#I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO SHOW THEM FOR SUCH A LONG TIME

[caamboys]

FUTURE SPOUSE PAC

the dynamic between you both

long time no see guys <333

love reading for 2025 ! 🦪 I pray the reading resonates for anyone who engages.

( unedited )

this is focused solely on your personalities / energy within your relationship, not outside or in general.

PILE ONE

core energy within the dynamic : first love, situationship turned relationship, love coming when you least expect it

Reader within the relationship dynamic

channeled song- “ pretty girls walk this “

“ foreign, private, designer, stylist “

“ I’ll throw a tantrum, now a b*tch’ll get childish “

You’re turning over a new leaf within this relationship, embracing change. You could’ve been single for a while or this is your first relationship, either way you’re inexperienced. You’ll be exploring this relationship and all the aspects of it, embracing the new physical and emotional connection. You move quickly within this dynamic, a very spontaneous energy. You might have a key to their house and pop up randomly on them. You might want to move in quickly.

I see despite you being inexperienced you’re navigating dating them freely and bravely. They make you feel confident enough to date them without being plagued by feelings of paranoia or caution. You’re going into everything headfirst within this dynamic.

Future spouse within the relationship dyanamic

channeled song - “ poison “

“ I’m not above love to cash in “

“ Anyway you want me baby, that’s the way you got me baby, I’ll be yours “

-

This will sound cliche but they’ll be the ideal romantic partner. This is a lover boy / lover girl, a simp if you will. I think prior to your guys' connection they struggled with cold and detached partners, people who never could truly handle their emotional depth and yearning. This will dampen their spirit towards love in general until they meet you. The nonchalant facade will fade, and you renew their passion for love. Your genuineness towards dating and even the naivety you have towards love is shocking to them. You’re a breath of fresh air because you have nothing but good intentions, no ulterior motives in dating. Their ability to give to you is like a bottomless pit. They feel useless if you don’t ask them for anything. Want your hair or nails done? They got it. Want to go somewhere? They’ll take you. Don’t have something you need? They’ll handle it. This is definitely Mr/Mrs. Make it Happen. Gift giving is their ultimate love language to you. It’s funny because they’ll surprise you with something you didn’t even know you wanted. This person will be in a constant internal battle on whether or not they’re doing too much. Some of them want to show you the true depths of their love and just how deeply they can love you but another part of them doesn’t want to scare you off with their intensity. Their solution to this internal struggle would be “ gift giving “, a token of their affection for you that isn’t necessarily showing it in verbal / emotional way and making them feel vulnerable.

Another thing I channeled is the way they gaze at you. Even their stare has another level of intensity and yearning.

PILE TWO

core energies: expansion, extending the lineage, exploration

Reader within the relationship dynamic

( tw : mention of childhood trauma & abuse )

( promise it’s not a sad read just a small section addressed it )

channeled song- “ I wanna be your girlfriend “

“ I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips “

“ I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath”

Pile two you’re never paying for anything in this relationship. It’s giving, show up and look cute and you’ve fulfilled your payment. You don’t pay attention to anything when you’re with this person in public, you’re in your own little world, content and protected. I see you in a very youthful and reckless energy within the dynamic. You may be in college/school right now and living with either roommates or parents during the initial stages of this relationship. This relationship will address and heal a lot of childhood trauma. The main thing I channeled was parental wounds. Perhaps one or both of your parents may have been emotionally absent or abusive, or something happened with a trusted guardian or teacher that formed some sort of trauma at a young age. The one thing I’m getting from this is you’ve carried a lot of burdens that forced you to think / act a lot older than you were. You may have developed a hyper independence from this. This person is going to help you release control to someone else and allow them the opportunity to help you take care of yourself.

One thing about you in this dynamic I’m fond of is your standards. You know what you want, how you wish to be treated and you won’t hesitate to leave. You have very strong boundaries and this comes from a strong self worth. You will advocate for yourself within this relationship, you will voice any opinions you have regardless if they’re positive or negative. If your needs aren’t being met you have no problem communicating it. You’re not aiming to be a people pleaser within this relationship but instead your most authentic self.

Future spouse within the relationship dynamic

channeled song - “ Alone tonight “

“ I don’t wanna be alone tonight, can you keep me company? “

“ My names known worldwide, still need someone in my life “

They’re older than you or they have more life experience or knowledge than you. They will play many roles within your relationship including your partner, protector and teacher. This is a very intellectually charged person. They’re already established within their long term career or pursuing it. They’re the more disciplined and structured individuals in the relationship. When it comes to making plans, scheduling trips or dates they’ll handle it. Look up airport couple on TikTok and you’ll get a glance into your relationship, you’ll turn off your brain in public and they’ll be the vigilant and focused ones. Another scenario I’m channeling for you is them taking you camping. I can imagine them guiding you to build the tent, teaching you how to start and maintain a fire, etc..

They will be the clean freak within the relationship. If you’re more disheveled or messy they’ll be stern about it lol. They will move quickly within the relationship. To you, they plan spontaneous dates but for them, it was already calculated and thought of days ahead of them communicating it. This person has a strong paternal/maternal instinct and it reflects itself in the relationship. They know exactly how to read you emotionally, soothe you, or show up for you way you need. It also shows in their protectiveness. They want to have your location and know your work schedule. This person's protectiveness to you is also because you represent a legacy to them, a new lineage, the chance to build their own family.

The overall energy of this dynamic that I’m channeling is

“ I can do it myself “

“ I know; but I want to do it for you “

PILE THREE

core energies: best-friends, lots of banter and bickering, US VS THE WORLD

Reader within the future relationship dynamic

( yall, I channeled these songs AFTER I did the reading and wrote everything down. CHANNELING THIS SONG WAS SO FUNNYYY TO ME 🤭🤭 the “playfighting “ I mentioned several times below was definitely confirmed lmaooo in no way am I condoning violence but im giggling )

channeled song - “ bust your kneecaps “

“ honey believe me, I have your heart on a platter”

“ they’ll bust your kneecaps, probably some other stuff too “

You try to overpower them. You’re constantly challenging them mentally or physically. You enjoy invoking a reaction from them, getting them super hype during debates or red in the face from play fighting. Prior to the relationship you didn’t like this person, they may have come across as egotistical or arrogant and it irritated you. The kind of person everyone likes and you’re just like “ yeeah okay whatever “. Somehow you two enter a partnership but I think you still have the energy of wanting to take them down a peg, not in a toxic way, moreso the way bestfriends bicker and check each other. That aside, you're very grounded within the relationship. You seem very down to earth, perhaps a humanist or an animal lover. You might have a cat lol. Your energy alone within the dynamic is a constant source of growth for you both. You balance out the love and tension well, dishing it out at the perfect moments. You get cuteness aggression with this person a lot, I think it’s the source for a lot of the banter between you both.

Future spouse within the relationship dynamic

channeled song - “ super shy “

“ I wanna go out with you, where you wanna go? “

“ You don’t even know my name do you? “

They are similar to you, but can be even more immature. They are childish and allow themselves to be free and youthful around you. Within the relationship they might be the reckless one, never scared to cause commotion or be a daredevil. They may have a lot of scars or get hurt easily from this lol. They’re super active, whether in sports or working out but they’ll want to include you in it. You might go on hikes or walks or nature trails with this person, be careful though because they’ll be the type to get you lost lol. They get off on the tension / debating within your relationship. Physical touch is their love language with you, and play fighting with them will be like the ultimate foreplay. They have a big family, friend group, or a lot of external energy around them. I say this because people are naturally drawn and charmed easily by your significant other. I think prior to the relationship you’ll be the one to see past all sweet and nice exterior and into their underlying mischievous side. They may seem like an angel in front of others but you can sense the deception within it, and in turn you don’t treat them like everyone else. This will catch their interest first about you, your seemingly detachment or dislike of them. They will pursue you and seek you out first because of your obvious dislike or disinterest in them and then realize how well you connect mentally.

Communication will flow naturally and honestly I'm getting a sort of telepathic bond between you both. Not literally, moreso you can read each other’s expressions and know what the other is thinking. They can look into your eyes and have an entire conversation with you. They’ll definitely encourage this “telepathic bond”, wanting you both to be in a bubble apart from everyone else.

They’ll honestly recognize you as themselves in another body, you two may think so similarly that you both see each other as extensions of the other if that makes sense. An example I’m channeling is

“ you’re the boy version of me”

“ no, you’re the girl version of me”

PILE FOUR

core energy: breaking barriers and social norms, establishing wealth, breaking generational curses

Reader within the relationship dynamic

channeled song- “ take me to church “

“ knows everybody’s disapproval, I should’ve worshipped her sooner “

“ my lovers got humor, she’s the giggle of the funeral”

You’re in a very successful energy within this relationship. Career wise you are independent and very productive, I channeled booked and busy to be exact. You have very ambitious energy within the relationship towards finances and establishing wealth, part of this is through a stable and healthy partnership. In the past you’ve lowered yourself to meet others levels, within this relationship you stand securely within your power. You wish to combine finances and wealth and build a sustainable legacy for your future generations to come. That aside, you seem to be the more extroverted one in this Dynamic. Even if you’re introverted, people are very fond of you. This will irritate your future spouse because they feel like people are constantly “ orbiting“ around you. You may have a lot of friends or social connections, or just a well known person. You may have a large social media following. People might even think you’re out of your future spouse's league in terms of appearances or finances but you understand that shallow and superficial standards won’t secure a healthy and flourishing life. I’m not getting your future spouse is unattractive, but something about them compared to you is different. They could be nerdier than you, alternative, super spiritual, etc, goth. You may have to defend this person and explain to others you’re not dating this individual for social norms, instead you’re securing a healthy partnership. You will recognize just how well you collaborate and vibe together on an emotional, spiritual and intellectual level. You’re not dating them for them to be your trophy wife/husband, but moreso a soulmate connection that exceeds society's standards. This may also be a same sex connection you’re in.

Future spouse within the relationship dynamic

channeled song - “ money trees “

“ love one of you bucket headed h*es? no way “

“ money trees is the perfect place for shade “

They’re very fulfilled within your relationship. They daydream about starting a family with you. They feel like no one knows you better than them, and it’s something that makes them feel special especially compared to other people around you. In the beginning stages of your relationship I’m seeing your future spouse in a competitive energy with your friends or maybe even family about who is closer to you. This may cause strife within your dynamic, jealous of the attention you give to others and scared of the attention you receive, sometimes making them question whether or not they’re good enough for you. You will realize this very early on in the relationship, recognizing that they put you on a pedestal. Unlike with other people, it may particularly bother you when your future spouse does, you don’t want them to romanticize you like others. You will share with them all the repulsive sides, flaws and shortcomings you have and you will be reborn again in their eyes. This will only make this person love you that much more. “ seeing what no one else gets to see “ is what I’m channeling from them. Your vulnerability will soothe any feelings of abandonment. They will know how special they are to you after you’ve let them see past your surface level and into the depths of who you truly are. This will make them arrogant within your dynamic about their spot in your life, no longer insecure. A random example I channeled is someone offering you a certain snack / food and your future spouse answering for you and telling them “ no, they’re allergic to so and so”. They’re like a walking encyclopedia of you . They know everyone’s connection with you doesn’t nearly go as deep as theirs. They’re a bit obsessive over you, strong Scorpio energy here. You will have a very watchful and observant partner, even when you think they’re not watching, trust me they are. I think prior to this relationship they knew you and liked you, but you didn’t know this. They give me the energy of someone getting into a relationship with their crush. They have tunnel vision when it comes to you, I don’t think anyone could ever tempt your future spouse.

—

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

HEAD OVER HEELS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !!)

SUMMARY: in which drew starkey is head over heels in love with his girlfriend, y/n.

based on this ask !! i really hope you like this anon, you didn’t request a specific plot so i went with this :)

WARNINGS: pure fluff, obsessed!drew but in a cutie patootie way !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

A/N: i promise guys i will sort out making a master list tonight !! for now, click on my personalised tags like #bettys asks !!

WORD COUNT: 1k

THIRD PERSON +

Drew couldn't stop talking about her. His girlfriend, Y/N, that is.

His castmates on the Outer Banks set had long since grown used to it, though they still teased him mercilessly. It wasn't unusual for him to pull out his phone between takes and scroll through pictures of her, showing anyone who would listen. Even Chase joked once, "You know, Drew, we've all met her. You don't have to keep proving she exists."

But Drew didn't care. He loved talking about her. Loved the way her smile lit up his entire day, the way her laughter felt like sunshine breaking through clouds. Y/N was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wasn't shy about letting everyone know it.

"She's visiting today," Drew announced, a giddy grin spreading across his face as he leaned against the craft services table.

Madelyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "You've only mentioned that about a hundred times this week."

"Yeah, and what's your point?" Drew shot back, unbothered. He grabbed a bottle of water and opened it, taking a sip before adding, "I just can't wait for you guys to see her again. She's incredible."

Madelyn exchanged a knowing look with Rudy, who was attempting (and failing) to suppress a laugh.

When Y/N finally arrived on set that afternoon, Drew spotted her instantly. She stepped out of the car, her hair slightly tousled from the coastal breeze, and his entire world seemed to pause. She was wearing his favorite sundress—the one he'd told her once made her look like a walking daydream—and he couldn't stop the wide, lovesick smile that overtook his face.

"Y/N!" Drew called out, practically sprinting toward her.

Before she could respond, he had her wrapped in his arms, lifting her off the ground as she let out a surprised laugh.

"Joseph Andrew Starkey! Put me down!" she exclaimed, though she was grinning just as much as he was.

"Not a chance," he replied, spinning her around once before finally setting her back on her feet. "God, I missed you."

"You saw me three days ago," she teased, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"And that's three days too long," he said without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

It didn't take long for the rest of the cast to spot her. Chase and Rudy came over to say hi, both of them giving her warm hugs and cracking jokes about how Drew had been "insufferable" without her.

"You're a saint for putting up with him," Rudy quipped, earning a playful shove from Drew.

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly as Drew laced their fingers together. "He's not so bad," she said, glancing up at Drew with a soft smile.

"Not so bad?" Drew repeated, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I'm the perfect boyfriend."

"And humble, too," she teased, nudging him lightly.

The group chatted for a while before Drew pulled her away, eager to have her to himself. He brought her to his trailer, where he'd set up a small surprise for her: a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a handwritten note resting on the table.

"Drew," she said softly, her eyes shining as she turned to look at him. "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You deserve it. You deserve everything."

She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest as she took a deep breath. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

"Not possible," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

For the rest of the day, Drew was glued to her side. He introduced her to everyone on set—again—even though most of them already knew her from her previous visits. But it didn't matter to Drew. He wanted to show her off, to let the world see just how amazing she was.

During breaks in filming, he would find her wherever she was sitting and drape himself over her like an oversized golden retriever. "You comfortable?" he'd ask, despite the fact that he was the one taking up all the space.

"Very," she'd reply, laughing as she adjusted to make room for him.

When it came time for Drew to shoot his scenes, Y/N watched from the sidelines, her eyes filled with pride. He'd glance over at her between takes, flashing her a grin or a wink, and her heart would flutter every time.

At one point, Madelyn leaned over to Y/N and whispered, "He's like this all the time, you know. Completely obsessed with you."

Y/N's cheeks turned pink, but she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "I'm not complaining," she said softly, her gaze never leaving Drew.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the set, Drew was practically attached to her hip. He posted a candid photo of her sitting on a beach chair, the ocean in the background and a soft smile on her face. The caption was simple: My favourite view.

"You're going to make people sick with how sweet you are," she joked when she saw the post.

"Good," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Let them be sick. I don't care."

That night, as they sat on the beach together, watching the waves crash against the shore, Drew couldn't help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

"I love you," he said suddenly, his voice soft but steady.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and a little surprised.

"I mean it," he continued, his gaze locked on hers. "I love you. More than anything."

A smile spread across her face, and she reached up to cup his cheek. "I love you too, Drew."

In that moment, with the stars beginning to twinkle above them and the sound of the ocean in the background, Drew felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. With her.

Always with her.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet :’) there’s something about guys who are so lovesick and obsessed with their gf’s that just MELTS my heart😫

i’m still working my way through all my requests from oldest to newest (except a couple i got good inspiration for), so please be patient if you’ve recently requested something !! <3

[rafey-baby]

rafe has always been close with his sister...(part two)

c/w: incest, some dubcon touching & a kiss from rafe, both of them are more or less drunk, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.3k

previous part & moodboard

if this is something u don’t like, scroll & read something else xx

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s well past 3 am when they stumble through the front door— wobbly on their feet and drunkenly giggling about some stupid joke Rafe had muttered while fumbling with the keys. Yet another party her big brother had dragged her into, and if it weren’t for his hands on her hips guiding her upstairs right now, she’d wake up the entire house tumbling down the stairs when she’d inevitably loose her footing.  

“Rafe, m’never going out with you again. Told you I wanted to leave like two hours ago,” she complains the moment they make it to her bedroom; her feet aching and head spinning.   

“‘N she’s complainin’ again. I mean, my apologies for wantin’ to—to show m’little sister a good time,” he huffs, peeling off the shirt that’s beginning to stick to his skin. “Don’t even try t’act like you didn’t have fun.”  

“Well, yeaah, but now m’sooo tired and gross and I need to shower and…” she yawns around the rest of the words; hand on his bicep for balance while she kicks off her shoes. 

“Don’t— don’t need to worry ‘bout that, told you I’d help you out, yeah?” he slurs, already beginning to tug down the zipper of her dress.  

“Nooo…can’t shower yet. Need to take m’makeup off first,” she blabbers, brows pulling together as if he’s just committed some heinous crime, making him roll his eyes before he’s searching through her vanity for makeup remover.  

And despite her drowsy resistance about wanting to shower alone, Rafe manages to drag her into the bathroom (after wiping her face clean) anyway — the thermal water soaking through her fatigued limbs feeling entirely too good for her to push him away when he corners her behind the shower curtain, its printed seashells beginning to twirl against the cream-colored material when she stares at them for too long. 

And she’s almost starting to believe he’s truly doing all of this for altruistic purposes; thoroughly washing her hair for her and making sure to coat the strands with a generous amount of conditioner afterwards.

But when his soapy palms mindlessly glide along the wet skin on her tummy— inching closer and closer towards her tits, she realizes that she was wrong. However, she’s far too out of it to care, and upon noticing the fact, he’s letting his eager paws grope at the squishy flesh; covering them in the foamy shower gel in the process.  

Only when his thumb is smoothing over a sensitive nipple, does she blink away the haziness blurring the lines of what a brother should and shouldn’t do to his sister. And at first, her dozy complaint doesn’t even reach his ears because he’s entirely too focused on the way her tits fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, wondering how it would feel to—  

“Rafe…can you not do that?” she suddenly takes a tentative step back.  

“Hm? Jus’ makin’ sure you feel all nice ‘n clean,” he drawls out, seemingly confused before he’s tugging her closer with a hold on her waist. “Can you wash my hair next?” he pleads; an abrupt attempt to distract her intoxicated brain. 

“I can barely stand and you want me to wash your hair? Can’t even reach your head when you’re a fucking giant.”  

But when he leans down for her, she reluctantly begins to lather the shampoo into his roots— gaining a delighted grunt from the back of his throat when her fingers absentmindedly dig into his scalp. However, with the new position, he’s now eye-level with her tits; soap bubbles and water droplets trickling down the smooth skin, and with his thoughts muddled, he’s unable to resist the allure for very long before he’s gravitating towards them.  

“Rafe, stoop,” she stumbles backwards when she feels the flat of his tongue laving over the valley of her breasts.

“M’sorry.” But he doesn’t seem all that sorry, not when he looks up at her under his lashes, offering her an inebriated grin— something nauseating coiling in her belly in response.  

- - - - - - - - - -

When they finally make it out of the shower, he insists on patting her dry, the foggy mirror saving her the absolute mortification of having to watch her brother’s eyes skim across the expanse of her bare skin during the unnecessarily long process.  

“Let me take care of m’favorite sister, yeah?” he croons when he’s tugging down the hem of her sleep shirt afterwards — a shirt that just so happens to be stolen from him, the worn fabric apparently softer than anything of her own.  

She’s unsure as to why he’s suddenly being so nice, but she’s not exactly complaining when his uncharacteristically gentle fingertips daub her face with her night cream when they sit down on her bed— making sure to rub the moisturizer into her forehead as well. And she thinks he almost looks cute like this; brows furrowed in concentration, flicking her nose with a sleepy smile when he’s finished.   

“That smells so fuckin’ good,” he groans after applying a layer of chapstick to her lips; his heady gaze fixed on the action of her rubbing them together, something she’s too dozy to notice.

“I know, right? I looove anything vanilla-scented,” she gushes over the product while placing the rest of the skincare on her nightstand.  

“Can I— uh, try it?” his question sounds innocent enough, but she should know better.  

“Of course,” the naive girl fully expects him to uncap the lip balm once more but instead, he’s suddenly grabbing her jaw into his massive hands and pressing his mouth against hers— swallowing her surprised squeak before she’s quickly pulling away.   

“Rafe, you promised you weren’t gonna do that anymore,” she whines, but the way her button-eyes blink up at him — the betrayal so tangible — lures him in to do it again; smearing their mouths together with a satisfied hum before she’s shoving at his shoulder.  

“Ray, m’serious, it was one time,” she lets out an annoyed huff.  

“Calm down, m’lips were jus’ dry, alright?”  

“You could’ve just— nevermind, m’too tired for this right now,” her attempts at putting some much needed space between them prove to be futile when he just follows her under the covers— acting as if he doesn’t hear her muttering how he should sleep in his own bed for a change.  

“Listen, m’sorry, okay? Don’t like when you’re mad at me,” he ignores her protests and nestles his face into her neck, nose soon nudging her throat and eliciting a somnolent giggle from her. 

“Ray, stop. You’re being annoying,” she tries to swat his hands away when his fingers suddenly begin to poke and prod at her sides because he knows how ticklish she is.  

“Yeah? Tell me you forgive me then.” 

Involuntary laughter bubbles from her chest when she shakes her head and squirms in his arms— desperately trying to wriggle away, but he’s much stronger and she’s no match. And when she grows even louder, he’s forced to slap his palm over her mouth to muffle the noise.

“Shut up, Sarah’s gonna wake up ‘n tell dad we were out late again,” he hisses, suddenly remembering how his other sister is sleeping on the other side of the wall, nonetheless continuing his attack when she attempts to escape once more.

“Stop tickling me then,” she manages out between fits of laughter, uncomfortably writhing in his hold because she hates when he does this. However, she quickly realizes he’s not planning on stopping anytime soon, and the feeling is quickly turning into something unbearable, more or less forcing her to finally let out a sigh in defeat. “Okay, okay, I forgive you— whatever, jus’ let me sleep.” 

His breathy chuckle fans the expanse of her neck before he finally relents, but when she tries to shift away from him, he merely tucks her closer against his naked chest; large palm slipping under the hem of her shirt to splay over the expanse of her stomach to keep her right where she is.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs into her hair, tone suddenly desperate, needy. It makes her swallow around the knotted coil in her throat before she reluctantly gives up altogether— entirely too exhausted to put up a fight when sleep is already dragging her into its dreamy embrace and she feels so warm like this.

[xxcrumbxx]

Hey so this is a miny chereiter analises of how i see fool and sol.

Man oh man I love this shit too. ,tbh Fool and Sol are who I look most forword to "talkin to " masuta is amazing and lovely ,I wanna know more about that sweet little bag of represd past trama named Sunspot,

Therorising about Fool

but the talks with fool and knowing more about him is so mesmerizing. like duse he have 2 outhers and he uses his staff to alow them "out" becuse his body was not desighd to switch outwordly ?( and duse he resent that fact and duse he feel further outcasted and potenchally lookd down on becuse he is a non fazbare made animatronic and in lesse nice words a bootleg? Like he shows pride in his stature and indurance but he could be masking those feelings useing pride as a sheld )

Character study / what im seeing in Fool

Fool wishes to lean more in to his performance becuse its what he was made for and its a perfictly well made chericacher of his self, put up to make all ideas of his inharent displacement in the group and the world less known, becuse to onlookers he is just as his name sake a fool,he canot posabuly be smart enughf or sorrowfull and desperit longing for something outher then the meta phisical cage he is forced to dwell with in. Running the same programs and prosseses to a maddaning dagree. Wishing to excpireance what he was made for agin but also needing to be more then the experiences he's had. He has to cover up all of it ,in fear that if he duse not purform even with out a proper audeance he will be sent back to the subliminal time warping hellscape that is storige. storage he him self has no idea how long he will be there or if he is lost to the sans of time, Forgotton by the humans that made him. So instead he has to drip every last drop out of the cup of attintion he's finnaly resiving from the potential last chance of captovating an adiance and heving a new excperiance a life line for his scentse of self and worth as a performor becuse he is still stuck.traped and lonely hes still an a sort of storage a colection not to be used but looked at and injoyed ,its like bing in a mental prison like being in storage but with a different name but what makes this kind worse and most hart braking is he. Can see and contantly here the world out side of his invisabule box its always there taugnting him and he duse not have to be alone there are outhers in this wide opan cage that are just as traped, gratefull to not be lost to time but still traped,he wants oh so badly to be wanted for his company to be seeked out but becuse of his own self image and trubles he puts up a wall a barrior anouther thing they wave to cross and go out of there way to acheve to show they acctuly whant to be around him, and wish to injoy his company and to simply just hang out and none but masuta have even tryed. fool oh boy well he alredy had his well timed heart bleed like he did it in that moment to geet eyes of masuta an y/n but he Ty miment also perfictly highy lighted what hes been heeding to get off his chest.he is the embody ment of fools like the fools Journey ( from his conseption and life at the fair to his inprisonment as a thing and now his fleeting fredom where the luxures of retierment are surrounded by the reminders that he is a thing and all just like all that is collected with him he may never be givin the opertunity to shine agin and the lingering threat of a smaller box is always near hes in a cage a pretty one he can play in and decoret but he is not truly free. He has been shown something new and wonderusly blinding to his prosesers and so he is chasing this new feeling of whimsy heven to his own potential detrament but atlest its interesting.) as well as historical ones ,knowing to mutch but being overlooked becuse he is protraid as to cought up in the bit an to joyus to know sorrow or to hold fear.he is the kings clisest adviser hearing all and speeking non playig his role, he is a mask on a mask a lovely showing how how smart you have to be to even play his role. a role thet is never giviin full credit becuse on lookers have only the out side to worry about. Whitch he is fine with but quietly longs for a companion to truly understand him and that is why he flurts with masuta and tryes to drag him in to his flights of fancy becuse as afellow perfurformer he hopes masuta will indalge in him and finaly see him threw his gratest act, the act that never gets a curtan call and never an aplause. Even threw his prossesing his programing forces him to pause for the audeance so keenly aware of everything but aloud to disregard and disclose nouthing.

Therorising about Sol

did sol the beach/chimicaly burn his "skin" to rid of the moon but missed a spot / couldent get to it gefor he was stoped and that is why he wares a glove, like did his moon hurt someone verry badly and he "ruiend"his casing with clening suplise trying to get the blood off? And thats why hes so " every moon is a monsture hell bent on hurting people" and " ruins aI is dangerus distroy it befor it hurts you" aswell as " dont be stupid ware gloves whal working with chimicals or else" becus hes projecting and wishes he wasis he still a dul ai but his moon is perma damiged and there body wont swtch back and forth orr did he ... Kill his moon ??) orrr is he moon like he took over his sun in a way and that arm is the only remander of who he use to look like ?? Idk but im sooo down to know also I bet he secritly wishes y/n would feel comftorbull enughf to come visit him in his room like they have with masuta. If they can sleep with what he vews as a moster why won't they have the audasity to visit anouther.

Character study / what im seeing in Sol

he wishes he was decomishond.he wishes he never knew he was more then just a machean becuse the act of having a electric sole is to daunting and he is not a performer. he feels like he must "get rid " of his own and every outher DCA in the houses electric sole / scenteance to save them from this silly game there playing ,becuse the idea of them having feelings and wants outside of there primary derective inharently means he can as well.A nany turnd turn untrustworthy grapaling wth self hate and lothing for himself and a disregard for his own sentiance still secritly wishing to be chosen agin, still needing to care for something all whal being stuck in a loop of self hatred and the lothing of outhers that are a mirror up to his mirror. Scared to get close but not realy wanting to be alone.he talks down to outhers to feel a miniscule amoutnt of control he. Treats outhers like childeren as a way to indalge in his primary functon but lothes tjat he even duse that. He can never truly fufill his purpos agin with out outside help and i think that upsets him to. He is the parent he is the adalt he knows better he is surrounded by ideots stuck in lala land never seeing or admiting how bleck there situashion is becuse when hinory dies ether theyre selled agin and who knows who would buy them or ther put in a box in a box inside anouther box. So to save himself the trubble he barys all his feelings diwn and bathes in lonely ness and poorly descised resentment and sorrow.

Sorry for my poor spelling and ocashinal run on scetences im not a wrighter and may have poorly wirded some things but i hope someone injoys this little blirb of thoughts

( also im saupose to be folding lawdry not going all introspective on @venomous-qwille 's lovely charictors and wrighting lol.) anyway i love these fellas and am excited to know,read and feel more:]

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

This picture is giving me some major vibes. Quinn is seen wearing that necklace all night while the two of you flirt on and off. Soft touches. Whispered thoughts in each other ears. Everyone asks if there’s something going on between you two but you always brush them off.

“Just friends.” You both tell everyone who asks.

Yet, the morning after, you’re seen wearing that necklace along with a deep red mark on your neck.

hey! you chose violence in our texts AND my inbox smh

anyways!!! it’s been talk for a while now. you’re never see sporting anyone else’s jersey, and heads never turn when you run up to Quinn after a game, no matter the outcome.

Jack’s been yapping on about how “you should just make it official everyone knows.” and it’s always “no we’re just friends!” and then a sad look from the other party even though you both know it’s not true.

it’s no surprise when you show up on Quinn’s arm to the charity event on their off day. black dress to match his outfit, and that stupid burgundy lipstick he’s obsessed with it.

he has his eyes on you literally the whole night. doesn’t really care if he seems rude, he just wants you to be comfortable and okay.

random team sponsors asking how long you two have been together cause “he looks smitten, and i don’t think my own husbands looks at me like that!” and how can you tell that poor old women who just donated bank, that Quinn is just your friend. your friend who you dream about kissing after every game and wish he was the first thing you saw every morning?

by the end of the night, Quinn’s had a few drinks. nothing crazy of course, just enough that he’s not really scared to say what’s on his mind.

he’s quick to sneak up to you and Petey, and Petey has that knowing look on his face. Quinn’s hands find comfort around your waist, “ready to go, baby?”

Quinn’s never called you that and the heat in your cheeks gives it away. “yeah, Quinny. let’s go.”

“don’t forget, team breakfast with the wives tomorrow!” Petey’s yelling as you walk away.

when tomorrow comes, and you walk in with Quinn’s hoodie and his hands resting dangerously close to your ass while he’s leading you to the table. everyone’s ignoring the purple mark poking out around your collarbone and the scratch marks on Quinn’s neck.

“you finally get the girl, huggy?”

“yeah, Petey. sure did.”

“it’s about damn time.��

[likeumeanit9497]

you jealous? pt. 2 | c.s. & m.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader x matt sturniolo

read pt. 1 here <3

summary: y/n hasn't quite figured out how to share, but sure as hell wants matt to learn.

warnings: NO THREESOME; smut; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); fingering; dirty talk; all 3 of these mfs are toxic af tbh; choking; SEVERE lack of girl code (booooooo); 18+

notes: omg i have wanted to write a pt. 2 for SO LONG but genuinely could not figure out a way to write it without making it a threesome (not yucking anyone's yum here i just physically recoil any time i've tried writing that stuff) (i do eat it up when other ppl write it tbh). anyways i finally sat down and forced myself to come up with a plot bc this has been hands down my most requested pt 2 of any of my work and my sole purpose on this earth is to please. sooo i hope u all enjoy reading this absolute freak show love u alllllll <333

oh yeah btw this is 7,322 words dkm

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“Fuck Chris, keep going.” I whined, digging my nails into his bare shoulders and tightening my legs around his waist as he drove his cock into me relentlessly. His dimly lit room was hot and provocative, filled with the erotic sounds of our bodies slapping against each other. “Mmm baby, you f-feel so good.” Chris groaned, his curly brown hair feathering across my cheek as he buried his face in my shoulder; sinking his teeth into my delicate skin cruelly. I felt a bead of sweat drip down my temple as Chris’s rhythm began to grow sloppier. “You want my cum, pretty girl?” His crude words made my stomach tense as he breathed them against my skin. Wrapping my legs even tighter around his rolling hips, I nodded my head despairingly. “G-god, yes!” I cried out, running my hands through his damp hair.

I let out a sharp moan as Chris brought his thumb to my clit and began rubbing it in rhythmic circles. My body was set on fire, not far from my own orgasm as I felt his cock begin to swell inside of me. “I-I’m close.” I breathed, my jaw slack as I began to lose myself to the pleasure coursing through my veins. My senses began to fail me. Chris’s room suddenly became a black hole. I could no longer feel the soft mattress beneath me or hear the music playing from the tv. As I grew closer and closer to my orgasm, the only sensation that I was able to comprehend was the feeling of Chris’s heavy body pinning me down as his cock slid through my trembling walls. I released a sharp, desperate moan as I felt the rubber band in my stomach grow tense; so close to snapping. All I needed were just a few more sloppy thrusts from Chris, a few more circles against my bundle of nerves and I—

“Shut the fuck up sickos!” I gasped as Chris stilled above me, the sound of my best friend’s bellowing voice and a harsh knock on Chris’s bedroom door pulling us out of our trance. “Y’all need to hurry up, we’re leaving for dinner in 20 minutes!” Nick shouted through the door. Chewing on my bottom lip to stifle a laugh, I looked up at Chris in disappointment. His heaving chest was rising and falling as he smirked down at me, before leaning down and playfully biting my nose. I grabbed onto his forearms — each one confining me underneath him — and tried to gently push him off of me with a sigh.

“We should probably get ready, Chris.” I admitted, feeling the disappointment radiate through my unsatisfied body in ripples. As I attempted to adjust my body, I felt the remnants of my nearly-there orgasm in the pulse of my core around his thick shaft. Before I could make any real progress in climbing off of the bed, Chris paralyzed me with one sharp snap of his hips. I gasped, unable to deny my need to cum, as he snaked his hand to the back of my head and laced his fingers through my roots; keeping me in place. His eyes were still glossed over with desire, and he licked his smirking lips before he spoke. “We will, just as soon as we cum.”

𓆩☆𓆪

After hurriedly getting dressed and fixing my makeup, I climbed up the basement stairs on wobbly legs with Chris just behind me. Tugging down my short black dress, I walked into the kitchen and found Nick leaning against the counter with a knowing look in his eye. “You look a mess.” Nick deadpanned, rolling his eyes at me. I felt my cheeks grow red under his playful glare, avoiding eye contact as Chris chuckled behind me. “You’re weird as fuck for even walking downstairs to begin with kid.” Chris snarked back, draping his arm lazily across my shoulders. Nick scoffed. “Sue me for wanting to be on time for our reservation, dumbass.” I stifled a laugh listening to their flying insults. “Maybe if you figured out how to go five minutes without sticking your dick in my best friend you would have seen one of my many texts, and we could have avoided all of this.”

Although I had been trying to hide the fact that Chris and I had been sleeping together from Nick, I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t felt a flood of relief when he had ended up catching us on the couch together a few weeks ago; me with my face pressed into the cushions and Chris lining himself up behind me. Nick had been more than a little pissed at first — likely due to the crude imagery of us burned into his retinas — but after a long, honest conversation filled with more than a few vile insults thrown our way, he calmed down tremendously. Since then, he had seen enough of Chris and I slipping away to the basement that he really didn’t seem bothered by it anymore. I had felt guilty about keeping such a big secret from my best friend, but he seemed to understand why I had.

One thing I still hadn’t told him, however, was what had happened the night of their last party. What he didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t his only brother who had kissed me, touched me, slid himself in between my thighs. Wasn’t his only brother who ran his soft lips against my warm skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. Wasn’t his only brother who had whispered filthy words in my ear; who had made me cum so hard that I dissolved into a puddle. Chris wasn’t his only brother who had fucked me, and it was crazy, because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about any of that since Matt slipped out of his dark room that night.

As if reading my mind, I was pulled from my dirty thoughts by the sound of Matt’s door creaking open. Looking up from my shoes, my eyes immediately locked onto his; twinkling in odd amusement as he seemed to examine my appearance. He walked into the kitchen casually, sliding into a seat at the table before pulling his phone from his pocket. Nick walked up behind him and fixed the back of his hair. “Did you hear how loud these fucking losers were?” He asked Matt. I watched as Matt’s shoulders seemed to tense up before he shook his head wordlessly. To this, Nick groaned. “Then I guess I’m just the lucky one.”

My eyes were glued to Matt’s profile as he seemed to aimlessly scroll on his phone, his body language seemed fairly relaxed but I could see the tense muscles in his flexed jaw. “Uh, anyways,” I began, pulling my attention back to the rest of the room, “We ready to head out?” I looked up at Chris and shot him a quick smile. “Soon,” Matt replied, looking up from his phone and directly at me; his eyes shining with provocation, “Sophie will be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Matt hoisted himself from the chair and sauntered over to answer it. From where I stood frozen in shock, I heard Sophie’s familiar voice as she greeted Matt, and cringed when I heard the unmistakable sound of them kissing. After a moment, Sophie breezed up the stairs and into the kitchen where we were all still congregated, her sweet-smelling perfume preceding her as she air-kissed first Nick and then Chris. With a smirk, Matt walked up behind her. “Y/n, you remember Sophie, right?”

Even with my racing heart and heavy limbs I ignored his jeering tone, unwilling to give him the reaction that he so clearly desired. “Of course!” I replied, internally cringing at the high pitched faux-excitement in my own voice. “You’re coming to dinner!” I did my best to sound pleased, but by the look Matt gave me outside of Sophie’s view, I knew that I hadn’t convinced him.

Sophie had been an on-and-off again fuck buddy of Matt’s for a few months. She and I actually got along really well, and we spent a lot of time together at parties before the night that Matt and I fucked. When Chris and I began freely hooking up, I was always worried that she and I would cross paths on the nights that I slept over, but it had seemed that Matt and her hadn’t been spending any time together for weeks. Now that they seemed to be back on again, I couldn’t shove down the red hot jealously burning in my veins.

Sophie giggled, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. “They didn’t tell you, I presume. I should have just texted you myself, can’t trust these guys to relay information.” She sidled up to Matt as she spoke, wrapping her arm around his waist possessively. Nick scoffed. “I would have told her if she ever left her and Chris’s sex dungeon.” I blushed from Nick once again sharing my business with everyone in his general vicinity, and watched as Matt quickly grabbed Sophie’s arm, pulling it from his waist. “We’re gonna be late, let’s go.” He mumbled, holding onto Sophie’s hand haphazardly as he began leading us to the garage.

As we reached the car, I watched as Matt opened the passenger door for Sophie before getting into the driver’s seat. As Chris opened the door for me, I grabbed his arm and gave it a soft squeeze. “Sit in the back with me?” I asked, looking up at him with doe eyes and adding a whisper of seduction to my voice. He looked down at me with a smirk, arching his eyebrow before following me into the back seat of the car.

I settled into the seat beside him as Matt began pulling out of the garage. It was dark outside, so as I looked up at Chris, all I could see was the burred outline of his gorgeous features. “You okay pretty?” He asked, his voice low as he looked down at me with slight concern. I nodded reassuringly, realizing that I needed to get my act together because even Chris, the most oblivious of the triplets, was picking up on my sudden strange mood. “Just hungry.” I lied, shooting him a forced smile. The car filled with the sound of Nick and Sophie’s laughter as Matt drove. “Oh my god! Matt was telling me…”

I forced myself to tune out the conversation that was happening at the front of the car, willing the night to be over so that I could seethe with jealousy in private. As I tried to absolve my embarrassing bitterness, my eyes fluttered to the rearview mirror, where I caught Matt’s vision already burning into mine. My breath hitched under his intimidating gaze, and even in my growing anger with him I couldn’t ignore the pit of arousal that I felt growing in my core. I knew that he was trying to get some sort of reaction out of me — wanted me to feel the way I was feeling. He had been purposely trying to make me jealous, so I decided that I would do the same.

Keeping my eyes on his, I lifted my leg and draped it across Chris’s lap; causing my short black dress to hitch up to my hips. As if reacting on instinct, Chris immediately responded by bringing his hand to my bare skin, exploring it for a moment before finally leaving it to rest on my upper thigh; just inches from my exposed lace panties. I watched Matt’s gaze darken as his eyes followed his brother’s movements against my skin, and I shot him a menacing smirk before dropping my own hand onto the crotch of Chris’s jeans.

Matt’s eyes widened briefly as he watched my hand delicately run along Chris’s growing bulge, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Even in the dim light, I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, doing his best to focus on the road despite all of the thoughts that I knew were racing through his head. My gaze was pulled from Matt as I felt Chris’s warm mouth against my ear. “Didn’t get enough earlier, baby?” He whispered, nibbling delicately against my soft earlobe. His hand moved even higher along my leg, until his fingers reached my barely-covered heat. Satisfied with the reaction that I was getting from Matt as well as the feeling of Chris’s fingers gently dancing against my core, I felt my anger begin to diminish and instead be replaced with burning desire.

Turning to face Chris, I placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his sharp jawline, causing him to grab onto my hip and pull me so close to him that I was practically on his lap. His hand laced through my hair and he jerked my head up before attaching his lips to mine. I palmed him roughly through his jeans as his tongue slipped into my mouth, and even with my back turned I could still feel Matt’s fiery gaze burn my skin.

“Oh my GOD! Get off of each other!” Nick shrieked, turning to face Chris and I in the backseat. “I swear to fucking god I will punch you both in the mouth.” Chris pulled his lips from mine, a goofy smile taking over his face. “You’re such a fuckin’ spazz Nick.” He retorted as he tried to pull my dress down slightly. Nick replied by burying his face in his hands and screaming dramatically. “A SPAZZ? You were swallowing my best friend’s face in DIRECT EARSHOT from me! You’re lucky I didn’t just projectile vomit on you.” Nick retaliated, smacking the leather seat as he spoke.

“We’re here.” Matt deadpanned, stopping the argument between his two brothers as he parked his car. I looked up at him once more through the mirror, but this time his eyes refused to meet mine. Once parked, Matt turned off the ignition sharply, his jaw clenched, before immediately jumping out of the car as if it was on fire. I noticed the slightly concerned look on Sophie’s face before she tentatively followed him.

Feeling surprisingly giddy, I crawled out of the back seat and hopped out of the car; embracing the cool breeze against my burning hot cheeks. “Let’s eat!” I exclaimed as Chris climbed out after me and pulled me harshly against his front; bringing his lips to mine again. As he kissed me, I listened as the rest of our group began walking in the direction of the restaurant. His hands moved from my waist down to my ass, where he squeezed gently before pulling his mouth from mine just enough to speak. “I know what you’re doing, Y/n.” He whispered against my lips.

Feigning innocence, I looked up at him through my eyelashes as I waited for him to continue. “What, one night with Matt wasn’t enough for you?” He asked, his gentle voice laced with amusement as his hand snaked up my dress, finding my clit through my lace thong and rubbing soft circles against it. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I shook my head no. Chris smirked at my admission, and his eyes filled with an indecipherable look that made goosebumps raise on my skin. “It’s okay baby, you know I don’t mind.” He replied, his encouraging words and working fingers making my stomach tie itself into knots. Running his middle finger through my soaked folds, he shot me a charming smile. “I’ve already showed you how well I can share.”

With that, he gave my ass a sharp slap before placing one final kiss to my nose. Using his grip on my flesh, he guided me in the direction of the restaurant where everyone was waiting for us in front of the doors. My head spun from the notion that Chris was so willing to let me have exactly what I wanted, which coincidentally was both him and his brother. I practically floated in the direction of the restaurant, riding the high that his words gave me, until I noticed Matt pressed against Sophie, peppering her with kisses.

Matt’s eyes lifted as he heard Chris and I approach and, upon noticing Chris’s arm draped around my waist, appeared to deliberately deepen the kiss he was sharing with Sophie. I watched as she giggled against his lips, seeming to still be oblivious to the unspoken battle playing out before her. Doing my best to seem care-free, I let Chris guide me into the restaurant and to our table. I sat down with Chris to my left and Nick to my right, while Matt and Sophie sat across from us.

As the waiter set down menus in front of each of us, Matt’s eyes briefly locked with mine across the table. I watched as he seemed to be studying the dynamic between me and Chris. His eyes traveled from Chris’s long arm that was draped over the back of my chair to his fingers lazily drawing circles against my exposed shoulder. Sitting much closer and under a much brighter light, I suddenly felt deeply exposed in the restaurant with Matt’s eyes on me. I did my best to ignore him, keeping my sight on the menu in front of me as I listened to Chris, Nick, and Sophie’s chatter.

As I continued to study the menu, I could see Matt pull Sophie’s chair closer to him in my peripheral vision. Swallowing harshly, I used all of my strength to keep my eyes trained to the blurred words in front of me instead of focusing them on Matt’s hand grabbing onto Sophie’s upper thigh. Feeling overwhelmed with conflicting desires, I wanted nothing more than to sink into my chair and disappear from the restaurant. Every time I saw Matt move closer to Sophie or heard them speaking to one another in hushed tones I felt flushed with anger, yet my core flooded with arousal as it flexed around nothing.

The waiter came to begin taking our order. Once it was my turn and everyone’s attention was on me, I suddenly felt the all-consuming need to get away from the table; sure that if any one of them looked at me hard enough, they would be able to pick up on my unspeakable desire. Unable to take it anymore, I suddenly shot up from my seat. “Uh, I — Chris, just order me, uh, order me whatever. I’ve just gotta, um, run to the washroom!” I stammered, taking off in the direction of the restrooms before anyone had the chance to reply.

My head spun as I walked calmly towards the hallway leading to the washrooms, sure that once I took a few moments to collect myself that I would be okay to go back out there. I took deep breaths as I approached the women’s washroom, just a few short steps away. I just needed to be away from the group. Away from the bright lights. Away from Nick’s scolding tone. Away from Sophie. Away from—

Just as I placed my hand on the door knob, I gasped as I felt a strong hand grab my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “Y/n.” That familiar voice was in my ear, barely above a whisper; his words hot against my skin. Snapping around to face him, I was immediately taken aback by our close proximity. Blaming it on my maddening arousal, I quickly recovered before crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “What’s going on?” Matt asked, his eyes filled with the same look of frustration that was surely mirrored in my own.

“Nothing’s ‘going on’,” I lied, doing my best to keep my voice steady and inconspicuous. “Go back to your fuck buddy over there,” I nudged by head in the direction of our table, out of sight from where we stood outside of the washrooms, “Don’t want her thinking she’s wasting her time tonight.” I cringed at the bitterness of my words, and mentally apologized to Sophie for them. Matt’s eyes narrowed. “She’s alright out there.” He replied, his words biting the air between us. “Come on Matt,” I scoffed, leaning against the wall, “If you want her to crawl into your bed tonight the least you could do is spend time with her over dinner.” My voice was filled with indignation, but I was no longer able to control it.

“She’s not crawling into my bed tonight.” He replied, his hushed tone somehow still sounding exasperated. I let my head fall back, releasing a sarcastic laugh. “Oh really? Then why the fuck did you invite her to dinner?” I replied, finding his lie humorous. “Maybe because I knew it would drive you crazy.” He growled, taking a single step forward to close the gap between us. My confidence wavered at his sudden change in personality; the Matt that I was so used to now long gone. I watched, silent and stunned, as his eyes flicked down to my lips for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “You don’t like seeing me touch her, do you?”

I tried to maintain my expressionless face and avoid reacting to his question, although my body had already begun to vibrate with desire. “Why would I? I’m fucking Chris, remember?” I smirked, satisfied by the reminder that he’s not the only one who can play this game. Taking one step closer to him, I leaned close — so close that I could smell his cologne and see his pulse hammering against his neck — before whispering. “His cum is still drying to my legs.”

Matt’s breath hitched at my words, and as I pulled back slightly I watched as his eyes darkened with lust. He took one final step towards me, his lips almost touching my ear as he seemed to struggle against whatever was running through his mind. Recognizing the shift of energy in the space between us, I decided to prod him even more. “What, now you’ve got nothing to say? You jealous or something?”

He stayed silent for a moment, the only sound being his heavy breathing against my ear. The feeling of him so close to me was suddenly heightening my senses, and I grew overwhelmed with heat. It wasn’t long before my breathing began to match his — ragged and desperate — as I waited impatiently for what he had to say. Suddenly, a sharp gasp fell from my lips as Matt’s hands ran up my bare thighs, snaking up to the sides of my skirt where he hungrily squeezed my fleshy hips; pulling me harshly against him so that I could feel his throbbing bulge against my radiating heat. As soon as my body made contact with his, a soft whine fell from his lips before he finally managed to whisper.

“My car.”

Unable to even attempt to think twice, I began following him back through the restaurant door and towards his car. As the cool air hit my skin, Matt grabbed me and began pulling me in the direction of the black car as though he couldn’t wait another second. Frantically, Matt opened the back door and hurried me inside, quickly following after me and closing the door shut behind him. Before I could even process what was happening, he pulled me onto his lap, his hands roaming everywhere at once as he claimed my mouth in a bruising kiss.

In an instant, all of the tension that had been simmering between us all night came to a boil, and I found myself at the mercy of his devouring lips. I whined against his greedy, open mouth as I straddled his lap, my dress riding up to my waist. His uncharacteristic aggression and desperation caught me off guard, but I embraced it with a submissive moan. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other moved to grip my ass firmly, grinding me against his hard length. I gasped at the relief that the friction was giving me, and as I did he released a sharp hiss. “Fuck, Y/n.”

Responding to his powerful control over me, I rolled my hips against his bulge, relishing in the satisfaction of its rigidity against my clothed heat. “Matt.” I cooed, my lungs constricting from what could only be described as deep-rooted, insatiable need. Looking down to our writhing bodies, I recognized the small pool of arousal that I had already left on him; tainting his jeans a darker shade of blue. Following my gaze, he looked down and discovered the wet patch as well. Cursing under his breath, his eyes seemed to lock onto the spot as he continued to roll my hips against his lap shamelessly. “What got you this soaked?”

My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I bit down on my bottom lip as I ignored his question, caught up in the waves of pleasure surging through my body. In my silence, Matt groaned before his hips bucked up involuntarily to meet mine. “Answer me Y/n,” He said, his voice low and menacing, as he grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his wild stare, “Is all this for Chris?” My brows knit together in almost uncomfortable pleasure, and I writhed at his obvious jealousy. Looking down at him through hooded lids, I shook my head slowly.

Matt’s eyes searched mine intensely, his grip on my chin tightening slightly as he demanded an answer. “Then tell me who made you make this mess.” He rasped out, his free hand sliding up my thigh to press firmly against my clothed clit. Reacting immediately to his thumb’s pressure against my clit, I let out a desperate cry as I rolled my hips against it. I tugged at the base of his t-shirt before running my hands along his skin beneath it. “Y-you Matt.” I finally replied, growing wild with lust.

“Fuck,” Matt breathed out, his dilated pupils radiating desire. “Get these fucking panties off now.” He whispered, but without giving me the chance to slide them down my legs he grabbed onto the waistband; ripping them in half and leaving me exposed. I whimpered from the raw desperation of his actions just as he pulled down the top of my dress; letting my tits pop free before he slipped one hungrily into his mouth. Without wasting another moment, Matt grabbed onto my ass with both hands and used his grip to lift me up. Gasping, I leaned against the driver’s side door as Matt propped me up in the air; my legs spread and my glistening core just centimetres from his face.

My legs shook in anticipation as Matt seemed to take a moment to admire my cunt, his eyes glossy and unblinking. “The things you fucking do to me…” He muttered, more to himself than to me, before finally attaching his mouth to my throbbing clit. Immediately, my back arched off of the seat behind me as Matt’s tongue drew relentless circles against my bundle of nerves. His lips acted as the perfect suction, drawing guttural moans from the depths of my soul. My hands slipped into his hair, holding him in place as I fell into an erotic trance. “Oh god…oh god…” I shakily cried out like a mantra, unable to control any part of myself as his tongue set my soul on fire.

Matt released soft moans against my sensitive skin, his own satisfaction palpable as he devoured me into shambles. My clit responded to his movements like an obedient servant, sending jolting shockwaves through my body on each lick. “Fuck M-Matt.” I whined out, incapable of forming any cohesive thoughts besides the dizzying image of his blissed face contentedly pressed to my folds. I grew hyper aware of each movement of his tongue, and recognized the steady pattern that he stuck to; consistently drawing me closer and closer to an orgasm. My body began to contract, and I found myself writhing under his firm grasp on me as I nearly fell apart in his hands.

“G-gonna cum!” I cried out, my own squeaky voice unrecognizable as I was washed away by a full-body orgasm. My grip on Matt’s hair tightened as his tongue worked tirelessly against my pulsing clit, making sure to work me through the crashing waves of my orgasm. Moans spilled past my gasping lips as I trembled against the driver’s seat, so far gone that I could barely feel anything beyond the radiating pleasure surging through every nerve in my body.

Even after I had ridden through my high, Matt continued running his warm tongue through my folds, collecting all of my arousal on his tongue and moaning in satisfaction. My body jolted as I came down from my high, needy for more. As if he was reading my mind, Matt finally pulled himself away from my core, glancing up at me once before admiring my swollen folds once again. I watched as he sucked on his bottom lip, using his grip on me to spread me open even more and marvelling at the mess he had made.

Growing impatient, I squirmed under his gaze. “Matt,” I whined, watching him as he looked up at me with a smirk. “Somethin’ on your mind sweetheart?” He asked, his voice filled with amusement. Incapable of caring anymore, I nodded fiercely. “Say it.” He taunted, bringing his finger to my opening and sliding it in, before quickly pulling it back out and admiring my slippery wetness that was now dripping from it. “N-need your c-cock.” I admitted, earning a grateful smile from him.

After sucking his finger clean, he gently lowered me back onto his lap. “You’re drowning in your own juices thinking about my cock, huh?” He began unbuckling his belt with shaky hands. The needier I became, the farther my walls dropped, yet I was still shocked by the filthy words that spilled from his mouth. My eyes fell to his hands as they worked against his shiny belt, and I licked my lips hungrily. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” I admitted, unable to pull my eyes away from his crotch as I waited for him to remove his jeans. “I need it so fucking bad Matt.” I confessed, my voice wavering.

The moment his belt came undone, he cursed under his breath, clearly turned on by my desperation. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, either.” He admitted, his soft words riddled with gruffness, before shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his rock-hard length. My eyes soaked in the sight of his swollen member, deep veins travelling up to his dark red tip where a bead of pre-cum was slowly dripping. After a moment, he grabbed my hips and yanked me back down onto his lap, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He groaned at the contact. “Fuck, so soaked.”

My core trembled in anticipation, the heat of his raw member pressing against me almost too much for me to bare. “S-sorry.” I replied, feeling my arousal begin to drip onto his thighs. “Don’t ever apologize for being this wet for me.” He breathed, the proximity of our bodies seeming to calm him slightly as one of his hands slid up my waist and up to my tits; where he toyed with my nipples gently. “Jesus.” He breathed, voice hitching as he adjusted me in his lap, his tip just barely entering me.

As he sunk me down his length, my jaw dropped as I felt my walls begin to stretch around his head as it crested my entrance. I was still raw from Chris earlier in the day, and I whined softly from the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. Noticing my sensitivity, Matt released a sharp hiss. “You okay?” He asked, holding me still for a moment. I nodded rapidly, desperate to be filled. “Y-yes.” I replied shakily. Matt let out a strained groan as I began pushing myself further down his shaft, rolling his hips upward to bury another inch inside me.

“You f-fill me so g-good.” I moaned as I slowly took more and more of him. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that sweetheart.” His nails dug into my hips as he pushed me down further, finally bottoming out deep inside me. A gruff moan escaped his lips once every inch of him was engulfed by my pussy, and he gave me a moment to adjust to the pressure. He must have felt my walls begin to relax, because after a moment be began lifting me up slowly, until just the tip remained inside of me; teasing. Then, with a powerful thrust, he slammed me back down burying himself to the hilt once more.

I gasped as all of the air left my lungs at the feeling of his cock filling my insides. My nails dug into his shoulders as I struggled to keep my composure while he slammed me up and down his powerful length. “Fuck, Y/n. F-feel so g-good.” His voice strained with lust, he kept one hand on my hip and the other moved to my throat, gently squeezing as he began to drive up into me. He began fucking me with brutal intensity, his movements so much angrier and desperate than the last time; all of his emotions on full display. “C’mon baby, n-need to see you l-lose your m-mind.” He groaned, his head falling back against the headrest.

“Fuck!” I cried out, completely engulfed in the pleasure of Matt taking out all of his pent-up frustration on me. “W-want your cock a-all to m-myself!” I moaned, so recklessly caught up in him that I didn’t care how greedy I sounded. In response, Matt grabbed onto my hips and flipped me so that I was the one in the seat. Leaning over me, he pulled the lever so that the seat moved back, making me lay down slightly. He only took a brief moment to adjust himself between my legs before plunging himself back into me, slamming his cock relentlessly through my spongey walls.

“Fuck, you’re so selfish,” He hissed, slamming into me harder with each thrust, “I have to hear you moaning my brother’s n-name almost every goddamn night but you d-don’t want me to fuck anyone else?” Recognizing the despair in his tone, I grabbed onto his fluffy brown hair, tugging at the roots gently as I smirked at him through hooded lids. “Does anyone else f-feel as g-good as me?” I asked, my voice punctuated by each of his thrusts. “You’ve got t-to be fucking k-kidding me.” Matt growled, his pace turning almost punishing if it weren’t for the anguish of his voice. Growing even more aroused by his state, I bit my bottom lip flirtatiously. “D-does Sophie f-feel this good?” I asked again, knowing his answer just by the look across his face.

“N-no.” He huffed out, snapping his hips into me harshly as though this fact was distressing. “N-not this g-good.” He added. His hand slid from my throat to grasp my chin roughly; forcing eye contact. His harsh grip along with his words drove me crazy, and I felt animalistic as I stuck my tongue out; running it along his salty skin. “You’re making me lose my fuckin’ mind.” He groaned, his eyes locked on mine intensely.

I greedily pulled his thumb into my mouth, wrapping my lips around it before sucking on it fervently. Obsessed with the new-found power I had over him, I locked my arms around his waist as he continued pumping into me. I moaned, my lips vibrating around his thumb before I let it drop from my mouth. I watched through my eyelashes as his eyes glazed over, completely lost in the pleasure he was feeling as he seemed to rapidly approach his orgasm.

“N-need you t-to learn how t-to share m-me.” I whined, my body growing burning hot as I fought against my own impending orgasm. “Jesus Chris.” Matt’s grip on me tightened painfully as he slammed into me again and again, his body tense in my hands. “The—the f-fact that you…” He struggled to speak, his cock twitching inside of me, “D-don’t say shit…like that.” He grunted, his rhythm growing sloppier. I dropped my mouth to his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along his clammy skin. “P-please,” I cried, urgency laced in my words as I balanced on the edge of my orgasm, “N-need both of y-you.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ k-kill me.” Matt choked out, his movements so sloppy now that I tightened my legs around his waist to hold him steady. His head dropped to my chest for a moment, seeming to contemplate what I was begging him for, before he suddenly grabbed a fistful of my hair; pulling my head up to look at him. My eyes dropped to his swollen red lips as I let him hold me in place. “Please,” I mouthed, “Please f-fuck me w-whenever you w-want. W-whenever Chris isn’t u-using m-me.”

His eyes stayed locked onto mine, burning with possessiveness and desire and telling me that he had moved past his deliberations. He brought his lips to mine and engulfed them in a heated kiss. Pulling away, he kept his forehead pressed to mine as he spoke in a gravelly tone. “When you’re not in Chris’s room, you’re mine.” I bit my bottom lip at his words, their intensity shooting straight to my core. Nodding my head, I felt myself begin to lose the battle. “F-fuck. I’m…I’m s-so close Matt.” I whined.

“Say it,” He begged, his fingers digging into my scalp, “Say you’re m-mine.” I moaned at the feeling of his cock as it began to pulse against my walls, his orgasm so close I could practically feel him falling apart. “I’m y-yours.” I squeaked out, and as soon as the words left my mouth I was consumed by my orgasm. As he continued to pound into me, seemingly re-charged by my words, my legs began to shake and a plethora of moans fell from my lips. “Oh fuck.” Matt choked out as my convulsing walls milked his cock, and as my back arched off of the seat and my nails dug into his skin, I felt his warm seed shoot deep inside my trembling cunt. His hips continued snapping into me as he came undone, guiding both of us through our highs until we simultaneously fell into a peaceful trance.

Matt collapsed forward and I leaned against his sweaty frame; my body heavy with exhaustion. My arms wrapped around his neck, where I brushed the wavy tips of his hair gently as we both came back down to earth. His breath slowly steadied against my neck, his lips brushing feather-light kisses against it as he calmed down. After a moment, I felt his lips turn up into a smile against my skin. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.” He chuckled. Straightening myself up, he pulled himself off of me and I locked eyes with him. “Do you have a problem with that?” I asked, my voice still breathless. His gaze lingered on mine for a moment, a soft smile still plastered to his face. “I wish I did, but I don’t.” He replied, pressing a gentle kiss to my eyelid before pulling himself slowly out of me.

Finally able to recognize the kind Matt that I was so used to seeing, I smiled in relief. “Well, we should probably get back to the table. I’m sure they’re all wondering where we’ve been.” I sighed before adjusting my dress, wincing as I did from how raw I felt. Matt and I quickly fixed ourselves so that we didn’t look freshly fucked, and before long we were out of the car and walking back towards the restaurant on shaky legs. As we reached the front doors, I whispered to him, “I’ll go sit down first, and you come join us after a couple of minutes.” Matt nodded, shooting me a soft smile before I slipped through the doors and headed back towards our table.

Thankfully Chris, Nick, and Sophie were all laughing; deep in conversation as I arrived at the table meaning they likely didn’t see my limp as I walked towards them. “Hey, you okay? You were gone for so long.” Nick asked with concern once he noticed me. Doing my best to seem casual, I chuckled softly. “Yeah, I’m all good. Just bumped into an old friend in the washroom.” I lied, surprising myself by how quickly I came up with a rather believable cover-up. Seeming to accept my response as the truth, Nick began chattering again to Sophie. Satisfied, I gingerly slid back into my seat beside Chris, shooting him a quick smile. I noticed a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he peered at me with curiosity.

Just as we had agreed on, a few minutes later Matt appeared at the table. “There he is!” Sophie cheered happily as he sat down beside her. “I thought you got lost!” She attempted to joke, though behind that veil I could see the concern in her features as she examined him closely. I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth, filled with nerves, as I waited to see what excuse he had come up with. “Sorry, I got an important phone call I had to take.” He replied, the lie slipping off of his tongue effortlessly. That seemed to be enough to satisfy Sophie, as she visibly relaxed before leaning against him cheerfully.

Matt’s lie didn’t seem to work on Chris, however, because in my peripheral vision I noticed him glance between Matt and I; staying completely silent. My breath hitched as I felt him suddenly pull my chair closer to him, and my heart began to race as he gently pushed my legs apart; hidden from everyone else by the table cloth draped over my lap. I felt my cheeks begin to grow warm as I slowly understood that he hadn’t been fooled by Matt and my lies, and I trembled in wait.

Suddenly, I had to stifle a cry as I felt Chris’s finger press against my sore — and completely bare — heat; and I heard his throaty chuckle as his finger ran along the small pool of cum still leaking from my opening. Casually, he swung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me into him. I felt his lips curl into a smile against my burning ears before he whispered in a low tone, “That’s my girl.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[osamucide]

⊹ I KNOW

I WILL PRETEND THAT I DON’T KNOW OF YOUR SINS UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO CONFESS . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: 2.1k

cw: gn!reader, implied/referenced dissociation+anxiety+self harm+scars+past suicide attempts, hurt/comfort but it's him so of course it's a little unhinged, mentions of dying and being dead, mentions of kidnapping but it's not serious, minor suicidal ideation but it's romantic i guess? non-sexual nudity/intimacy, showering together, lots of kisses, just unbandaging a fragile Dazai and covering him in kisses

reid: draft i been sittin on. how many times will i do an iteration of unwrap and clean him. idk. a million billion. i love him so bad

He’s looking down at his hands—or his wrists, or his fingers, or the spaces between his fingers; you’re not sure. But he’s looking down, emptily, when you nudge the cracked bathroom door further open.

He’s sitting on the lid of the closed toilet. He has no shirt on. His bandages are unraveling at each end of their respective reaches. It’s long past time they should be changed, long past time the flesh beneath them breathe and be washed.

Changing the bandages is just something that has to be done; he will not give them up, nor will he give up the habit evidenced beneath them, and you’ve been with him long enough to know this is how he survives. The bandages do the holding-together when you’re not there to, which is far more often than he’d like. Ideally, he’d be able to shrink you down and keep you in his pocket for safe-keeping and take you out whenever he needs, like a good luck charm; he’d be able to have you on his arm all day, every day, but that’s not possible when you’re an adult with a job and a life. Like him. Right? Right.  He’d shuck this skin sooner than the habit, anyway, so, like showering, it’s just something that has to be done.

He doesn’t particularly love when you watch him do it, or offer to do it for him, but you certainly drive off the impulses, hazes, and tremors that come with doing it alone. So, he lets you.

He didn’t always; he went out of his way, bent over backwards for a long time to make sure you never could, much less had to. Somewhere deep down, though, beneath that resolve and the facade stilted upon it, he knew he couldn’t hide his ugliness from you forever.

Despite the normality—the domestic intimacy that standing beneath the water with you suggests now, so much that he has to admit it stills the expansion of the ever-growing black hole inside him—he still always fears it’ll be the last time you want to look at it.

“Osamu?” you mumble from the doorframe. 

He does not move, does not look at you over the white noise of the shower running—if he’s noticed you’re here, he doesn't show it. You move to him, slowly, like approaching a skittish cat.

Before you touch him, you bend down—beneath the sink are the rolls of fresh bandages, the clean, new ones that make him look less like a mummy unearthed from Victorian times and more like what he understands himself to be in his purest form: a basket case of the modern era, the worst gift you unwrap every Christmas and birthday and have to pretend to fawn over until it’s safe to be rid of it. You’ll never be rid of him, he thinks regretfully while you shuffle next  to him; he’ll never get by without you now, and it almost makes him wish he never met you in the first place, just so he never could’ve inflicted himself upon you.

But you never send him back. Dazai can’t seem to understand, even with all that sharp intelligence of his, that you don’t ever plan to.

Four rolls. One for each of his legs, one for both of his arms, the rest for miscellaneous spots like around his neck or across his chest or wherever else he decides he needs them this time. That’s how many you set on the counter before you land in front of him, your hands pushing his hair back, your proximity forcing his cheek to lay tired against your stomach while those hands curl around the backs of your legs and pull you closer to stand between his.

You cradle Dazai’s head like you’re some sort of saint. To him, you might as well be.

Thumbs brushing his temple and the base of his skull, you speak again, just as quiet. “Come on, let’s wash.” Or, let me unwrap you and look at all that ugliness. He can’t help that he doesn’t move for a firm fifteen seconds; why would he want to, when you hold him so sweetly like this?

But eventually, he rises.

You don’t feed him formalities or those silly questions anymore when you do this. No more can I? Or, you’re gorgeous, or, is this okay? He doesn’t want those during this, you’ve come to find out; you’ll tell him you love him plenty in a few minutes, when he’s only marginally more ready to receive it, but right now you go to work like a tinker repairing a broken doll. Your touch is objective, but not cold or clinical. You treat him with a tenderness he couldn’t have fathomed until he knew you.

After he steps out of his slacks, you loosen the strips with one hand and twirl them around the other; they accumulate in a graying mass of two or more weeks worth of sweat, and you place them in the trash, softly, like you adore and respect those, too, as he skitters past you toward the water for a sense of cover. He knows you’ll be in right after him, but at least the light behind the shower curtain is dimmer. When he disappears, it’s as if he was never there. 

But he says, “I’m okay,” unprompted, as you step beneath the water. 

He is, really. It’s just jarring when it’s the focus.

The process of becoming accustomed to vulnerability is often more painful than the vulnerability itself, Dazai has learned. While the realization can be sudden, like the flipping of a switch, the vulnerability on its own can actually be quite nice. Peaceful. He knows this because you showed him—continue to show him.

He’s just a man in the shower with his beloved, so, now you’ll talk to him.

“I know,” you say. And you do, really. The hardest part is over, and he’s practically pranced through it this time. You crack a smile. 

And he mirrors your smile, not so bright and smug as under normal circumstances but soft and searching. Dazai reaches for your arms, your waist, and pulls you into him; the water hits your back—hot, how he likes it—and you tuck your head into his shoulder and wrap yourself around his middle, whispering I love yous into his shoulder.

It's peaceful. He sways you ever so subtly.

But in true Dazai fashion, he'll shatter the peace. Ever the disruptor.

“I'm sorry you have to love this part of me, too.”

The ugliness, he means. Not just the marred and keloided skin that maps out his history of self-destruction, but his resignation to it. The scabs that touch the small of your back are freshly healing and peeling. If you didn't have him beneath your watch right now they'd probably be scratched open, raw and bleeding again, but as previously mentioned, your presence staves off the itching need to do so.

The tips of his fingers squeeze you when you pull back to look up at him, sliding your hands up his shoulders and behind his neck to link.

“I love every part of you,” you murmur as his forehead dips to rest against yours. Your stunted slow-dance deepens as he sighs himself back into his body, back into the clearer image of you in his grasp. “Don’t be sorry about it. Wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to.”

The demons snap at his ankles, though. “What if you change your mind one day?”

If he was a hair more insane, he might take you hostage. Keep you to himself forever, and never let you leave. But that would take the peace out of it, he thinks. Your volition makes it all sweeter. You want to be here. You want to love him.

He just doesn’t want that to change.

You hum patiently, although hating when he what ifs. That’s the plague of the ever-moving mind he keeps, you suppose; so intelligent, but so restless. “I don’t think I will.”

You don’t think you will, but that doesn’t settle the insecurity that’s settled in his stomach like a coiled snake. 

You don’t think you will, but you will. He knows you will, because that’s how it’s fated to unfold for him. 

Your short words don’t corral him away from the snake, but the less you treat him like he’s a gaping wound, the better. You see it. You don’t cry or gasp or lament or promise how you could never leave him, will never leave him; you don’t like to make promises that reach beyond your control.

The human existence is so strange and fluid, and while you’re confident you won’t tire of him, well, your reciprocated touches aren’t the only things stitching you together, you know; there’s a world, much larger than both of you, that you live in, and a universe even more incomprehensible and its whims are fickle—but they’re also serendipitous. Everything is a miracle, if you think about it. A big, beautiful mistake. You don’t know how much he buys into this, and you’d rather him not read into it as an excuse not to answer with a resounding I’ll never leave you, my love, so you just do what you always do best: spin it in a direction his troubled mind can find solace in, pair it with kisses that have all your soul for him to inhale, and promise what you can: your hope. 

You start with his lips. The best place, arguably; one of your hands tilts his chin toward yours and you kiss him softly, simply. Dazai responds hesitantly, still holding onto you tight. You kiss him for minutes, until he's humming, until his grip loosens comfortably and his shoulders untense and his palms rest on either of your hips.

You have a habit of kissing him silly, literally. Your lips move against his and he feels high. His head gets light, and his hands get restless, and between the short puffs of air he draws in through his nose he croons at the way your fingers push his hair back, trail down his neck. 

“I’m confident,” you say, sliding across his cheek to beneath his ear while he grabs at you in soft and absent-minded desperation, “that I’ll love you ‘til the end of my days.” 

“But what if the e—”

“I’m certain—” You cut him off, first with speech and then with a kiss before you begin pressing your lips into a necklace around his throat, “—that I want to get old with you.” On one side, you bite softly. “That I want to die with you.” You bite the other. “That I want to be buried next to you.” 

Osamu’s breath catches on the words buried next to you. Of course it’s crossed his mind before that if you were to go before him, he certainly wouldn’t be long after you. The thought that you want to live a full life with him before any of that can happen, however, makes his heart swell almost uncomfortably, like it’s no longer meant to fit inside his chest—like it wants to crawl up his throat and go home to yours. It will one day, you say, when you’re rotting next to each other. He wants to melt at the idea of it. 

“And then… I don’t know what, if anything, will happen after that. But it’s my purest hope—” You traverse from one shoulder, across his collarbones, stopping only above his sternum to finish, “—that I’ll be with you forever,” before making your way to the other. He’s a mistake you’d make again and again, given the opportunity. If reincarnation is real, you’re sure of it, more than anything—you will.

And you know not expect anything but speechlessness from Osamu until after you’ve kissed a circle around that heart of his that’s beating so frantically for you, until after you’ve brought his knuckles to your lips, all twenty-eight of them, until after you’ve made your way back up one arm just to kiss down the other, until you’ve bent to scatter kisses across his stomach, his hips, until you’ve knelt to descend the ladder marking each of his thighs, until you’ve sat at his feet with your arms looped around the backs of his knees with your head pressed against him like he’s the saint this time. You sit at the feet of a sinner and make him taste redemption. It tastes like the shower water that’s touched your skin and the dinner you both ate before wandering into this strange place between his disillusion and his sheer need. You kiss him back into his humanity.

When you stand, level with him again, he smiles that smile you love so much—not the cocky, performative smile nor the uneasy, misgiving one that wants to trust but has forgotten how to but the smile that’s altogether subtle and plain and sad and the most radiant thing you’ve ever known. Every time he falls apart, you just stitch him right back up what he’s always wanted to be: loved, held, loving and holding. 

Osamu touches your lips with his fingertips like you’re not quite real, like you’ve not just reminded every other inch of him that you very much are; he speaks, not a progenitor of pretty promises himself—but he owes you forever, he thinks, as long as it’s what you want. “Thank you.” 

You laugh once, breathy, in no need. “Thank you,” you echo, “for being the most wonderful thing to love.” 

Not the easiest, you both know—but it’s just something that has to be done, and there’s no law forbidding you from reminding him how beautiful he is in the process. Until you can be buried next to him. There’s hardly anything keeping forever from beginning right now. 

He holds you, and you hold him, and he feels clean. 

[d3athlystars]

oh don’t even get me fucking STARTED on Scraptrap..

like. this is him, right? with his intestines and bones showing, one of his arms as a spike (I’ll get to that later), and his rabbit ears practically gone. makes at least a little bit of sense timeline wise, considering this is after he had been spring locked over a decade ago and has already been in one fire. except in security breach

he. looks like this???

how did his arm regenerate? why aren’t his bony claws on every finger on his left hand? how did the bottom half of his left ear come back?

WHY DOES HIS BODY STRUCTURE LOOK COMPLETELY DIFFERENT AS BURNTRAP VS SCRAPTRAP????

like. dude. it’s as if the designers for Burntrap only looked at Springtrap when making him, not even a glance towards Scraptrap with his stupid skull that makes it look like he’s balding. which, by the way, WHERE THE HELL DOES THE BALD SPOT GO BETWEEN PIZZA SIM AND SB??? it is literally GONE in Burntraps design, and while I don’t particularly miss it, AT LEAST BE CONSISTENT WITH IT UNLIKE EVERYTHING ELSE?????

also his eyes are purple now instead of the grey with Springtrap and Scraptrap, as if it would be impossible to tell this is the Purple Guy™️. and I understand MAYBE they wanted him to have purple eyes like Glitchtrap, but.. why…?

and just to be fair, let’s take a quick look at Springtrap’s design!

(yeah I know that his eyes look green in the photo. please ignore that)

and um. looking at them all together, it’s pretty easy to see all the inconsistencies that make me more and more annoyed as time goes on. it makes me want to scream and tear my hair out and shake Scott Cawthon by the shoulders and yell at him for thinking the blatant disregard of making sure his design stays consistent in AT LEAST where the placement of the holes are would go unnoticed.

but back on the topic of Sun’s eye color!

I mean.. maybe his eyes could be white in his physical model because he’s been around so long the color of his eyes has faded? but even then, it’s still strange for them to depict him with blue, yellow, and orange eyes all at once 😭 like just pick one, it can’t be that hard???

I’ve always been annoyed at the inconsistency’s in reoccurring characters designs in FNAF, and considering Sun has been in a mere TWO games so far, it is equal parts annoying and weird for his eye color to have been inconsistent in official fanart and his model on day 1. (not to mention Moon gets the same treatment, getting flip-flopped between having red eyes or blue eyes. I’m starting to wonder if this was on purpose to mess with us or if they are genuinely incapable of letting the daycare attendant have an eye color that doesn’t constantly change with every new official piece of fanart)

WTF IS SUNS EYE COLOR

all of the pictures used r official btw

this is one of the most inconsistent designs i have ever seen, chirst- and we're talking about the same series in which Scraptrap exists.

[bunny-jpeg]

mrs. colapinto

franco colapinto

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, loving!franco, curvy!reader, marriage, honeymoon, cowgirl position, clit teasing

no one knew who franco's sweetheart was. the argentinian driver had captured the world's heart, but who captured his heart? and oh, did you capture it. you were the air he breathed, the sun in the sky, a bright light in his soul. but, franco was protective of you. he didn't want to the world to poke and prod at you and your life. your education, your personality, your body.

france know that each inch was beautiful, every centimeter had been explored by his lips over the years. you were perfect, beyond perfect. he probably had your curves memorized like lines on a track. he could trace them with ease. so, he didn't need the input of fans or the press to determine if you were worth loving. franco knew that you were worth loving.

it was better that you could attend university in peace, that didn't mean that franco ignored you. he was texting you the second he could get his hands on his phone, you two were doing virtual dates when you were apart, and at the very least he could get you on facetime while you were snuggled in bed, on campus, or preparing (a late) dinner. it felt like the only time he could relax, while he was happy to have a shot at formula one. he missed the comfort of your small apartment, the home-cooked meals, how you'd ramble to him about your recent essay topic. to hear your voice. it was his personal heaven. every chance he could, he'd take photos of the cities he was in. he sent flowers every so often, and even got his hands on small souvenirs to send back home to you. you were on his mind during this sudden propelling into racing success.

if you couldn't go with him. then he'd simply bring the locations to you. as he once said to you, "anything for you, mrs. colapinto." then winked at you when your face went hot. he the laughed when you smacked him in the arms. it only made you face hot when franco mentioned marriage so casually. off handed comments to make you his bride. you knew you wanted to marry him, but everything felt too busy at the moment to take that next step. you didn't need him to feel the pressure of marriage on top of f1.

so it was a total shock when he proposed over a home-made dinner during a small break in the season. while you were about to enjoy the meal you made together, you caught sight of the small diamond in the ring. the way it caught the yellowing light of the dining area. you choked on your meal when he asked, "my love, will you marry me?" he put the velvet box down to hand you his water glass to help you swallow down the food, "i'm so sorry! i should've waited till after you ate!!" then when you stopped choking, you smiled between heavy breaths and he smiled too.

"franco." you said, you did get a little misty eyed when he rounded the table to put the ring on you. you kissed him deeply.

you two had your wedding during the off-season. it was a spur of a moment with few witnesses with dinner after. but word of the marriage wasn't kept quiet for long. people caught sight of you leaving the courthouse in white with franco in a suit. so you were franco's sweetheart, now his wife. everyone wanted to know who franco's little secret was. just a regular university student with no much of a social media presence. except for maybe a semi-active tubmlr, where many found out that you were a lewis hamilton fan. but other than that there was no personal information. but while you were on your honeymoon for the rest of the break, the press couldn't wait to get more information about you, and franco was more comfortable to formally introduce you. they juat had to be nice about it. you spent the break overseas and he happily kissed you in front of the cameras.

when you asked him what changed, he said, "you're my wife now! i want to show you off because if they are cruel, i can better stand up for you. protect you!" and then gave you what felt like a dozen kisses.

much of the honeymoon was spend in bed however, curled up in the rented apartment. the bed was soft and of course franco wanted to make you feel loved. to make love to his wife. hours spent against you. he loved when you rode him, the jolt of your body as you rolled your hips against him.

the heat got caught in your throat as you oved against him. you felt amazing as you made love- in all fairness, you sexual activity went from tender to rough fairly quickly.

"that's it, my love, my wife. you feel amazing, i am addicted to you." nothing else mattered in the bedroom except for your hips pressed against him and your hands on his chest. the feeling of you moving up and down on his cock with a needy want. his praise for you was heavy as you clenched around his cock, "beyond beautiful, my love. stunning. i knew i wanted to be with you the moment i met you. i love you, i love you."

"fuck, franco." you painted nails dug into his shoulders as you moved with all the force in your body.

his cock twitched inside of you, his words got filthier as the heat coursed through him quicker, "all mind, but you knew that. i'm so in love with you, there are zero words for it. never want or need anyone else. no, no, not when i have you. you're all mine just as i am yours." and met your pace. a sweet moan left his lips. you shifted against him and he only held onto you tighter. the headboard rocked against the wall a little. he wanted you all, and now as your husband, he could have it.

you didn't last much longer. you came first, then he did. and then, like a little devil, he teased your clit until you came once more. which made you tense up and kiss him deeply on the lips. you hissed, "fuck, honey."

"i know my love, you feel beautiful under my touch. as you should be." his voice laced with want and love, you were his and his only. you soon laid out with him in bed as the afternoon light shined through. he held you in his arms and you laid a hand on his chest. the diamond glimmered in the light as you laid curled up with your franco, your husband.

you stayed close to him, feeling his love as the two of you continued to enjoy your honeymoon together, some years in the making.

franco made a post the day after your honeymoon ended. with various photos throughout your relationship. you did however blush when you saw one of the photos, when you two were still teenagers, when right before when he moved to italy. there was you in his old racing helmet, you at his birthday party doing drunk karaoke together, and a finally a photo when you went to an art gallery together. an additional photo was posted of you on the bus with him to the williams headquarters. the caption read, "you have brought life into my world, let's always grow and love alongside each other. my beautiful, mrs. colapinto." <3

[russellsppttemplates]

Bridging the Gap (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is 4 years older than Lando, media scrutiny

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

The low hum of the television filled the cozy apartment as you and Lando sat on the sofa, nestled comfortably under a soft blanket as his hands absentmindedly traced patterns on your thigh. Lately, it was one of your favorite pastimes - catching up on a show after a long week and simply enjoying each other's presence without having the world around you.

Life with Lando was unexpectedly delightful. His infectious laughter and zest for life were contagious, and even the most mundane days seemed brighter with him around, no matter how many clients you had that day or how much reading you had to do before their next sessions. At the beginning, you couldn't wrap your head around how the way your routines still laced together despite the seemingly different responsibilities, but you cherished the balance you shared.

"Do you have a busy day tomorrow?", your boyfriend asked.

"I have 8 clients, as two of them already cancelled because they're sick, but I managed to adjust the schedule and hopefully I have some time to go to the bank and see about my mortgage payments", you said.

"And in that rearranged schedule, is there a possibility of you spending the night here so we can wake up together before you go be a boss lady?", he wondered as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing the skin there.

"I have to be in the office at before 10 am, Lan, I can't have a lie in", you reasoned.

"I have to be up at 7 am to go on a run with Jon, so neither can I", he smirked, knowing he had all the reasons to convince you to stay, "we can have some breakfast together before you leave me".

"I guess I have time to pop home, change and get to work on time", you reasoned, agreeing with his plans.

"I'm glad you think that because my next step was going to kidnap you for the night - I'm talking locking the doors and throwing away the keys", Lando spoke.

Your laughs rubbled as Lando squeezed you tighter against him, basking in the warm feeling on his chest of having you for the rest of the night.

.

A few weeks later, Lando told you Max and Pietra would be in Monaco for a week since they hadn't spent some time together in a while.

"Do you know how your week is going to be? In terms of your schedule I mean", Lando mused, holding your waist as you stirred the food in the pot.

"I had some people move around from their usual schedule, so the weekdays end late but I don't have many appointments on Friday and I have Saturday off", you spoke.

"That's good, means we can spend a nice long weekend together", Lando smiled, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin there, "I'm not sure of all the plans yet but it’ll be fun! And they’re eager to meet you", he grinned, optimism lighting up his face.

"I'm excited to meet them too", you spoke, despite the one looming shadow. The thought of meeting Lando’s close-knit circle always brought a tinge of anxiety with it. His friends were used to seeing him as the carefree poster child of single life - never missing a party or the chance to get a little drunk. Hell, the idea that Lando would rather stay in on a Friday night, watching his girlfriend cook them dinner after spending the afternoon waiting for her to finish her online sessions would baffle Max and all of his friends.

And though Lando never seemed to mind, the idea of them questioning your relationship because of your age gnawed at your insecurity. Even when you were younger, the party scene wasn't your thing and as the years passed, it certainly didn't become it. You were fine with Lando enjoying himself whenever he wanted to and never once objected to that, but feared that his friends would question it.

"There's something on your mind, I can tell that", Lando spoke softly, "would you like to share it with me?".

"It's just...", you tried, knowing he would be able to tell you were lying and knowing that sharing this with him could ease your fears.

"Doesn't have to sound pretty or polished, I just want to know what is on your head", he encouraged softly.

"Maybe they won't want to spend time with me? They're coming here to see you and spend time with you, and there's always the possibility that they might now want to spend time with me", you let it out.

"Why do you think that?", he continued softly.

"Because I'm not hard-core, adrenaline seeking fun!", you added.

"Lovie, the plans we have are just enough fun for everyone, I didn't to do anything too hard-core and they don't either, so we'll be good and have plenty of fun together, yeah?", Lando assured, turning you around and kissing your forehead.

"You are starting to have a way with words", you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin in such a protective manner, like no harm in the world could get to you if he was near.

"I catch on a thing or two you say", your boyfriend mumbled, kissing your lips slowly.

"I have to take my lunch to the office tomorrow, I don't have time to come home", you mumbled more to yourself than anything, taking a tupperware box from the cupboards so you wouldn't end up without your packed lunch.

"Pack two of them and I'll meet you in the office", Lando said like it was nothing.

"Sorry, what?", you asked again, afraid you had misheard him.

"You can pack two of them to go and I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow so you don't eat lunch all alone", Lando suggested.

"You don't have to", you reasoned.

"I know I don't, but I want to", Lando smiled, "the next couple of days are going to be busy for me and I need to fill up on time with you so my heart won't miss you as much".

He was ever the charmer and you still blushed at his words, not used to this no matter how many times he did it.

"Fine, but you can't mess up the crayons this time! You left one of them on the floor and I saw my life flash before my eyes when I stepped on it and nearly fell! No funny business in my office!", you joked.

"Does that mean we can't play Jenga and talk about my feelings? How dare you do that to me, woman?", Lando dramatised.

.

The first night of the week Max and Pietra would be spending in Monaco arrived quickly, and while the full day of sessions certainly kept your mind away from all of it, you found yourself at the door of your boyfriend's apartment waiting for him to get it.

"Hello, beautiful", Lando greeted as soon as he saw you, kissing your lips before letting you in, "let me take these", he said as he grabbed your bag and your coat.

"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm a bit late but the last session ran a bit longer than I expexted", you apologised, smoothing over your jeans and checking how you looked in the mirror - after the day you had, you couldn't expect much but you were pleasantly surprised that your hair was still bouncy and forgoing makeup was probably a good idea because you would have smudged it by now.

"You look beautiful as always, Y/N", Lando grabbed your attention, "and don't worry, take out is late too so you don't need to feel bad", he assured, guiding you with him to the living room where the noise was coming from.

"Guys, this is Y/N", Lando announced as they both welcomed you warmly, quickly asking you questions and letting you join in, preparing a drink for you.

"I'm usually heavy handed, but this one is proper, Y/N", he offered you before you took a sip, "I can fix a different one though!".

"It's good, it's good - hits the spot very nicely", you smiled, taking another sip before engaging in conversation.

When the food arrived, Lando asked you to join him in the kitchen to help him plate everything up and bring it to the dining table, opting to use the door closest to it so it would be easier.

As you crossed rhe hallway, you overheard Max and Pietra talking.

“Do you think it works?”, Pietra asked, “I mean, they seem happy, but Lando’s… well, Lando".

Max shrugged, “He’s crazy about her. Age doesn’t matter, does it? But yeah, never thought he’d settle, at least not like this".

You felt a small knot form in your stomach, but before you could dwell on it, Lando appeared at your side, his familiar warmth instantly reassuring as he placed his hand on the small of your back, “You alright?” he asked, noticing the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

“Yeah", you smiled, deciding in that moment that the security you had together was worth navigating any doubts from others.

As the evening continued, you noticed Max and P exchanging skeptical glances across the table - they're were known for their protective nature over Lando, Max is his bestfriend, so they are particularly wary of anyone close to their beloved friend.

Over the clinking of silverware and hum of conversations, Max finally spoke up, his tone casual but inquisitive, "so, how’s it really going, being with a guy who practically lives on a racetrack?”.

You felt Lando's reassuring nudge beneath the table, prompting you to respond with honesty, "It's definitely something else. Racing is such a demanding world, but we find balance by making time for each other away from it all. So far, it has worked out well".

P leaned back, observing the dynamic between the you, "there must be a lot of pressure, especially with so many eyes watching your every move".

Lando chimed in before you could respond, "Y/N handles it like a champ. Honestly, she’s the calm in my storm", he said, his eyes filled with admiration for you. There wasn't a day that you didn't handle it gracefully, whether it was a fan wanting to take a photo or a reporter wanting to know more than you allowed.

Max and P exchanged another look, this time softer and less guarded - little by little, they began to see what Lando meant by his earlier assurance that you kept him grounded.

As dinner progressed, the conversation turned to shared stories, with Lando guiding the discussion to include moments from your relationship - your mutual love for travel, how you introduced him to the joy of quiet moments, and even shared a humorous tale of your early dates, laughter erupting when he recounted an incident involving mistaking your office with the one next to yours, Lando accidentally entering the lawyer's waiting room with a massive bouquet of flowers and passes to golf.

Max's initial skepticism gradually melted away as he watched you interact. Lando's attentiveness was unmistakable - how he would lean in to catch your words over the din of conversations, or how his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement at your stories. He noticed how effortless and natural your connection seemed, a seamless blend of companionship and partnership.

By the time dessert came around, Pietra seemed convinced, "Alright, alright. I can see what everyone’s been talking about. You both really seem to understand each other in a way that's rare".

"You say that like we don't!", Max complained.

"Shut it, Max, you know what I mean", she mumbled.

Feeling the warmth of acceptance flood the room, Lando laid his hand over yours on the table, grinning with relief and contentment, "Told you she was amazing,” he said, playfully raising his eyebrows.

Max chuckled, raising his glass, "Okay, I admit defeat, I'm not sure we are like this!".

It was in that moment that you realized, the whispers of doubt that had once lingered were no match for the clarity of Lando’s affection. Together, you were creating a narrative all your own, one that defied stereotypes and embraced your unique bond.

.

As the days passed after the gathering, the glow of being surrounded by Lando’s friends began to fade, replaced by the nagging unease that had settled in your mind. You found yourself replaying the conversations from that night, the laughter, the glances, and especially Max's comment, which you still couldn’t quite shake off despite the way the night ended.

One evening, after a long day at work, filled with sessions and schedule arrangements thanks to the flu season, you sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media.

Your heart sank as you stumbled upon a headline featuring Lando. The article speculated about his relationships and how he was often deemed the ultimate bachelor, writing that they believed he wasn't about to change his ways. The more you read, the harder it became to ignore your worries.

Later that night, Lando arrived from his photoshoot, his laughter echoing as he stepped through you door. He instantly brightened the room with his presence, but you struggled to muster so much as a smile.

“Hey! Long day?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly, concern etched across his features as he took a good look at you.

“Just tired", you replied with a half truth. As you settled down, you felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing on your chest, knowing that sooner or later they would find their way out.

“Is everything okay?”, Lando probed, sensing the shift in your mood. Even when you had a bad day, the reception he got wasn't like this.

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, Do you ever think about what people say… about us?”.

Lando paused, confusion washing over his face, "What do you mean?”.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down, "Like, the way the media talks about you. Or how your friends might see us. What if they don’t accept me? They might think I’m not right for you… for your image".

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, “Why would you think that?”.

“Because it’s true!”, you almost spat, frustration bubbling to the surface, "You’re this young, popular and successful Formula One driver, and I’m just… well, me. What if they think I’m just an older woman trying to latch onto your fame? What if they don’t see how happy we are?”.

“Stop it", he said gently, but firmly, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, or someone. You’re incredible, and I’m with you because I want to be. Age is just a number and it doesn’t define how meaningful our relationship is, not to me and it shouldn't be to anyone".

But your doubts resurfaced, relentless as you continued with your voice rising with each word, “But what if your family doesn’t feel the same? What if they think I’m not good enough for their sweet boy? I just… I can't help but overthink it. I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you".

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his and grounding you with his touch, something you explained to him early on that worked wonders for you, “I can’t control what others think, but my family will see how happy you make me. They care about my happiness, not just some number or date".

“But what if they don’t?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. Over the years, you could remember the times where you told patients exactly that, that their mind was looking for survival so that's where it took them.

“They will!", Lando stated, his grip tightening slightly, “Look, it’s not going to be like this forever. People talk, and yes, media can be ruthless, but what matters is how we feel about each other. And I feel lucky to have you in my life. Please trust that, my love".

You looked for reassurance in his eyes as slowly his words began to soothe the turmoil, but the fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

“I just don’t want to complicate things for you", you said softly.

Lando brushed his fingers against your cheek, a gentle smile breaking through your anxiety, "you’re not complicating things. You’re adding to my life in a way I never knew I needed. Can we just take this one step at a time together?”.

Lando pulled you into a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on your heart lightened. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay in the moment and be there.

“I’ll try", you finally spoke against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his unwavering support.

“I promise I'm not going anywhere", he whispered back, wrapping you tighter in his arms, "we’re in this together".

"Thank you", you mumbled, pecking his lips softly.

"You don't ever need to thank me, not for stuff like this or anything else, we're in this together, lovie", Lando kissed your forehead, "besides, if you ever dump me, I'll have to find a good psychologist to help me through it and you're the best one, so that's another valid point for us to stay together", he chuckled, wanting to get a giggle out of you.

Smiling when he succeeded, Lando squeezed you tighter against him, "never doubt that we were meant to be, Y/N, never".

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ The Story of Us

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of cheating

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: never date a penn state boy (i say this from experience)

JO FEELS her body move before her mind can fully catch up, her legs shaky as she pushes herself off the bed. The room feels suffocating, suddenly too small, too loud in its silence. Asher’s phone is still in her hand, the weight of it like a lead anchor pulling her into the crushing reality she can’t seem to process. Her fingers tighten around it, her knuckles white, but her face betrays nothing. Not yet.

“Asher,” she says, her voice calm, steadier than she expects, even though it feels like there’s venom in her blood, poisoning her. “Get your shoes on.”

He’s standing near the bedroom door, mid-step. Confusion flashes across his face, his brows furrowing. “What? Why?”

Jo meets his eyes. The familiar green she’s known her whole life. But then his gaze flickers down, just for a split second, to the phone in her hand, and she sees it—the faint, fleeting flicker of something that looks like realization. Panic, maybe. Guilt.

Her chest tightens, and she feels like she might choke on the sudden wave of nausea that rises in her throat. But she doesn’t let it show.

“Just… put your shoes on,” she repeats quietly, her voice still calm, still too steady. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything else yet.

Asher hesitates, his mouth opening like he might argue. But then he closes it again, his jaw tightening. He nods, moving toward the corner of the room where his sneakers lay. He doesn’t ask any more questions, but Jo can feel his unease growing with every passing second.

She starts to walk, leaving the bedroom to go put on her slippers near the apartment door. Her grip on the phone is still so tight that her hand aches, but she doesn’t let go. Her thoughts are loud, a deafening roar in her head, but at the same time, she feels hollow. Empty.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

The words keep looping in her mind, a desperate chant she clings to even as the truth sits in her hand, undeniable. She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to see whatever’s written in his face when she says the words she knows she has to say.

She’s not a fighter. She never has been. She’s kind, and forgiving, and willing to let things slide because she hates conflict, hates the way it leaves scars on her heart and the hearts of the people she loves. But this? This is too big to let slide.

She thought she knew him. She thought he was hers.

Asher’s been her constant, her everything, for as long as she can remember. The boy next door who she used to finger paint with when they were kids. The boy who held her hand when she was anxious on the first day of middle school. The boy who kissed her for the first time in eighth grade, on one of the picnic tables at their neighborhood park.

He’s the only boy she’s ever thought about, ever wanted, ever loved. She built her future around him in her head—her dreams of getting married, of starting a life together, of building something that would last forever.

Forever.

The word feels bitter in her mouth now, a cruel joke. She can feel the cracks forming in her heart, the fissures that threaten to split her in half.

When Asher finally walks out of her bedroom, his shoes tied and on, he looks at her, his face unreadable. Jo avoids his gaze, focusing on the door instead. “Come on,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He follows her without a word, and they step out into the hallway, the soft click of the door closing behind them echoing in the stillness. They have to do this outside; Jo doesn’t want to wake up Paige.

The Jacobson girl stops a few steps from the door, turning to face Asher. She keeps her grip on his phone, her fingers trembling now despite her best efforts to stay composed. Asher stands there, his hand shoved into his pockets, his eyes darting between her face and the phone. She can see it in his posture now, the way his shoulders are tense, the way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. He knows.

But he doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for her to speak first, and for a moment, she almost can’t. She stares at him, her lips parted but no sound coming out, her throat tight and dry.

She doesn’t want to do this.

But she has to.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she takes a deep breath, the sound shaky and uneven in the quiet hallway. Her voice is soft, almost fragile, when she finally speaks.

“So, her name’s Brooke?”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Jo watches as Asher’s expression crumbles. His face twists, guilt flashing so obviously across his features that she doesn’t even need to hear him confirm it. But then he does, stumbling over his words in a rush to apologize.

“Jo, I—God, I messed up. It was a mistake, okay? It—it only happened once, I swear.”

For a second, she just stares at him, her mind short-circuiting as it processes the words. Her heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, cracking with every beat, and yet she somehow still finds the strength to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. She gives him a look then, one that she knows has to cut deep.

“Why are you still lying?” she asks, her voice quieter now, but sharper, trembling at the edges. “I looked through your texts. You’ve been seeing her since September.”

The tears in her eyes blur her vision slightly, but she can still see the way his face falls completely at her words. His mouth opens, like he’s about to defend himself, about to deny it or say something—anything—that might patch up the gaping wound he’s just ripped open. But no words come out. Jo can tell he’s scrambling now, reaching for an explanation, a lifeline, but nothing comes.

Jo lets out a small, bitter laugh that feels foreign to her, a sound so unlike the person she usually is. Her body feels cold, her chest hollow, like everything inside her has been scooped out and left her with nothing but this raw, gnawing ache.

Her voice wavers as she speaks again, the tears finally slipping free, her composure fracturing under the weight of it all. “If you wanted to break up for college, we could’ve. You could’ve just told me that long distance would be too hard and you wanted to see other people. I would’ve—I would’ve understood.” Her voice cracks at the end, and she hates how small she sounds, how stupid she feels. She’s giving him too much credit, too much grace, but she doesn’t know how to be any other way.

“You didn’t have to cheat on me,” she continues, her voice rising a little now, her hurt spilling over into anger, “and then—then pretend like you still love me.”

The tears come faster now, hot and unrelenting, but she doesn’t wipe them away. She lets them fall, lets him see the full weight of what he’s done.

Asher steps toward her then, closing the space between them, his hands reaching out as if to comfort her. “Jo,” he says desperately. “I do love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking in love with you, okay? I just—” he pauses, choking before continuing, “—you weren’t around, and I was missing you so much, and you’ve been so busy with basketball—”

She steps back before he can touch her, shaking her head, her voice cutting through his excuses. “—when then gives you the right to have sex with another girl? To tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?”

Her words seem to hit him like a physical blow, his face paling as he shuts up. Jo doesn’t stop, though. Her voice is sharp now, full of a fury she rarely ever allows herself to feel.

“I saw the texts,” she says again, now shoving the phone back into his hands. Her breath hitches as another sob escapes her throat. “It doesn’t really seem like you still love me when you’re talking to someone else like that.”

Jo feels the air in her lungs grow heavier. The hallway is too quiet, every sound—her shallow breaths, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead—feels deafening in the stillness between them. Asher stares at her, his lips once again parting and closing uselessly, trying to find words that might somehow undo all of this.

“Jo, please,” he says finally, his voice thin and frantic, like he’s clutching at straws. “It didn’t mean anything—she doesn’t mean anything. I was lonely, okay? I was missing you so much, Jo, so much, and I just—I made a mistake. A huge mistake. But it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

His words hit her like a stab to the chest. The sheer audacity of them leaves her feeling sick, like her body can’t keep up with the reality of what’s happening.

“Why would anyone do this to someone they love?” she asks slowly.

Asher shakes his head, stepping toward her again, but Jo takes another step back, hitting the wall. She’s never felt so trapped—trapped between the ghost of what they were and the cruelness of what they’ve become.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly, desperate to make her understand. “You were always on my mind, Jo. You’re always on my mind. But you weren’t there, and I was—God, I was so fucking stupid.”

Her chest tightens, a sob clawing it’s way up her throat. “You knew I wouldn’t be there!” she says loudly. “You knew since I committed nearly two years ago! That’s why I’m saying you could’ve just broken up with me before we both went to college instead of doing—this!” She gestures to the phone in his hand, the tears still spilling freely down her cheeks, mixing with her mascara. She probably looks insane.

Asher takes another step closer, and Jo flinches without meaning to. She sees the way his face crumples at her reaction.

“Jo, I’m sorry,” he says pleadingly. “I’ll do anything—anything to make it up to you. Please, baby, I’ll never talk to her again. I’ll block her, I’ll delete her number, I’ll—”

Jo cuts him off, shaking her head violently. “It’s not about Brooke!” she cries, the name tearing through her like glass. “It’s about you! It’s about the fact that you lied to me, that you betrayed me, that you’ve been doing this for months! It’s about the fact that you’ve made me feel like I’m not even enough for you anymore.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says weakly.

Jo lets out a noise between a laugh and a sob. “Well, you did,” she tells him firmly.

She doesn’t know when she starts crying harder, but suddenly, her body is wracked with sobs, her chest heaving as everything she’s been holding in comes pouring out. She can hardly even breathe.

And then Asher’s dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching for here. “Jo, baby, please,” he begs, tears forming in his own eyes. “Please, let me make it up to you. I’ll transfer if you want me to—I’ll come here, be closer. I just—I love you. I love you so much. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose us.”

His hands are warm against hers, but she barely feels it through the numbness creeping into her limbs. She stares down at him, her vision blurred with tears, and for a moment, she thinks about all the years they spent together. When they were younger, when they were older. Every moment, every memory—they flash before her eyes like a cruel montage of everything they’ll never be again.

Jo pulls her hands away from his, her chest aching like it’s being ripped in half. Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, but it’s absolute. “No matter what, I’ll never be able to trust you again,” she says, the finality of her words settling heavily between them. “I can’t have a relationship with no trust, Ash. I love you—I’ve always loved you—but I can’t do it. I can’t.”

The words ring out and, for a moment, they stay where they are. And then Jo turns and opens the door to the apartment. Her fingers tremble against the knob as she pushes it open, but she doesn’t stop. She can feel the way Asher stands from his knees behind her, hovering a mix of desperate and disbelief radiating off him like a suffocating heat. She steps inside, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her, and she doesn’t turn back to look at him when she hears his footsteps following her.

“Jo, please,” Asher says again, his voice cracking, the way it always does when he’s on the verge of tears. “Let’s just—keep talking, okay? I’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t do this.”

But there’s nothing left to talk about. Not now. Not after everything.

Jo’s head pounds as she crosses the room, her eyes scanning for the things he’ll need to leave. His coat is slung on the back of one of the chairs, and his keys and wallet sit on the table. She grabs both, her hands shaking, and turns back to him.

“Asher,” she says, raw and unsteady, “please.” She holds out the coat and keys to him, her arm outstretched like it’s the only way she can keep any distance between them. “If you love me like you say you do, please leave. Please.”

He doesn’t take them at first. He just stands there, staring at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes that make him look younger than he is, like the boy she used to know. Her next-door neighbor, the boy who used to race her to the ice cream truck every summer. The boy who brought her flowers from his mom’s garden the first time he asked her to a school dance in eighth grade, nervously holding them out to her like they were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. The boy who kissed her on the Ferris wheel, telling her he’d never seen anything prettier than the way the lights reflected in her eyes.

Jo thought that boy was perfect.

But now, that boy is clearly gone.

“So this is really it?” Asher asks, his voice barely a whisper. He finally takes the coat and keys from her, his movements slow, almost mechanical, like he’s not fully in his body. His words hang in the air, heavy and final, and Jo feels like they have hands and they’re suffocating her.

She bites her lip hard, the metallic tang of blood sharp on her tongue. A sob claws at her throat, but she swallows it down, refusing to let it out. Because—God—she doesn’t want this to be it. She doesn’t want to end this chapter of her life, doesn’t want to say goodbye to the person who’s been by her side through everything. She thinks about all the time they’ve spent together, the endless summers of childhood spent chasing fireflies in their backyards, the countless nights they stayed up late talking about everything and nothing. She thinks about the way he used to cheer for her at every basketball game, the way his laugh uses to make her feel like the world wasn’t so big and scary.

But then she thinks about the texts. Brooke. The lies. The betrayal. The pain of knowing that the person she loved most in the world didn’t love her enough to stay faithful. And she knows—she knows—that she can’t stay with him. Not after this.

So, with a terrible, gut-wrenching finality, Jo forces herself to meet his eyes. Seafoam. She’ll never look at them the same again. “Yeah,” she tells him. “It is.”

Asher flinches like she’s just slapped him, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something else, like he’s going to keep fighting. But then his shoulders sag, and the fight leaves his body all at once. He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, and the sheer heartbreak in his expression nearly undoes her.

Jo takes a shaky breath and steps toward the door, her movements stiff and unnatural, like her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. She holds the door open and watches as Asher hesitates, lingering in the threshold like he’s waiting for her to change her mind.

“Um,” she starts, staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I’m not gonna be back in Boston for break. I’ll be on that ski trip with my family. So, uh, when they get back, you just… you get your stuff from the house and bring mine back to them, okay?”

For a long, excruciating moment, Asher just stands there, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then, finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

He steps out into the hallway, and Jo closes the door behind him with trembling hands. The moment the latch clicks into place, she presses her back against the door, her knees nearly buckling. She buried her face in her hands and keys the sobs come.

PAIGE LIES in Celeste’s bed, staring at the ceiling, her body tangled in soft sheets that smell faintly of sex and Celeste’s perfume. The room is dark except for the faint orange glow of the streetlamp outside the window, cutting through the blinds and casting uneven stripes across her skin. Celeste is already asleep, her breathing slow and steady beside her, an arm draped lazily over Paige’s stomach.

The weight of the arm feels suffocating. The room feels too still, too warm, and Paige can feel the alcohol from earlier churning in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much she drank until she laid down, the world tilting slightly when she closed her eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but the growing nausea.

Her phone sits on the nightstand, and she reaches for it, squinting at the brightness when the screen lights up. 3:08 AM. Jo and Asher should be asleep by now, she thinks. The thought is a small relief, though she hates that it’s on her mind at all. When she’d come here earlier—straight from Ted’s—it wasn’t just for Celeste’s company. It was to avoid them. Avoid the sight of them fueled up on the couch, or worse, the sound of them behind Jo’s closed bedroom door.

But lying here now, with the alcohol making her stomach roil and Celeste’s soft breathing only amplifying the pounding in her head, Paige knows she can’t stay. She hates being sick, hates it even more when it happens in someone else’s space.

Carefully, she moves Celeste’s arm off of her, sliding out of bed with practiced quiet. She pulls on her jeans and shirt, then her coat, then slips on her sneakers and grabs her phone. By the time she’s in the hallway, she’s regretting every drink she had tonight.

The walk back to the apartment feels endless. The streets are deserted, the air sharp and cold against her flushed skin. She shoves her hands into her coat pockets, her breath visible in the air. Her head spins with every step, her stomach twisting tighter and tighter until—without much warning—she’s doubled over, throwing her guts up into a bush. It’s humiliating, even though no one’s there to see it.

But after, she feels marginally better. Her legs are still shaky, and her throat burns, but the nausea ebbs, replaced by exhaustion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, cursing herself under her breath, and resumes the walk home.

When she gets to the apartment, it’s quiet. Thank God. She lets herself in carefully, taking care not to let the door slam, and moves toward the bathroom in the dark. She brushes her teeth quickly before going to her bedroom. There, she toes off her shoes, drops her phone onto her own nightstand, and collapses into bed. The sheets are cold, her pillow soft, and she burrows into them, hoping sleep will come quickly.

It doesn’t.

Instead, Paige ends up staring at her phone, her thumb absently scrolling through TikTok, then Instagram, then TikTok again.

It’s probably a half hour later when she hears footsteps outside her room. She doesn’t think much of it, only registers that Jo and Asher are awake. She thinks she hears the apartment door open, but she can’t really tell. She just resumes her scrolling.

Maybe another twenty minutes pass before she hears the door reopen. There are voices this time, too—Jo and Asher’s. They’re too low to make out what they’re saying, but there’s something off about the tone.

Paige feels her stomach twist again, though this time it has nothing to do with alcohol.

She tries to ignore it, forcing herself to keep scrolling, but the voices continue. Then, suddenly, the sound of the apartment door shutting—loud enough to make her flinch.

Paige sits up in bed. She stares at her closed bedroom door, debating. Curiosity—and something heavier—wins out. Slowly, cautiously, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands.

The floor is cold beneath her bare feet as she crosses to the door. She hesitates for a moment, hand on the knob, before turning it and pulling the door open. She steps into the hallway, walking slowly at first, unsure of what to expect. But as she rounds the corner, the sight in front of her makes her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Jo is pressed against the front door, her back flat against it as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her face is buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling with sobs that Paige can hear from a few feet away. The sound cuts through her like a knife, raw and unrelenting.

Paige’s stomach drops, dread pooling deep and cold inside her. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Jo cry, and not even the panic attack she had before the first game of the season looked like this. The sight freezes her for a second, but then she’s moving, instinctively, her feet carrying her closer without hesitation.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice a little unsteady as she steps in front of her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She hates seeing Jo like this, hates the helplessness it churns up in her. Jo’s supposed to sunshine and rainbows and butterflies and happiness. Seeing her like this, crumpled and sobbing, feels wrong, like the world has tilted off its axis.

Paige notices, too, that Asher is nowhere to be found, and her stomach knots tighter at the implication. There are only a few reasons why Jo would be crying like this in the middle of the night, and Paige doesn’t like any of the possibilities running through her mind.

She steps closer, only inches away from Jo. She gently reaches out to tug Jo’s hands away from her face. The brunette resists at first, her fingers curling tighter, as if she’s trying to shield herself from the world. But Paige persists, her touch gentle but firm, until Jo lets her pull them down.

She looks wrecked, utterly and completely undone. Her mascara is streaked across her cheeks, smudging into the skin where her tears have carved wet paths. Her lips are trembling, and her eyes—red-rimmed and glassy—hold a look of devastation that Paige has never seen before.

Paige’s stomach drops a little. This isn’t just a bad night. This is something worse.

“Joey,” Paige says again, her voice soft but coaxing. “Joey, talk to me. What happened?”

Jo shakes her head violently, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. “I feel so stupid,” she chokes out.

Paige’s protective instincts kick in hard, a fierce surge of anger and worry burning in her chest. Jo is her best friend, and Paige can’t stand seeing her like this, so small and hurt and vulnerable. It makes her want to fix it, to fix everything, to hunt down whatever or whoever made Jo feel like this and give them a piece of her mind.

“You’re not stupid,” Paige says quickly, her hands moving to Jo’s face. She cups her cheeks gently, her thumbs brushing over the tears as they fall, even though it’s futile. The tears keep coming, harder and faster, and Jo’s sobs are so harsh now that Paige worries she’s going to make herself sick.

“Jo,” Paige whispers, her tone soothing, steady. “Joey, you’re not stupid. Just tell me what happened. Please.”

Jo looks at her then, and the brokenness in her expression hits Paige like a tidal wave. Jo’s breaths are short and uneven, catching in her throat as she struggles to speak. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she manages to force out a choked answer:

“He’s been cheating on me since September.”

Paige isn’t sure how to react at first. Not because she doesn’t care—no, she cares too much—but because it feels incomprehensible. Asher? Cheating? On Jo? It’s like trying to convince herself the sky isn’t blue or that the sun doesn’t rise in the east. Jo is the kind of person who radiates light, who gives more than she takes, who makes everyone around her better by simply existing. The idea that anyone—anyone, let alone Asher, who Jo has loved since they were kids—could betray her like this? Paige’s chest tightens, a painful knot forming deep inside her.

“Oh, Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice breaking. She steps forward without thinking, wrapping her arms around Jo and pulling her in close. Jo is stiff at first, her body trembling like she’s holding herself together by a thread. But then she leans into Paige, her arms coming around her back, and she crumples completely.

The sobs come harder now, racking Jo’s body as she buries her face in Paige’s shoulder. Paige can feel her shirt dampening with tears, but she doesn’t care. Not even a little. All that matters is keeping Jo held together in this moment when she clearly feels like she’s falling apart. Paige’s chin rests against Jo’s hair, and she squeezes her tighter, as if that might somehow protect her from all of this—might take away the pain.

Her mind flashes to Asher, and the anger that surges through her is immediate, white-hot, and consuming. How the fuck could he do this? Asher, who seemed to adore Jo, who, just earlier tonight, had looked at her like the world revolved around her. He’s the guy everyone thought Jo would marry, the guy Paige didn’t want to like because of her own feelings for Jo but begrudgingly respected because he seemed like he loved her. Paige’s fists clench at the thought of him, the betrayal he’s inflicted on someone so good, so perfect.

Jo pulls back just enough to speak, her voice trembling through the sobs. “I just—I don’t get it,” she chokes out. Her hands are fisted in the back of Paige’s shirt now, clutching at her like she’s a lifeline. “He never seemed like—he would do that. He was never distant or anything. I—I don’t know. It’s just—it’s been us forever. He’s—he’s literally all I know.”

Paige closes her eyes for a moment, biting back her own emotions. She knows this—of course she knows this. Jo and Asher are the couple everyone compares themselves to, the pair who grew up together, who went to prom together, who everyone thought would get married and have a picturesque life together. Paige knows this betrayal isn’t just about the cheating—it’s about the loss of something Jo has held onto her entire life.

And as much as Paige didn’t want to like Asher, she can’t deny that even tonight, when they were all together, he seemed so in love with Jo. He didn’t seem like the type to cheat. Then again, Paige thinks bitterly, a lot of them don’t.

Paige hesitates, her voice careful. “Did you…?” She doesn’t have to finish the question; Jo knows what she’s asking.

Jo nods against Paige’s shoulder, her tears warm against Paige’s skin. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I broke up with him.”

Paige lets out a slow breath, one she didn’t realize she was holding. She always thought if this moment ever came, she’d feel something else—relief, maybe even happiness. She thought it would mean she finally had a chance with Jo, that the door might crack open. But as Jo sobs in her arms, as her heartbreak bleeds out into the quiet hallway, Paige feels none of that.

Because Jo isn’t happy. She’s broken, and Paige would rather suffer her unrequited feelings forever than see Jo like this. All she’s ever truly wanted is for Jo to be happy, to be the kind of happy that lights up her eyes and makes her laugh the way she does when she’s teasing Paige. This? This is not that.

Paige pulls back just enough so they’re face to face. Her hands come up to Jo’s cheeks once more, cradling her face gently. Jo’s eyes are red and swollen, tears still spilling over. Paige’s thumbs brush over her cheeks, wiping away some of the tears, though they’re still coming faster than she can catch them.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice low and firm, “you are the most beautiful, selfless, talented, smart person I’ve ever fucking met. You don’t deserve any of this, okay? He doesn’t deserve you. Not even close.” She shakes her head slightly, her throat tightening as she continues. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

Jo nods slowly, her breath hitching as she tries to calm down, but the tears are still there, streaming down her face.

Eventually, Paige convinces Jo to come with her, leading the brunette to her bedroom, keeping a steady hand on the small of her back as they navigate the dark hallway. Paige can feel the exhaustion radiating off of her in waves—emotional, physical, every kind of tired there is. She figures Jo doesn’t want to go to her own room, where everything probably still smells like Asher. And Paige figures Jo doesn’t want to be alone, either. That much is obvious in the way she stays close, almost leaning into Paige as they walk.

Once inside Paige’s room, Jo hesitates by the bed, looking small in a way Paige isn’t used to seeing. Jo’s always been the kind of person who fills up a space just by being in it—confident, easygoing, happy. Now, she’s quiet and folded into herself, arms crossed protectively over her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. Paige doesn’t like it.

“Stay here for a sec, yeah?” Paige says softly, her voice careful, like she’s afraid to push Jo too far or say the wrong thing. Jo nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and Paige slips out of the room.

She goes to the bathroom first, grabbing some makeup wipes from the cabinet. Her mind races as she moves, filled with anger toward Asher, with concern for Jo, with guilt that a small, selfish part of her is glad to have Jo here, with her, instead of with him.

On her way back, she detours into Jo’s room just long enough to grab the emotional support stuffed animal—Bubbles. She tucks the little turtle under her arm and heads back to her room.

Jo hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting there, looking at her hands, the way her fingers twist together nervously. Paige kneels in front of her, setting Bubbles aside for now. She doesn’t say anything at first; she just takes one of the makeup wipes and gently starts to clean the streaks of mascara from Jo’s face. Jo blinks in surprise, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips.

“I could’ve done it myself,” Jo mumbles, her voice thick and uneven.

“I know,” Paige says simply, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at her own lips.

It’s a quiet, intimate thing, wiping away Jo’s makeup. Paige works slowly, carefully, brushing over her skin with a tenderness she hopes Jo can feel. When she’s finished, she tosses the wipes aside into her mini trash can and hands Jo the stuffed turtle.

Jo takes Bubbles with both hands, clutching him close to her chest. There’s a tiny moment of relief in Paige’s chest when Jo actually smiles a little at the sight of him. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.

Paige climbs onto the bed beside her, hesitating for a second. The air between them feels heavy, uncertain. Jo curls up on her side, facing away from Paige, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she should leave her alone, give her space. But before she can decide, Jo’s voice breaks through the silence, shaky and fragile.

“Can you—can you just hold me?”

Paige’s heart clenches. Of course. Of course, she can. “Yeah,” she says softly, already shifting closer.

She slides in behind Jo, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hand comes to rest gently on Jo’s stomach, fingers brushing over the fabric of her shirt in smooth, soothing patterns. Paige doesn’t think much about it; she just does what feels natural. Her face ends up close to the back of Jo’s neck, and she can feel the faint hitch in Jo’s breathing, the way it stutters each time another quiet sob escapes her.

Every time Jo shakes or cries, Paige instinctively tightens her hold, pulling her closer, letting her know she’s there. Jo doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Paige. The silence is filled with the faint rustle of the blankets, the sound of their breathing.

Paige focuses on the rise and fall of Jo’s chest, on the feeling of her heartbeat beneath her hand. It’s comforting, in a way, even though everything about the situation feels wrong. Jo deserves better than this—better than Asher, better than heartbreak. And if Paige could take it all away, if she could somehow absorb all of Jo’s pain just to see her smile again, she would.

But all she can do is hold her, keep her safe in this moment. So she does. She stays there, tracing patterns on Jo’s stomach, her own breathing falling in time with Jo’s. Eventually, Jo’s crying slows, her breaths evening out into something softer, something closer to sleep. Paige doesn’t let go.

She feels her own eyelids growing heavy, the exhaustion of the day—and mostly the night—catching up to her. She doesn’t remember exactly when she drifts off, but the last thing she’s aware of is the warmth of Jo in her arms, the quiet sound of her breathing, and the hope that maybe things will feel a little better in the morning.

[crowsghosts]

Crow’s shrines were never elaborate, nor would they like it that way. All he needed was a simple, golden scale with whatever trinkets their worshippers thought were best to offer. Justice would answer their prayers.

And yet, for a hundred and fifty years, Crow left the prayers unanswered.

Their grief over the sudden death of two friends left the god shattered into pieces. All the prayers they had received were nothing more than whispers in the night, and even an outcry could not overpower the flood of Crow’s own tears. As the years past, the offerings slowly trickled down until Crow received nothing more than an old candy wrapper.

And yet, a young girl persisted in making offerings. At first, Justice didn’t pay much attention to the efforts, but turned his head out of curiosity as the girl grew older. Why was she doing this? Was anyone telling her that there wasn’t a point anymore? That the god had abandoned them?

Crow watched as with each passing year, the girl continued to bring trinkets to any one of his shrines without a prayer asking for their help.

And maybe this was the push that had gotten the god out of their rut and back into fighting tyrants, just as they always done before.

As more decades passed, Crow could hear the old prayers grow past the once-tiny whispers, answering each plea for help. The number of trinkets amassed from their shrine offerings slowly returned to its usual numbers, but he could distinguish the girl’s offerings from the rest. She didn’t miss a single year, either.

By the time the now elderly woman was reaching her end, she noticed someone knocking on her door, and opened it.

“May I help you, sir?” She asked warmly.

“No, no. I’m just briefly passing by, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course, dear. Have a seat.”

Crow slowly moved inside, observing the room around them until he spotted his shrine: the simple, golden scale, as the old lady placed a small chocolate in front of it.

“Don’t mind this. I’ve had this tradition since I was a little girl,” she explained, “I’ve been told only to gift to Justice’s shrine if I needed help from him, but I’m sure they don’t mind a normal offering.”

So that was why she left trinkets without a prayer. Crow tilted their head with mild curiosity and content.

“How did you find out about him? Didn’t they vanish for a while?”

“Oh, yes, that’s what everyone else kept saying!” The lady chuckled, “But even if he were gone forever, it still wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

There was a moment of silence from Crow. The god wasn’t expecting such an answer.

“… and what would you do if they were sitting here with you at this moment?”

“Oh, just treat him like any other guest! Why do you ask?”

“Well…”

Crow stood and took an object out of his pocket, revealing an old candy wrapper.

“I don’t know if this is enough proof to show that I am Justice, but I wanted to swing by and say thanks. I was in a rough spot when I noticed you were leaving offerings at my shrines.”

The god placed the wrapper back in his pocket before slowly clasping his hands around the old woman’s.

“From this moment forward, you and your family have my protection and blessing. No tyrant or bully can harm you as long as your bloodline lasts.”

The old lady stood in stunned silence, processing what she had just heard. From what she heard, Justice rarely, if ever, gave anyone his blessing, so to even be gifted it herself…

The woman simply smiled in gratitude.

“It’s an honour, sir.”

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

[written-and-readen]

The Odd Are Slim But Never Zero Part 3

Moze, Phainon, Sampo x fem!reader

Part 1 (Dan Heng, Luka, Blade), Part 2 (Jing Yuan, Sunday, Gallagher)

Summary: Someone walks in on you

Warnings: nsfw (18+), penetrative sex (Moze), cumming inside, semi-public (Moze, Phainon, Sampo), marking (Sampo), getting caught

a/n: With Amphoreus comes more men to write for. I would've posted this much later if it hadn't come out. Lord help me when Anaxa shows up.

Moze

You thought Moze was supposed to be stealthy. Him coming out of invisibility scares you on the daily. Him fucking you in a random Yaoqing alley in broad daylight is a hard contradiction to that.

Your back is pinned against a wall as his cock pistons in and out of your folds. Your pants and underwear have been long discarded on a nearby crate. His gloved hand is wrapped around your thigh to part your legs, giving it a squeeze occasionally. Not only is he more bold by making a move on you out here, but he’s tougher than usual. Your pussy clenches, trying to get a grip just like you are. You don’t want to admit that some of the best sex you’ve had happened in an alley, but that may be the case because you also really don’t want him to stop.

“Are you okay?” You say as you fight back a flood of moans unsuccessfully. Something must be up to bring about this.

“Failed again,” He growls in your ear. He must be talking about another one of his attempts to assassinate Feixiao. The Shadow Guard keeps trying despite not being successful yet, but it’s only natural he’d be frustrated over it once in a while. Maybe he just wants to feel like he’s doing a good job.

“Moze!” You whine when he hits a particularly sweet spot in your pussy, a reminder of how good of a job he’s currently doing. It’s embarrassing how quiet he is while you can barely keep your noises from spilling into his ears. You try to muffle them in his shoulder as your legs quiver beneath you.

“Where do you think he went?” A familiar woman’s voice comes from nearby. A mere glance in its direction leads your eyes to connect with Feixiao’s piercing blue ones. It’s only a moment before you’re averting your gaze, face now burning. Did she recognize you in those few seconds? Oh, who are you kidding? If she didn’t, she’d at least recognize her own assassin.

You’re quickly reminded of the position you’re in with another swift thrust of Moze’s hips. You wonder if he noticed the general, but he seems pretty unphased. With his keen senses, it’s more believable that he’s just acting like he didn’t notice. You’ll think it over later sometime when you’re not being railed against a wall. For now, you just let the impending orgasm ripple through your body as Moze fills you up with the product of his own.

“You okay?” Moze helps steady you after the fact, hands on your waist.

“Yeah. You should probably get back to Feixiao,” You reply, still wondering about that brief moment of eye contact.

“It’s fine,” Moze replies. Once you’re dressed again, he picks you up bridal style so you don’t have to stand on unsteady legs. “She’ll understand me taking care of you after that. I think she could tell how much it was for you.”

Shit. You hide your flushed face in Moze’s chest. It’s going to be a while before you want to face the general again.

Phainon

You wish you could say the goosebumps on your skin were due to the cool water of the bath, but it’s definitely a result of a certain Chrysos Heir’s gaze. You can practically feel how Phainon’s blue irises trail across your body as you sit in his lap. The water only just comes up to your hips, leaving plenty of you for him to admire.

You’ve only seen each other naked a few times before and just briefly, so you can’t say you don’t feel the same. His muscular frame draws your eyes as well, slowly but surely leading them downward until you hit the water’s surface.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You hope switching the subject will take your mind off the tension. “I thought this bath was only for the Chrysos Heirs.”

“Well, you’re the guest of a Chrysos Heir. I’m sure that’s enough.” It seems like a weak argument to you, but his hands slowly running up your sides has you gasping instead of protesting. Previously resting on your thighs under the surface of the bath, his hands are still cool as they roam your skin, leaving water droplets in their wake.

“Phainon…” He’s just moments away from reaching your breasts but stops upon hearing you murmur his name.

"Is something wrong? Do you want me to stop?" His eyes meet yours as his motions cease. You pause and find yourself shaking your head.

"It's just...new." You avert your gaze, but a hand on your jaw brings you right back to Phainon.

"I'll take it slow, okay?" The way his eyes soften reveals the truth behind his words.

"Okay." You nod before he brings you into a kiss.

The warmth of his lips moving against yours has you melting into him. The water ripples as you lean closer. Your arms go to rest on his shoulders, hands brushing through the snow white hair on the back of his neck. Simultaneously, you feel his touch dance around your collarbone, twirling patterns making their way lower and lower. Finally, he lands on the curve of your breast. At the same time you gasp and break the kiss, he smiles, eyes flickering to watch your reaction. The light pinch he gives your nipple shoots pleasure straight to your core.

As you process the new sensations, Phainon presses kiss along the same path his hand traveled. Down your neck, over your collarbone, ending right between your breasts. Your brain hardly registers it all with the way his hands also move lower. Sliding down your waist, running across your hips, crossing your thighs, and moving inward until—

"Phainon." Both of you look to see the Goldweaver herself. Instinctively, your arms cross over your chest before remembering that Aglaea sees through her web of golden threads. Oh.... embarassment burns through your body at the realization she probably saw everything that just occurred in the bath before even stepping foot here.

"You better not be sullying the water." Aglaea warns in that usual silky tone.

"Well then, I guess we better go somewhere more private." Phainon stands up, taking you with him as his hands hook under your butt to support you. Looking over his shoulder as he carries you away, you swear the faintest sly smile forms on Aglaea’s lips.

Sampo

"We should not be doing this here," You say through gritted teeth as your back hits the cold stone of a wall in Backwater Pass. Despite the way you hate how Sampo's always trying to get in your pants, there's also something you equally love about it. His emerald eyes go wide as he pleads with you to let him eat you out in the alley or whatever other scheme he's had on his mind. He's lucky desperation is a good look on him.

"Stop me at any time," He purrs against the skin of your neck with the confidence of knowing you won't. It seems you've folded one too many times. You're getting predictable. At the feeling of his teeth grazing across your skin before choosing a place to strike, you can't find it in yourself to care though. Your head lolls to the side, letting him do as he pleases.

As Sampo marks up your skin, his hands deftly undo the buttons of your shirt. He lifts your bra up to see how Belobog's chilly air has your nipples perking up. There's no hesitation in the way he takes a breast in each hand, squeezing the flesh as his mouth gets back to work.

“Sampo…” You moan right in his ear.

“Feels good, pretty girl?” Another moan falling from your lips is all he needs as response before taking it further. His thigh slots itself between your legs, and you eagerly grind down against it. From the stimulation on your neck, chest, and clit, it’s somehow too much yet not enough. The desire to have his cock filling you up slowly clouds your brain, but all a sudden it all stops.

“Sampo?” You whine, trying to regain your bearings to see why he stopped. Your brain starts to register voices, and when you look in their direction, you’re met with the Captain of the Silvermane Guards rounding the corner.

You can’t imagine what you look like right now. Clothes messily pushed out of the way so your chest is on full display and hickeys running down your neck. There’s little time to react before Sampo’s grabbing your hand and sprinting in the opposite direction with you in tow. You try your best to get your clothes somewhat back in order with your free hand as you run.

“We’re never doing this again!” You shout, hearing footsteps on your trail.

“That’s what you said last time, sweetheart.” Sampo gives you a knowing smirk. You hate that he’s right. And you hate that Gepard’s wide-eyed reaction to stumbling upon you maybe turned you on a little bit.

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK

you can’t wait to show your boyfriend the lingerie you bought — kinda nsfw

— drabble based on this ask !!

wc: 2.4k+

note: i’m so sorry it took me this long 🥲 but yay, it’s finally here!! wanted to keep this a little shorter, like 1.5k-ish words but i js couldn't help myself write a little more hehe— enjoy the silly, sexy moments <3 check the ask for warnings if you need them lolol love all of my owiu readers out there !! 🤍

ever since you started dating jungkook, life has felt... lighter.

it’s not that the stress is gone, there are still challenges ahead of you, but one thing that keeps you grounded is knowing your boyfriend will always be there for you.

like today, when he insisted on taking you out because you’ve been working so hard lately.

you’re out with jungkook and a group of your friends; yoongi, jimin, taehyung and his girlfriend hina, and jin with his wife da-eun. these are the people you’ve grown close to, thanks to jungkook encouraging you to meet them. you didn’t have many friends before, but now you do who you're thankful for.

and you’re especially grateful for hina and da-eun. hina, the same age as you, is a bundle of energy, while da-eun, a few years older, is a calming presence. even tho they're different than you, they still, just.. get you.

the day started at a museum; jin and yoongi’s idea. it was calm and peaceful, exactly what you needed.

jungkook stayed by your side the whole time, his arm draped around your shoulders or your waist, leaning in to whisper sweet things to you. and okay, maybe he sneaked you into an empty storage room for a heated makeout session, but that’s beside the point.

it was still peaceful.

next came the arcade, a suggestion from jimin and taehyung. while the guys, especially jungkook, went wild with the games, you and the others enjoyed watching. yoongi’s consistent losing streak provided endless laughs, and the chaos turned into pure fun.

when jungkook noticed that the guys had been dominating the day’s plans, he suggested letting the women choose the next stop. naturally, hina, da-eun, and you all agreed on shopping, much to the guys’ amused groans.

now, you’re at the mall, wandering through the shops. the energy of the place, with its bright displays and bustling crowd, somehow lifts your spirits.

“i literally don’t want anything,” jimin says, stifling a yawn.

“i might grab something,” taehyung adds, his eyes darting to the plushie section. you can’t help but think it’s for hina. she told you loves collecting them, even showed you her collection.

you, on the other hand, have just one plushie from childhood, but you get the appeal. plushies are adorable.

“i really wanna buy some cute clothes!” hina exclaims, her excitement contagious as taehyung pulls her close with a chuckle.

“me too,” da-eun says with a smile, glancing at jin, who nods in agreement.

“what about you, babe?” jungkook asks, looking down at you with that soft gaze of his.

“me three!” you grin, and the group laughs.

“well, let’s head to the women’s section i gues—” jimin begins, but hina cuts him off sharply.

“men are not allowed.”

the guys blink in confusion.

“huh?” they say in unison.

“why can’t we come? it’s just a clothes section,” taehyung protests, crossing his arms.

“because we’re having girls’ time, right?” hina says, looking to you and da-eun for backup.

“absolutely,” da-eun replies without hesitation.

you nod with a smile.

“but i thought i could help pick something for—” jungkook starts, his hand still on your waist, but da-eun interrupts him.

“girls’ time!” she declares, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards her. jungkook is left standing there, sulking like a kid whose toy has been taken away.

“i’m okay with that,” yoongi says, almost like a deadpan. “plus, i need to sit down. my legs are killing me.”

“same here. you girls enjoy,” jin adds, planting a kiss on da-eun’s forehead.

“all right, grandpas, let’s find you a bench,” jimin says with an eye roll, leading yoongi and jin away. taehyung pauses to kiss hina on the cheek and whispering ‘have fun’ before following them.

jungkook stays rooted in place, looking like he’s waiting for something.

you cup his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “see you later, babe.”

he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out just a bit, and you chuckle before turning to join the girls. behind you, jungkook slowly trails after the guys, shaking his head with a smile.

now it’s just you, hina, and da-eun in the women’s section, sifting through racks of clothes and chatting about everything.

“i am so glad we can take our time now and let the boys wait. i don’t even like museums,” hina huffs, sorting through a pile of clothes alongside you and da-eun.

you and da-eun chuckle, shaking your heads.

“look, this is cute. it matches your aesthetic too!” you say, holding up a light pink mini dress.

“and it looks like it would fit you perfectly,” da-eun adds with a smile.

hina’s eyes light up as she takes the dress. “i’m gonna try this on right now!” she squeals, rushing off which makes you both smile.

you and da-eun continue browsing. she picks out a few outfits while you grab some comfy clothes and a few dresses. as you glance around, your eyes land on the lingerie section nearby.

one particular set catches your attention; a lacy, red, and very explicit set that makes your cheeks warm just thinking about it. it’s the kind of thing you’d love to wear for jungkook.

you blink, trying to shake the thought, but da-eun’s voice from behind startles you. “you should buy it.”

you flinch a little and chuckle nervously. “what? no, i was just looking.”

da-eun smiles knowingly. “do you not like it?”

you look at it again and you sigh, giving in. “i love it,” you admit.

before she can respond, hina comes bounding back with the pink dress in her hands, her face glowing. “you guys were right, it fits perfectly, and i love ittt!”

you and da-eun smile at her.

“i sent a pic to tae, and he’s already drooling.” she chuckles before continuing, “what about you, da-eun? are you gonna get that pretty, sexy dress you were looking at?” hina teases with a laugh.

“obviously!” da-eun says with a grin. then both of them turn their attention to you.

“what about you, ___?” hina asks excitedly. “did you pick anything... spicyy?”

you glance awkwardly at da-eun, who grins mischievously and subtly points hina towards the lingerie display. hina gasps dramatically, her eyes widening.

“that is so fucking hot! oh my god, you should totally get that, ___. please, please, please!” hina exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes.

you laugh, hiding your face in your hands, a little flustered.

“i’m getting that one.”

“oh my gosh, i missed food!” jimin gasps dramatically, stuffing a bite into his mouth.

the eight of you are seated in a cozy restaurant, wrapping up the day with dinner after hours of fun. the table is alive with chatter and laughter, everyone enjoying their meals. the couples sit side by side, exchanging sweet moments, which jimin predictably calls out.

“ugh, get a room, all of you!” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“honestly, yes, get a fucking room. you’re all just rubbing it in that i’m single,” yoongi adds with a dry chuckle, making everyone laugh.

you’re beside jungkook, his hand intertwined with yours under the table. his thumb lazily rubs soft circles on your skin while he chats with yoongi about something. you’re barely paying attention to their conversation because all you can think about is how ridiculously fucking good he looks right now.

he’s not even trying, just sitting there in a simple shirt and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and yet he’s got your mind wandering to... other things.

speaking of other things, you think about the clothes you bought earlier, the lingerie and a few silky nightdresses that were too beautiful to resist. the thought of showing them to him makes your heart race.

gently, you slip your hand out of his hold and place it on his thigh. his conversation falters as he glances at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s silently asking, ‘what’s wrong?'

you shake your head, smiling softly. his lips curve into a small, confused smile, but he goes back to talking.

you wait for the right moment, checking to make sure no one’s paying attention, and then let your hand slide a little higher.

that gets his full attention.

his gaze snaps to your hand, now dangerously close to a place you know will drive him insane. his jaw tightens, and you can see the realization in his eyes— he knows exactly what you’re doing.

leaning in, he brings his lips close to your ear, his voice low and deep. “if you keep doing that, i might have to take you home right now.”

you smile teasingly, leaning closer to whisper, “what are you talking about, jeon? i’m doing nothing.” your hand retreats, as if you’re completely innocent, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

you pick up the drink infront of you, sipping on it with a teasing smile.

he shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips, but you can tell he’s trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head— thoughts about exactly what he wants to do to you later.

. . .

soon, the evening winds down, and everyone begins saying their goodbyes.

“this was fun. we should do this more often,” taehyung says, and everyone nods in agreement.

as you’re saying goodbye to hina and da-eun, you notice the way they giggle at you, their eyes glinting with... mischief. you smile knowingly, already guessing what’s on their minds.

“what? what’s going on?” jin asks, looking at da-eun curiously.

she simply smiles at him and says, “just girlie things.”

jin frowns slightly, still confused, but lets it go with a soft laugh.

“okay then, let's go home.”

the door barely shuts behind you before jungkook has you pressed against it, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so desperate it leaves you breathless. his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his body presses against yours.

you kiss him back with equal intensity, your hands wrapping around his neck pulling him down, but then you pull away slightly, resting your forehead against his.

“wait,” you whisper, your breathing uneven.

“wait?” his voice is low, and he looks at you like he’s already losing his patience.

you nod, smiling as you try to calm your racing heart. “i want to show you the clothes i bought today.”

he groans, throwing his head bacm dramatically. “right now?”

“you’ll like it, i promise.” you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom, pushing him gently onto the bed

“stay here,” you instruct, pointing at him before disappearing into the closet

he watches you go, running a hand through his hair, still trying to cool down.

a few moments later, you step out wearing a long, dark purple dress that hugs your body in all the right places. the fabric flows down gracefully, and the color makes your skin glow.

jungkook’s eyes widen slightly, his eyes raking over you with awe. “you look... fuck.. wow. so pretty.”

you twirl slightly, letting the fabric swish around you. “you like it?”

“baby, you look so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, sitting up straighter.

smiling, you step back into the closet and reappear moments later in another dress— this time, it’s a bit shorter, hitting just above your knees, with a soft floral design. jungkook grins, biting his lip as he watches you show it off.

“okay, this one’s cute,” he says, his eyes never leaving you.

you keep going, the dresses getting shorter and more... bold. when you step out in a sleek, silky black mini nightdress that barely reaches mid-thigh, jungkook groans, leaning back on his hands like he’s trying to restrain himself.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses, his voice low and rough, his eyes locked onto you like you’re the only thing that matters.

“what?” you ask innocently, moving a little, the skirt of your dress swishing just enough to tease him.

he watches you, his gaze following your every move, filled with love— and something much darker, much hungrier. “do a little twirl for me, baby,” he says, his voice dropping even lower.

you smirk and twirl, biting your lip when you see the way his jaw tightens.

“are you done yet?” he finally asks, his tone laced with desperation. “because if i don’t touch you soon, i might fucking lose my mind.”

you laugh softly, walking over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “one more, please?”

he grabs your waist in an instant, pulling you close until you’re straddling his lap, his warm hands settling on your hips. “fine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, “but only after you give me a kiss.”

you tilt your head down, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft but full of promise. after a few seconds, you pull back, grinning. “you’re gonna love this,” you whisper before slipping off his lap and disappearing into the closet again.

jungkook leans back on the bed, exhaling, trying to control himself. but when you don’t return right away, he shifts impatiently, standing up to pace the room.

when you finally walk out, he’s stops mid-step. he freezes, his eyes widening as they take you in.

you’re wearing the red lingerie set, the delicate lace barely there, with rope-like straps wrapping around your body. small red heart-shaped details covering the parts he really wants to see right now.

he stares at you, his lips parting slightly, his breath catching in his throat.

“oh.. fuck.” he mutters, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

you walk towards him slowly, swaying your hips just a little. “what do you think babe?”

he doesn’t answer right away, too busy drinking in the sight of you. when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “i think i just died and went to heaven.”

you stop in front of him, chuckling softly as your fingers trailing up his chest. “i told you you’d love it.”

“you’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes, his hands coming up to rest on your hips, his grip on you firm as if he’s trying to stop himself from losing control. “c'mere”

you smile, letting him pull you closer.

“all this for me?” he asks, his voice low and raspy as his hands trail down to your ass, gripping the soft flesh in his large hands, pulling you even closer.

“all for you,” you whisper, your lips barely hovering over his, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.

that’s all it takes for him to snap. his lips crash into yours fiercely.

and this time, there’s no holding back.

a/n: ...wish i can show yall the lingerie pic but idk if it's allowed habahabaohw

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @minaateez @myjungkookthighs

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[transformers-spike]

(Not a request)

I’ve been like honestly thinking, what would certain bots call their little human partners? Like I could imagine TFA megs being “my darling” but like at the same time I don’t. Just a random ramble I hope you could help me out here bc it’s been on my mind for a while🥲

I've been discussing this question with @drunkeninlovesailor this morning and we've brainstormed a bunch - so keep in mind we've also come up with a bit of extra worldbuilding (since we don't always vibe with official sources) Honestly, it depends on how well a bot is acquainted with/willing to use human terms. TFA Megatron for example would only use "my darling" if he knows it terribly flusters the human. He obviously looks down on humanity (and this includes everyone but his human - whom he still looks down upon to a degree but shhhhh). If his planet's terms don't have the same impact, then "darling" it is. But if he were to use a Cybertronian term, he would go for "my spark" (meaning "person I cannot live without"). TFP Megatron always goes for something that's a thin line between affectionate and demeaning. Things like "little one" where you're really questioning if he views you as someone he loves or a glorified pet. To be fair he's weird with everyone - any affection he has is mixed with murderous intent. TFP Optimus would call you something that shows his respect and appreciation for you. Not big on nicknames, but I'm sure you can get him to adopt something - be it Cybertronian or human lingo TFP Bulkhead and Breakdown are well-acquainted with human media (thanks to Miko and Knock Out) - but the nicknames they choose are either obscure references or sickeningly sweet to a point it gets ridiculous. Are they aware of this? Mostly Bulkhead - Breakdown would call you cotton candy with a straight face because it's sweet so it must be affectionate, right? TFP Ratchet would refer to you as his associate and later friend until he finally figures out his feelings and admits to himself he's been pining for so long it's starting to take a toll on him. Then he'll start calling his human "my spark" in private, because he's old as balls. But also "sweetspark" if he's feeling playful. Although he's willing to adopt some human terms as well and lovingly mock you by using the most grotesquely cute nicknames when you're alone. TFP Starscream? Absolute disaster. He tries so hard but he's too self-aware about how weird it sounds to call you anything affectionate. Usually everything he uses sounds demeaning even if he starts them with "my" - ie: my fleshbag. Unless you're in private and he's feeling particularly generous, at which point he's going to see if he can use some of the human lingo he learned while scouring the internet. He's testing them out to see which ones work - this can either make or break your boner. He's trying to seduce you not call you his "honey bear" TFP Smokescreen is a virgin who's never been with anyone before (you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands) so he's navigating the land of pet names with even less experience. Don't let him use the internet though because he'll probably end up calling you his bitch and see nothing wrong with that. Cybertronian terms tend to be easier. He says sweetspark and acts smooth to impress you, but all it takes is a sultry voice and his entire system needs to reboot. TFP Knock Out has a good grip of human lingo and is the best at mixing human and Cybertronian nicknames. He can easily switch between sweetspark and love - my spark and darling. Heck if he wants to be a smug bitch he'll call you kid/kiddo by saying Newspark.

[carasspice]

I'd been invited over to an old college friend's new house along with two other semi close friends if you can have such a thing. I guess I'd been there for maybe forty minutes with Jason happily chatting along about work, homes and so on when I asked where his fiancée was as I'd expected the two of them to be present along with the other two who hadn't turned up yet.

His face was almost ashen as he took a ring from his pocket, held it in the palm of his hand and dissolved into tears.

"She's gone Wendy, two days ago we had a chat followed by one hell of an argument and she said she couldn't live with me any longer. We only bought this place a few months ago, I spent a fortune decorating it as she wanted and she walked out. What do I do? I can't afford to pay for this on my own and she wants her half back as soon as it's sold."

"I knew something was wrong when you opened the door but never imagined, oh fuck it, I'm so sorry Jason, I thought you two were so happy together."

"So did I, how wrong can you be but I don't know what to do."

I had my arms around him with his head on my shoulder for a while before I noticed his hand stroking up and down my side. Maybe I was stupid or out of order but I took that hand and placed him on my breast. As soon as I'd done it I realised that I was probably as surprised as he was and even more so when he kissed me and his hand settled on my thigh.

"Suspenders Wendy?" he queried just as I wiped his tears away with my thumb.

"Always Jason, tights are functional for work or whatever, any other time I go for stockings."

"That's good, I like stockings." he replied rather nervously but his fingers appeared to like following the outline of the suspender clasps on my leg. I looked at his face and streaks of those tears and my brain jumped into one of those moments when you can't tell if you're being stupid or whatever.

"Listen Jason, why are we wasting time? Don't be angry with me but would you like to take me to bed? I suspect you might and I'd like the same, what do you think? You need a life after ... what was her name? Anyhow, I can fuck as well as she could most likely."

"Her name? I forget but we shouldn't, should we, could we?"

"Why not? She's gone and won't be back. You're single and so am I, I'm happy to share your bed and if you are then ... tell you what, give me ten minutes, take the champagne to your bedroom and I'll join you. Allow me to show you what this gal has to offer and I promise not to walk out in the next hour or two."

My dress was hanging behind the bathroom door as I gave my teeth a swift clean with my fingertip. I checked the mirror and tried to make my hair look a little more attractive or even sexy, took a little make-up from my bag and immediately put it back. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment and told myself there was no going back but maybe I wasn't looking for a way to go back. I should have checked before stepping into the bathroom but I only discovered the correct bedroom after looking into two others.

"Wow, now that is some bed. Am I okay Jason? I don't want to disappoint you and more importantly are you okay with me being here. I left my dress ... I'm talking too much, right?"

He smiled, shook his head and then nodded whatever those movements meant, pulled down the bed clothes and held out his hand.

"You look sensational Wendy, turn around and ... how many straps do you have there?"

"No idea Jason, you'll have to check them out and why are you wearing boxers? I never wear anything in bed for very long and always sleep in the buff. Did you remember her name yet?"

"The boxers can go and the name will be on the calendar somewhere."

"Hey, I'll deal with the boxers, you do whatever you like with the lingerie. I'm not a shy girl Jason. Let's look at this as your first step in your new life without whatever her name was ... was and not is as she's gone."

"You do talk too much Wendy, I need to check out those straps and you can ... mmmmmm ."

I never allowed him to say another word as I tugged those boxers away, his left hand was inside the back of my thong while his right pulled my bra up and over my boobs.

"Unfasten the thing Jason, get rid of it all, I love naked and I'm staying the night, okay?"

"I think so, yes Wendy, absolutely." he replied as my bra strap was unfastened first with the one at my waist and one just above my hips being twanged and unfastened."

"Don't forget the straps to my stockings Jason."

"I'm leaving those but this thong has to go and then I'll refasten the belt."

"Oh okay, funny how guys love stockings and suspenders, did you remember her name yet?" I teased. "So how do you plan to get the thong out of your way?"

"Bugger, I hadn't worked that bit out, I need to unfasten one stocking don't I?"

"Forget it, just get me naked and fuck me. Oh hell, you have no idea how much I wanted you to fuck me back at uni, but you were with the nameless one."

Within seconds my belt and thong were stripped down my legs taking my stockings with with them and just as all was stuck around my ankles his face plunged to my muff with his nose and mouth swiping and twisting from side to side, every which way there was. I was in hysterics by the time his rather lovely cock slid inside me while my feet tried to get free from at least one leg's encumbrances.

"Fuck me harder you college boy."

"Yes Miss Wendy."

So our friendship was well and truly cemented about seven times that evening and during the night plus another two after a breakfast break.

Jason was in the bathroom when I answered a call for him only to discover it was the ex. "Oh good morning Alice, I hear you two split up and ... What was that? Okay so yes I am in his bed and yes I stayed the night as his fiancée fucked off and left him in tears, yes I fucked him for hours and yes I will fuck him again once he's finished in the bathroom. I don't give a shit if my language offends you, I fucked him Alice and not the other way round. I've wanted to fuck with him since our second week at uni so you can blame me as much as you like but not Jason. Actually, you can blame yourself, did you want something?"

"How much, no chance you bitch?" I exclaimed as she demanded a fortune yet couldn't be bothered to speak to Jason. "You must be in fucking cloud cuckoo land, I know how much this would sell for and I can imagine how much the mortgage is, you'll get twenty quid after legal fees and not much more."

We had a few more words before I slammed the phone down.

"Hey Jason, Alice is on her way round to empty the wardrobe unless you want me to dump her things on the drive. I'm going nowhere and if the evil bitch wants a fight I'll give her one."

"No, it's not your fight Wendy."

"Oh I think it is now, I just told her she'll get twenty quid from the sale if she's lucky and that I fucked you about fifty times, shall we make it fifty-one before she gets here?"

xxxx