#HOW COULD I FORGET TO TELL YALL

[passumstars]

Try to keep up please

[bb-eb-db-bb-eb-b-ab-f-b-ab]

more TDP season 6 finale spoilers under the cut!!!

never in my fucking LIFE never in my wildest DREAMS did i think i’d be an aaravos apologizer. but now??????? well,,

[jamiethebee]

I know everyone likes the "Fenton parents are dead/evil" route to drive Danny to Gotham, but I propose: "the Fenton parents have to send Danny away to keep him safe/cut off contact (since they're technically contracted to the government and the GIW is the definition of shady and spies)"

[evansbby]

This is random but I feel like so many people in the cevans fandom would like… love the wrestling fandom lmfao. Like… everyone here writes fics about cevans characters being big and beefy and size kink etc etc. y’all… wrestlers actually ARE six foot five plus and super built and muscular and they are SO entertaining like pls 😭😭😭 it’s like a soap opera but they are athletic and so talented with how they tell stories through matches. They are also extremely tough with what they put their bodies through every night. Y’all like Ari… there are like 18372828 Ari Levinsons in the wrestling world ksjdjsjska

[todayisafridaynight]

Any notes you have I will gladly take and use for devious purposes 👁️👁️

i typed these up like a freak nearly seven months ago so sorry if they're. insane to read LMAO but go wild

[koicrimes]

ya know, people whine and moan about how they're sooo tired of their fandoms being overrun with smut but i mean.. from the people making the stuff's perspective, that's really all yall like... look at the numbers and tell me there's not a massive discrepency. i even noticed it myself. there's a huge difference between what gets interaction and what doesn't- even if im not talking likes/ kudos, just the sheer different of views is insane. i could use the exact same characters but if there's no promise of boinking, people barely even click the shit.

in truth, i dont care what yall wanna read or dont wanna read. imma always write what i feel like writing and read what i feel like reading. what i am saying though, is i've seen the complaints for longer than i care to and the action isn't lining up with what's being said. if yall want people to write fluff for yall, show them that you like it when they do and maybe you'll get more. but idk, that's just my 2¢.

[beloveds-embrace]

Idgaf abt how military works sorry yall but imagine the 141 gang having to do mandatory charity and no, not even Ghost can opt out of it regardless of how he says he’s honest to god not fucking fit to be visiting sick patients. But alas.

But they end up meeting you- frail, fragile, and sick you, no visitors around you. Though you look at them with curiosity and admiration, you keep yourself away, almost as if you don’t want to bother them.

You can’t help looking at them, though. You’ve been sick all your life- born to a mother who left you on the doorsteps of an overcrowded orphanage, left alone often and long for your body to just… fail you. You don’t think you’ve seen outside the orphanage walls and then these hospital grounds since your birth. You would be dead now if it weren’t for the CEO of the hospital taking pity on you after you turned eighteen and the orphanage cleaned their hands off you.

And so, you can’t help but envy them just a little. Strong, agile people in the military, bodies fit and healthy. Despite knowing they are always putting themselves on the line, constantly in danger, you can’t help the longing you feel. Longing you don’t realize is clear as day in your eyes.

The one to approach you first is the man you thought one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He introduces himself as Kyle, and despite your silence- your interactions with others that are not doctors or nurses are far and few, and you are painfully shy- but he is nice. Gentle. Easily keeps the conversation going despite. He is so easy-going he has you grinning and laughing in no time. It catches the attention of a the Scot with a mohawk, who joins in by sharing even wilder stories. And then the man with the scary ghost mask, so often in their stories, comes to your little crowd. He is big, scary if the nurses’ reactions are anything to go by, and yet the only thing you’ve ever truly been afraid of is dying with a life not truly lived. So you don’t flinch or cower from him, merely ask if he has anything interesting to share with you.

The last you speak with is John Price. Captain John Price. If there is a man that can embody a bear, it has to be him. You are sure of it. Especially when you witness him smacking the back of Kyle’s head lightly after a teasing comment.

Maybe your chances of a long, fulfilling life are slim but today, just for today, you allow yourself to envision a life with them. Such a strange desire, a useless and wistful one.

“Thank you, for today.” You tell them quietly, when it’s nearing time to leave. Your hands are held in Kyle and Johnny’s, frail and weak compared to theirs. You smile at them, squeezing lightly. “I think this is the most happy and content I’ve been all my life. I won’t forget today.”

And in return? Neither will they. How could they ever forget you, the sweetheart in the hospital bed, your sickness keeping you away from the joyful life you deserve?

The won’t forget you. Not at all. And when you start receiving gifts, polaroids and letters and texts, you already know who is sending them to you.

It makes things just a little easier- your life just a little brighter.

Other works + help me choose a title for this!

[shotmrmiller]

I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar. 

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?” 

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!” 

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison. 

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up. 

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice. 

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.” 

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out, 

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,”  grind—and you whimper in his ear,  “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “ 

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked. 

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed. 

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand,  goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.” 

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him.  With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank. 

“You have a condom?” 

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it. 

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.” 

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise. 

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.” 

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock. 

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back,  stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length. 

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it. 

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.” 

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[diamondcitydarlin]

Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

[halfmoonaria]

what i can’t say

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara wants the only person she can’t have, but she’ll do whatever it takes to change that —even if it means risking everything.

word count: 10.7k

author’s note: yall don’t forget to wish me a happy birthday this friday on the 22nd!

Tara wasn't used to hearing the word "no."

Growing up, she'd mastered the art of getting exactly what she wanted, whether it was a toy, a treat, or just a little more attention.

All it took was a well-timed look, a hint of a pout, or a small scene in a public place—not that she ever felt bad about it. After all, it always worked, and it always felt worth it.

But more than any toy or treat, Tara always seemed to have what she wanted most: you.

Her best friend since... well, since you both were small enough to think scraped knees were the end of the world. You'd been there from the start, the friend who laughed with her, who stood by her through every phase and whim.

Tara didn't have to beg or throw a fit to keep you close. You just were. It was like you were woven into each other's lives, and if anyone asked, she'd say you'd always be there—like you were something she'd managed to keep just for herself.

If anyone asked, Tara couldn't quite recall a time before you.

You were there in every memory that mattered, the friend who understood her quirks, finished her sentences, and knew every dream she'd ever had.

You were inseparable, not just in the way kids cling to each other, but in the way people do when they know they'll never quite find someone who gets them like this again.

You shared everything with your clothes, midnight snacks, and every embarrassing crush you'd ever had.

You laughed together about the silly things you thought were love back then, sharing conversations about who you'd marry someday and who had the best smile.

Although. Tara was always a little quieter during these talks, listening more than sharing, and you never thought much of it. That was just Tara, after all, always keeping a bit of herself back, tucked away in her own mind.

But when it came to your middle school crush, she never missed a chance to tease you, brushing him off as if he wasn't as special as you seemed to think.

She'd laugh and tell you he wasn't as funny as you made him out to be, or that his smile really wasn't anything to write home about.

To you, it was just typical Tara, always finding a way to poke holes in the things you liked.

You didn't notice how her smile faltered when you gushed over him or how her gaze turned a little sharper, though even she didn't fully understand why.

It left her with an uneasy feeling, the kind she could never quite explain, that made her want to change the subject whenever she could.

And as time passed during this time, it seemed like your crush only grew, and so did the way you talked about him.

No matter how many times Tara brushed off your comments or tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, you still lit up whenever his name came up.

Brian.

Brian slipped into conversations almost daily, whether it was about the way he made everyone laugh in class or how he'd held the door for you that morning. And each time you brought him up, Tara felt a pang of irritation she couldn't quite explain.

She never told you how much she despised Brian, but the feeling ran deep. It gnawed at her whenever you mentioned him, and even though she tried to brush it off, she found herself disliking him more and more.

The worst part was, she couldn't understand why. It wasn't like you weren't allowed to like a boy—that was just part of life, after all.

Whenever she hinted at her frustration with her mom, she'd hear the same thing: it was normal, fun even, to have a crush, and Tara would experience it too someday.

But she hadn't. She'd never felt that way about any boy in your grade, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she should.

It confused her, and in a way, it confused you too. You'd always laughed off the fact that Tara never seemed to "crush" the way you did, teasing her about how she'd figure it out someday.

But whenever you'd gush over Brian, Tara would just sit quietly, trying to ignore the strange knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten with every word you said.

Time went on, and those middle school crushes never quite faded.

Brian only seemed to grow more attractive, transitioning from the shy boy you liked to someone who was effortlessly charming, with a confidence that made everyone notice him.

Back then, you'd have called him "cute," but now, there were new words—hot, gorgeous—terms that made Tara roll her eyes every time they left your mouth.

But you still felt that rush of excitement when he was around, that same giddiness you'd had since you were ten, only now it felt a little more real.

Tara, on the other hand, hadn't changed much when it came to relationships.

While others around you both dated, broke up, and fell in love, she stayed quietly distant, brushing off questions and teasing about why she never seemed interested in anyone.

The truth was, she didn't really know why herself. There was a part of her that felt left out when you gushed about Brian, when your other friends talked about crushes or brought dates to dances. She tried to tell herself that she just wasn't interested yet, that maybe someday she'd feel what everyone else seemed to.

But as the years went by, Tara started to realize that maybe she was different—and she couldn't shake the strange sense of frustration that came with that realization, especially whenever Brian was mentioned.

Somewhere along the way, as high school turned into something more serious, so did her thoughts about you.

Tara didn't want to admit it at first—not to herself, not to anyone. The idea crept up quietly, unexpected and unwanted, like some shadow she couldn't shake.

The way you'd laugh at something silly, the familiar warmth of your hand in hers, or the way her heart would skip when you'd throw an arm around her shoulders. It all made sense now, but it was a sense she desperately didn't want.

When the realization hit her, it was like she couldn't breathe.

There was this tiny voice in her mind that whispered, almost cruelly, You're in love with her. Tara's immediate reaction was to shut it down, to deny it with everything she had. This couldn't be right. She wasn't in love with you.

That wasn't what best friends did. She told herself she was just confused, that maybe it was normal to feel this strongly about someone you'd known your entire life.

But every time she saw you look at Brian—every time you said his name with that sparkle in your eyes—it felt like a punch to the gut, and there was no denying it anymore.

The more she tried to reason with herself, the clearer it became. And that terrified her.

She couldn't let herself feel this way about you. You were her best friend, the person who knew her better than anyone else.

The idea of telling you—of you finding out and looking at her with pity, or worse, disgust—made her stomach twist. She could already imagine the awkward smile, the way you might back away, laugh it off, or even leave her behind. It would shatter her, and she knew that.

And so, she decided then and there that this secret would stay with her.

She'd lock it away, bury it so deep that even she could forget about it someday. Telling anyone—even her parents—wasn't an option.

Not only did she fear their reaction, but she knew they wouldn't understand. To them, you were her friend, nothing more, and the thought of losing you, or of anyone making her feel like her love was wrong, was enough to keep her quiet.

But keeping quiet wasn't easy. The secret felt like it was burning a hole through her, consuming her thoughts and leaving her frustrated in ways she couldn't explain.

She wanted to be around you, but every moment with you felt like a reminder of what she could never have, and it only made the ache grow stronger.

She was angry, scared, and hopelessly in love with the one person she could never tell.

So she became skilled at hiding the depth of her feelings, putting on a mask that had somehow become part of her daily life.

She played her role well, acting like nothing had changed between you both.

At school, she kept her gaze casual, listening to you talk as if she didn't want to lose herself in the way your lips moved.

During sleepovers, she'd lie next to you, forcing herself to focus on anything but the warmth of your arm just inches from hers.

And at parties, now that you were both old enough to go, she'd laugh and dance alongside you, all while pretending her stomach wasn't in knots from the way you looked at her under dim lights, a playful grin lighting up your face.

It was like living with a constant tug-of-war inside her, balancing between wanting to be near you and needing to keep her heart steady.

She'd perfected the art of nonchalance, even when you made it nearly impossible. When you got excited about something—eyes wide, laughing about some small victory—Tara would have to swallow down the urge to reach out, to brush a strand of hair from your face or lean in just a little closer.

The hardest moments were the little things, the 'normal' things, like when you'd give her an easy, carefree compliment, your eyes warm and sincere.

She'd feel the blush rise to her cheeks, and she'd quickly look away or laugh it off, hoping you didn't notice the way her voice wavered.

And when you held her hands, like you always did, squeezing them to give her a little boost of courage, she'd act as though it didn't send her heart racing, as though she wasn't fighting the impulse to hold on tighter.

Every smile you threw her way, every moment you lingered too close, she had to act like it didn't make her insides flip.

She trained herself to respond with that same easy smile, to pretend she didn't feel like the air had been knocked out of her whenever you looked at her like she was the only one in the room.

It was a constant game of pretending, a battle against herself that she had to win every single day.

And as much as she tried to hide it, each touch, each laugh, each simple, familiar look left her more tangled in her own emotions.

She tried to tell herself that these things were just... normal. Friends did these things all the time, she told herself, even if everything in her felt far from normal.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, her resolve was starting to crack. She couldn't help but notice her jealousy flare up when she saw you talking to other people, especially Brian.

Then, one Tuesday at lunch, you dropped a bombshell that flipped her world just a bit more.

She leaned back, half-focused on your conversation with the others at the table, when she saw you walking toward her with a grin so bright it felt like it could light up the whole room.

Tara felt her heart jump at the sight, her thoughts immediately swept into the excitement that was clearly radiating off of you.

You barely took your seat before bursting with excitement. "Tara!"

Tara's smile matched yours, though a part of her already felt a small pang of unease. But she pushed it aside and leaned in eagerly, mirroring your excitement. "What happened?"

You practically glowed as you told her, "He sat next to me in class today." Tara's chest tightened, but she held her expression steady, keeping that casual, easy smile.

She already knew who you meant—you didn't even have to say his name. It was in the way your voice softened, how your eyes sparkled with excitement she rarely saw except when you were really, really happy.

She couldn't stand the sight of it. Seeing you so... in love, so giddy, felt like a punch she wasn't ready for.

You practically glowed, your whole personality seeming to shift as if you were that younger version of yourself again, like back in middle school when every new crush filled you with wide-eyed excitement.

Except now, it wasn't an innocent schoolgirl crush; it was real, and you were already slipping further from her reach with each passing second.

Tara kept smiling, but inside, every bit of her was tangled up in knots.

You'd never look at her like that. Never talk about her with that bubbly, uncontainable happiness. The thought clawed at her, a reminder she could never push away.

She was your best friend, sure, but she'd never be the person who made your cheeks flush or your heart race. And somehow, knowing that made it even harder to keep that same easy smile on her face.

"And?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't betray her, even as she felt a knot forming. She listened as you recounted every word, every laugh you'd shared with him in that class.

Then you dropped the real news, your eyes sparkling. Your grin only widened. "And then, right before class ended, he asked me to go with him to that party next weekend."

Tara's heart sank, yet she barely let the smile slip. She forced herself to open her mouth in surprise, eyes wide, like she was just as thrilled as you were. "Really?" she said, trying to sound as shocked and happy as you seemed, her voice just a bit too bright. "Did you... did you say yes?"

Of course you did. Tara felt stupid for even considering asking you that question.

But you didn't seem to mind, you just nodded eagerly, your whole face lighting up. "Obviously!"

"Oh, wow. That's... that's great, actually," she said, her voice a little too steady, but it was the best she could manage.

Inside, though, she was unraveling. You were actually going with him. It shouldn't have been such a shock—after all, this was what you wanted, right?

But knowing that you'd be there, dressed up, all smiles and laughter... with him... felt like a lead weight sinking in her chest.

She could already picture it, the two of you in some dimly lit room with music thumping, Ethan leaning in close to say something to make you laugh, you smiling up at him like he was the only person in the world.

The thought of it made her throat tighten, her mind racing with feelings she didn't even want to name.

"Are you excited?" she asked, her voice coming out just barely above a whisper. She hoped you wouldn't notice how strained it sounded, how much effort it took just to ask.

You nodded, your smile impossibly bright. "Yeah, I mean... I didn't think he even noticed me like that, you know? But now... maybe he does."

The way you said it—hopeful, almost in disbelief—cut deeper than she wanted to admit. Maybe he does. Those three words stayed in her head, echoing louder with each second.

She was supposed to be happy for you, and maybe part of her was, but mostly, she just felt hollow.

Because even though you'd never know it, she'd been looking at you the way you were looking at him, longing for that same chance to mean something more to you. And now she was faced with the awful reality that she might never get that chance.

Swallowing down the bitterness, she forced a tight-lipped smile. "You'll have a great time, I'm sure."

But even as she said it, a part of her was already wondering if she'd do something she'd regret. The thought of watching you fall for someone else—someone who wasn't her—was more than she could stand.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she'd do almost anything to keep you from slipping away.

Your eyes brightened again. "You should come with us!"

Tara's heart twisted at the invitation, feeling both flattered and devastated. Of course you'd want her there, being the good friend you were—unaware of what it did to her to see you light up over someone else.

Forcing herself to stay casual, she shrugged, managing a small playful smirk. "I'm not exactly great at third-wheeling."

Her voice sounded steady enough, but inside, it felt like she was clinging to the last threads of composure.

She couldn't stand the thought of watching you fall for him right in front of her, yet the idea of saying no, of letting you go without her... that hurt, too.

Maybe if she was there, she could stop whatever was beginning to grow between you and him. Just maybe, she thought, she'd find a way to keep you by her side, where you'd always belonged.

Her mind spun, the smile on her face frozen, all she could focus on was the sinking realization that she might actually lose you.

Until now, she'd convinced herself that her feelings for you were something she could handle, something she'd eventually learn to live with. But now, with Brian's name hanging between you, that quiet acceptance shattered.

She could see the way this might unfold, each painful step already clear in her mind.

She'd watched enough romance movies to know how these things went, and as much as she wanted to push the thoughts away, they crept in, vivid and unrelenting.

First, you'd go to the party together, and maybe he'd make you laugh so much that you'd find yourself leaning in, your hand brushing his.

She could already picture the two of you on future dates—sharing secrets over a quiet dinner or standing too close on some sidewalk, your face lit up in a way that made her stomach twist with envy.

And worse, she could imagine what might happen after those dates, how one day soon he'd reach for your hand, and you wouldn't hesitate to hold his back.

She didn't want to picture it, but the thought seeped into her mind anyway, filling her with a fierce, unfamiliar ache.

The image of you wrapped up in his arms, whispering into his ear, or—even worse—laughing with that same joy you always shared with her, but this time meant for him, made her chest feel hollow.

The thought kept spiraling, her mind betraying her with scenes she couldn't bear to picture.

You, with Brian, alone, closer than she'd ever be, maybe even leaning in for a kiss.

She imagined his hand brushing your cheek, the two of you getting so lost in each other that you forgot everyone else around you—including her.

The jealousy was sharp, hotter than anything she'd felt before.

She hated the way it took over, the way it made her feel small and powerless, like she was losing something that had never even been hers to begin with.

And then, a terrible, aching thought hit her: she might never get to be close to you in that way.

She might never get to be the person who held you, who kissed you, who made you laugh like that.

It wasn't just about watching you fall for someone else—it was the crushing realization that you might never look at her the way you looked at him.

Maybe it would be better if she came along?

The idea took a root in Tara's mind, an unexpected, half-formed plan that both excited and unsettled her.

If she went to the party with you and Brian, it might give her a chance to keep things from moving forward between you two.

She could play it off as tagging along to "keep an eye" on you, to make sure you had fun—and stay close enough to step in if Brian tried anything. It was risky, maybe even a little desperate, but what choice did she have?

At least if she was there, she'd know exactly what was happening. She wouldn't have to lie awake later, imagining him whispering things in your ear, pulling you close, stealing the attention she wanted only for herself.

She could keep you safe from all that, and maybe, if she was careful enough, find subtle ways to draw your attention back to her, where it belonged.

In her mind, it sounded almost justified. A "protective friend" sticking close to make sure you were all right. But the truth simmered beneath that excuse—she knew this was more than friendship, that she wanted to keep you to herself in ways you might never understand.

If Brian was going to try to win you over, he'd have to do it with her there, watching his every move, ready to swoop in the second things started looking too cozy.

And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to make sure that night ended with you still hers—still looking at her with that easy, trusting smile that had always been her anchor.

Her chest tightened at the thought of it, the chance to stay close to you a little longer, to stave off the reality she dreaded.

If you didn't have the chance to fall for him—if she could prevent that—maybe she'd finally have the time and courage to make you see her the way she saw you.

You nudged her lightly, snapping Tara out of her thoughts, leaning in with that familiar, hopeful smile that always made it so hard to say no to you. "Come on, Tara. It'll be fun—just this once. Please?"

Tara's chest tightened at the way you looked at her, like her answer actually mattered to you. It made something inside her ache, the way your face lit up with excitement, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in her mind.

She should've said no. She wanted to say no.

But the thought of watching you leave without her—without knowing what might happen between you and Brian—made her stomach twist painfully.

And now, thanks to the idea she'd let herself entertain earlier, the thought of staying home didn't feel like an option anymore.

That plan, desperate and reckless as it was, had already taken root, and no matter how much a small part of her whispered it wasn't right, she couldn't let it go.

What if she stayed behind and missed her chance to stop something from blossoming between the two of you? What if she sat in her room, alone, while you fell for him right in front of everyone? The mere idea made her skin crawl.

But going wasn't any better. If she went, she'd have to watch you fawn over him, maybe even see you with him. And that thought was enough to make her want to bolt from the room. Yet here you were, looking at her like her presence actually mattered.

But why? Did you think she needed convincing, or was there some part of you that truly wanted her by your side? Her stomach churned at the thought.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her shirt as she tried to keep her expression neutral. If she said no, you'd go without her, and that stung more than she wanted to admit. But if she said yes...

Her mind spun with the possibilities. She didn't even know what she'd do if she went—how far she was willing to take this twisted plan of hers. But what she did know, with a growing certainty, was that she couldn't stay behind. Not when the thought of Brian pulling you closer was enough to make her chest burn with jealousy.

Your face shifted slightly, your brows knitting together when she didn't answer right away.

"Tara," you pressed gently, your voice dipping into that teasing tone you always used when you were trying to coax her into something. "Come on," you pressed again, your grin widening when she hesitated. "You have to come. It won't be the same without you."

It won't be the same without you.

Those words sealed it, though not in the way you meant them to. Something twisted and desperate bloomed in her chest, making her pulse quicken.

You didn't even realize it, but you were giving her exactly what she wanted: a reason to stay close. A reason to be where she could see you—and control what happened between you and Brian.

"Fine," she said at last, forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But don't complain when I tell you it sucks."

The way your entire face lit up at her answer sent an ache through her chest. Her stomach fluttered against her will, a mix of longing and guilt tangling together in a way that made it hard to breathe. She hated how much it affected her, how happy you seemed just because she'd agreed to go.

She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on something across the room, anything to avoid the way your joy sent another wave of guilt and longing through her.

She knew it wasn't right—none of this was. But she couldn't let it go. Not when her plan had already started to take shape. Not when the thought of Brian having you was enough to make her reckless.

Because no matter how hard she tried to tell herself this was just a party, just a stupid night out, deep down, she knew she wasn't going for the music or the fun.

She was going because if Brian thought he was going to win you over tonight, he was dead wrong.

___

"What about this one?"

Tara looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of your bed, her gaze drawn to the shimmering fabric you held up against yourself. It was a short, fitted dress, one you'd clearly been saving for a moment like this.

The way Tara sat there, watching you flit around the room, sifting through piles of clothes you'd pulled from your closet.

It reminded her of when you were younger, back when the two of you would raid your moms' closets, parading around in oversized heels and dresses that pooled around your feet. You'd giggle uncontrollably, striking exaggerated poses in front of the mirror.

But this wasn't dress-up anymore.

Now, the clothes were your own—real, grown-up outfits that fit you perfectly, accentuating curves and edges Tara wasn't sure she was supposed to notice. It wasn't just playtime; this was your life now. And tonight, you weren't dressing up for laughs or pretend tea parties.

You were dressing up for him.

Her eyes flickered briefly over the dress before settling on your face. You were beaming, the excitement practically radiating off you as you turned to the mirror, holding the dress against your body.

She should've said something. A simple "looks great" or even a teasing "a bit much, don't you think?" would've worked, but the words caught in her throat.

It wasn't the dress—it was the way your whole body hummed with energy, the way your smile was just a little too wide, your movements a little too quick. Tara saw it all, and it was like watching you wear your feelings on your sleeve.

The way you twirled the dress in front of the mirror, the way your hands moved restlessly as you smoothed down imaginary creases—it was all too familiar. She knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn't say it out loud.

Did Brian? She doubted it.

He didn't know the little things, like how your voice got higher when you were nervous or how you couldn't stand still when you were excited. He didn't know the way your lips pressed together when you were thinking too hard about something or the way your shoulders tensed when you wanted something to go perfectly.

He didn't know you, not like she did.

"What do you think?" you asked again, snapping her out of her thoughts. You turned, holding the dress out at arm's length, giving her a better look. "Too much? Not enough?"

Tara forced a smile, her heart twisting as she watched you. "I think it's... nice," she said carefully, her voice steady even as her stomach churned.

Nice. The word felt like a betrayal. It didn't come close to how she really felt—how beautiful you looked, how much she wished those bright eyes were sparkling for her instead of someone else.

"You think Brian'll like it?" you asked, your tone innocent, but the question struck Tara like a punch.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of your comforter. She wanted to tell you Brian didn't deserve you, that he wouldn't know how to appreciate all the little things that made you you. But instead, she kept her tone casual, masking the storm inside her.

"I mean... yeah," she said after a pause. "It's hard not to like you in anything."

Your grin widened, lighting up the room in a way that made her stomach flutter. You didn't notice the tightness in her smile, the way her eyes lingered on you for just a second too long.

"You're the best." you said, turning back to the mirror.

Tara's chest tightened, a quiet ache settling beneath her ribs. She glanced away, forcing a small smile as she leaned back on her hands.

She let her fingers dug slightly into the comforter as she watched you move across the room again, this time heading toward your closet. You sifted through the hangers with an almost frantic energy, pulling out one piece of clothing after another until something caught your eye.

"This," you announced, holding up a sleek black skirt and a tiny top with delicate lace accents.

Tara blinked, her focus shifting from the faint hum of her own thoughts to the outfit in your hands. The skirt was just short enough to grab attention, and the top would clung to the curves in all the right places—your curves, she couldn't help but think.

Her stomach twisted again, but not with the same bitterness from earlier. No, this was something else entirely. She couldn't stop herself from picturing you in it, couldn't stop the way her mind immediately conjured the image of you standing there, all done up, looking effortlessly hot and completely out of her reach.

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away. "You're not wearing the dress?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Oh, I am," you replied with a grin, holding the outfit closer to her. "This is for you!"

Tara froze. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, her chest tightening as your words sank in.

She had been so caught up in watching you, so wrapped up in her own spiral of emotions, that she had momentarily forgotten she was actually going to this party.

"Me?" she echoed, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to act like the idea of dressing up didn't make her stomach drop.

You laughed softly, stepping closer to hold the outfit up against her frame. "Yeah, you! Come on, Tara, you can't just wear that." You half-pointed to her attire.

Tara's eyes darted to the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself in her usual hoodie and jeans.

She had planned on blending into the background tonight, just another shadow in the corner, but now you were holding out a version of herself she wasn't sure she wanted to confront.

"It's... a little much, don't you think?" she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric.

"Not at all," you said, undeterred. "Trust me, you'll look amazing.

The way you looked at her, so excited, so hopeful, made it impossible for her to argue. The truth was, she didn't want to blend into the background—not really. Not if it meant letting Brian win.

"Alright," she said finally, forcing a small smirk as she reached for the outfit.

You grinned, clearly thrilled, and the sight sent her heart fluttering all over again.

As she stood up to take the clothes in you, the weight of the night ahead settled on her shoulders again. She knew this wasn't about the clothes or the party. It was about you—about keeping you close, about holding onto the part of you that still felt like hers, even if it wasn't.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she was willing to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

Tara pulled the clothes from your hands, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary before she turned away.

She hesitated only briefly, her eyes darting to the bathroom door, but then she decided against it. It wasn't like this was anything new. You'd seen her change plenty of times before.

Slipping off her hoodie, she pulled the top over her head, the soft lace brushing against her skin in a way that felt oddly delicate, almost foreign.

The skirt followed, the fabric snug around her waist and flaring slightly at her hips. When she finally turned back toward you, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

It was strange. She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her right away—not entirely. The clothes fit her so well, so effortlessly, that she felt a flicker of something unexpected: pride.

She looked... pretty. Not in the same way you did, with your radiant energy that drew everyone in, but still. Pretty enough.

Her heart jumped a little at the thought of you seeing her like this, of you noticing her in the way she always noticed you. She didn't know why she wanted that so badly, but the hope curled tightly in her chest, warm and persistent.

You looked up from where you'd been smoothing out your own dress, and your reaction was immediate. Your eyes widened slightly, and then your face lit up in that effortless way that always made her stomach flutter.

"Tara, oh my god, you look so good," you said, your voice soft but genuine, carrying none of the over-the-top excitement you sometimes used when joking around. This was real.

Tara felt her cheeks warm under your gaze, her fingers automatically reaching to adjust the hem of the skirt, as if she could somehow shield herself from the weight of your words. She tried to play it off, shrugging casually. "It's just a skirt," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

"It's not just a skirt," you countered, stepping closer. "You look amazing. Seriously, this is perfect for you."

Your words were kind, almost too kind, and Tara wasn't sure how to process them. There was no teasing, no playful edge, just an earnestness that made her chest feel tight and achy.

She glanced away, pretending to focus on her reflection again, but the warmth of your approval lingered, sinking into her skin like the lace of the top.

She wanted to feel good about it, to let herself bask in the way you saw her, but the nagging thought that this wasn't for her—that it was all part of your excitement for Brian—kept her grounded.

Still, the way you smiled at her, so unreserved and so entirely you, made her feel something she hadn't in a long time: seen. She wished, just for a second, that you were saying all of this for the same reason she wished you would.

You spun on your heel, nearly tripping over the pile of discarded clothes strewn across the floor in your excitement. Tara's breath caught for a second, her hand twitching instinctively like she was about to reach for you, but you caught yourself, laughing it off as if nothing had happened.

"You need to clean your room before someone gets hurt," Tara muttered, though her tone held more amusement than annoyance.

You ignored her, too caught up in the moment as you reached your makeup table, rifling through your collection with a kind of chaotic precision.

Pulling out a palette, you held it up, the colors catching the light as you grinned at her. "What do you think? Want me to do your makeup?"

Your voice was so full of unfiltered excitement, your smile so wide it made her stomach flip. Tara hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her skirt as she glanced at the palette in your hands. She wasn't really the makeup type—not like you were—but the way you looked at her, like you were just waiting to make her feel special, made it impossible to say no.

"You don't have to," Tara said finally, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I want to!" you insisted, stepping closer, the palette still in hand. "Please, Tara? I promise I'll keep it simple. Just a little something to go with the outfit."

She sighed, feigning reluctance as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Fine."

You grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of her, gesturing for her to sit. "Alright, let's make you even more stunning."

Tara rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned forward.

___

The buzz of the party hit you as soon as you stepped through the door.

Music pulsed through the house, the bass vibrating in your chest as voices overlapped in a cacophony of laughter and shouted greetings.

People crowded the space—groups gathered near the kitchen, couples pressed close against walls, and a few brave souls danced in the living room, already letting loose despite how early it was in the night.

You glanced over at Tara, catching the way her shoulders stiffened slightly as the noise and energy enveloped her. She'd been quiet on the drive over, her fingers drumming against her thigh in a way that let you know her nerves were kicking in. But she'd never admit that, not to you.

"See?" you said brightly, bumping her shoulder with yours as you stepped further into the house. "I told you this would be fun."

Tara gave you a look, one that was half-skepticism and half-amusement, as she tugged at the hem of her skirt. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

Your laugh was warm and easy, a sound that somehow made the chaos of the party seem less overwhelming. You reached back to grab her hand, pulling her through the crowd as you made your way toward the kitchen. The feel of your fingers around hers made something in Tara's chest twist uncomfortably, though she forced herself to ignore it.

The kitchen was just as packed as the rest of the house, but you managed to snag two drinks from the counter, handing one to her with a grin. "Alright, party rule number one: stay hydrated."

Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cup in her hand. "This is definitely not water."

"Details." You waved her off, your playful smirk making her stomach flutter in that maddeningly familiar way.

Before she could respond, a voice called out from across the room. "Y/N! There you are!"

Tara's grip on her cup tightened as she followed your gaze, her stomach sinking when she saw him—Brian—making his way toward you. His smile was wide and easy, the kind of grin that would make anyone else swoon.

But Tara wasn't anyone else.

"Brian!" you said, your face lighting up in a way that made Tara's chest ache. She stepped back slightly, letting go of your hand as he drew closer, though her eyes never left you.

He didn't deserve that smile.

Brian's gaze flickered to her briefly, his smile faltering just a bit. "Tara, right?"

She nodded, her expression neutral as she took a sip of her drink. "That's me."

If he noticed the edge in her tone, he didn't comment on it, turning his attention back to you instead. "You look amazing," he said, his eyes raking over your dress in a way that made Tara's jaw tighten.

You beamed at him, clearly pleased by the compliment, and Tara had to look away, her hand gripping her cup so tightly she was surprised it didn't crack.

This was going to be a long night.

And it most definitely was.

As the night went on, the party only grew louder and more chaotic. People drifted in and out of the circle you, Tara, and Brian had settled into, friends of his joining the conversation with easy smiles and casual jokes.

You made a genuine effort to include Tara, always pulling her back in when she started to fade into the background, but it was clear who held your focus.

Brian.

He stood close to you, his arm brushing yours as he leaned in to talk over the music.

You didn't seem to notice—or maybe you did, and you didn't mind. Either way, the proximity between you two only seemed to grow as the minutes ticked by, and Tara couldn't stop watching.

Every time you laughed at something he said, her chest tightened just a little more.

You weren't doing it on purpose. Tara knew that. She knew you didn't notice the way her jaw clenched or how her fingers drummed against her cup.

You were just being you—kind, bubbly, and effortlessly charming. But watching you with Brian, seeing how much of your attention he was soaking up, felt like a slow, relentless sting.

She hadn't expected it to bother her this much.

At first, Tara tried to play along, chiming in when she could and taking small sips of her drink to distract herself.

But then Brian's friends started joining the conversation, their loud energy making it harder for her to keep up. You were still trying to include her, turning to her every so often to ask her opinion or flash her one of your brilliant smiles, but it wasn't enough.

Not when you lit up like a damn firework every time Brian said something that made you laugh.

Tara tipped back her cup, finishing it quicker than she probably should have. She wasn't much of a drinker to begin with—she never really liked how it made her feel—but tonight was different. Tonight, she needed the edge taken off.

"Want another?" you asked, noticing her empty cup.

She hesitated, but before she could respond, Brian offered. "I'll grab her one. Be right back."

She opened her mouth to say she didn't need another, but he was already walking away.

You smiled after him before turning back to Tara, your expression so full of effortless warmth it made her stomach churn. "You having fun?"

She forced a small nod, her grip tightening on the plastic cup. "Yeah. It's... fine."

You didn't notice the strain in her voice, too caught up in the energy of the party to catch on.

By the time Brian returned with her drink, she'd already decided she wasn't going to overthink it. She took it with a quiet "thanks" and drank just enough to feel the buzz set in. It wasn't much—maybe two drinks total—but Tara was short, and she always felt the effects quicker than most.

The alcohol didn't drown out her frustration, though.

Every laugh you gave Brian, every time you leaned in to whisper something to him, only seemed to magnify it.

And you? You were oblivious. Still trying to keep her in the conversation, pulling her in with the same ease you always had. But she could feel the gap widening.

Tara's foot tapped against the floor as she shifted her weight, her eyes flickering between you and Brian. She should've left, should've wandered off to another part of the house to escape this torturous little triangle, but she stayed.

Because if she left, she'd have to admit to herself why she couldn't handle this.

So instead, she took another sip of her drink and plastered on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You okay?" you asked, your voice cutting through her thoughts.

"Yeah," she said quickly, her words sharper than she intended. "I'm fine."

But she wasn't. And as the night wore on, that became harder and harder to hide.

And after an hour, or maybe even more.

The alcohol was definitely working its way through Tara's veins. She could feel it, the familiar warmth spreading through her chest, making her limbs feel looser but her thoughts louder.

The edges of the room blurred ever so slightly, but her focus on you was sharp as ever, almost painfully so.

You were giggling at something Brian said again, your hand brushing his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tara had been watching you both like a hawk all night, trying to play it cool, but the subtle touches, the shared smiles, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him—it was getting under her skin.

She clenched her jaw, tipping back the rest of her drink as if it might drown out the frustration bubbling inside her. But it didn't.

It wasn't just the alcohol making her feel reckless, though it didn't help. Tara was desperate.

Desperate to do something—anything—that might shift the balance back in her favor. But how? She wasn't like Brian. She didn't have easy jokes or effortless charm. And she wasn't like you, all soft laughter and open smiles.

So she sat there, stewing in her own silence, searching for an opening she couldn't find.

Then she turned her head for just a moment.

A distraction—a loud burst of laughter from somewhere across the room. She glanced over, barely processing the source, and when she looked back...

Her heart stopped.

You and Brian were kissing.

It wasn't shy or hesitant. It was full and unguarded, like something out of the movies. His hands rested lightly on your waist, your fingers clutching the front of his shirt as though you were afraid to let go.

Tara's first thought wasn't sadness. It wasn't heartbreak or even surprise.

It was rage.

Her body went rigid, the plastic cup in her hand creaking under the force of her grip.

Because of course this wasn't a problem.

Why would it be?

You weren't hers. You'd never been hers. You were allowed to kiss boys, especially the boy you'd been crushing on for as long as she could remember. It wasn't like you were breaking some unspoken rule. She had no claim to you, no right to feel betrayed or blindsided.

But God, it felt like a betrayal.

Her rational mind tried to reason with her, repeating the same useless mantra: This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem.

But the other side of her mind—the side that had been clawing its way to the surface all night—was screaming the opposite.

It was a problem. A huge one.

The anger burned through her like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought as it spread. It started in her chest, hot and heavy, before curling into her throat and setting her teeth on edge. Her nails dug into the soft plastic of her cup until it crumpled under her grip, a sharp crack breaking through the buzz of the party.

And still, she couldn't look away.

She hated it. Hated the way his hands touched you so easily, like he'd earned that right. Hated the way you kissed him back like you'd been waiting for this your whole life. Hated how he got to have what she wanted so desperately without even knowing how much it mattered.

Her breaths came quicker, each one catching in her chest as if she couldn't quite fill her lungs. The alcohol amplified everything, stripping her bare of the filters she usually relied on. Every raw, unspoken feeling she'd buried for years was rising to the surface now, and there was no stopping it.

She wanted to scream.

To grab you and pull you away, to tell Brian to get his hands off you, to do something.

But she didn't.

Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she hated what she was seeing, there was a part of her—a small, quiet, agonizing part—that whispered:

You're not supposed to feel like this.

So instead, Tara sat there, her body tense and trembling, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. She didn't even realize she'd crumpled her cup until the sticky remnants of her drink dripped onto her lap.

And still, she couldn't look away.

Eventually you pulled back from Brian, cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol coursing through your system.

A small, almost dazed laugh escaped your lips as you glanced at him, then turned to find Tara in the crowd. She hadn't moved from where she'd been watching, her posture stiff and her eyes fixed on some indistinct point on the wall—anywhere but you.

When your gaze landed on her, your smile widened, bright and unrestrained, like you hadn't just set her entire world on fire.

Tara's chest tightened, the molten frustration inside her bubbling hotter with every passing second. She couldn't stop her thoughts, couldn't silence the storm brewing in her mind.

You stumbled a little as you reached her, still grinning like a fool, your energy infectious to everyone but Tara. You leaned close, tipping forward on your toes, your voice loud but slurred enough to betray your tipsy state.

"I think he kissed me," you said, as if it hadn't been entirely mutual.

Tara felt something snap.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms so hard she half-expected to draw blood.

She couldn't speak, couldn't trust herself to even try. If she opened her mouth, she was sure she'd yell or say something she couldn't take back. Worse, she might cry—and that wasn't an option.

Her silence stretched on, but you didn't seem to notice. You were too lost in your own world, your thoughts spinning with the buzz of the alcohol and the remnants of Brian's touch. Tara's silence didn't matter, because you filled the space with another easy laugh, leaning closer so she could hear you over the pounding music.

"I need to use the bathroom," you said, your lips brushing near her ear. The warmth of your breath made her stomach twist. "Wanna come?"

Tara's mind scrambled for an excuse, her mouth dry as she fought the urge to say something reckless.

"No," she said finally, forcing her voice to sound casual, detached. "I think I'm good down here."

It wasn't true. She wasn't good down here, or anywhere else in the universe at that moment.

You gave her a light shrug, your expression still full of that easy joy that made her want to scream. "Okay! Be right back!"

You disappeared into the crowd, weaving your way toward the bathroom, leaving Tara standing there alone.

The second you were out of sight, she exhaled sharply, her hands shaking as she reached for another drink she didn't need.

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the anger, or the ache of jealousy threatening to overwhelm her. Maybe it was all three, swirling into something she couldn't control.

But one thing was clear—she couldn't keep this up. Not tonight. Not with you and Brian. Not with her chest full of feelings she couldn't name and didn't want to face.

Tara's eyes burned as they landed on Brian, standing not far from where you'd left him. His posture was easy, relaxed—too relaxed.

He stood there like nothing had happened, chatting casually with a couple of his friends, his hand lifting a red cup to his lips like this was just another night. Like he hadn't just kissed you.

The most beautiful girl on the planet.

Tara felt her stomach twist painfully, her grip tightening around the drink in her hand. How could he be so unbothered? So unaffected? He wasn't grinning ear to ear, wasn't puffing out his chest or gushing about how lucky he was.

He wasn't laughing with joy or smirking proudly like any sane person would if they'd just kissed you.

How was he not telling everyone in earshot about what had happened? How was he not reeling from the fact that you—you, with your blinding smile and endless energy—had given him even a second of your time, let alone your lips?

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as she stared at him, her anger bubbling hotter with every second he stayed calm. Her hands itched to grab him by the collar, to shake him and demand he act like he understood the weight of what had just happened.

Did he even realize how lucky he was?

Did he know how many people in that room—how many people in general—would kill to be in his place? To have even the tiniest fraction of your attention, let alone that?

Her vision blurred, and it wasn't from the alcohol. Her chest felt like it was about to implode, like something inside her was trying desperately to escape, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep it together.

Brian's laughter snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. He was laughing at something one of his friends said, his expression light, carefree—unbothered.

Tara nearly saw red.

She downed the rest of her drink in one go, the sharp burn doing nothing to dull the fury roaring in her chest. How could he be like this? How could he act so normal, so indifferent, after kissing you?

How could he not be overwhelmed by the fact that you'd chosen him, even for a fleeting moment?

It was insulting. Infuriating.

She wanted to march over there, to grab him and make him feel the way she was feeling. She wanted him to hurt, to ache, to boil with jealousy the way she was.

But she couldn't.

Because none of this was his fault.

The real issue—the one she didn't want to admit—wasn't Brian. It was the simple, heartbreaking truth that he could kiss you without consequence.

He could have you.

Tara wasn't sure what happened next.

What she was thinking when it happened, or if she was even thinking at all. Maybe it was the anger—burning hot and uncontrollable—making her body move before her brain could catch up. Or maybe it was the alcohol, buzzing in her veins and drowning out every voice in her head that might've told her to stop.

All she knew was that one second she was standing there, glaring at Brian like he'd committed some unforgivable sin, and the next, she was storming toward him.

His friends noticed her first, their chatter faltering as they shifted awkwardly under her sharp glare. But Brian, oblivious as ever, didn't see her coming. He was mid-sentence, that stupidly calm look still plastered on his face, when Tara grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

The movement was forceful enough to knock the air out of both of them, and before he could even process what was happening—before she could process what was happening—she pressed her lips against his.

It wasn't soft.

It wasn't sweet.

It was messy, rough, and fueled by a cocktail of rage and desperation. Her hands fisted his shirt tightly, holding him in place, her nails biting into the fabric. Brian stiffened for a second, shocked, but then his hands hovered awkwardly near her waist, unsure of what to do.

Tara didn't care. She didn't care about his reaction, about his hesitation.

Because this wasn't about him.

It wasn't about his stupid, clueless face or the fact that he'd kissed you without giving it a second thought. It wasn't about him being unbothered or unaffected.

This was about her.

Her anger, her frustration, her absolute inability to sit there for another second and watch him act like kissing you was nothing.

The kiss deepened as her grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him even closer. She wanted to erase the memory of you from his lips, to replace it with her own. To make him feel something, anything, the way she was feeling.

But it wasn't working.

If anything, the kiss only made it worse.

Because no matter how hard she pressed, no matter how desperate her movements were, it didn't feel right.

It didn't feel like you.

And that thought was like a punch to the gut.

Brian made a soft, surprised noise against her lips, his hands finally settling on her hips, but it only made her angrier. How dare he hesitate now? How dare he act so unsure, like he didn't know exactly what he wanted when he'd so easily taken you from her just minutes ago?

Her chest heaved as she pulled back slightly, her lips still brushing against his, her heart pounding in her ears.

His wide eyes stared at her, confused and more than a little alarmed. "Tara—" his voice laced with bewilderment, but she silenced him with another kiss, pressing harder, needing to cut him off.

She didn't want to hear his voice. She didn't want to hear him try to make sense of this, because she didn't have an explanation. This wasn't about him.

It wasn't about you either—not entirely, at least.

It was about her. About the way she felt like she was unraveling, about how every smile you gave Brian felt like another thread being yanked loose, every laugh you shared with him felt like a blow to the chest.

She didn't know how to make it stop, and the only thing her mind could come up with was this. She didn't have to think when she was kissing Brian. Didn't have to feel the jagged ache of watching you be so happy with someone else.

This wasn't about him.

But it was all she could do to stop herself from falling apart completely.

And Tara wasn't sure what was happening anymore.

Brian hadn't pushed her away. He hadn't stopped her, hadn't hesitated for even a moment after that first surprised noise.

No, he'd leaned into it. He'd kissed her back with the kind of intent that only made her angrier, made the fire in her chest blaze so hot she thought she might combust right there.

Because it wasn't supposed to go like this.

His hands slid from her hips, pulling her closer, pressing her tighter against him, and she hated it. Hated the way he responded like this was exactly what he wanted, hated the way he kissed her back like she wasn't just a replacement for you.

And worse than anything, she hated herself for not stopping it.

His hands moved lower, gripping her ass, pulling her even closer, and she felt herself clench her fists tighter into the fabric of his shirt.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol buzzing in her veins, numbing her better judgment, or if it was the anger still consuming her every thought, but she didn't do anything to stop him.

She should've.

But she didn't.

Because in this moment, it wasn't about him. It wasn't even about you. It was about the chaos she felt boiling in her chest, about the way she felt like she was spiraling further and further out of control.

Brian murmured something against her lips—she didn't catch it, didn't even try to—but his hands stayed firm on her, guiding her, pulling her toward the stairs.

And she let him.

Every step felt like she was wading through quicksand, her mind shouting at her to stop, to push him away, to pull herself together. But her body wasn't listening. She didn't know if it was the heat of his hands on her or the fog of alcohol clouding her better judgment, but she let him lead her.

Because stopping meant facing the truth. And Tara wasn't ready to do that.

Not yet.

She'd barely registered how they ended up in the room. One second, she was being pulled up the stairs, Brian's hand gripping hers tightly, and the next, they were in a dimly lit bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her heart was racing, but not from excitement. There was no thrill, no anticipation, just a gnawing sense of wrongness she couldn't shake. Yet she didn't stop it. She didn't stop him as his hands found her waist, as his lips trailed down her neck. She didn't stop herself from responding, from letting this spiral further than it ever should have.

It was mechanical, empty, and every moment felt like it was happening to someone else. Brian's touch wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't what she wanted. His lips weren't the ones she craved, his hands didn't spark anything but an aching hollowness inside her.

And yet, she let it happen.

Because, for a fleeting second, it felt like power. Like control. Like maybe, just maybe, if she could take this from him—take you from him in some twisted, nonsensical way—it would hurt less.

But it didn't.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word she barely heard, only drove the knife deeper into her chest.

When it was over, the silence was deafening. Tara lay there, staring at the ceiling, her body still and her mind racing. Brian shifted beside her, saying something she didn't hear, and the sound of his voice made her stomach twist. She felt nauseous, disgusted—not with him, but with herself.

What had she done?

Her chest tightened as she fought to keep her breathing steady, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over. It hadn't helped. It hadn't made anything better. If anything, it had only made everything worse.

Because no matter what she did, no matter how far she went, it would never be enough to make her stop wanting you.

Afterwards Tara laid still, the dim light of the room casting shadows that felt too heavy, too oppressive.

Brian was beside her, breathing evening out as if nothing monumental had just happened. As if this was just another casual moment in his life.

Her mind, however, wouldn't stop.

It wasn't Brian she was thinking about—not the way he'd touched her, not the way he'd looked at her. No, every thought clawed its way back to you.

She pictured you in the bathroom, probably still staring at yourself in the mirror, giddy and flushed. She could almost see your smile, so wide it was infectious, and the way you'd probably tilt your head, trying to relive every second of that kiss.

You'd been dreaming of that moment since second grade, scribbling his name in the margins of your notebooks and lighting up every time he was near. Tara could already imagine how you'd be practically glowing, heart racing with excitement as you ran your fingers over your lips, trying to make the feeling last.

She wanted to hate you for it. But she couldn't. She never could.

You'd come out of that bathroom with a smile so bright it could light up the whole house, your hopeful eyes scanning the crowd as you made your way back to the spot you'd all been standing. And what would you find?

Nothing.

Tara wasn't there. Brian wasn't there.

She could imagine how your smile would falter, confusion settling in as you looked around, searching for the two people who were supposed to be waiting for you. How long would it take for the excitement to drain from your face? How quickly would hope turn to disappointment?

The thought was like a knife twisting in her gut.

And yet, she still couldn't make sense of why she'd done this. Why she'd let it happen. Because it didn't feel like she'd won anything. She hadn't taken Brian away from you. If anything, she'd stolen something from herself—something she could never get back.

Her chest tightened as the realization hit her like a freight train. She hadn't wanted him. She hadn't wanted this.

She'd wanted you.

And now she'd ruined everything.

[hoonieyun]

Hello I know your requests are closed rn but when they’re open I was wondering if you can do reader doing the trend when she tells enhypen that she can’t pay rent this month (lmk if you don’t know the trend I’ll link it!)

i can’t pay the rent ⊹˚. ♡

pranking enha hyung line by telling them you can't pay the rent for the month

warnings: profanity, kissing, teasing/pranks, consensual touching, 18+ genre: fluff… just fluff idek LOL notes: OKAY I SWEAR NOWTHIS IS MY LAST REQUEST IM DOING TIL NEXT YEAR LOL yall keep sending good ones and i dont wanna make you guys wait but PLS save the requests for next year, i promise i will do them all hehe anyways thank you for requesting!! i thought this was so funny because my sister did this on her husband recently and he was so dramatic about it, telling her that they had to sell her car LOL anyways enjoy and as per usual… not proofread lmao

husband!heeseung ⋆˚ʚɞ – wc: 484

– you thought this prank was hilarious, especially because it seems like the people’s reactions were always so dramatic and you knew heeseung’s would be similar, if not funnier. heeseung was going to be arriving home from work anytime soon so you sat at your dinner table waiting for him to walk through your front door. 

in just a few minutes, you could hear his keys enter the lock and turn the doorknob. heeseung was very hardworking and as much as you fought him on the fact that you were okay also working, he wasn’t going to let his wife do another day of corporate work if he had anything to say. 

the year before you two got married, heeseung received a huge promotion, one that allowed him to take care of the two of you without you having to ever lift a finger ever again. you were grateful for him and you did your best to be a good wife even if heeseung was okay coming home to ramyeon and cuddling in bed all day. 

“hi, my love. how are you?” he says, throwing his shoes off and making his way over to you. he quickly presses a kiss on your temple and you release a pent up sigh to make your distress believable. “what’s wrong?” heeseung asks, squatting down so that he could be more eye level. 

“hee… promise you won’t be mad at me?” you say and he nods at you, slightly pouting and looking at you with his big doe eyes. he was unsure of where this was going and the contrast to your usual bubbly personality was a bit worrying to him. 

“i don’t think i can pay the rent this month…” you say, jutting out your bottom lip with a slight quiver. heeseung looks like he’s just heard the saddest thing ever, like you just confessed the utmost heartbreaking statement. “baby, that's okay! please don’t worry? we’ll make it work…” heeseung says, pulling you intoa hug anf rubbing your back softly. you accept his hug but can’t stop yourself from bursting out into laughter. heeseung suddenly pulls you away, holding your shoulders and looking at you with a suspicious expression, his left eyebrow raised as he stares at you. 

“babe? why are you laughing! we can’t pay rent and you’re laughing– wait…” heeseung begins to say and you realize that he’s caught on. “you don’t even pay the rent! i do!” heeseung says, shooting up straight and posing with his hands on his hips with a scolding face. “sorry hee!! i had to prank you because your reaction is too cute!!” you respond and he smirks with a chuckle, falling into your arms with a hug. “you’re lucky i love you!” heeseung says before the two of you share a kiss. 

“now… where’s my ramyeon!” he says, picking you up bridal style and walking over to the kitchen.

husband!jongseong ⋆˚ʚɞ – wc: 663

– everything about jay just screamed gentleman. he always opens doors for you, when it rains he carries the umbrella predominantly on your side more than his, he keeps you on the side furthest from the street when walking on the sidewalk, he showers you in love and compliments, and never lets you forget how much he loves you. 

he respected your wishes when you said that after getting married you no longer wanted to work, in fact, he encouraged it. he had wanted you to stop working for a while now because of how shitty your boss was but you ultimately waited until you were married to do so. he wanted you to stay home and work on your dream home, encouraging you to use his card for whatever you needed so that you could make the house you two got together, the one of your dreams. 

so when jay was at work, you were at home doing projects to do just that; make this house your dream home that you and jay would spend the rest of your lives together in. you were taking a break from gardening in the backyard when you came across the tiktok and because you knew that jay was weak to your pranks, it was going to be easy to pull one over on him. 

you finish doing the rest of your garden for the day just as jay was coming home from work. you greet him at the front door, sliding your gloves off and giving him a kiss on the cheek instead of a hug so that you wouldn’t get his clothes dirty since yours was slightly covered in dirt. 

“hi baby, can we talk?” you ask and the atmosphere instantly shifts as you grab him by his hand to the kitchen. you pour him a glass of water as he’s taking a seat at your kitchen counter, eyes fixed on you as you walk over to him. “is everything okay, my love?” he asks and you pause for a second as you try to bite back a laugh. 

“i don’t know how to tell you this but i can’t pay our mortage this month…” you confess and he looks at you with furrowed brows. “what mortage?” he ask and you tell him the mortage for the house and his eyebrows remain furrowed. “did you buy a new house??” he ask and you couldn’t help but break character. “why are you laughing?? what’s going on??” he asks, even more confused than before and you explain to him that it was a prank you saw but he wasn’t able to move on from your statement, still asking if you had bought another house that he hadn’t known about. “wait so is there another house? do you pay the mortage for that house?” he asks as you try to catch your breath from laughing so much. 

“can you be serious? i have no idea what’s going on! do you need me to pay the mortage on this house? it’s okay if you do, you know i’ll help you with anything.” jay adds, proving yet again how kind and generous he was. 

“baby, it’s a joke! there’s no other house.” you answer in between laughs and his eyes narrow at you after finally realizing what you were saying while laughing. 

“wow, i’m going to need to learn how to stop falling for your pranks. what’s next, you’re going to bring home a bunch of puppies?” and when your eyes widen at his response, he pulls you into a hug while shaking his head; “no, don’t even think about it!” he says, pulling you towards the bathroom. 

“but– nope! we are not getting a puppy!” jay says cutting you off. you look at him with a pout and all he can do is place a soft kiss onto your lips. “okay, fine. i’ll think about it.” he says and you cheer knowing deep down jay wanted a puppy too. 

boyfriend!jaeyun ⋆˚ʚɞ – wc: 733

– you and jake have just moved into your first apartment together after graduating from college. it was nothing crazy, just a humble 2 bedroom apartment and although you would’ve settled with 1 bedroom, jake insisted on getting two so that you could have a dedicated space for your art. jake definitely made more than you and although it made you a bit insecure that he was always taking care of the finances, he reassures you that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

often telling you that he’s happy to do it if it means you could put all your focus in your passion for your art. he even goes as far as having your art supplies on a refill cycle because he knows how fast you go through them and he doesn’t want you to ever run out so he has them delivered just in time as you’re about to run out of something whether it be a canvas, tools, or a certain color of paint. jake was loving like that. 

willing to spend what he needed, no matter the price, just so that he can make sure that you have everything you needed because he was your number one supporter. 

you were scrolling on tiktok, procrastinating on a piece, when you scrolled into the trend and it seems after seeing that first video led your algorithm to show you similar videos 8 more times before you decided that you would try and prank jake. you often tried to prank jake because his reactions were always cute and dramatic but you could tell whenever he was able to catch on so for this one, you prepared yourself. going over a small script in your head about how you would say it and what responses you would have for whatever jake could possibly say in return. 

so, when jake got back from work you walked out of your little art studio and welcomed him home with a hug and kiss on the lips. “hi, pretty. how was your day?” he asks and when you tell him that you were stressed and a bit anxious, he immediately drops his work bag and holds you closer. “what’s wrong?” he asks and you slowly you pull yourself out of his grip so you could look at him– bad idea because his eyes seemed to carry so much love and adoration for you in them that you could get lost in them. 

“yn?” he asks and you shake yourself out of the trance of looking into his doe eyes. 

“jake, i don’t think i can pay the rent this month… baby i’m so sorry!” you respond, throwing yourself back into his arms and burying your face into his chest to show him just how bad you felt and you could feel jake hesitantly put his hand on your back. 

“pay the rent?” he asks and you nod your head against his chest. “my love, no offense but i pay the rent not you.” jake says and when you look up at him his head is slightly tilted to the side with a furrowed gaze. 

“we all know i make the big bucks around here, baby!” jake says proudly and although it didn’t offend you at all, you pretend to be hurt by softly hitting him on the chest and pouting. 

“hey!” you yell while crossing your arms. 

“it’s true!” he says, pulling you back into his arms while rocking the two of you side to side. “what are you even talking about? i thought we agreed that i would cover our rent so you could focus on getting your art exhibit together?” he asks and you couldn’t even prolong the joke anymore because he was being too sweet. 

“yeah, i know… it was just a stupid prank i saw on tiktok.” you confessed and jake laughs at you endearly. “aww… not your best one babe.” he says and this time you hit him again because he was teasing you. he let out a small “oww” even though it didn’t actually hurt. 

“come on! i’m just playing!” he says, now he was looking at you with a pout and your scowl transforms into a smile. the two of you shared a tender kiss before preparing dinner. he was your hard working and caring boyfriend and you were his “little picasso if picasso was sexy”; his words not yours. 

boyfriend!sunghoon ⋆˚ʚɞ – wc: 835

– sunghoon, although usually very quiet, was very mischieveious and silly when the two of you were alone. he often played harmless pranks on you like hiding and waiting behind corners and jumping out when you got close, placing fake plastic bugs in unsuspecting spots for you to find, or just randomly having an outburst of energy and screaming that would startle you. 

and although you would tell him that you hated being scared or surprised, you secretly loved this goofy side of him because it brings out the biggest smile on his face whenever he sees your reactions. even when you do get scared, which is almost all the time, he makes it up to you by cuddling up close to you and whispering loving things into your ear until the two of you fall asleep. 

so, when your best friend sent you the tiktok and said you should get revenge on sunghoon for scaring you just the day before, you didn’t hesitate to dwelve into the tiktok trend to find inspiration on how you could really sell the story and try to prank sunghoon the way he pranks you. 

sunghoon would be getting home from work soon, he was a part of the IT team of a large scale company and you loved how smart he was, his cute face was just a bonus. when he got the job and moved the two of you to a bigger condo closer to his work, the two of you agreed that he would take care of the rent if you took care of the smaller finances like groceries and esstentials. 

at first you were a bit reluctant because you didn’t want it to come off like he was taking care of everything but sunghoon soothed your worries and told you that if he were to ever let you take care of the rent, his parents would be highly disappointed in him for letting his lady do that. as time passed, you slowly became comfortable with sunghoon’s job and how it did provide more than enough for the two of you. you didn’t really work, you often would help out at your family’s floral shop but it wasn’t anything to sunghoon’s big tech job; something you’re very grateful for… and of course, him. 

“honey, i’m home!” sunghoon announces as he enters your shared condo and you stay in place, slightly hiding in the blanket so it looked like you had been having a gloomy day instead of running outside to greet him like you usually do. 

sunghoon quickly makes his way to your shared bedroom when you don’t come out to greet him and he finds you on the bed, in a fetal position and hiding under the big fluffy white blanket. “honey, are you ok? you look sad…” sunghoon says softly and his tone of voice tugs at your heartstrings, almost making you back out of the prank. 

you mumbled something but because you were hiding under the blanket, he couldn’t hear you so he gently pulls the blanket off to reveal you, now hiding shyly behind your hands. 

“what’s wrong?” he says, grabbing your hands and placing them in his, gently rubbing circles on your knuckles with his thumbs. 

“hoon… i’m so sorry but i can’t pay the rent this month.” you say, finally making eye contact with him, giving him sad puppy eyes and when sunghoon’s blank face doesn’t change for a moment except for a few blinks, you start to believe that you’ve totally convinced him… wrong. 

“baby… i’m gonna hold you hand when i say this– you’re broke and you’ve never paid the rent a day in your cute little life.” he says, flashing you his cheeky smile that showed his fang like canine teeth. your jaw drops in shock at his response, prompting you to shout an empty “i hate you” at him as you grab the blanket and return to hiding underneath it. 

“noo, you looove me!” sunghoon says, grabbing the blanket once again to reveal a pouty version of you. 

“i buy you those creepy furry thingies you like, i buy you all your favorite snacks, and i pay for this lovely condo so you can have a beautiful home.” sunghoon says, getting closer with each word and finally placing a kiss on your lips. 

“hey! the labubus are not creepy…” you mutter and the both of you look over to your vanity where there sat a pink labubu. 

“okay, yeah they’re kinda creepy– but i was trying to prank you because you always prank me but i guess it didn’t work.” you confess and he pats your head, brushing some of your hair out of your face. 

“don’t worry baby, your cuteness makes up for your bad pranks.” he says with a laugh before lunging out of bed, just in time as you try to lunge at him; starting a cat and mouse chase around your condo until one of you, you 99% of the time, gets tired. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[seokmn]

pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader

wc: 0.5k words

warnings: jeonghan cutie girl dad </3, petnames

lua’s note: why did no one tell me that spending more than one month without writing could make you forget how to write like you used to 💔

“wah, i give up” jeonghan said while throwing his cellphone on his lap and groaning in frustration. “whats wrong?”

“i cant find a nice place to go with our angel! today is supposed to be our father-daughter day, but i dont want to stay at home. i want to give her a really nice day” he pouted and you chuckled softly, “is that what you worried about, hannie? i might know a good place…”

jeonghan looked at you with hope in his eyes and smiled, “really? tell me, honey, please”. you could see the desperation in his eyes, jeonghan never played about his father-daughter days, he always thought about the most incredible places and things to do with his little girl. “im running out of ideas today, please…”

you chuckled and nodded, “alright, alright. haeun’s mom told me about a princess themed restaurant that opened a few months ago. she said haeun loved it and its really cozy there, ill send you the location.”

jeonghan smiled from ear to ear and pecked your lips, “thank you, honey” he pecked your lips once again, “thank you so much. you saved the day!”

“but you owe me one! i was planning to take her to that restaurant, one day youll have to let me do one of your ideas”

“anything you want, love. ill even stop cheating in uno for two weeks!” you gasped and smacked his arm while laughing, “i knew you were cheating all this time! there was no way you could win that many times in a row!”

you knew that, by the time you get back home from work, your husband and your daughter would be already at home, according to jeonghan’s usual plans.

“im home!” you said as opened the door, immediately being greeted by your daughter running towards you, hugging your legs and already yapping about how her day with her dad was amazing, tho you didnt pay attention, your attention was focused on something else, your daughters hair with pink highlights youve never seen before.

jeonghan slowly walked towards you with an apologetic smile, “i know we promised to always talk to each other before making a decision… but she really wanted this”. you turned your attention towards him and saw his hair was also different, it had blue highlights and a pink bow.

you found yourself shifting your eyes at your daughter and jeonghan. your daughter seemed to notice and stepped back a little bit to look at her father, “dad, mommy didnt like our hair…”

“of course she did, shes just surprised because its new”, he looked at you, “right, honey?”

you looked back at him, sighed and started to walk out the door until jeonghan grabbed your wrist in a gentle way, “whe-where are you going?”

“im going to buy a purple hair dye. i dont want to be left behind, i want to match yall”

jeonghan smiled and pulled you closer to him, “we already bought it” he took the little girl in his arms and looked at her with a smile on his face, “sweetheart, let’s dye mommy’s hair and tell her how you became a real princess today”

[mwahsturns]

Make you mine ୨୧

Sub!reader x Matt Sturniolo

Contains: Smut, swearing, basically porn, A lot of praise, pet names (baby, good girl), unprotected sex, big dick!matt, p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, face cum. - Semi-proof read! I think that’s all?

Synopsis: You went to your best friend’s house earlier that morning, you’re currently spending the night at Matt’s house and told him you’d be back later. You ended up staying late as you lost Track of time. You come home late very exhausted, to see Matt still awake at his computer and he asks you to make it up to him…

authors note: yall this one is freaky so grab your rose toy and some Pepsi and enjoy the ride 🤭

You walk into Matt’s room exhausted excepting him to be asleep, you walk into the room to see him on his computer. ‘Hey baby’ i say putting down my bag by the side of his bed. He turns around in his seat, a small smile forming as he sees me coming in ‘Hey...’he responds, his voice a bit husky from being up late, ‘Where have you been all night?’ I chuckled at his voice, he sounded sleepy and I could tell.

‘Madi’s house’ I said taking off my boots. ‘Madi's house, huh?’ he nods, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before looking back at his computer screen. ‘You look tired...’ he comments, his tone a bit softer now. ‘Did you guys have a lot of fun?’ I smile at him softly. ‘yeah but i missed u’ I walk up to him taking out my earrings.

His expression softens, and he closes his laptop, giving me his full attention. ‘You missed me, huh?’ He asks, trying to suppress a smile. ‘Even though you were out with your friends?’ I nod sitting on his lap as he sits on the gaming chair. He wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder. ‘I missed you too, baby.’ He sighs contently, holding me close. ‘You know, I was starting to think you forgot about me.’

‘I could never..’ I smile staring into his eyes. He lifts his head up, looking into my eyes with a small smile. ‘Never, huh?’ He asks, his voice low and soothing. ‘Good, because I couldn't bear the thought of you forgetting about me.’ He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. ‘Matt i know you hate going but would you pretty please come with me to Tara’s party tomorrow’ I smile hoping he gives in.

He raises an eyebrow, trying not to let his discomfort show too obviously ‘babe a party..’ He shifts slightly, still keeping me on his lap ‘You know how I feel about those things my love.’ I start thinking of ways to convince him… What most people don’t know is Matt loves anything physical in his relationships so it’s normal for us to be hugging holding hands …. Fucking a lot so I knew the perfect way to get him to go.

‘I’ll give you a blow job if you go’ I smile. his eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and temptation crossing his face ‘Well...’ he chuckles softly ‘When you put it that way...’ he runs a hand through my hair ‘What time do we have to leave?’ a playful smirk forms on his lips. ‘7 a clock at night I’m pretty sure’ I think about the text me and Tara shared earlier. 7 at night..." he sighs dramatically but there's a glint in his eyes ‘Alright, I'll do it... but only because you promised...’ he pulls me closer, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips ‘You better keep your word, gorgeous.’

I laugh, ‘I’m going’ I smile getting on my knees. He watches as you get on my knees, his smirk growing wider. ‘Mmm, I'm counting on it...’ he spreads his legs slightly, giving me better access as he leans back in the chair. ‘Come on then, baby...’ I undo his belt slowly I smirk pulling his pants and boxers down ‘still big..’ His ego swells slightly as i check out his size, his hands finding their way into my hair. ‘You like that?’ He asks, his voice dropping an octave, knowing the answer already. ‘You always act so surprised...’

‘because you’re just so big baby..’ I smile staring at his dick. ‘you always say that...’ He chuckles softly, his manhood twitching with anticipation as i stare at it. ‘You make it sound like it's too much...’ He spreads his legs wider, giving me better access. ‘Too much?? Never.’ He smiled ‘Put that pretty mouth to good use, baby.’ I smile “anything for you Matthew..” I smirk kitty licking his tip. ‘Fuck..." He hisses through gritted teeth as i lick his tip, his hips bucking slightly. ‘You're such a good girl, aren't you?’ He praises, his voice thick with desire. ‘So eager to please your man...’

I nod licking the side of his cock. ‘Fuck... that feels amazing...’ His breathing becomes heavier as he watches me work. ‘Show me how much you missed me... show me how good you can be...’ He guides my head down slightly, helping me take more of him. ‘That's it, baby... just like that...’ I hallow my cheeks sucking him, He pants, his hips lifting off the chair as i hollow your cheeks around him. ‘You take it so much better than anyone else...’ He moans, his fingers tightening in your hair, I pull off spitting on his cock then deep throating him again.

‘Fuck yes!’ He groans deeply as you spit and take him deep again ‘You're so fucking filthy... I love it...’ His hips thrust forward, meeting my rhythm ‘Keep going baby, just like that...’ He pants heavily, his body tense with pleasure. I gagged taking as much as I could handle. His eyes roll back in his head, voice breaking as he feels me deepthroat him completely ‘How... how do you even...’ He pants heavily, fingers shaking in my hair ‘That's so fucking hot...’ He moans deeply. I moan against him the slide up sucking his tip.

He lets out a guttural growl at the sensation, hips bucking slightly ‘You're killing me... fuck, why are you so perfect...’ His fingers trace along your jawline as i suck his tip ‘Such a gorgeous mouth... made for this...’ I moan continuing my pace. ‘Oh god, that sound...’ His voice is thick with lust ‘Can't get enough of it...’ His free hand reaches down, stroking your hair and cheek gently ‘Look up at me, baby...’ His voice has that irresistible soft tone.

I pull off smiling “I want you to cum on my face..”He stares at you, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of your face covered in saliva ‘Fuck, you're something else...’ He grabs his dick, stroking it quickly as he watches you ‘I'm gonna cum all over your pretty face baby...’ I close my eyes and stick my tongue out. He moans loudly, his hand moving faster as he watches me prepare for his load. He unleashes a thick, hot load of cum all over my face, coating my skin, hair, and tongue in his seed ‘fuck baby..’ I take it off my eyes and open them. He stares at me, taking in the sight of his cum dripping down my face ‘Damn, you look even prettier like this...’ He gently runs his fingers through the sticky strands of hair on my face ‘My little messy angel...’

I wipe it off my face with my fingers and lick it off. He watches me lick his cum off my fingers, his dick already starting to twitch again ‘Fuck, you're insatiable... I think I'm addicted to you’ He pulls me up and crushes his lips against mines, tasting himself on my tongue. He breaks the kiss, panting ‘Need you... now...’ He roughly grabs me and pushes me up against the nearest wall, pressing his body against mine ‘Want to fuck you so hard...’ His hands roam over my body possessively ‘You ready for me?’ I immediately take my hoodie off and pants off. He looks me up and down, his eyes dark with lust ‘Fuck, you're gorgeous...’ He quickly pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside, revealing his toned chest and abs ‘Gonna fuck you so hard, baby...’

I nod biting my lip jumping into his arms and tongue kissing him, He catches me easily, one hand grasping my ass while the other tangles in my hair as he devours my mouth in a fierce kiss. His hardening cock presses against my stomach. He growls against my lips and carries you over to the bed, throwing me down onto it. ‘Spread those legs for me baby...’ I nod spreading them. He climbs onto the bed between your legs, positioning himself at your entrance .

‘You're so wet...’ He teases my opening with the head of his cock ‘Ready for me to stretch that tight little pussy?’ I nod, as he did not hold back. A wicked grin spreads across his face and he slams his hips forward, burying himself deep inside me in one thrust. ‘Like that, baby?’ He begins to pound into me mercilessly, his hips moving at a brutal pace ‘Gonna fuck you until you can't walk straight..’ I moan softly. ‘’Matt’ He leans down, sucking at my neck as he continues to hammer into me.

‘So tight and wet... Fuck, you feel amazing...’ He grabs my legs and throws them over his shoulders, changing the angle and going even deeper ‘Take it all, baby...’ my body slightly shakes. ‘mmph- Matt’ I moan, His pace quickens at the sound of his name on my lips. ‘Yeah, baby? Say my name again... while I'm fucking that sweet pussy...’ He leans down to whisper in my ear ‘You're close aren't you? I can feel your walls squeezing me...’ I couldn’t even think straight I was so cock drunk.

‘so big matt..’ i moan gripping the sheets. A deep growl escapes his throat at the way i stretch around him ‘Tell me how much you can take, baby... How much of my big cock can your little pussy handle?’ He reaches between us and finds my clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. ‘c-can’t take it’ I cried.

He chuckles and pulls out almost completely, then slams back in, hitting my cervix ‘Too much huh? You can't handle all this dick...’ He does it again, pounding his hips against yours ‘Look at me, eyes on me...’ I try to keep them open as I moan uncontrollably. ‘Good girl... Now tell me who's fucking that tight little pussy?’ His abs contract with each powerful thrust, his fingers still working my clit

‘Tell me...’ He grinds his hips in a way that makes me gasp ‘That's my girl, fucking losing it...’ I grip his shoulders tightly. ‘mmh it’s yours Matt all yours..’ His pace quickens and he pulls out almost completely ‘Who does this belong to? Who's the only one allowed to fill this pretty little hole up?’ ‘you Matt only you’ I moan out. ‘Fuck yeah... Only me...’ His voice gets deeper, more primal. ‘"That's right, baby... This pussy is mine’ my eyes roll back as I moan uncontrollably.

His pace is brutal, his hips snapping back and forth as he fills me up completely ‘Say I’m Matt's girl...’ ‘I’m Matt’s girl..’ I moan out. ‘That's it... You're my fucking girl...’ He pulls out and flips me over onto my hands and knees ‘Now watch the mirror and watch me fill you up again...’ He lines himself up with my entrance and slams back in, his balls slapping against my clit. I grip the sheets crying out in pleasure.

‘Look at yourself... See how well you take my cock?’ He reaches around to play with my clit as he fucks me from behind ‘So goddamn beautiful... My girl, my pussy, my everything.’ I choked out a groan. ‘don’t stop don’t stop..’ the only thing I can repeat. ‘You like that, baby? Like watching me fuck you senseless?’ He leans down to kiss my shoulder, his hips never stopping their brutal pace ‘You're so close, I can feel it...’ ‘Matt please fuck ima cum’

‘Cum for me, baby... Show me who you belong to...’ He slams into me one last time and holds himself deep inside of me as he comes, his hot seed filling you up completely ‘Fuck...’ my body goes limp shaking, He collapses on top of me. His heavy breathing the only sound in the room for a moment, he eventually rolls off and pulls me onto his chest His arms wrapped around me. ‘told you id make you mine...’ i laughed softly.

‘I love you…’ I muttered out. ‘I love you too pretty girl’ He kisses the top of my head, his heart still racing from the intense sexual intimacy we just had "Now rest. We'll order some food and watch a movie later." He holds me close, feeling completely content and satisfied. ‘Perfect day.’ He said softly….

A/n: I hope you enjoyed sorry I took a break I got stuff I’m working on for you guys! And for my Chris girls keep an eye out ….

(COMMENT IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY TAG LIST!)

[hauntedrain]

For Years! | Max Verstappen x Reader |

Social media AU Summary: Max and reader get criticism over the status of their relationship.

✮▹ A/N: So sorry for not posting for so long. Life has been BUSY. but hopefully i can post more and write more! Love you guys <3

✰▹Warnings/Notices: Not edited. nothing really. reader mentioned to write music

Liked by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, & 3,345,678 others

@Y/N: Lovely time lately.

view all 19,234 comments

user1: LMFAO MAX.

user2: Y/N you'll always been iconic

user3: sometimes I forget Max Verstappen is dating THE Y/N L/N.

↪ user4: SO TRUE. It completely passes my mind that they've been together before he even got to F1.

↪ user5: THEY'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 9 YEARS?

↪ user6: YEA ITS WILD.

↪ user7: wait but they haven't gotten married or anything?

↪ user8: Yea no. They also avoid the questions around it. Kind of weird to me.

↪ user9: But hasn't Y/N written songs about marriage and getting married? Why haven't they?

↪ user10: Maybe they just don't want to. Or max doesn't.

MaxVerstappen: Why did you choose that photo of me.

↪ Y/N: You want me to post the photo from yesterday?

↪ MaxVerstappen: NO.

↪ user11: LMFAO. PARENTS.

Liked by Y/N, Redbull, & 2,345,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: Great race and great win! Getting ready for next week. And thank you to @Y/N for making me but those glasses, best purchase.

View all 14,567 comments

Y/N: I told you they were a good investment

↪ MaxVerstappen: I don't know if you would call it an investment.

↪ Y/N: I'll post that picture.

↪MaxVerstappen: It was a great investment! better than a house!

↪ user12: better than a ring?

↪ user13: STOP. but no fr, wheres the ring Max?

user14: Okay nice win but when yall getting married?

user15: everyone needs to mind their business, maybe they're just not ready to get married and that okay.

↪ user16: But its been 9 YEARS. NINE YEARS. Its a red flag.

liked by 18,234 others

@F1GOSSIP: Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N have been criticized over the status of their relationship. The couple has been together for over 9 years however many fans have realized that there's been no movement in the relationship, family and marriage vise. Thought?

view all 5,567 comments

user17: I mean its their life but 9 years?

user18: Idk guys don't hate me but sometimes max doesn't seem interested in Y/N. Like all of the Monaco GP? seem happy around her.

↪ user19: Bro look at the pictures in the post. Does he seem unhappy in them? No he seems very happy.

↪ user20: Okay but lets be honest. Both only seem that happy in front of a camera.

User21: I mean for some of their relationship they were fairly young. Maybe they just wanna enjoy it little by little.

↪ user22: I think in 9 years you can enjoy a lot.

user23: I wouldn't marry her either. Max knows what's best which is why he hasn't done it.

Y/N has posted to their story!

liked by 6,678,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: happy 3 year anniversary @Y/N. love you much and cant wait for years to come. Also, people said I hated her? How could I?

view all 35,567,878 comments

Y/N: Guys my husband is kinda cool.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Kinda?

↪ Y/N: yea cuz im cooler than you.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Okay love.

user24: WTF 3 YEARS?

user25: max said hold my 3x WDC titles while I make everyone shut up about my relationship.

↪ Y/N: He just wins everything doesn't he?

↪ CharlesLeclerc: Yea its kinda annoying. you should distract him Y/N

↪ MaxVerstappen: Dont tell my wife to distract me, I'll lose.

↪ CharlesLeclerc: thats the point.

↪ LandoNorris: I just wanna win.

↪ user26: LMFAO WHAT IS HAPPENING

↪ Y/N: Im collecting them all

User27: And people said max didnt wanna marry her.

user28: Bro just keeps winning doesnt he. Y/N GIVE ME A CHANCE.

user29: if you look closely you can see me getting run over by an F1 car.

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope you guys like it! I need to post more but ive gotten so busy and haven't had the time. But I'll try to post more often. Love you guys! hope you enjoyed.

[san8ny]

Thinking about..Ex-girlfriend Ellie <3

[an: not an original trope, i cringed everytime i attempted to proof read so i couldnt..srry]

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who scoffs when you’re mentioned at all, but is all fucking ears, tilting her head back and giving the person a side eye,

“I mean..you can continue, not like I care at all but like, it’s rude to interrupt someone so..”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s once paid some instagram tarot reader a good 10 bucks to see if yall were compatible despite not believing in it before,

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s bitterly venmo requesting her money back when the girl says no,

“Shit isnt even real, you scammed me gimme it back bruh”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s definitely got a fake account to keep tabs on you, which might look, to the average eye, some middle aged woman who posts her food and her kids, with some biblical verses in her bio— when it’s ellie with some google found, random ass photos of people

“Im so fuckin smart..” she geeks, pumping her fist when you accept her follow request

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s looking down at her phone dumbfounded when she’s blocked on the account thr next day, throwing her hands in the air—forgetting just who she learnt that trick from..

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s even more confused when her door is knocked, you on the other side, phone in-hand with the same account pulled up,

“Er..that’s not me?..” She says awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck as she leans on her doorframe.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who cries dramatically and is on her knees when you tell her with a strict finger to leave her alone, practically groveling at your feet in pure anguish as she pleads!

“P-please! You don— you don’t understand! You can’t!”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who hiccups, eyes puffy with long lashes coated in tears as she wraps her arms around your calves—only you could ever have her in this state! I mean, look at how distraught she is at the sheer idea of possibly leaving you alone forever!

She doesn’t care in the slightest if the neighbors hit her with a noise complaint.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who soon enough has you on her bed, in a warm mating press, breathy moans of never having you leave her side, telling you she’d rather die than ever have anyone else fill your shoes as your sloppy cunts kiss, wet noises echoing off the drywalls of ellie’s cheap apartment,

“C—cum! Cum, nee— need you so..o—oh! Oh, my god? Loveyousomuch, loveyousomuch”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s an utter loser, pathetically feeling tears well up again as the idea of you getting up and taking your stuff after this hits— so she takes you for another round, this time with her 8inch strap.

It’s a disgusting mess, really.

Ex Girlfriend Ellie who you’ve got a twitchy mess as you use her so deliciously, quickly becoming overstimulated once more when she realizes she’s orgasmed like 5 times already; Milky fluids all over thighs as she ruts into you— fucking a mixture of your cums back into you with whats gathered around her strap.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie is pretty much in another word from the pleasure, mouth ajar as her moans leave in pants— begging for a kiss as her rosey tits bounce a bit against you

“Ple—uh, uh! Please, just ‘wan a kiss, c—can’t, uhm!— can’t reach yo—ou!” She whines tiredly, her sweaty upper body leaning forward on your back, littering sloppy kisses all over you, cmon..give her a kiss :(

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who you eventually give into, giving a chaste kiss to, but she doesn’t return the same one back— instead, opting to swipe her tongue around and suckle your blush coloured tongue, bobbing her head up and down while the saliva gathers on her tastebuds, excess dribbling down her chin and splattering somewhere on the already ruined bedsheets,

“F—wuckin’ wa—ah..’wan you all..”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who watches you sleep while she lazily licks at your worn-out pussy, humming as she probes a finger on the engorged clit— giggling when you sleepily swat a hand down to push her head away, but she’s latched on.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who, even if you move a thousand miles away from, will always be there because she’s yours.

[shmpxx]

HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND — y.o

⛤ yuuta okkostu x fem! reader

How else would yuuta react if you denied your relationship in front of everyone? You obviously weren’t gonna be let off easy.

cw. smut. (kinda) exes to lovers-ish. thigh riding. semi-public sex. library sex. dry humping. oral (f. receiving). groping. marking. pet names (princess). face grabbing. slight manhandling. +18!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: yall i got a full time job and I’m doing school and i really want to post my fics more bc i love sharing my writing and hopefully this doesn’t sound rushed lol.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

You practically had to shout it out loud for it to be known. How many times did you have to say it to get through Maki’s skull as she was constantly teasing you about how you and Yuuta used to act like two middle schoolers in love, laughing about it in front of everyone.

You wanted to craddle yourself into a ball hearing it all made you remember the soft moments you had together and then made you cringe about it in every being of your body.

You held hands and tried to catch the perfect moment to kiss but was too anxious to, spent everyday together before he left, he promised to send a call, text or at least email and now he’s back, decides to act all cool, his attitude changes only slightly like he’s all that now, he had fixed his hair to side and his demeanor turns cold. Everything about him and his current presence ticked you off. He didn’t have to stay. You wished he’d go back.

Did you really wish that? Or did you need him to trap you in the darkest aisle of a library where he caught you. Whispering in your ear to take all those awful words you said back while he’s pinning you against the tall shelf, his pelvis is rocking against yours, his lips ambushing your neck. He’s just kissing you and touching you all over, making sure you don’t escape him either. He’s squeezing your tits a bit too hard, leaving too many hickeys.

“Can we just take a moment—“

“Why should we?” his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear, traveling down your jawline. His hand squishing the sides of your cheeks to turn your head to the side to gain access to your neck. You could feel his wet muscle and his warm lips glide over your skin, his hand on the back of your ass, squeezing it and also pulling you more into him.

The slight change in yuuta was quite scary, he wasn’t as soft as he used to be. He’s leaving marks and his hips are moving recklessly. He knows it will be so much better if he could take your clothes off and be bare already to fuck you like he is your boyfriend, you’re all his.

He guides his leg between your legs under your skirt, his thigh grazing your covered cunt and his hands situated on your hips to rock you against his thigh.

“Didn’t you think it hurt my feelings when you said that in front of everyone?”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes knowing his eyes bore into you, he was looking for an apologetic look from you but you were too distracted by looking down watching as he was driving your hips to desperately drag on his thigh. He was pressing his leg harder into you making you finally let out out moan. The shame you felt when you realized you were in a public place making such noise.

“I was just telling the truth..hah…” your tone with half of regret and moans by yuuta forcing your hips to grind on him, your clit throbbing from the harsh friction and you’re already leaving a damp on his leg.

The way your words were set in annoyance and anger like you truly disregard the fact that you and yuuta never had a thing going on and this frustrates yuuta when he replays how you yelled that he wasn’t your boyfriend.

“I am your boyfriend, i just wanna make sure you don’t forget that princess” He pulls down your bottoms and he’s on his knees with his hands on the sides of your thighs like he’s kneeling to an angel which you were to him and you never thought so with all the built of negativity you had towards him.

“Alright i get it—“

He doesn’t think you do, he wants you to understand that you were his and he was yours. Why would he stop here? He’s already pulling down your underwear and your anxiety strikes at you when he gives your pussy a gentle kiss and you gave out a yelp, you kept your eye down the aisle to see if people would pass by. Your hand is slightly hovering over your mouth, so you’re still emitting small moans.

“C-come on yuuta—quit it already..ah!” You would rather move somewhere with more privacy though yuuta doesn’t care a place, he was too busy making out with your cunt now, his tongue flicked and sucked on your clit.

And it was not enough for him he had to prop your legs on his shoulders that your back pressed against the shelf of books more and you gasp by the sudden feeling of being weightless with your feet off the ground and yuuta buries his lips, his tongue to eat you out.

You cursed under your breath not knowing where to put your hands, you wanted to support yourself to not fall though yuuta would never let that happen and yet also drown in bliss with your hands gripping his black locks. the anxiousness and the pleasure clouding your mind at the same time.

Your trying your best to keep it down and your constant repeated pleas. Yuuta was lapping his tongue from the outside of your walls to your clit and something ignited deep in the pits of your stomach that just made you push your hips further into his face. It doesn’t seem like he was gonna stop anytime, he was so focused his eyes were shut thinking about how good you taste and how he had never got the chance before. he can tell that your twitching to cum soon and your sobs getting a little louder.

“Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonna cum!” You squealed, your legs wrapped around the back of his neck and your heels digged into his back, your spine arching off of the shelf and your eyelids flutter.

“Cum on my mouth princess, I’m all yours…” the way his voice melted your heart all over again, causing butterflies to fly in your tummy, made your orgasm come faster but also made you feel shamed and entirely hate it for feeling this way.

The moan of his name being let out so indecently that people might hear or probably did. Feeling the waves of you cumming flow through your body and his mouth hasn’t yet disconnected from you.

Yuuta looks up at you like this was just the beginning. You’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck when his hands comes under behind your knees, you still had no chance of keeping your feet on the floor. He’s already planning to fuck you with the zip of his pants and his cock freeing out, make you cry out a million times repeatedly that your his and he’s yours.

Now you’re gonna have to take everything you said back.