. He usually has great balance but you don't completely trust his coordination.

“Hobie!” You yell through the loud chatter of the pub. The owner watches on in your peripheral, “Sorry, Joe! I'll get him home!”

“You better! Your boy's a menace, he's been inciting everyone on his little drinking game”

“Isn't that good? People are buying more booze?”

“Don't push it, love. That's the only reason why I'm not gonna make him pay for the broken glasses”

You wince, “sorry about those” He grunts, waving off.

Tugging at his jacket, you call his name again. Hobie finally looks down, eyes flicking from your hands to your face. You'd expect him to greet you with a smile or even drop down and hug you, instead, he swats your hands away from him, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

You blink in surprise, bewildered at his actions. “Hey! Hobie!”

“What?” he folds his knees to level with you, his eyes blinking a little too quickly, head tilted, hands on his knees for extra balance.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I'm here to take you home. You're too drunk” you hold his hand, tugging him down on the table.

“And you're too bloody handsy” he flings your hand away. “I'm–” he blinks slowly, trying to get his bearings. “I'm have a girl back home, yeah? Don't” Hobie pokes your forehead.

You get cross eyed, a minute ago you'd thought he was just a little too drunk, the kind of drunk where you're wobbly on your feet, now you know he definitely can't see straight. You decide to play along, just so you can tease him in the morning.

“Oh” you bring your hands on your chest in a mock surprise. “Didn't know that, so sorry”

“No harm, but she–she would…could throw hands if she saw you grope me like that”

Grope? “I wasn't– you know what, tell me more about her. She sounds nice”

Hobie beams at you, a resemblance of what he would usually look like once he sees you in a crowded room. He sits on the table like you just asked a child what his favourite dinosaur is.

“She– she's sooo good to me, y’know” you nod, biting your lip to stop a giddy laugh from escaping. “I told her that I was Spiderman and y’know what she did?!” He excitedly yells, good thing no one here actually believes his drunk ramblings or else the entire pub would know that they're currently drinking with spiderman himself.

“No, what did she do?” you smile, eyes twinkling under the dim lights of the pub.

“She said she loves me! And and” he gestures excitedly. “Supports me! Isn't that fuckin' amazing?!” Hobie sighs longingly. “I miss her, I wish she was here. She'd probably bonk me on the head with how much I've drunk though.” He trails off, his eyes glassy. “I should go home”

“Yeah, you should” you slowly inch closer to him. “Hey, babe?”

“Yes, lovie?” Hobie does a double take, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Lovie!” He tackles you in for a hug. His face snuggling closer to your neck. You rub his back, giggling.

Now you're the one struggling to balance. “I miss you too” you kiss his temple. “Let's go home before you let out anymore of your secrets”

You would have struggled more if you brought him to the tube, luckily enough, you found a cab within five minutes of waiting (and wrangling) with Hobie.

After a round of goodbyes from his equally drunk friends, you finally got him inside the taxi. The driver clicks his tongue at another drunk passenger.

“He better not get sick all over my seats” the driver says gruffly.

“He won't, don't worry” you say with a fake smile.

“I think ‘m gonna be sick.” Hobie opens the car window, letting the cool air in.

“Please don't” you whisper to him, patting his back affectionately whilst you smile at the glaring driver so he doesn't kick you out.

After a car ride that seemed endless and one throw up outside the flat, you're both finally home. Getting him up the stairs was more of a struggle, he wobbled on his feet, almost tumbling off the staircase, if not for you clinging to him he would most definitely fall. Once inside the bedroom, he groans, leaning his entire body on you. Arms enclosed around your shoulders, head lolling to the side.

Hobie drops like a sack of potatoes on the mattress, bringing you down with him. You land on top as he traps you in his embrace.

“You're so good to me” he murmurs against the crown of your head.

“Mm-hmm, so I've been told” you cuddle closer, not minding the smell of alcohol.

“Because it's true” Hobie places a sticky kiss on your head then folding his neck just to reach your temple.

“You're gonna regret this in the morning” you help him in attacking your face by leaning over him, your elbows on the side of his head, fingers scratching his scalp. His hands skim over to your waist, holding you securely.

“I'll never” kiss “ever” kiss “regret” kiss “snogging you”

You laugh from the belly with every peck he leaves on your skin. “I know that, I’m talking about you drinking too much”

Hobie pauses, eyes narrowed from tiredness, lips still pursed together. “Ah that, sorry” he apologizes for his future self even though he would most definitely say it in the morning when you hand him some meds and lots of fluids.

“We'll talk about it once you're sober and without a banging headache. Rest, I'll take care of you” kissing his nose, you leave his side to grab fresh clothes for him to change into.

Before you completely leave, Hobie takes your hand, squeezing it.

“Love you, thank you” You let him bring your knuckles up to his lips, he sighs.

“Love you too, I think you're about to have the worst morning tomorrow” you chuckle, leaning closer to his touch like a planet orbiting its sun.

“With you, it won't be”

“You get cheesy when you're drunk” kissing the tip of his nose, you leave again, turning away, earning a grunt of disapproval from Hobie.

“I hate to see you go but I love watching you leave!” he says with gusto.

You should've brought a video camera with you when you were in the pub.

[adventuringblind]

Entitled To You (3.6K words)

Norstaptri x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.

Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.

Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T

Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay. 

“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!

“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”

“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.” 

She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s. 

To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.” 

The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining. 

She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert. 

The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her. 

They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner. 

If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy. 

“Not so confident now, huh?” 

The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?” 

“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”

“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy. 

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening. 

“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.” 

“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.

“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her. 

It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be. 

And then nothing. 

A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for. 

His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy? 

“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before. 

She blacks out. 

~~~♡~~~

Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes. 

When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound. 

Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her. 

Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry. 

She can't move. 

It's dark again. 

~~~♡~~~

The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot. 

The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute. 

“Max, she always responds.” 

“I know Lando.” 

“She always calls if she's going to be longer.” 

“Lando?”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?” 

The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet. 

Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered. 

They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now. 

Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes. 

“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features. 

“What the fuck?” 

Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.” 

Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help. 

“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears. 

It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that. 

“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable. 

The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely. 

Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help. 

It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian. 

He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?

“When will they let us see her?”

“When she wakes up, most likely.”

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name. 

“-She’s asking for us.” 

He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall. 

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?” 

She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando. 

Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing. 

She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”  

“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one.  Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her. 

“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?” 

“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead. 

“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?” 

“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.

“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.” 

“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck” 

Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep. 

~~~♡~~~

Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained. 

On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated. 

The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution. 

Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort. 

Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off. 

“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.” 

The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.” 

“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment. 

It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?” 

“And what if I am?” 

She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible. 

They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.

Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’. 

Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.” 

“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.” 

“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes. 

Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”

“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”

“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.” 

He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble. 

“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?” 

“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him. 

Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.” 

~~~♡~~~

It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.

He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something. 

Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now. 

Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times. 

Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here. 

“Get out!” 

“We were just talking-” 

“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room. 

He’s not prone to violence. 

Really, he’s not. 

Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good. 

The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming. 

Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.  

“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.” 

“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”

Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.” 

“Equilibrium.” 

“Yeah that!” 

He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline. 

They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits. 

The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point? 

“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.” 

“Christian said-”

“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”

lando Can’t help but share her feelings.

~~~♡~~~

She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet. 

At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart. 

The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance. 

They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.  

She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her. 

She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see. 

Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say. 

She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.

The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage. 

Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.

The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been. 

She wins the next race. 

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.” 

“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.

“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence. 

“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…” 

“You’re a genius Oscar!”

She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they’ve been so patient. 

“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her. 

She smiles back.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 2

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part

Chapter 2: Lakers, Headlines… New York?

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: part 2 of legally binded! I hear yall and I see the comments! This will be a series, got a lot of ideas for this one. But of course, I am open to hearing what you guys think and want to see! A little bonding moment for R and Jenna 😮‍💨

Word Count: 6.3k+ (lol sorry, may have gone overboard!)

“So… what does this mean, exactly?” Jenna asks for both of you.

“We’re gonna make the two of you the talk of the town. And hopefully get people to back off on the allegations that Jenna is difficult to work with and that Y/N is entering her Justin Bieber phase — and not the good one.” Your PR agent, Liv, purses her lips.

Jenna can’t help the snort that leaves her lips, awkwardly coughing to hide it. But you catch it anyway, throwing her a glare.

“Difficult to work with huh?” You speak up — in faux interest. “Not hard to see why.”

This time Jenna is the one glaring at you. “You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me either.” You huff.

“Enough!” Jake yells. Anger steadily rose in the man’s bloodstream.

You and Jenna flinch at his loudness. Sliding down the chair, you feel ashamed again; ignoring Jenna’s piercing glare.

Liv is sighing but opts not to add fuel to the fire. “It’s going to take a few hours to get the paperwork and contract drafted —but once it’s done we’ll have it sent over to you. For now, get to know each other, I don’t know.”

You shoot Liv a scowl. She was making this already awkward situation so much worse.

She catches your look, sighing, “Just–pretend this is another job and you’re new castmates. Anything please. ” She rolls her eyes, already fed up with what disaster this morning has been.

“You can do that, right?” Liv crosses her arms, staring at you two in question.

“Yes.” Jenna mumbles.

“Mhmm.” You hum lazily, changing the subject. “Can we tell people? That this isn’t real?”

Liv glances at Jake and Sarah sharing a silent conversation. They nod at each other. “If they sign an NDA. Only family, your team and us. This cannot leave the room.”

You feel pale. You couldn’t even tell the people around you about this fake relationship without binding them to a contract? Suddenly, the situation starts to feel more real; the carpet of delusion being pulled from under you.

You’re standing up, pushing the chair back with a loud scrape that rings terribly against your ears. “I need some air.”

“You’re really leaving in the middle of a meeting?” Jenna questions with a snip, crossing her arms.

“Sorry your highness, I got better places to be. Liv you can send the contract to my assistant. Ortega, wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you… but well.” You trail off, shrugging.

Liv and Jake are fuming red in the face at your words, but you were still hungover and the comedown was begging to wreak havoc – your irritation getting harder to restrain. 

Jenna’s face scrunches, offended. You walk away, not bothering to listen for a response.

“There’s no way I can work with her…” You catch it anyway.

●●●

“I mean can you believe what they’re asking me to do!” You pace up and down your living room.

“Oh come on, I don’t buy the allegations that she’s difficult, you know they love to tear women down when they get their come up.” Link reasons tapping on his phone.

“I mean how can this face be rude?” He holds up a picture of Jenna at the SAG awards and you furrow your brows because you don’t remember seeing her there — you might have been late.

You were just nominated anyway. So you pulled a Beyoncé and only showed up for your category.

“Maybe Jenna’s not so bad?”

“Quit it.”

It was now mid-afternoon and the battering Californian sun was shining bright above clear skies and through your floor-to-ceiling windows. You bought this house in the Palisades for the peace it provided you. Not too far from central L.A. but still tucked away enough for a moment of solitude with a life like yours.

It was your own version of a sanctuary – like a home should be. 

“Okay, that sounds crazy, I agree. But dude, you fucked up. Big time.” Your long-time friend Link said. 

You and Link grew up together and when you got your come up, best believe you took your best friend with you. You offered to help him out while he lives with you as you achieve your dreams but ever the stubborn guy, he refused. Only agreeing to move to Los Angeles with you if he works as your assistant to earn his keep.

He’s a good guy like that. 

Since then, he’s been by your side. Through every disappointment, bad news, great news, red carpets, and movie premieres. You couldn’t do this job without him. 

He’s like your brother.

“I know!” You groan, dropping to the couch. Why the hell did you let your designer choose these couches? They were stiffer than a plank of wood.

“Look at this article online, 2-time Grammy winner and Academy Award Nominee, Y/N L/N’s fall from grace? Sin City indeed! The actress blacks out at a Vegas strip club! Click here to see exclusive mugshots.”

“They’re selling my fucking mugshots?” You lift your head above the headrest horrified, watching Link sit across the room on a bar stool reading his phone. 

“I’m pretty sure they’re public domain.” He refutes.

Falling back, you groan louder – hiding your face behind your palms.

“I don’t see how you have a choice, buddy.” He sighs, placing his phone on the bar top. 

“There has to be another way. Why can’t I just run away? I’ll fly back home for a couple of weeks, and let all of this shit die down. It’s worked before.” 

“Yeah, I told Jake and Liv you’d say that.” He rolls his eyes, walking to you. “I don’t think you can run from this one, Y/N.”

The softness in his voice has you sighing in defeat. He’s right, you know he’s right. This wasn’t just some tiny mistake you can brush under the carpet like all the other ones. This was serious. 

You got arrested. For blacking out with someone who had drugs on them. In a strip club, no less.

What a mess.

Something like this could seriously hurt your career. You could lose roles, relationships, connections, brand deals – the blood, sweat, and tears you poured in; everything you worked so hard for – gone.

“I know… Doesn’t make me wanna do it more though,” You mumble, distantly staring at the high ceiling.

He chuckles, “I know bud. But this is what we signed up for, right?” 

You frown. It’s what we signed up for.

It’s a mantra that you have adopted in all your years as a working performer. It certainly wasn’t the most comforting and loving thing to say, but it works because it’s true and there’s no greater motivator than a slap in the face to reality. 

You much preferred tough love anyway.

“Right.” You mutter.

“Come on, I think Jenna’s manager just sent me the signed contract, they’re just waiting for your signature.” He walks off to his office. 

You close your eyes, letting the sun warm you up through the glass panes. A few moments pass until Link comes back out with a tablet and pen. “Sign here, under Jenna’s signature.”

She has pretty handwriting – you note as you sign the electronic document. 

Call it weird but you had a thing for people with neat handwriting, steady hands and all that. 

But then you remember who the professional signature belonged to and forced yourself to snap out of it.

“Did you even read it?” He arches a brow.

“That’s what lawyers are for.”

He scoffs, “Okay, superstar. It basically says what you and Jenna need to do. Public spottings at first, then dates, appearances at each other's events. Maybe posts on social media, but the idea is to be discreet – we can’t have it seem like we’re using this to scrub away the Vegas incident.”

“But that’s exactly what we’re doing,” You sigh.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. And it’s your damn job to make sure they don’t ever find out either.”

You rub your forehead; a headache beginning to form. Not sure if it was from the hangover or from all this PR mess.

“Anways,” He takes the tablet out of your hands. “I’ll send these over to Liv. Now as for you. Go upstairs, take a shower because you smell horrendous and then put on what your stylist picked out.”

Wrinkling your nose, you ask, “What, why? I literally just got back, I already have to go out and show my face? The paparazzi will hound me.” 

“We have to beat the Vegas headline with a bigger story, so you need to be seen with Jenna ASAP. That means out for a late lunch at a well-known spot downtown. You have to act like the news doesn’t bother you – like you’re moving past it.”

“Who goes out for late lunch?” 

He sends you a pointed look. 

“I’ll be upstairs…” You mumble, dragging your feet as you ascend the steps.

●●●

You tap your fingers on the steering wheel, glancing up at the modest house through your sunglasses.

A mid-modern century house in Glendale. Not where you pictured her to live but whatever. Her front yard was bare but professionally trimmed. No signs of any plant life that made the space look a little… dull. The only signs of life in the house was the humble SUV that you assumed belonged to the young actress.

Your tapping grows impatient the longer you wait.

As if staring harder at the front door will make the actress come out faster. Another five agonizing minutes pass – you seriously consider pulling away to go home and sleep off this hangover but Link stood a good half-foot taller than you.

He’d lock your ass out of your own home. 

Eventually, the door opens and the short brunette walks down the driveway in confident strides. Dressed in jeans, combat boots and a cardigan; those headphones around her neck, again. Somehow, she looked consistently gothic and you pondered if she really was like her character in real life.

You see her scan your Mercedes-AMG GT3 for a moment before pulling the passenger door open; sliding into the cushy seats. “Nice car.”

You blink, “Thanks… you sure took your time though,”

You couldn’t stop the slight attitude that accompanied your words.

She gives you a sharp glance, “why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”

“You had to unlock the gate to let me in, you knew I was waiting outside.” You huff, staring at her back. 

“Then would have waited in the living room if you had knocked. What difference does it make?” She shrugs.

“That’s not the poi–” You gruff but stop, inhaling a deep breath. The pounding in your skull was begging for you to cool down. 

“I think I much preferred waiting in the car… alone.” You whisper the last bit then shoot her a sarcastic glance; shifting the gear in reverse.

You don’t bother to check if she had her seatbelt on as you aggressively pull out her driveway; leaving skid marks on the pavement.

She jerks forward at the sudden movement. “Shit– a little warning next time?” She glares bracing herself on the dashboard.

“Hands off the leather,” You bite as you pull off her street and to the restaurant Link sent you the directions to. 

She scoffs. “My driveway!”

●●●

“Table for 2 under Ortega? Please follow me, can I be the first one to say how delighted we are that you two decided to dine here.” The host enthused a little too much.

“It’s our pleasure.” Jenna answers politely.

You plaster a tight-lipped smile keeping quiet; sliding a modest hand on Jenna’s back when he leads you past other patrons and to a secluded table – heads already turning in your direction. Jenna jumps, sending you a menacing glare and for a moment you feel slightly scared by the fire in her eyes – dropping your hand immediately. 

Okay, no touching. Got it.

“Here we are, the best seat in the house. We have complementary champagne on the table to start your evening. We’ll give you a few moments to get settled,” He sends a tight smile causing his wrinkles to show – definitely trying too hard but you’d never say no to free alcohol.

“Thank you,” You bid, pulling a chair out for Jenna.

She walks to claim the opposite chair, assuming you’re taking the one you pulled out. But she stares as you stand behind the open chair, awkwardly. Only then did she seem to realize that the seat was for her.

Raising her brows, she looked a little surprised but wordlessly and a bit awkwardly (she sends a tight-lipped smile) sits over to the chair allowing you to push it in for her, before taking your own seat across.

The first thing you grab is the bottle of champagne and the flute. 

You miss Jenna’s tracking eyes as you pour a hefty glass. “Is that really the best thing for you to have, especially after last night? Also, it’s like 4 PM.”

“I didn’t know you were the alcohol police and it’s 8 PM somewhere.” You take big gulps of the champagne, savouring the way it burned but also felt cool on the way down.

“Trust me, I’m not. But my ass is on the line here too and there are people watching.” She grits out the last part, signalling with her eyes. You glance up catching two girls from another table with their phones up, no doubt taking pictures and recording you and Jenna. 

Looking away, you place the glass flute down, sitting back in your seat with a slump. “Fine…”

“When are you going to take this seriously?” She whispers, tone: sharp.

“I am taking this seriously,” You fight to keep your face impassive knowing there are eyes on you both. 

“No, you’re not. You couldn’t even sit through the meeting this morning and now you’re acting like a child. Might I remind you, we’re in this mess because of you.”

You clench your jaw, trying your hardest not to blow up in this fine establishment. 

“I’m the reaso—“

“Are we ready to order?” The waitress cuts in.

“Yes, we are.” Jenna turns to her with that large, sweet smile that sells millions.

●●●

‘New Gal-Pals in Hollywood, Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega spotted out for lunch’

It was now the following day after your ‘lunch date’ with Jenna and you wish to say it only got better as time went on but that would be a lie. You two did not get along – at all. How was it possible for your management to find the one person on this planet that you just couldn’t get along with. 

You know difficult, you can handle difficult. You’ve worked with the likes of Shia Lebeouf, Gweneth Paltrow, Michael Bay… just to name a few. You’ve had your fair share of difficult colleagues.

But this girl? She’s something else. 

“Gal pals? Really?” Your nose scrunches in distaste.

“No wait, this one’s better! Wednesday star Jenna Ortega supports new bestie, Y/N L/N amid Vegas arrest.”

“Stop.” But Link’s loud laughter overpowers you.

“Oh! We got one that’s different, Trouble-maker, A-lister, Y/N L/N, will drag down rising-star Jenna Ortega!”

“Okay, that’s just bullshit.” You pique up.

“Rising star?” Jenna voices in disdain.

“Enough!” Liv’s voice echoes from your laptop speaker. “This isn’t the headline we wanted.”

You roll your eyes, scanning the candid photo of you and Jenna sitting at the restaurant.

The images look tame enough and can definitely be interpreted as just two friends out for a bite. News outlets don’t buy it, but the internet is already freaking out; spewing out unsolicited opinions on this new pairing. Some think you two are just friends, some think it’s a date, others think it’s for a movie role.

“I thought I did a good job,” Jenna speaks up on the other line of the Facetime call. 

“Clearly not…” You mumble, but she catches it anyway, rolling her eyes. 

“We need to up the ante, this is not good enough.” Liv sighs and you can hear the trepidation through the call.

“Like what?”

“There’s a Lakers game tonight and you two are making your first official appearance.” She grins with mischief.

“Lakers?” Jenna rouses, sounding excited.

“How would they interpret that differently than before?” Shaking your head.

“I got a plan already, darling. I have a guy in TMZ who’s going to break the first official headline that you two are in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage. Which is where you two come in… after the game headlines of your guys’ date night will be the number one trending topic.” She explains, eyes lighting up in excitement.

Liv loves to lay out her plans to whoever was willing to listen — you’re already tuning her out.

You are sure her plan is genius like she says it is.

“Are they versing someone decent, at least?” You ask tiredly. When were you going to get some time to yourself?

“Celtics.”

“I’m in.”

●●●

“Do you really have to wear sunglasses indoors? Everyone knows we’re here.” Jenna whispers from beside you.

“It’s part of the look.” You retort, sliding down the foldable chair. Why are courtside seats so uncomfortable for all the money I’m paying?

“What look.”

“We got two stars in the Lakers house tonight! Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega!”’ The announcer booms through the stadium speakers. 

Looking up at the jumbotron, you and Jenna are plastered big and bright on the screen. You flash a dazzling smile and force your body to untense – ignoring Jenna’s quip.

You embrace the loud cheers and applauds, waving and sending the camera that dazzling smile you have mastered. Jenna copies your movements.

Eventually, the camera pans away from you two and you finally feel like you can breathe again. 

“God, I think my eardrums ruptured.” She complains, clutching her earring clad-ears painfully.

You laugh, “Oh come on, you don’t have people shouting for your attention at you at every turn?”

She frowns, shaking her head, “Not at this level… I like to think I still have some anonymity.”

Snorting, you say, “Yeah well, just wait. That’ll all be gone — so enjoy it while you can.” 

You don’t see her frown deepen because you spot a familiar face. “Look who’s in the house!”

“Hey!” You stand briskly. Lebron James comes barreling over in large steps; greeting you with a hug and a pat on the back. 

“Feeling ready for tonight?” You ask, smiling up at the athlete. Being a big name in Hollywood definitely came with nice perks like knowing world-renowned athletes.

As much as you complain about your life – this is certainly a perk you can’t deny.

“You know it! We’re gonna mop the floors with your lil Celtics team.” He smirks making you laugh.

“Okay, save the trash-talking for the court... This is Jenna by the way.” You move to the side to reveal Jenna sitting; watching the two of you with a flabbergasted look on her face. 

“Nice to meet you, Jenna. My kids loved Wednesday, I think my daughter might dress up as you this Halloween.” He jokes; shaking her hand. 

It was quite an amusing sight to see Jenna crane her neck to meet the basketball player’s eyes. And you really tried your hardest not to snort when her tiny hands slide into his gigantic palms – her upper arm practically disappearing in his grasp.

They continue talking for a few more moments before the basketball player eventually bids his goodbye to continue warming up. 

“You’re friends with Lebron James?” She asked in disbelief when you sit back down.

“Yeah, is that surprising?” You arch a brow.

“Yes?” She asks like you were stupid for even asking.

You chuckle. “Well, now you know.” 

“Also… a Celtics fan, really? That’s just disgraceful.” She shakes her head.

You scrunch your face in faux annoyance, puffing your chest proudly, “Hell yeah the Celtics! We’re gonna wipe the court with your little Lakers in their own house.” 

“Don’t let people hear you say that, you’ll be stoned,” She laughs heartily. 

For a brief moment, you watch as she shakes in laughter at her own joke – unable to fight the infectiousness of her laugh. Her bangs shake with her movements as she attempts to hide her smile behind her hand.

Were you guys getting along? Nah, impossible. 

“I’ll just use you as a shield.”

“I’m like five-foot, I don’t think I’ll be much help.” She snorts. 

“Pocket-sized shield – makes travelling easier.” You shrug, smirking. 

She shoots you a side-eye but you see the smirk she tries to hide from you. 

Eventually, the national anthem is sung and tip-off begins. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying yourself right now. After the weekend disaster in Vegas, all you wanted to do was sleep away your fuck-ups. But this… isn’t so bad. 

Jenna seems to have loosened up and allowed herself to enjoy the game.

You cheer enthusiastically when the Celtics go on a 12-0 run in the fourth quarter. 

The score is 94 - 90, with the Lakers in the lead. You were standing now, your concession drinks and snacks forgotten under your chair. The energy in the stadium is infectious as everyone cheers for their respective teams.

“This is what I’m talking about, now we got a game!” You clap loudly, yelling.

“$100 Lakers win this one.” The sweet voice shouts over the crowd.

You turn, grinning. “That’s it? $1000, Celtics win.” 

The quiet contemplation is burning bright in her eyes, but eventually, she gives in extending her hand. “You’re on.”

Somehow, your grin stretches wider when she slides her hand in yours to seal the deal. “I can’t wait to be a $1000 richer.”

“In your dreams,” she clicks her tongue, focusing on the court.

“Come on ref, that was a foul!” She shouts at the checkered-shirt man as he runs past you.

She’s not looking at you but you find yourself unable to look away from her. 

Granted, you barely knew anything about Jenna before meeting her yesterday. But you think you like this laid-back version of her more than the one you met at first.

A whistle-blowing breaks your staring before it becomes too obvious.

Eventually, the game goes into overtime with the score being 104 - 104 when the Lakers gets both free throws in. You’re practically shaking in excitement as you watch from courtside.

You are bent over, hands on your knees like a soccer mom watching their kid get a penalty kick. You miss Jenna snapping a photo of the court with you bent over in the corner of the picture.

“Come on, Tatum!” You shout, a vein on your forehead protruding. 

“Did you say a $1000 richer?” She mocks, using your words against you.

“Don’t go on a victory lap yet,” You stand as the last time-out is called, “The score’s even and there’s still 5 seconds on the clock. It’s anybody's game right now.”

When the whistle blows signalling time-out is over, you are tense again. Jenna seems to share your sentiments as she absentmindedly grabs your jacket when the Celtics shooting guard walks behind the line to inbound the ball.

Anticipation getting the best of her.

You ignore the touch – unsure if you wanted to pull away or never move your arm again.

“Shit!” You yell when someone on the Lakers intercepts the Celtics attempt to inbound — sloppily passing it to another player in gold and purple. 

3 seconds remaining on the clock and a fast-break on the Lakers side ensues; green jerseys struggling to keep up.

“Schroder tips the Celtics inbound and manages to pass it off to Thompson, to James! James with a hail mary from half-court with 2 seconds, will he make it!” The announcer exclaims.

It was like the movies when everything goes silent and somehow you see everything in slow motion. You watch as the ball spins high above in the air with the powerful throw from the Laker’s power forward. The only thing you feel is Jenna’s fist gripping your arm, bunching the jacket in her hands. 

You unconsciously lean into her; the intensity of the room bouncing off you. 

The ball continues to spin until it amazingly flies through the basket with a satisfying swoosh and the buzzer rings loudly.

The crowd explodes – bursting into loud cheers. 

“Holy shit!” Jenna jumps, cheering.

“No fucking way.” You groan.

You feel her grab your shoulders to face her, still jumping up and down; a large smile on her face. You find yourself matching her grin despite your team not winning. 

Nodding in defeat, you admit, “Okay, okay… that was a pretty great game.”

“Great?” She shakes you like a rag doll, “That was the best game I’ve ever seen!” 

“Are you turning into a basketball fan, Miss Ortega?” You tease as she pulls away from you.

Still with a grin, she says, “Never… Football will always have my heart.”

“I didn’t peg you for an NFL fan but I guess I’ve heard stranger things.” You tease as she rolls her eyes.

“Soccer, Y/N.”

“Why didn’t you just call it the proper name then?”

“We are not starting this.” She holds a hand up, turning to sit back in her seat. The high of winning the bet, dwindling away.

●●●

“This is me…” Jenna says into the quiet night air. 

You shifted on your feet as you stood by your car. The night had been an unexpected…. success. After the game, you two made sure to stick around to chat and take pictures with fans in the crowd. 

The more eyes that saw you two together, the better. 

“Um… this was nice, I guess.” You mumble, feeling a bit awkward now that it was just you and her. 

She blinks up at you, surprised by your admission. “Uh – yeah, this wasn’t bad. Surprising, but not bad.” 

A small smile creeps on your face, “Okay, well I guess I’ll see you later… or whenever our managers say we need to be seen together again.” 

She laughs, nodding, “Yeah…”

A bright flash from your peripheral has you blinking, unfocused. “What the–”

“Paps…” She sighs. “Kiss my cheek.”

“What?” You asked bewildered.

She sends you a pointed look, turning her back from the direction of the flash so they couldn’t see her face. “Kiss my cheek, they’ll take a picture and then they’ll know we’re not just gal pals.”

Jenna is rolling her eyes but you’re still stuck in your spot. “Y/N.”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you clear your throat, “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Something indecipherable shines in her eyes, but it disappears as she blinks, “You’re not asking for my hand in marriage, Y/N. Just kiss my cheek.”

Blushing, you lean down. Shyly placing your lips on her soft-dimpled cheek – she leans into the contact, placing a hand on your neck. Immediately, a flurry of bright flashes and sounds of clicking interrupt the moment. 

“Goodnight, Jenna.” You say softly once you pulled away; ignoring the goosebumps that rose on your skin.

“Goodnight.” She takes a moment to look at you before walking to unlock her gate.

You wait until she opens the metal door; not missing the kind eyes she shoots you as she shuts the gate. Only once Jenna’s out of your view did you let out a deep sigh, turning around.

“Y/N! Over here! Did you just kiss Jenna Ortega? What about the singer you were with in Vegas? Are you two over?”

You didn’t want to give the paparazzi lurking on her street more reason to stay, so you keep your head down ignoring their shouting and slip into your car.

●●●

“How was it?” Her sister’s voice can be heard on her phone. 

“Awful – she’s a menace, Mia.” Jenna replies as she opens her fridge, looking for a mid-afternoon snack. 

It was now Sunday afternoon and as predicted – you and Jenna are the top headline of every major news outlet in America. 

“Did you tell her that you loved her in Little Women?” 

“What? No, of course not! I’m not gonna tell her that.”

“Why not? You watched that movie like five times when it came out.” Her sister reminds.

“Shut up, Mia.”

“Okay, anyways…” She trails off, laughing. “I saw the pictures. You’re smiling pretty wide with her. Also the kiss on the cheek when she was dropping you off? Chef’s kiss. Just perfect.”

Jenna rolls her eyes, “It’s all part of the act. Of course, I look happy.”

“There’s videos of you jumping on her. I can barely scroll through my Twitter feed without seeing an edit of you two at the game.”

“Stop. I don’t want to talk about her anymore.” Jenna snaps.

“Okay, okay…” Mia laughs and Jenna can picture her raising her hands in surrender. “Let’s talk about New York, are you excited?’

Jenna lets out a repressed sigh. With all of this PR mess with you, she hasn’t had time to think about how busy her schedule is about to be. The Scream VI premiere and SNL is inching closer and the Coachella native is feeling the familiar phantoms of anxiety rumbling in her chest. 

“Yeah, of course, I am. It’s SNL…”

“But?” Aliyah, her younger sister’s voice comes out of nowhere.

“But it’s SNL!” Jenna exclaims, “It’s a big deal! What if… what if I fuck up? Or I break character?”

“Okay… let’s take a deep breath,” Mia speaks up. She recognizes her sister’s looming anxiety and knew she had to act before the young actress sends herself into a panic. “You will kill it, like you always do and you won’t mess up. It’s okay to be a little nervous.

“Right, right.” Jenna agrees but the weighted pressure in her chest was still to creeping in.

Mia hums over the line unconvinced, “Listen, the whole family is flying in before your premiere. So don’t worry, we’ll be there, cheering you on!” 

Jenna can’t fight the smile that creeps up on her face. The thought of her family being there on one of the most important nights of her career is all she needs. They always had her back, picking her up when she felt like she couldn’t do it anymore. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that.”

●●●

“You want me to fly to New York, to what– be her personal cheerleader?” You dead-pan, watching as Link frantically throws clothes and shoes into a suitcase. 

It’s been about a week since the Lakers and Celtics game and news of you and Jenna’s night out in town are still abuzz. The two of you made a couple more subtle appearances over the last couple of days and the media is eating it up shamelessly. Pictures of you and the star are plastered on the front pages; be it grabbing coffee or grocery shopping or walking your dog at the park.

Now, you couldn’t even step outside without someone hurling Jenna’s name at you.

But you couldn’t lie. It was nice to have some company while you run your errands. Only yours though — you hated when you had to do hers. Jenna always thought too hard about which cereal to get, like she’s ever home to eat it.

‘New budding romance in Hollywood? Do we have a new power couple on the rise with Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega? These two seem to be getting to know each other well… click here to read more’ 

Was the first thing you read when you turned on your phone this morning. 

Of course, it’s never that easy because there are still a handful of nobodies sending hateful messages about your criminal escapades – not everyone was convinced.

Some well-known people on social media – people you personally know are adding fuel to the fire; engaging in discourses of you and Jenna and if you are dragging her down just by being associated with you.

Fake-ass motherfuckers.

“Yes, I think those are the exact words Jake and Liv put in their texts, actually.” He reaches for his phone to read over the message; mocking you. 

“Stop, Link…” You run a hand on your face, “Tell them I’m not going. I have better things to do, Coachella is right around the corner and I literally have a song I need to send to my producer.”

He watches as you childishly cross your arms, scowling. 

If you weren’t his best friend he would’ve said goodbye to the Hollywood life – too rich for his blood. Link wasn’t sure how he still put up with your attitude after all these years. Could you have said those words any more snobbishly?

“Are you done?”

“No.”

“Well you don’t have a damn choice. Now, take a shower – Marcus will be here in an hour to drive us to LAX. And you can record in New York, no one said you had to be attached to Jenna’s hip.”

“What if I don’t want to.” You stand your ground. 

“Don’t do this today, Y/N.” He sighs. 

For a few moments, you hold your ground; contemplating if you should dig a hole and barricade yourself – metaphorically, of course. But never say never. 

Link raises a challenging brow – daring you to try him today. 

Wow, someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed…

Knowing what that look meant, you knew when to pick your battles and accepted the loss, trudging over to the master bathroom but not before slamming the door behind you.

“Don���t be slamming doors ‘round here! I don’t care if the house is under your name.” He shouts from the other side. 

“Fuck off!” You yell back, yanking your shirt off as the water turns hot.

He is such a dad.

–

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi to you too, Jenna. How was your day? Mine was great, the flight was a bit bumpy but I can handle a ‘lil turbulence. Thanks for asking.” You reply, ignoring the furrow in her brow hidden behind the silky fringe. 

You wonder what conditioner she uses to get her hair looking that soft.

“Y/N…” Jenna sighs, walking past you to enter your hotel suite. Walking into the living room to place her shoulder bag on the coffee table then she turns to face you, crossing her arms still waiting for an answer. “I’m serious, why are you in New York.”

You lean against a wooden panel, crossing your arms as well. “Didn’t your team tell you?”

Her frown deepens, patience thinning the longer you beat around the bush. “Obviously not or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Okay relax…” You warn not appreciating her tone. You literally just landed an hour ago and it’s almost midnight East Coast time. The timezone switch is fucking with you and her attitude is the last thing you need. 

“Don’t tell me to relax.” She snaps. The young actress hated those words, it always made her more riled up.

You scoff trying your hardest not to snap back but controlling your anger has never been your strong suit. “Why do you think I’m here? Liv told me I had to show face for your premiere and SNL episode. Be your cheerleader or some shit.”

She drops her arms, frown still etched on her soft face. What? Ignore that.

“Shit, I think Sarah might’ve mentioned it but I was just so busy with rehearsal and fittings with Enrique that I didn’t see.” Jenna sighs, rubbing her forehead.

For the first time since she barged into your room – you take a moment to scan her. Her face is bare and makeup free but you can see the dark smudges from her eyeliner earlier today just under the lashline. She was dressed in a large sweater and mismatched sweatpants; the sleeves are so long it covers half her hands and her short wavy locks tied into a messy low bun.

Her clothes practically engulfed her tiny stature. You figure this is a pretty rare sight that most people aren’t privy to and suddenly you’re unsure as to why it’s so hard to look away. 

“I didn’t mean to snap… I’m sorry.” She says quietly, looking at you like she was genuinely apologetic. 

“It’s fine…” You shrug and pushed off the wall to sit on the couch. Everyone has their days, you thought.

“I didn’t mean to ambush you. I really thought you knew I’d be here.” You turn on the TV, not being to stand the silence in the large room.

Jenna sits down beside you, tucking her feet against her chest. When did she take off her shoes? “It’s not your fault.”

The sigh she lets out is heavy and something tells you there’s some meaning behind it too. But you didn’t feel like it was your business so you zip it and continue watching the TV drone on about a program you don’t care about. 

“I saw clips of your SNL promo… I thought it was hilarious – you were great and that reporter outfit? So cool.” You change the subject. It gets her to smile as her dimples poke out, a little shy now. 

“It’s so cringy.” She covers her face. 

“Awh, nah… the internet loved it.” You laugh, a little amused that the actress was all flushed by a single compliment. 

Call it big-headed, call it ego, call it whatever you want but you personally relished it when people fawned over you. 

“Of course they did. They’re the whole reason for the meme.” She rolls her eyes after dropping her hands but she still had a toothy smile. 

“I bet that dance follows you everywhere…” 

“Every. Fucking. Day.” She says then raises a brow at you, “How do you know about the dance, though?’

You send her an affronted look, “I’m not a grandmother, Jenna. I know what’s hip with the kids.”

She snorts, “You’re an idiot – I just mean, I didn’t think you were on TikTok like that with a schedule like yours. Also, that app is toxic.”

“Every social media app can be toxic.” You quip, “But get off your high horse, your majesty. I literally just saw a couple of edits on Twitter of it.”

“Uh huh…” She hums, unconvinced, if the side glance she throws you was any indication. “But yeah the writers wanted to do a bit with Wednesday and this is what we came up with.”

“Well, I think it’s genius… from a business standpoint.” You offer up, nudging her shoulder then turning back to the TV.

You miss Jenna’s bothered frown. “Business standpoint?”

“Yeah,” You say off-handedly, “It’s smart, good for you.”

“Are most things a ‘business standpoint’ for you?” She asks, genuinely curious about what you could mean.

“Hmm. I guess I never thought of it like that but now that I’m saying it out loud, yeah, kinda.” You shrug, thinking about it. 

Most of the interactions in Hollywood that you have had are based on transactions and is usually for your own self-interest.

“...That’s kinda sad.” She says getting you to turn.

“What does that mean?” You frown.

“I’m just saying… there’s more to this industry than business deals and brand offers.” This time Jenna offers up a thought but it sounds a bit judgemental to you, shrugging.

You’re furrowing your brows, sitting up straight. “Look, you don’t even know me. Just forget what I said.”

But the laugh she lets out grinds your gears in the most unpleasant way.

Jenna holds up her hands in surrender but it feels mocking. “Clearly…” She emphasizes. “But I’m just saying, there’s no need to get all defensive.”

“Okay, I don’t know what kind of shit you were dealing with today but don’t take it out on me. Don’t come to my room talking about things you know nothing about.” You glower.

She matches your frown, standing. “It kinda sounds like you’re the one dealing with something, actually.”

“I think you should leave.” Your glare turns sharp and cold, standing too.

“Already on my way out.” She scoffed, snatching her bag aggressively off the coffee table then turns to walk to the front door. 

You follow to make sure the door hits her on the way out but she stops abruptly by the hall causing you to trip on your own feet to not tumble over her. 

“I think you should go back to L.A.” She glares up at you, tightly clutching her shoulder bag.

The laugh you let out is humourless, stepping back to create space between you and the other actress. “And get my ass handed to me by Jake, Liv and Sarah? They’re like four horsemen of the apocalypse – just searching for their last member. No thanks. You got a problem with me here? You deal with it.”

She clenches her jaw, “Done. Leave it to me.” Then turns and leaves making sure to slam the door shut. 

Those hotel doors weigh a fuck ton, how did she do that? And what did she mean leave it to me?

“Can I come out now?” Link peeks his head out from the adjoining room; fear present on his features.

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:)

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