#and that when you start doing it it spirals out of control so fast

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ stepdad(dy)!art

TW: smut MDNI - p in v, not proofread, so so much swearing, so much dirty talk oops, fauxcest/stepcest

word count: 2301

¡! ❞! a/n aka post-nut clarity : yikes! i am down BAD

“where the fuck have you been?” art's voice cut through the empty front foyer, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed as you stumble through the front door.

just a few years ago, art was nothing but a familiar face in tennis circles, your mom’s high-profile client from her days as a sports agent. you remembered watching his matches on tv when you were younger. hearing his name murmured around the house—art donaldson, the untouchable tennis star and his wife, tashi. but that marriage had fallen apart, fast. 

and then one day, you came home to find him at the dinner table, leaning back in his chair like he’d always belonged there. they were dating, your mom had said, not hiding the glint of satisfaction in her eyes as if she’d snagged the catch of the century. you never asked how it started, only watched as art slowly slipped from the screen into your everyday life.

art liked it—a family that wasn’t a media-fueled whirlwind, even if the kid was closer to his age than to being an actual child. 

the past few years had gone smoothly enough. art had settled into this new life, used to the late nights your mom spent at the office . . . and then you turned 18. and you were a rebellious mess of late nights and tight dresses and barely concealed fluttery eyelashes.  

whatever you were doing — if you meant to or not, was working. you were turning heads, catching eyes. and art’s mind had begun to shift as well. darken. 

he had begun to become infected by this feeling, creeping under his skin like poison. it bloomed inside him, a constant, gnawing need that he hated himself for. his thoughts spiraled, to you, to your body, to the way your mouth moved when you smiled, when you spoke. worst of all, the way the word daddy slipped from your lips effortlessly, so innocently.

“you reek. are you drunk?”  

you shake your head ever so slightly as you stumble towards the couch. "no, daddy, don't be ridiculous," you giggled, your words slurring. you adjust up the hem of your sleeveless dress as you spread on the couch, hair falling into your face. "i'm . . . tipsy at best."

art clenches his jaw at the sound of that forbidden word on your lips. his heart pounds in his chest, and he feels it low in his stomach, a jolt of heat straight to his groin.

he knows this is wrong, knows he shouldn't be picturing all the filthy things he wants to do to you, sprawled on the couch under him. "tipsy, my ass. who were you with?" he managed to choke out. 

you roll your eyes as you look up at him. "my friend sierra. went to a party." you lick your lips slowly, foot reaching out to graze against his leg. "my neck hurts from looking up at you, daddy. si'down." 

fuck, what are you doing? trying to drive him crazy? it's working. his cock twitches traitorously in his pants, already starting to stiffen at your casual touch. his body moves before his brain can catch up, sinking down onto the cushion beside you. "there. happy now?" he tries to keep his tone gruff, unaffected. 

you nod slightly, a small smirk tugging at your lips before you lean back with a pout, your eyes heavy. "so . . . what're you gonna do? hm? ground me?" you rest your legs across his lap.

it takes every ounce of his self-control not to reach out and touch you. all he can think how soft your skin must feel, how you would taste if he leaned in and ran his tongue along your inner thigh. his hands clench into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. "maybe I should call your mother. let her deal with you. this is ridiculous. "

but even as the words leave his mouth, he knows he won't do it. knows he'll take the fall for you, like always. because despite his better judgment, despite the sickness churning in his gut at his own twisted desires — he can't bear the thought of disappointing you. 

you just giggled at his scolding, apparently too far gone to care. you shift on the cushions, arch your back slightly. making the flimsy sundress ride up even higher on your thighs, giving art a peek of red lace that he should not be seeing. art swallowed hard, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

 the room is silent for a few moments, art’s confrontation long dissipated. 

“mom’s gone a lot, hm?” your slurred, shaky voice snaps him out of his daze. you shift closer to him, foot brushing right against his crotch. 

art inhales sharply, his cock twitching as your foot grazes his straining erection. a flicker of panic passes over his face before he could hide it. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively, crossing his arms, trying to steady himself.

you just smirk up at him, eyes glinting mischievously even through the drunken haze. "oh c'mon, daddy, you know exactly what i mean." you draw out the forbidden word, letting it hang in the charged air between them. lick your lips. bat your lashes oh so innocently. "y'know, 's just that she’s never around anymore. mus' get real lonely for you.”

“don’t . . .” he choked. art dragged a hand over his face, trying to collect himself. "just go to bed," he stammered wearily, unable to meet your eyes. "we'll talk more about this in the morning when you're sober."

but you don’t listen, continue on as if he never said anything — lips curling into a knowing smirk. "mm, poor daddy," you murmur, a soft, taunting lilt to your voice. "don’t get much action, i’m sure."  

art exhales sharply, his eyes flicking to yours, then quickly away. “you need to go to bed.”

you scoot closer, your legs brushing against his. "i don’t want to sleep," you murmur, leaning in just enough for him to feel your breath against his ear. "maybe i want some attention. i know you do." 

“fuck,” he croaked. “stop.”

but you just smile up at him. lean in just a little. "must be hard, having so much to . . . hold in,” you whisper, your fingers trailing lazily along the edge of his sleeve. 

“please," he rasped. "we can't. i'm your father, for fuck's sake.” the words sounded weak even to his own ears. his resistance was crumbling by the second, defenses worn down by months of pent-up lust and longing. 

“not really.”

"go to bed," he repeats. this time his voice is barely more than a whimper.

"yeah, i'll go to bed . . .  but i’ll be thinking about you."

art's eyes slid shut as your fingers worked their way beneath the hem of his shirt, nails raking lightly over his abs. a low groan escaped him, the sound foreign to his own ears. he was in so deep, drowning in a sea of forbidden lust. 

“mhm, i’ll be thinking about you, daddy. are you gon’ make me take care of this myself?”  

art's breath hitched as your fingers trailed lower, brushing against the waistband of his jeans. his hips jerked involuntarily, aching for more contact despite the voice in the back of his head screaming at him to stop this madness. 

you pressed a kiss to his cheek, slow, wet. he wants to turn his head, to capture your lips with his own. to claim you, to ruin you for any other man. but he can't. he shouldn't. 

"please," he begs, but he's not even sure what he's asking for anymore. for you to stop? or for you to keep going, to grind against him until he explodes?

"i think you want this jus’ as badly as i do, huh?" your hand slid lower, brushing over the bulge straining against his zipper. "so why don't you stop fighting and just give in?"

and that's when art's careful control shattered. the last thread snapped, and a ragged curse tore from his throat as his hands shot out, grabbing your hips and hauling you onto his lap. capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, he scrabbles at your dress, rips it down.

he kisses you like a drowning man gasping for air, devouring you, pouring all his pent-up desire into the heated embrace. his fingers tangled in you hair, tugging roughly as he angled your head to deepen the kiss. you moan into his mouth, your own hands frantically roaming his chest and shoulders. art feels you grinding against him, the heat searing him even through his clothes.

he broke away from her lips to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. down the column of her throat. "fuck, you drive me crazy," he growled against your skin, nipping at your pulse point.

your head lolls back, a wanton moan spilling from your lips. "please," you whimper, fingers scrabbling at his shirt. "i need you so bad."

art's mouth latched onto a pebbled nipple, sucking and biting as he ground his aching cock against you. his hands found your mouth, and he shoved a finger in. your tongue instinctively curling around the digits, lapping at them greedily. you mewled around his fingers, the sound muffled and desperate as arched into him, your own hands frantically working to undo his belt and zipper. art hissed in pleasure as your freed his throbbing member, stroking him slowly while he continued to ravish your chest. " 'm gonna fuck you so good." his hips rock into your hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. "i'm going to make you mine," he growls, fingers delving into your panties to stroke your slick folds. "gon' — fuck. gonna stretch this pretty pussy out. yeah? . . . yeah, 's that what you want?"

it's filthy, degrading, everything he knows he shouldn't want. but god help him, he can't stop. you nod desperately as you groan into his touch, grip on his dick loosening for a second when he teases your entrance with a finger. another light brush and he lifts his hand to your mouth, slipping it back inside between your lips before scooching back. pressing his cock to your entrance through your lacy panties. "pl — please," you cry, eyes wide and watery. "fuck me, please."

art groans, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. the heat of you seeps through the lacy fabric, making him throb with need. he rubs his tip against the practically see-through fabric, soaked through with arousal. relishes your needy, breathy moans. he hooks his fingers around your panties and rips them away, baring you completely to his hungry gaze. "look at you," he rasps, drinking in the sight of you spread out beneath him, glistening. ready. "so fucking perfect. fuck — 'm gonna . . . i'm gon' wreck this pussy, baby. make it all mine, yeah?" he slaps his length against your clit, smirking crookedly at the way you whimper. "make you forget about all those other — other little boys, yeah?"

and with that, he notches the head of his dick against your entrance and surges forward, burying himself balls-deep in your tight, slick pussy. you cry out, back arching off the couch as he fills you. stretches you, claims you.

he sets a punishing pace, fucking into you like a man possessed. the wet slap of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your pornographic moans and his grunts of pleasure "fuckkk," you whine into him languidly, hands scrabbling against his thick arms. "fuck, daddy. you're — you're so fucking big."

he leans down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue. swallows your cries of ecstasy as he pounds into you. he grunts, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "you like this, huh? like daddy's big . . . fuck — big cock splitting you open, hm?"

you nod with a sob, thighs shaking at the relentless snapping of his hips into yours. his fingers find your clit, rubbing mercilessly. pushing you closer to the edge with every touch.

"gonna cum," he warns breathlessly, hips stuttering. "gon' fill your cunt up, baby. breed this pussy."

he leans down to bite at your neck, sucking dark bruises into your skin. marking you as his territory.

"cum for me, baby," he demands, voice strained with impending release. "milk — milk me fuckin' dry."

the filthy words send you over the edge, your walls clamping down on him like a vice. you cum with a scream, convulsing around his shaft as he empties himself inside you with a loud moan.

he collapses on top of you, both of you panting and sated. for a long moment, he just holds you, nuzzling into your neck. you smile at him like you'd just won the lottery, legs wrapping around his hips.

"am i better than mom?" you whispered into his ear.

he lets out a real, honest-to-god bark of a laugh. "jesus christ," he pants. "you're fucking . . . you're amazing. fucking intense."

understatement of the century. he just fucked his stepdaughter senseless, filled her with his babies, and he's already craving more. fuck, he's in deep. so fucking deep. literally and figuratively.

¡! ❞ © niya-writesshit 2024

[junglejim4322]

Wtf is wrong with my brain that my first instinct when someone is genuinely incompetent is to offer to do things they should very well know how to do for them I want to beat my codependency brain to death with a hammer

[amandabbbbb]

summary: maybank!reader who’s a coke addict and lies to rafe about her addiction until he finds out and gets soo mad

tw: drug abuse, cocaine, rafe hits barry, rafes mean to reader

word count: 409

“baby, no, i’m not letting you fucking leave again,” rafe yelled as you yanked yourself out of his tight grip and ran out the door of tannyhill.

“i’ll be back later tonight. you can trust me. i just gotta pick up for my dad.”

you never wanted to lie to rafe or be involved in drugs, but having a father who was addicted to them didn’t help. you started picking up drugs for your father luke when you were 14, but now at 19 your addiction had spiraled into something darker, something you couldn’t control.

pedaling your bike to the other side of the island, you finally arrived at barry’s, your dealer. he always gave you the best drugs and didn’t charge you much in exchange for letting him flirt with you. “that has to be the best coke you’ve ever got, barry. shit,” you exclaimed as you finished the line of coke that he lined up for you. “you know me, sweetheart. i’d never give you bad drugs, would i, beautiful?”

as the drug rushed through your body, you thought to yourself that your boyfriend rafe would never even touch drugs. he was always just trying to please his dad. he would break up with you if he ever found out about your addiction. rafe just thought of you as the prettiest pogue, so innocent, timid, and shy. he always wanted to protect you.

a couple of hours after you left tannyhill, rafe walked in as you took that line with barry, picking up coke for himself and his friends to do at the kook party tonight. he would never let you see him do drugs; he played this character needing you to look up to him and never see him as a bad guy. but when he saw you throw your head back, wiping the white powder off your nose and hearing barry call you beautiful, he filled with rage.

“y/n, what the fuck are you doing?” rafe yelled. you stood up as fast as you could, his voice ringing in your ears. “get in the fuckin car.”

he slammed the car door and drove off at a speed you never felt his truck go before. you were shaking as you noticed blood splattered on his knuckles.

rafe’s lip curled into a sneer, his disbelief evident in the way he looked at you. “you’re pathetic,” he spat out, his words like a knife to your heart. “you’re just like him, aren’t you? your father. a worthless junkie.”

tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to process his words, the pain of his words cutting deeper than you thought possible.

“i gave you everything, y/n. i gave you a better life, and this is how you repay me? by throwing it all away for some fuckin drugs?” rafe screamed, his voice cracking.

“i-i’m so sorry rafe, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “i never wanted to hurt you. i just… i don’t know how to stop.”

your words made him feel guilty. as he looked at your glistening eyes and shaking hands, all he could say was, “just stop. stop doing the drugs, baby,” rafe whispered. he saw his own reflection in your tear-streaked face and realized he didn’t know how to help you, given his own struggles with drugs. all he could mutter out was, “i’m sorry.”

[gilbertscurls]

can you do one of matt thinking reader is cheating and they get into a bad argument and dont speak for a couple days but than he apologizes

hope you like it!! <3

Complicated ➵ Matt Sturniolo

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through as you stood on opposite sides of the room, Matt pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His usually calm demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced with a storm brewing in his eyes, each step filled with frustration.

“You think I don’t see it?” His voice cracked, like he was struggling to keep himself together, the edge in his tone unfamiliar, biting. “All those times you’ve been distant? On your phone constantly? Don’t lie to me, I’m not an idiot.”

Your heart raced in your chest, his words hitting you harder than you expected. You blinked back tears, disbelief washing over you. Matt’s accusations felt like daggers, cutting through the trust you had built together. “What are you even talking about?” You asked, voice shaking as you tried to keep your composure. “I haven’t done anything. Why are you suddenly so paranoid?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, eyes narrowing at you. “Suddenly? It’s been building for weeks, and you know it. You’ve been pulling away, and I see the way you’ve been texting someone else. You think I’m blind?”

It hit you then — the misplaced jealousy, the suspicion. He had been watching you, second-guessing your every move, twisting them into something they weren’t. You could feel the anger rising in your chest, mixing with the hurt, your hands trembling by your sides.

“Matt,” you started, your voice growing firmer, “I’m not cheating on you. I don’t know where this is coming from, but this is insane. I would never do that to you.”

He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours, desperation swirling in them. “Then what is it, huh? Why have you been acting so weird? Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

You could see the cracks beneath his anger, the insecurity gnawing at him, but his accusations were too much. The very thought that he believed you would betray him like that stung deeply, and it made you question everything.

“Because we’ve both been busy, Matt. College, your channel, life — it’s all happening so fast. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. You know me better than this.”

He looked down, clenching his fists as if he was trying to get a grip on himself. “I just— I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” he muttered, his voice finally softening, but the damage was already done. The weight of the argument settled heavily in the space between you, a canyon that felt too wide to cross.

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered, the pain evident in your voice, “but if you keep pushing me away with these accusations, maybe you will.”

That hit him hard. He turned, walking to the window, his back to you, shoulders tense. The silence was suffocating, the words unsaid hanging in the air like thick smoke. You stood there, feeling the weight of his doubt pressing down on you, wondering how things had spiraled out of control so quickly.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” you said after what felt like an eternity, grabbing your coat. The coldness in your tone was unfamiliar even to yourself, but you couldn’t help it. The hurt was too raw. “When you’re ready to actually listen to me, you know where to find me.”

Without waiting for a response, you walked out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. But the quiet sound felt like a deafening finality, like a door slamming on everything you’d built together.

The days that followed felt like an eternity. Neither of you reached out, both too stubborn, too hurt. You missed him — every part of you missed him — but you couldn’t be the one to break first, not when he was the one who doubted you. The silence between you stretched into every part of your day, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

You tried to focus on school, on anything but him, but his absence was like a gaping wound that refused to heal. You kept replaying the fight in your head, wondering where it all went wrong, how everything had unraveled so quickly.

Three days later, you heard a knock at your door. Your heart leaped into your throat, hoping it was Matt. You opened it to find him standing there, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there was a sadness about him that made your heart ache.

“I—” he started, but his voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat before trying again. “I’m so sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice almost broke you. You’d imagined this moment over and over, but now that it was here, you weren’t sure what to say. You stood there, frozen, as he took a tentative step closer.

“I messed up,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I know I did. I let my fears get the better of me, and I said things I shouldn’t have. I should’ve trusted you… I do trust you. I just— I was scared. Scared that you’d leave, that I wasn’t enough.”

The vulnerability in his words made you soften, the anger and hurt slowly ebbing away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of sadness for him. For both of you.

“Matt…” You finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, “I never wanted to hurt you, but you can’t keep doubting me like that. We can’t keep going like this.”

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours, filled with regret. “I know. I swear, I’ll never doubt you again. I’ll work on it, I promise.” He took another step closer, his hand hesitating before reaching out to you. “Please, just give me another chance. I don’t want to lose you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the remorse, the desperation, the love — all of it written so clearly on his face. And despite everything, despite the pain and the fight, you still loved him. Maybe that was enough to try again.

Slowly, you took his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers against yours. “We have to communicate better, Matt. We can’t keep hurting each other like this.”

“I know.” He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find some reassurance that everything would be okay. “I’ll do better. I swear.”

You stood there for a moment, letting the tension melt away, replaced by a tentative hope. There was still a lot to work through, still wounds to heal, but as you looked at him, you knew that you were both willing to try. And maybe that was enough.

“I love you,” you whispered, and you saw the relief wash over his face.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274

[honoredalone]

pretty when you cry

live laugh lana del rey.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ

all the pretty stars shine for you my love, am i that girl, that you dream of?

he’s dreamed of this, you above him, sitting on his long, hard cock. warm walls suffocating him, making him dizzy, his vision blurring.

“too big, ‘s too much.” you’re whining, shifting your position in his lap to adjust to his large length. he’s mesmerized by you. not just the way you take him, but by the way you praise him, the way you hold him, the way you kiss him and just the way you look at him. it has him in a chokehold. that being said when you’re riding him you have no ounce of control. he’ll guide your hips, bouncing you up and down, thrusting when he grows inpatient, anything.

“just a little more.” he rasps, lifting his hips, pushing himself in further, feet pushed into the plush mattress. “my good fucking girl, you’re so good to me.” he laughs when you whimper, the head of his cock brushing your spot making you rock your hips desperately attempting to cause some friction. “ah ah ah. gotta be patient pretty.” he grasps your hips tightly, the pressure making you let out a sob.

“i wanna- just.. please.” you said exasperated, fed up with his teasing. his hold on your hips becoming softer, his thumbs massaging your hips. his eyes admiring your body. marks covering your skin, red flush to your cheeks, lashes damp.

“please what, my angel?” he says teasingly, hand sliding down, finding your clit. it’s soaked in your arousal, smiling like a jackass when you gasp out another strangled sob when he pinches it, hard. “aw you’re so cute. so needy.” you open your mouth to respond then you make eye contact with him when he brings his fingers, still drenched in your juices, into his mouth. his eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste, cock twitching and throbbing inside of you. “use your words.” he muses before spitting on his fingers and bringing them back down to your clit, rubbing roughly making your back arch, hips buck and moans falling from your lips.

“please-” you sigh as he slows his pace on your already sore spot. “please take care of me.” he smiles, sharp canines on display.

“all you had to do was ask pretty.” with no warning he retracts his fingers and grips both your thighs holding you down on him, thrusting his hips up with an excruciatingly fast pace. “such a pretty pussy on my pretty little bunny.” he groans, head falling back onto the pillow, continuing the fast pace he’s set. you moan nails scratching down chest to his abs making him spiral. “god you were made for me.” he says almost tearfully, you couldn’t really tell due to the sound of skin slapping skin, heavy breaths, small words and wet squelching.

because i’m pretty when i cry i’m pretty when i cry

he’s not one to cry, even during a sad moment, he keeps his tears in until he’s alone. no one can see him vulnerable, ever. he’s also never been one to cry during sex, usually, he’s the one making his partner cry. although, since being with you, crying while being inside of you has become a repeated occurrence. the first time you had sex with him, he started to sob as he pounded into you nearing his climax. after reaching his peak and cleaning up he laid in bed while you showered, he cringed at the thought of him crying while being inside of a women.

‘you’re such a baby.’ he thinks, when he is snapped back to reality by the spot beside him sinking down meaning you were next to him. “was i too rough with you?” he rolls onto his side to face you, looking into your eyes before they fall to your swollen pink lips.

“no, you were perfect.” you smile tiredly at him, scooting closer to him, cuddling into his warmth.

he never was one for post-sex cuddling, but there was something different about this. it was comfortable, it was soothing, he wanted it.

“it was sweet.” you said, when he moved a piece of hair from your eyes.

“what was sweet?” he asked warily, hoping you wouldn’t bring up his crying. despite his hope you did. “how is that sweet? it’s pathetic.” he whines moving to lay on his back, hands hiding his face, embarrassment coursing through his body.

“i just, i don’t know. i’m glad i made you feel good.” you said nervously, positioning yourself stomach down, head on his chest looking at his hidden face. “don’t be embarrassed, it was cute.”

“cute? that was cute to you?” he said sounding agitated and now even more embarrassed. being described as ‘cute’ is worse than telling him he’s weak. he doesn’t want to be cute.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to offend you.” you said now extremely nervous that you’d upset him, that any progress you’ve made with him now doesn’t matter. leaving your spot on his chest to now your back facing away from him, curled into yourself. trying to give him space so that he doesn’t feel more embarrassed with himself and annoyed with you.

he notices your change in behavior, now more aware that he had made you self-conscious. while he was embarrassed the last thing he’d want is to make you upset. you’ve only been dating for around 5 months but he’s sure that you’ll be his for the rest of eternity. “come here.” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist, his strong arms lifting you effortlessly so you’re laying practically on top of him. he’s thought about it for the past few weeks.

‘what’s so different about you?’ it’s that when you’re together any moment spent together, you could be having a natural conversation but even if it’s completely silent, it’s comfortable. you guys don’t have to talk when you’re together. you know how to be together and just enjoy it without talking or touching. he allows himself to be vulnerable around you. he cries while fucking you and it’s so pretty.

i’m stronger than all my men, except for you

while he nears his high, his thrust become animalistic, his moans become louder and whinier, sobs and pleasure making him shake, body covered in sweat, fat tears falling down his face making his skin shine. he’s so pretty like this. “i’m close, i’m so close.” he cries, his cock throbbing almost painfully waiting for your permission to release. “please,” more cries falling from his pretty lips. “please let me-” he moans loudly, back arching, hips harshly thrusting into your heat. “i’m gonna-” a loud sob escapes his throat as he pushes the head of his cock as deep as he’s able to, his big hands gripping your thighs pushing them down onto the sides of his pelvis while he shoots his cum deep onto your warm walls.

you collapse onto his chest, his length still buried deep inside. his hands still gripping your thighs, chest rising and falling, sweat making your skin stick together. you lift your head looking at his red fucked-out face. you kiss his tear streaked cheeks, before lifting off of him. his and your own release dripping out of your hole, he watches the liquid fall onto the sheets as you struggle to move off of him.

“i love you.” he laughs at the irony. he never believed he’d fall in love, but when he looks at you he knows that this is what love should feel like.

“i love you so much.” you respond, before continuing with a small tease, “you’re pretty when you cry.” he shoots you a dirty look but nonetheless chuckles.

i’ll wait for you, babe it’s all i do, babe

satoru gojo, jean kirstein, tengen uzui, choso, oikawa tooru, ken kaneki, osamu miya and any of your favs of course <33

[steddielations]

- nsfw, age gap, rockstar Eddie, drummer steve

Eddie should not be wearing a plug here.

It’s stupid. It’s reckless. But that inner voice that led to decades of being stupid and reckless says it’s fine, it’s just for Eddie. Steve doesn’t have to know, unless he wants to find out.

It really is just for Eddie. It’s more for confidence than kink. It’s a trick he learned back when he was still getting comfortable on stage, back when he could still handle the fast life. Started way back when he was a teenager, dear old dad made sure to turn his talent into cold hard cash.

Now here Eddie is, way too many years of coping with drugs and never any therapy later, retired rockstar doing the whole studio owner mentoring baby rockstars thing. Someone’s gotta keep rock and roll alive so long as Eddie’s still kicking.

So the first thing that comes with years of being stone cold sober is realizing he spent too much time on the road and in the closet, not enough time growing roots so he’d have someone to settle down with when he stopped being so afraid of it.

The second thing is a dick that doesn’t work half the time because maybe if someone told him doing drugs would land him limp-dick at 40, he would’ve stopped sooner. The third thing is that he’s going to die alone with his floppy dick and trust issues.

So with the wild life Eddie lives nowadays, it’s no surprise that a couple smiles and smooth words from a good looking young drummer sent him into a spiral.

Steve’s a session musician, an independent guy that looked good on paper and even better in person. He’s got more heart and grit than the last few ‘frontmans’ Eddie tried to get something real out of. Steve knows it too, the way everyone does at 28.

He’s got the same cockiness in his skills as Eddie, but he knows he’s more than just his skills in a way that Eddie wishes he could’ve known at that age. He’s confident enough to make his own suggestions to Eddie, calls him old fashioned and he’s smooth about it, strikes up debates about music and he’s fucking sassy about it.

Eddie’s gotta be under some kinda spell to be considering Springsteen is one of the greats like Steve insists.

It’s not just because Steve’s younger, there’s always been girls much younger than late 20s trying to get with him for his name, status, money. Bless their hearts, maybe if he was still 20 years deep in the closet. It’s not just because Steve’s a guy either, there’s plenty of young guys now that dare to bat their eyes and call him Daddy and want to get fucked.

No, it’s because Steve’s different. The opposite, even.

Eddie slips up and calls him sweetheart once and it’s like Steve was just waiting to open that door and let every babe and handsome and honey slip out from his lips.

He notices Eddie checking out his biceps as he’s banging away on the drums once and sends him a wink that nearly makes him flatline.

He’s not intimidated to get in Eddie’s space. He has no reason to ever be in the control room, but Eddie doesn’t question it when Steve’s close, leaning over him with a warm hand pressed to the small of his back for one second. Eddie’s so hot faced and flustered that he gets his long hair caught in some of the board switches.

“Fuck, fucking, god damn it,” Eddie curses, tangling it even more trying to yank it free and vowing to chop it all off later.

“It’s alright, here, let's get you sorted out.” Steve’s steady hand closes over Eddie’s, gentle and warm as he eases the lock of hair free. Eddie’s breath lodges in his throat when Steve reaches up, fingers brushing Eddie’s face as he combs through his long silver streaked waves and says, “Don’t ever cut your hair. I love it too much.”

God. Steve makes Eddie feel like he’s a pretty young thing getting moves put on him in the kinda club that he was always too famous, too busy and too afraid to go to at that age.

It can’t be real. Steve can’t be serious. Eddie’s mean. Bitter. He talks shit about everyone and everything. He’s nothing without a guitar. He’s got the prickly rind of daddy issues and doesn’t even have Wayne to make it better anymore. The whole world adoring him all his life only fed his ego. He’s worth millions of dollars and feels like nothing most days. His only real friends are his bandmates that he doesn’t call often enough because they love each other, but they’re sick of each other, being stuck together all those years.

Surely, Steve’s just bored and playing with him. Eddie needs a kick of confidence to deal with it until Steve’s contract ends and he’s done playing with Eddie.

So that’s why Eddie’s got a plug up his ass at the studio. At work, technically.

It helps. It gives him all the inner fire he needs to ignore when he feels Steve’s eyes burning into him, and push his hand through his hair that Steve loves, and sway his hips as Steve’s gaze follows him walking out to the bathroom.

Oh yeah, Eddie’s still got it.

And he has to piss. Really bad. His bladder just ain’t what it used to be and when he’s gotta go, he’s gotta go and for whatever reason, he can’t do it with the plug inside him.

Eddie’s locked in a stall so he doesn’t hesitate to undo his belt and reach inside to pull it out. He holds it while he uses the toilet, so distracted sighing in relief like such an old man that he doesn’t realize how lube-slippery the thing is.

It’s too late. He drops his plug and it rolls out from under the stall just as the bathroom door opens and shuts slowly.

Then Eddie feels both relief and panic when it’s Steve’s voice that asks, “Eddie, did you drop something, honey?”

[knoepfl]

His to Keep

Here we are again this time with Monoma Neito! Again this is inspired from @devotion-disorder! So check them out. The first part was with Tomura Shigaraki if you'd like to see that go to the Masterlist. There will be updates as soon as a new character gets put in that room! So be sure to look at it once in a while^^ If you want to see special characters being put in that room write in the comments or sent me a request I'll be happy to fulfill it! Anyways let's start! Enjoy!

Masterlist

---

It started with curiosity.

Monoma Neito, the ever-smug and sharp-tongued student of Class 1-B, tilted his head, frowning as he took in the room. His usual smirk faltered when he noticed what was on the walls—pictures. Dozens of pictures. Of you.

At first, a warm flush crept up his neck. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your familiar face. He always knew you were special. You were his, even if you didn’t quite realize it yet.

But something was wrong.

You weren’t alone in the photos. A stranger was with you, smiling just as brightly, standing too close. Their hand rested lightly on your back, and in some pictures, they held you in ways that Monoma thought were his to do. His stomach churned as he scanned more images, each one more painful than the last.

This must be a joke… Right?

5 minutes in:

At first, Monoma scoffed, brushing it off with a haughty grin.

“Someone’s trying to rile me up, huh?” he muttered to himself. “As if I’d fall for something so obvious. Pathetic.”

He paced back and forth in the room, hands clasped behind his back as he tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. Fake. It has to be fake. His rational side told him it was nothing but a prank. A tasteless, stupid prank.

But the images wouldn’t leave his mind. Every picture was so perfectly composed, down to the way your eyes lit up when you looked at the other person. He stared at a particular photo where you leaned into the stranger, a soft laugh frozen in time, and something deep inside him cracked.

Why did it feel so real?

1 hour in:

He tried to remain composed, but the air was heavy with doubt.

“This isn’t right,” Monoma muttered, chewing on his lower lip. “There’s no way you’d—no, you wouldn’t do this to me… right?”

His heart raced as his mind began to spiral. What if this was real? What if you’ve been lying to me all along? The thought clung to him like a parasite, gnawing at the edges of his sanity.

He traced the photos with trembling fingers, eyes lingering on every detail. “Do they touch you like I do? Do they know you like I do?” His voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

The room was silent, but the noise inside his head was deafening.

3 hours in:

His control was slipping, fast.

He gripped his hair, pulling harshly as if the pain could drown out the jealousy and rage threatening to consume him. “It’s fake. It’s fake. It has to be fake!” But the pictures stared back, mocking him with their vivid reality.

Monoma gasped for air, his chest heaving as panic clawed at him. His usual arrogance had crumbled into a mess of insecurity and obsession. How could he ever compare? What if you liked that other person more?

“No… No, you wouldn’t,” he whimpered, curling into himself. “You’re mine. You belong with me.”

His breath hitched, and he began to laugh—a hollow, broken sound. “Yeah… yeah, it’s just a mistake. I’ll fix it.” But his laughter quickly turned into dry, hiccuping sobs.

Because deep down, he wasn’t sure if it was a mistake.

6+ hours in:

By now, Monoma was a different person.

He sat slumped against the wall, muttering nonsense under his breath, his fingernails scratched raw from dragging them across the floor and his arms. “Not real… It’s not real… Not real…” But the photos—those cursed photos—were everywhere.

His eyes, wide and red-rimmed, twitched as they darted between images. In his mind, the stranger was no longer just a figure in the background—they were an enemy. A thief. Someone trying to take away the only thing that mattered to him: you.

“I won’t let them,” Monoma whispered, voice dripping with venom. His eyes sparkled with manic determination as a dangerous smile curled on his lips. “No one gets to take you away from me… not them… not anyone.”

The Aftermath:

When you finally opened the door to the room, you barely had a chance to react before Monoma was on you. He stood before you, disheveled and trembling, but his grin was wide—too wide. His pale hands grasped your arms with an unsettling mix of desperation and relief.

“You’re back,” he whispered, his voice a sickly sweet croon. “You had me worried there for a second.” His laugh was sharp and jagged, teetering on the edge of sanity.

Before you could respond, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his breath hot against your ear. “You didn’t mean those things, right? You weren’t with them. It was all just… a misunderstanding. A trick. Right?”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his smile brittle and unhinged. “Because you love me, don’t you? You were always mine.” His hands trembled as they cupped your face, thumbs tracing over your skin as if reassuring himself that you were real.

And in that moment, you realized the terrifying truth: there was no escaping Monoma Neito.

In his mind, you were his—and he would do anything, anything, to keep it that way.

Forever.

---

[motorsportbarbie13]

Forbidden - Part 2

In which you go to Max's hotel room to watch a movie. And only watch a movie. ;)

Warnings: alcohol use (but really only if you squint), steamy but not smutty, use of pet names.

Word Count: 2.6k Part One

Master List

AUSTRIA 

You knew you were playing with fire when you sent that text to Max. Judging by how Charlie’s head had nearly exploded when he (quite innocently) caught the two of you catching up on the couch a few weeks ago, you knew that he would lose his mind if he knew you were in Max’s hotel room late at night. Even if it was with the purest of intentions. Because of course it was. 

But, Charlie had left you alone in Austria on a Friday night without anything to do other than watch Austrian TV so really, this was all his fault. Alexandra was at home in Monaco, having some work to finish up at the new art gallery she’s curating. Pierre’s girlfriend Kika, who was fast becoming your other best friend in the paddock, wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow before qualifying, so you were left to your own devices. 

Which is exactly why you found yourself standing outside Max Verstappen’s hotel room at 8 o’clock at night, arms overflowing with snacks and a bottle of wine, knowing that you had everything but watching a movie running through your mind. 

The thing was, you had spent the entirety of today trading glances with Max from his garage three doors down from Charlie’s. It seemed like every time you looked towards the Red Bull garages, Max was already looking at you. He even managed to manufacture a lunch invite from Charlie and Carlos while you were standing right there, so the four of you had gotten lunch in Ferarri’s motorhome today. You were quite pleased that Charlie spent the entire time looking like he had swallowed a lemon every time you and Max even looked at each other. Even Carlos had noticed, asking your brother several times if he was okay. Every time, your brother’s response was a strained ‘yes’.  

But you weren’t teasing Max just to make your brother mad. You knew that. You were genuinely interested in the driver. Ever since the afternoon you two spent catching up in Charlie’s apartment in Monaco, the two of you had been trading random text messages and had even run into each other while out. What started off as an innocent crush had spiraled into something more, even if neither of you had voiced it quite yet. You knew Max was quite shy when it came to his feelings, side effects from growing up as Jos Verstappen’s son you supposed. You’d always been able tell what he was thinking though, ever since you were kids.  

Which landed you here. Tonight you had been bored and feeling a little attention starved, so you had been thrilled when Max invited you up to his suite for a movie night. It was something you had done frequently with friends at the track when you were younger, those movie nights being some of your favorite memories from growing up. 

It took Max a few moments to answer the door when you knocked that evening. He had to psych himself up for it, finding himself suddenly nervous about having you over. It felt like every time he looked towards the Ferrari garage today, he had instantly found you. And more times than not, you caught him staring. Gone was his usual cool facade that he kept so securely in place when it came to you and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t unnerve him. 

“I brought snacks!” You proclaim the moment Max opens the door and he can’t help but feel all the anxiety he’d been feeling moments before evaporate into thin air with a single look at your pretty face, hair tied up in a messy top knot, oversized Ferrari sweatshirt hanging so low just the bottoms of your sleep shorts poked out. It took every bit of control Max possessed not to bit down on his knuckles and groan then and there. 

Max chuckles and you try to ignore the shimmer of pleasure that danced down your spine at the sound. It doesn’t work though. Probably because making him laugh was one of your favorite activities lately and it had all started that afternoon he showed up at Charlie’s door. 

Your brother was going to be so mad. 

“Did you think you were feeding the entire grid, beestje?” 

You shove the bottle of wine at him while rolling your eyes. “Hopefully you have a bottle opener, Maxie or else we’re going to have to go on an adventure.” 

“That sounds like a terrible idea. You out in public without your brother to control you?” 

Max expertly dodges the pillow you lob at his head before taking the bottle of wine to the little kitchenette in his suite. “I’ll have you know I am a whole grown ass adult that has lived on my own in a big city for the last six years, thank you very much.” You snip. 

Spreading the snacks out on the bed, you do your best to ignore the fact that Max is looking so very attractive in a pair of grey joggers and black t-shirt. Seriously, what was it about a pair of slutty grey sweatpants and tight tshirts that got you all worked up? 

“I’m surprised you don’t have a sim rig set up somewhere in this giant room.” You tease, settling down on the large king sized bed that takes up most of one side of his suite. 

Max looks at you, a bit puzzled before saying, “That race isn’t until tomorrow night after quali, I just haven’t set it up yet.” 

The laugh that leaves your lips sets Max’s skin tingling with pleasure and he tries to remind himself that Charles would quite literally kill him if anything happened between the two of you. But with each passing moment, watching you settle back into his pillows on his bed, he’s finding it harder and harder to really care what Charles thinks. You’re a grown woman, after all. Max’s eyes drag over your body, admiring the miles of legs on display for him. Yep. You certainly were very grown up, that’s for sure.  

“Just don’t stay up all night. I don’t want Buxton to have an excuse to call you out in post-race interviews again.” You smirk. 

“That was one time and it hasn’t happened since.” He argues, shooting you a glare that has you giggling under your breath.

You hum in response but don’t respond, needing to focus your attention elsewhere now that Max is searching for the bottle opener and the concentration on his face is making you squeeze your legs together just a bit. 

Max does, in fact, locate a bottle opener and before you know it you’re both settled on his bed, side by side, wine glasses in hand, bag of chips open between you. You try your hardest to ignore the head radiating off of Max and Max tries his hardest to ignore the fact that you’re wearing the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen. Neither of you do a very good job of it. 

“I’m surprised you’re not out with Lando and the rest of the boys tonight. Getting a little tired in your old age?” You tease (always with the teasing, you two) as Max scrolls through Netflix, trying to find something you can both agree on to watch. 

“I went out with him and Carlos last week.” 

You pop a chip in your mouth before responding. “And from what I saw on Instagram, you’re probably still recovering from it.” 

You remember the night he was talking about. The jealousy that washed over you when you saw his private Instagram stories from that night, girls falling over him in a dimly lit Jimmy Z’s, him and Lando on stage with the DJ clearly wasted on his favorite G&T’s, was a feeling you were entirely unfamiliar with. You never got jealous, not over someone you were dating and certainly not over someone like Max Verstappen. Absolutely not. 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, beestje?” Max bumps your shoulder with his as he hits play on the OG Jurassic Park movie. 

You can’t help the pout that materializes on your face. “Stop calling me that.” You whine, unashamed at how bratty you sound in the moment. Frankly, you were tired of being treated as the little sister of the group, never being taken seriously and always being teased. “If you’re going to be mean to me, I’m going to leave.” 

You lean forward to go, not really intending on leaving but wanting to teach Max a lesson. A strong hand wraps around your wrist before you make it off the bed though and he pulls you back so quickly you nearly end up in his lap. “Don’t leave, schatje.” 

Schatje? Oh. Oh. 

Your heart hammers in your chest as you realize Max hasn’t let go of your wrist. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s pulled your wrist closer to him so your hand is resting on his thigh and he’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon. He’s only ever called you beestje before. His little beast. You never really hated it if you were being quite honest, thought it was quite cute actually. A name that Max reserved only for you. But he’s never called you schatje and he’s absolutely never called you schatje in that tone of voice before, all husky and raspy like just saying the word does something to him. 

All at once, there’s a fire in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Something akin to a lion stalking his prey. He knows what he wants and it’s like something finally clicked for him. You sitting there, pouting away at the nickname he’s always only reserved for you, plump bottom lip popping out, just asking to be bitten. He follows your gaze to where you’re staring at your hand in his, giving your wrist a little squeeze to get your attention back up to his face. “Don’t pretend you came up here just to watch Jurassic Park with me tonight.” He murmurs, leaning in incrementally more. He’s so close now you can feel his heated breath fan out over your cheeks. 

“Max.” You whisper, thoughts moving a mile a minute and sluggishly slow all at once. You’d been wanting this exact thing for weeks now, his hands on yours, hadn’t you? So why were you suddenly so unsure of what the fuck you were doing. 

When he tugs you into his lap, bag of chips crunching under your knees, you feel a flush creep up your neck. Knees straddling his thighs, you’re suddenly in a very compromising position and feeling something very…thick pressing into your center. A single roll of your hips is enough to have Max tipping his head back on a groan. 

“We shouldn’t Max.” Where in the hell did that protest come from? Your body practically screams, desperately needing your mind to shut the fuck up just this once.  

“I will happily stop if you want me to, schatje but your hips are telling me a very different story right now.” Max stares up at you and almost shudders at the look on your face. It’s a look he’s never seen on you before, all unabashed want and need and heat and fuck if it does something to him seeing that lusty gaze aimed his way. 

The two of you stay like this for several moments, the movie long forgotten, Max’s hands resting on your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. It’s almost like you’re both daring the other one to make the first move. You both know you want it, the tension thick in the air. Energy crackles between you as Max drops his gaze from your eyes down to your lips and then back up again. You find yourself slipping deeper into those icy blue eyes of his, unable to tear your eyes away from how he’s looking at you. Like he’s seeing you all at once for the very first time. The sheer awestruck look on his face has you catching your bottom lip between your teeth, a smile begging to be released. 

“I want to kiss you.” Max breathes, voice barely audible but in the silent room, you don’t miss the whispered confession. 

“What’s stopping you?” You probably should be embarrassed at how breathy your voice is, how needy your hips are as they roll into his again. 

And then, it’s happening. He’s leaning in, eyes never leaving yours as your breath catches in your throat, dizzy with anticipation. You’ve kissed people before, of course you had, but never in your entire life has the moment before a kiss been this torturously pleasurable before. 

And if the anticipation of the kiss is enough to have you groaning with pleasure, the moment his lips connect with yours is astronomically better. A spark ignites when he presses a kiss to your mouth, one hand snaking up your body to frame your face as you tip your head down to allow a deeper kiss. The sound that you make when he licks into you the first time is obscene, a throaty purr rumbling out from you. 

Max can’t help but smile against you when he feels you try to press your legs together, the fact that you’re straddling him completely lost on your distracted thoughts. The way you tasted was something straight out of a romance novel and he instantly found himself addicted. He could win every fucking Grand Prix for the rest of his career and it still wouldn’t compare to the first time he got his lips on you. His other hand skates up your slender back, finding heated bare skin under your Ferrari sweatshirt. 

“We’re going to need to get you something Red Bull, I can’t have you in my bed wearing Ferrari colors.” Max grumbles, mouth barely leaving yours. 

You giggle, “In your bed, huh? Someone’s cocky.” You lift an eyebrow at him, liking the frown that tips down at the edges of his mouth when you pull away. 

“Confident, schatje. I’m confident.” 

Your lips find his again and they continue the exploration Max started, your tongue slipping between his lips, teeth first nipping at his lush bottom lip before sucking it back into your mouth. The soothing sensation on his swollen lips has Max’s hips tipping up towards yours, seeking more friction than your grinding hips are already causing. 

When you reach for the hem of your sweatshirt, intending to take it off so you can get your skin closer to his, Max lifts a hand to stop you. The confusion that clouds your face has him shaking his head, “We should stop before we get carried away.”

“What? Why?” You pout. 

Max brushes a calloused thumb over your swollen bottom lip before looking at up at you. There that look was again. Only this time it was like you’d hung both the moon and the stars and were trying to give him both. “Because if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.” 

You blink down at him, somewhat surprised and very caught of guard. “And what exactly is this?” You’re almost too afraid to hear his response, not sure if it’s the one you need to hear. 

“I don’t know but I know that it’s not a one night thing. It never could be with you.” 

You melt into his arms, your head finding its home in the crook of his neck. Dragging in a steadying breath, you allow the clean, sharp scent of Max’s shirt bring you back down to earth. He was right. You knew that. It would be a monumentally bad idea to sleep together so quickly.

“Oh Maxie.” You sigh, wondering what the hell you’ve both started here tonight. 

[moonstruckme]

no cause I was thinking…. reckless driving by lizzy is so james coded!!! so I wanted to ask if you could write something inspired by it with reader being a bit insecure about loving him loudly and he’s just like a walking „I love my gf“ sign

ily I hope you are having a great day/night🫶🫶

Thanks for requesting, love you!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s beginning to frighten you how often you think of James. One of your friends will make a joke and you’ll catch yourself trying to remember it for him, or you’ll see a cute dog and want to send him a picture, or you’ll overhear a conversation in public and wish he were with you to press in close to your ear and ask Did you hear that? 

It’s sort of pathetic, really, considering you’ve only been dating a few weeks. The last time you’d met up you talked about how much you both loved the thin oreos, and when you saw a pack in the store yesterday you’d almost bought it for him. Only the realization of how much your life has started to revolve around him stopped you. 

You can’t be acting like James’ girlfriend. You’re only dating. It’s not like you love him—though you could, definitely, in time. But if you start doing girlfriend things, he’s going to think you are his girlfriend, and things will spiral out too fast for you to stop them. You have to dole out your affection in measured doses. Careful, controlled. 

You feel James enter before you see him. He holds the door to the coffee shop open wide, letting another woman exit before he steps inside, and the cool air that comes in with him has you turning your head. 

James is smiling as soon as he sees you. It’s a seemingly perpetual thing for him, this expression. You’re tempted to look out the window to the sidewalk and see if he’s left a trail of sunshine in his wake. 

“Hey,” he says, sitting down across from you. “You look really lovely.” 

You look exceedingly normal, but you thank him for the compliment anyway. “So do you.” 

“Thanks,” James says easily, like he gets this all the time (he probably does) but appreciates it nonetheless. He starts to dig in the tote he’s hung on the back of his chair. “I’ve brought you something.” 

You start to protest, but he anticipates you. 

“It’s tiny, don’t worry. Here.” 

He slides something crinkly across the table. It’s a pack of thin oreos. 

“Oh, no way! I almost…” You look up, meeting James’ eyes as your brain catches up to your mouth. Too late, you’ve blurted. You can hardly roll it back now. “I almost got a pack for you the other day, too.” 

He doesn’t seem to take your insensitivity to heart. In fact, his eyes light up. “Really! That’s so funny.” His hand remains still on the table but his fingers stretch towards yours, the barest of touches. “It was nice of you to think of me.” 

Your heart slumps. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them for you, though,” you say. “We should share these ones.” 

“Nope.” James leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Those are all you, love. Say, have you had a look at the menu?” 

You wince. “I’ve already ordered, actually.” 

“That’s alright,” he says breezily. “Back in a sec.” 

He stands and gets in line, leaving you to contend with the semi-awkward silence of being in the same place yet not speaking. Right as he finishes ordering, the barista calls your name. James looks like he might grab your drink for you, but you meet him at the counter, thanking the barista as you take it. 

“No problem,” she says with a smile. “Love your outfit, by the way.” 

You fluster a bit at the compliment, a break from the typical coffee shop dialogue you were prepared for, but James wraps a friendly arm around your waist and beams right back at her. 

“She’s got great taste, doesn’t she?” he asks, and you manage to cast a quick thanks over your shoulder as he steers you back to the table. “See, it’s not just me that thinks you look especially pretty today.” 

“Oh, hush,” you say, taking your seat and looking down to stir your drink bashfully. “What’d you order?” 

“Irish cream latte. Limited edition, apparently.” 

“So, the sweetest thing on the menu.” 

The smile spreads on James’ face. It ebbs and flows like the tide, you think, never really leaving. “You know me so well.” 

The warmth in his voice makes your chest feel hollow and achy. James goes to such lengths to do nice things for you, to show you that he pays attention and thinks about you and cares, and yet when it comes to you he’s left settling for whatever scraps of affection he can get. 

“James…” Your tone reveals your shift in mood instantly, and James’ head straightens the way a dog’s ears perk when it hears something alarming. “You know I want to take things slow, right?” 

He nods, and when he speaks his voice is considerately softer. “Yeah, you’ve said. Do you think we’re—I’m moving things too fast right now?” 

“No, just,” you wet your lips, having some trouble looking at his face, “I don’t know, I feel like I’m not being as good as you deserve. You’re such a sweet person, and I think…sometimes I feel like maybe you’d be happier dating someone who could be more all-in. You know?” 

For a second, the silence is torture. Then: “Someone you’re trying to set me up with, sweetheart?” 

You look up in surprise, but James is smiling again. Softer, now. Almost tentative. You find yourself mirroring him reflexively. 

His knee bumps yours under the table. “I don’t mind moving slowly with you,” he says. 

“Are you sure?” you ask. “Because you seem like you’re ready for more.” And I don’t know if I can manage that yet. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He takes your hand in his, and his eyes are soft, sweet caramel. He looks almost like he could love you. “If I’m coming on too strong, you can tell me, but I care about you. It’s hard for me not to be all-in, but that doesn’t mean I’m expecting the same thing from you. You seem like a sane, well-adjusted person.” James nods seriously. “Something I could use, I’ve been told.” He tries to keep the poker face when you grin, but fails in half a second. 

“Okay.” You give his hand a little squeeze. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

“I won’t,” he says certainly. “I always go for the sweetest thing on the menu, remember?” 

You take your hand back to cover your face, and James’ laughter echoes off the walls. 

[sunaluv]

A cute prompt! The moment they realized they want to spend the rest of their lives with you 🥺🥺 (Also hi hello new follower here i love ur works!!!! Hope ur having an awesome day stay safe and stay hydrated 🫶🫶🫶)

i got you

feat: ran, eren, shigaraki(🥹), gojo

RAN

ill be honest, it was probably during an argument.

he was absolutely smitten with you. that was probably why you too rarely fought. also, the two of you were too unbothered to draw out fights long.

so when it hit the 2-day mark and he hadn't seen or heard from you since you stormed out of the house, he became worried.

he had a lot of enemies and you knew that too. his mind kept him up at night if he didn't spend it combing the streets of japan looking for you.

the rest of bonten saw it too. he became more snappy with his colleagues (they had to calm mikey down before they fought fr), he went crazy and fired his secretary for some reason, mans was spiralling out of control.

his brother hated seeing him like this, so he helped look for you, contacting all your friends and family on your whereabouts.

eventually they found you, hiding in your friends' house (she's a real one and told them she didn't know where you were when they asked).

ran was an emotional wreck. over a girlllll.

honestly, rindou was shaking his head, but he knew his brother was in deep.

you talked things out and smoothed it over, and although you were a little pissy with him, you allowed him to hold you in his embrace, whispering gently apologies in between kisses to your hairline.

when you finally fell asleep in his arms, ran didn't want to let you go or sleep. he felt like you might disappear if he takes his eyes off you for a second.

that when it hit him how deeply in love he was with you, and he (along with everyone in the bonten building) realised you really do keep him sane and he can't imagine a life without you.

he promised that, if you stuck around long enough, he'll make sure you stay with him forever <3

EREN

best friends to lovers trope woop woop

okay so he realised this way before you two got together.

so one day, there was a big falling out in your friend group which caused a massive divide.

you, mikasa, sasha, and the eldia boys (reiner, bert) were all on one side. and eren, armin, jean connie and such were on the other side. yall were a big friend group too so the news travelled fast that you divided.

you and eren weren't the causation, but people had to pick sides which meant you were split up.

the divide couldn't have come at a worse time too because you were in that stage where you knew you had feelings for each other and were flirting and dancing around the fact that you wanted to be together.

now you couldn't be seen together by your friends unless you wanted to cause more drama (giving romeo and juliet).

he still had a strong desire to see you, so he often snuck around with you in the evening/night time, and it honestly was kinda romantic, though you wished you could hang out in the day too.

he took you out on 'dates' (referred to as 'friendly outings' bc feelings are complicated) and he drew them out as long as possible because he hated it when it was time to say goodbye. every time you left, he would count down the hours before he could see you again.

absence really does make the heart grow fonder because he had to control himself from gravitating towards you during the day and it hurt the both of you.

it was one random night where he couldn't fall asleep. he was just staring at the ceiling, replaying your whole date in his head and he didn't realise he started smiling a little.

with his head buried in the pillow, he sighed wanting nothing more than to be with you forever.

SHIGARAKI

you were the first and probably the only girl to show interest in him and honestly, the minute you did, he thought yall were locked in for life.

he thought relationships were purely meant to be transactional, so when he finally understood that you just wanted to be there for him because you truly cared and loved for him? he thought he was sick by the way his heart squeezed.

it took him a while to adjust, and you gave him all the time and space he needed because the last thing you wanted was for him to be overwhelmed.

he slowly became more comfortable with you helping him with things, once he learnt he didn't have to do everything solo whilst he was around.

he was changing for the better (not too much tho), he notices how much healthier he looked now that he was getting three proper meals a day, his skin felt hydrated and the desire to itch his skin off drastically lessened.

he felt like it was too good to be true and became paranoid that something bad was gonna happen like the heroes taking you away, or AFO manipulating you, like he did to him.

kurogiri felt proud of his young master for recalling the 'gentlemanly advice' he gave him as he watched the two of you converse on the loveseat in the quiet bar.

his league was empty, the bar was old and not bringing in enough money and he had a whole lot on his plate which was enough to make him hate everything.

but with you around, he could learn to hate things a little less <3

GOJO

manga spoilers

mans busted out the box and was craving your touch instantly!

the last conversation you had before he got sealed was him telling you he'll be back later, pecking your pout away before leaving.

little did you know you wouldn't see gojo for another 19 days.

he didn't have a lot of time before he had to go and fight sukuna, so he wanted to talk to you while his time was still guaranteed.

the reunition was hella emotional, he squeezed you so tight and let your tears soak his shirt.

he pulled your face back to meet his gaze, and you were surprised to see tears welling up in his eyes, but that was the least of your problems. you noticed him trying to get his words out and you were patient as he seemed to be finding the right words to say.

after lots of out of character stuttering, he blurted out "marry me."

you were shocked and he was scared he crossed the line when you went silent for a minute, but you very emotionally said yes on your apartment floor in your baggy sweats and t-shirt belonging to your now-fiancee.

although it was just under 3 weeks he was gone, it felt like an eternity without you, so he vowed that when he got out of the box, he was going to make sure you know he will always come back for you.

[starhvney]

can you do an angsty laurance mcd (romantically) where reader has been waiting for his return and they reunite after he was stuck in the neither?

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: he can’t stay with you as long as the war underground calls to him. to stay with you he has to leave, not returning until three years later. 

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst, lots of resent and crying, but then hurt/comfort, malachi is reader’s adopted son with laurance cause i said so

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: omg the past two weeks have been so busy i actually thought i might have gone insane if i didn’t have this day off to write this. but i'm back from the dead(work) anyways this prompt has actually been in my mind a lot so thank you for the request! hope it hurts

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“please come back with me. you don’t have to do this.”

your chest hurt. whether it was from the man in front of you or the unbearable heat, you weren’t sure, but you found yourself choking on the air, lungs constricting and heart rushing cold blood uncomfortably fast through your veins. 

you could tell he was angry that you came here. not at you. no, never at you. but the fact you came alone and risked your safety for him again had him nearly spiraling, his jaw clenched and hands gripping uncomfortably tight against your arms.

it was still him, you reminded yourself, as you pleadingly looked up to the pools of blood red that pierced through you. it was an unsettling shade, the color startling against his face yet somehow dull and dark at the same time. it was so different from the steel blue before it, and the beautiful green before that. 

yes, you’d seen him in many different ways, and though he was naturally taller, and the air around him sent an anxious wave down your spine, it was still him.

the same olive skin and caramel hair, though a duller shade.

the same shape of his face.

the same determination in his eyes. 

the same urge to protect you, no matter how much this new form of his ached to do the opposite. 

“i told you not to follow me. you shouldn’t be here—”

“i couldn’t just let you leave!”

he sucks in a breath, your name leaving his lips with a sense of urgency and irritation.

“…i can’t go with you. you know i can’t.” his voice is tight, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your eyes glossing over. “it would be selfish. i put you at risk just by being next to you.”

you start to shake your head, but swallow down your next words at the way he says your name again, desperate for you to understand. 

“he’s in my head when you’re near me. i can’t keep you safe when it’s just us, because it isn’t just us. that calling clouds my mind and—he almost got to me, and you know it. i almost killed you.”

you’re silenced by this, knowing he was right. the horror on his face when he realized his blade was raised against you had set forward the timeline that got him here. he’d forever feel chained to this place unless he broke the chains himself.

“if i ever want to have a future with you, i have to do this. don’t you understand? until this war is over you have to stay away.”

“no…” you shake your head, tears beginning to spill from your lashes.

it was out of your control. the salty crystalline that slipped down your face. it was the same as the man in front of you, each second left with him like trying to hold water in your hands, continuing to slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to grasp it. 

his eyes close, face pained, looking like someone was about to end his second life right there where he stood. 

“i love you. i always will. you have to know i’m doing this for you.”

he dips down, lips crashing into yours with a desperation that you couldn’t put into words. it’s not enough, too short-lived as his hands suddenly grip your waist, manhandling you up as he carries you to the portal.

“no, no! laurance, put me down! you have to come with me!” tears have turned into hysteria, your fists pushing and beating against him to no avail.

“i’m doing this for you.” his voice wavers shakily, contradicting his firm hold and long strides. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m hurting you again and i’m so sorry.”

“stop! i won’t go through that portal unless i know you’re coming with me.”

your name leaves his lips once more, pleading and desperate for you to understand. “i’ll return to you. i swear i will.”

his arms tighten around you, face shifting to rest in the crook of your neck and lips pressing against the skin for just a moment. you think he could’ve changed his mind, but the next second your feet are back on the ground, and his hands are gently pushing you through the portal in your disorientation.

you stumble through, cool air meeting your back as the nether fades from your vision and is replaced by the overworld. your feet trip over the other as you try to catch your step, falling back and turning to look back at the portal through your hazy vision. before you can scramble back the purple mist solidifies, shattering and collapsing to the floor into crystallized pieces.

you started in shock for who knows how long, curled on the stone beneath you as sobs wracked your whole body.

you don’t remember the trip back to phoenix drop after that. you only recall the horrid feeling that your heart had just been torn from your body, left behind in the fiery hell it’s owner had condemned himself to. 

that emptiness never evaded you either. you went through day-to-day life completing your duties as normal. but at night when you were left with your thoughts, your mind wandered to him. the space in your bed felt bitterly cold, almost as if the emptiness was taunting you of the lack of his presence.

the boy the two of you had taken in as your own all that time ago was extra sweet on you, despite all the time you had missed with him. when you returned that night he had looked at you expectantly, only for his green eyes to fade in hope as he saw your puffy eyes and grieved expression.

soon a whole year had passed. then another. then another. it was what you had presumed to be another ordinary day, as you prepared a lunch for you and malachi to share on his break. you recognize his footsteps, but when you turn to greet him you’re met with a concerned expression and heavy pants from the boy.

“he’s back.”

you hate how you immediately knew what he meant, even after all this time. how your heart swelled tightly in your chest and rushed the adrenaline into your veins. 

you can only stare blankly at the boy in the doorway, mouth open in shock and mind scrambling for some sort of reaction to give. he turns to look at something approaching him from out of sight, a protective frown forming on his face.

“mom, do you want to see him? you have to tell me now.”

a small part of you wants to say no, to resentfully send that man away for the loneliness he left you with. your head is nodding before your thoughts can resist, following the desperate tug in your chest rather than your brain screaming for the opposite.

your breath hitches when the taller man who had been haunting your mind for so long steps into view. you wonder if maybe you had fallen ill and this is all just a fever dream, but you know it’s not a hallucination or a memory as you take in his appearance. 

he looks like a man returning from war, circles under his eyes darker than they had been all those years ago. new scars are littered across the skin that you could see, and his posture was that of extreme exhaustion.

him and your son stare at each other for a moment in the doorway, a silent and sort of awkward moment that you couldn’t decipher being exchanged. malachi gives you one last wary glance, before disappearing from your sight and leaving the two of you alone.

you want to scream at him, hit him, something. but you can only focus on the lump building in your throat, choking your airways as a painful sob threatens to break out from your chest.

he takes a step forward, then another. then another. soon he’s right in front of you, not in the haze of your dreams but tangible and real. 

his hand, rough and scarred, lifts up to cup your soft cheek, fingers trembling as if you had sent a shock through them just by the contact. your name shakily leaves his lips, and you finally look up to his face.

you’re greeted with steel blue, glazed over with pain and guilt. something about them is much more hardened than when you saw him last, yet he still manages to look at you tenderly, full of a deep devotion he could never get rid of even through his years spent in hell.

his thumb brushes away the damp streaks from under your eyes, and you finally realize you had begun to cry. you had thought about this moment many times. how you’d call him a bastard for leaving you alone and kick him out to get a taste of his own medicine. or maybe you’d tell him all about the loneliness he’d put you through, watching his face drop with guilt.

instead of using any of the dialogue you had prepared in your moments of spite, you can only utter a few words, voice choked on your tears. 

“is it over?”

he nods, eyebrows furrowing together and lip curling as if your voice had caused him physical pain after years of deprivation from the sound.

you collapse forward into his arms, years of raw emotion crashing down on you all at once as you begin to sob.

“it’s over. if you let me in i’ll never leave again.” his hushed voice speaks into your hair, the deep and roughened tone vibrating through his chest. “but if you want nothing to do with me anymore you only have to say the word and i will obey.”

you can only shake your head, chest heaving as you grip the linen shirt he wore and attempt to steady yourself on your feet. there’s not much need for your efforts though, when he picks you up into a tight embrace, holding you to him as he trembles at the feeling of your body once again pressing into his. 

“i’ll never leave you again. i’m so sorry. my light in the darkness. please forgive me.”

he carries you to the nearest chair, fingers running through your hair like they were delicate strands of gold and continuing to hold you to him like you were the only thing worth any value in this life. as you continued to cry you felt tears that were not your own drip onto your skin, the shaky breaths and hitches in his chest proving you weren’t just imagining things as he too wept into the crook of your neck.

you two stay there for a long time, until the afternoon sun faded to a dim evening light, casting a warm haze into the room. it’s not until then that you feel composed, lifting yourself from where you had limply collapsed into his arms.

his hands gently hold your face, rubbing away the leftover tears and puffiness from your eyes. his own eyelids were red, eyes glossy. now that you’re looking at him you can see just how much his time away had changed him. 

his once lovely olive skin had sallowed into a paler shade, leaving him sickly looking. his cheeks were thinner, and the lack of body fat wasn’t just on his face. he remained muscular, yet he somehow looked malnourished at the same time, his scarred skin stretching over his bones and muscles in a way that didn’t look healthy.

your fingers trail along healed over cuts that hadn’t been there before, gulping down the urge to cry again. how many times did he have to patch himself up, suffering in pain while fighting to get back to you?

“hey.” he gently pinches your cheek in his hand, noticing your eyes unfocus as your mind wanders. 

you look up to him, taking in a shaky breath as you reach up to cup his jaw in your hand. immediately he leans into it, a deep sigh leaving his nose as he practically deflates at your touch.

“when did you get back…?”

he sighs, looking up at you through his lashes.

“i came here as soon as i came back through the portal… malachi was on patrol and spotted me at the gates.” his eyes grow distant. “he was… pretty angry with me. looked like he wanted to kill me as soon as i walked in the village.”

he chuckles dryly, looking at the wall behind you. “he cussed me out pretty good before leading me here. he had some good reasons for doing so, too…" he takes in a shaky breath. "i’m proud of him. i’m relieved to know he was watching over you when i wasn’t. that kid’s grown up to be a good man.”

“he is.” you agree, voice quiet in the moment, unable to come up with any words.

his hand drifts to brush your hair behind your ear, fingers trailing to brush along your jaw. “you have plenty of reasons to hate me, too.”

“he doesn’t hate you.” you quickly say. “and i don’t either.”

“i was scared you would. sure you would.”

your eyes drift from the guilty pull of his brow and the pain in his eyes, down to the slope of his nose and the curve of his mouth.

“i couldn’t.” you whisper, before leaning down and connecting your lips with his.

he wraps his arms tighter around you, breath stuttering as he returns the affection. very quickly it evolves to you being left breathless as he practically devours you, kissing you like a man who had been starved of his lover's touch for three years.

reluctantly he pulls away, gritting his teeth as he once again finds himself reigning his self control in with you. he doesn’t go too far though, his huffs of air meeting your lips as he whispers.

“it’s late. i should go.”

“go where?”

“just the inn down the road—”

“no. stay here tonight.”

he stares at you before closing his eyes, a low groan leaving his throat. “are you sure?”

“yes.” you quickly respond, hands cupping his face.

he gulps, before pulling you tightly to himself and lifting you in his arms, carrying you to your bedroom.

“okay. i’ll stay.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[thef1diary]

Want You | M. Verstappen

Summary: It should feel so wrong to want him, especially when you're in a happy relationship, but you can't stop your thoughts from controlling your actions.

Warnings: 18+, reader is cheating on her current bf, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), filthy words, angst (not with Max), google translated Dutch.

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: max x fem!reader

This time, he was the one who reached out. But it's become a habit, so it didn't really matter who actually texted the other first. Though, it was nice to know that he was also thinking about you.

Your boyfriend was out of town, so this was a lot easier. Easier to convince yourself that what you were doing isn't bad. But, deep down, you know it is.

You didn't have to sneak out or make excuses that you were seeing a friend. Taking your time getting dressed, you smiled at your reflection in the mirror. At least, he could recognize your beauty and praise you for it. You absolutely loved how he praised you while fucking you into oblivion.

You decided to wear a navy blue lingerie, showing off your body that Max clearly loved. Since you cannot wear that outside, you'd have to cover it up with a coat and boots.

If you were asked a few months ago, you would say that you're happy in your current relationship. But, even though you haven't admitted it yet, you know that you're not. There's no other reason why you keep ending up in his arms over and over again.

Forgetting about your boyfriend for tonight, you made your way to the location you knew way too well. To your ex's house—Max's house.

Parking right in front of his house, you sent him a text that you reached. Then, you briefly glanced at the other messages you had to pass some time. That's when you noticed the text from your boyfriend. He simply told you about his stressful day filled with meetings, then asked about yours.

It seemed like a normal conversation between a couple but it wasn't. He never asked about your day or your plans, unless it concerned him. You two fell out of love as fast as you fell in love.

His text caused you to spiral into the pit of guilt. You shouldn't be here, sleeping with another man while your boyfriend was working away. That's another thing you started disliking about him, the amount of workload he started taking on. It was like he wanted to be away from you, and maybe that was a good thing because of the arguments you two keep having.

Ignoring the text messages, you put your phone away. Taking another look in the mirror, you applied another coat of lipstick that you knew he loved, then got out of the car with a slight smirk on your face. It was not your fault that you were here, it was your boyfriend's fault that he couldn't keep you happy.

You noticed how the porch light turned on and he walked out, probably concerned why it took you a while to come inside. After all, you didn't have to text him, you could walk right in his house like you owned it. Because, once you did and he never wanted to take that away. The time and circumstances did.

He stood by the door, watching you with darkened eyes as you walked towards him. He wrapped one arm around your waist while the other hand caressed your cheek before placing his lips on yours.

Max's house was in a slightly secluded area and it was getting dark too, so you weren't worried about someone seeing you. You let yourself get lost in his touch, melting against his lips.

"Hi" you whispered when you parted away from him. He might've been smirking before, but now he was genuinely smiling. His hands caressed your body, pulling you as close as possible. "It didn't take a lot of convincing this time." He stated while placing light kisses down your neck.

Usually whenever he calls you over, it takes you a while to agree because you'd have to be careful of your current lover. Lying was something you were never good at, but practice makes perfect.

"Didn't want to be alone tonight." You muttered while holding back a moan. It had been one week since you were in his arms, and that entire week was spent in agony because you didn't sleep with your boyfriend either. More like he didn't want to.

Max faced you again, a devilish smile on his face, "alone?" He asked even though he knew the answer. "He's working, out of town" you simply replied before moving Max out of the way and walking inside. After all, it was getting cold and you didn't like the mention of your boyfriend while you were with Max.

He followed you inside, removing your coat for you and seeing what you had on underneath. "Fucking hell, is that all for me?" He groaned when he saw the blue lingerie you specifically wore for him. "Who else?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Damn right, no one else." He couldn't keep eye contact with you because his gaze was admiring your beauty, and soon he would show you just how much.

You bent down to remove your boots but Max stopped you. He kneeled down, placing your heeled boot on his thigh before slowly unzipping it. He did the same for the other foot, but his hands started roaming around, trailing up your leg.

He placed light kisses trailing up your leg before standing to his full height and capturing your lips with his. Your hair was tied up in a ponytail, but while Max kissed you, his hand wandered up in your hair and removed the hair tie.

"I've had so long to think about what I want to do to you." He muttered in your ear when you parted. "An entire week, always on my mind."

"Should I apologize for that?" You teased, earning a glare in return. "I was thinking of you while racing, so yes, apologize for distracting me."

"I don't think it was that big of an issue, after all, you won." You reminded him of his latest victory. He shrugged, "but you weren't there."

You rolled your eyes at his words. He has told you how much he wants you to be by his side in the paddock, but you can't. Not anymore. "We're not dating, Max"

"I think it's time to make you forget about that, liefje." He simply said before he picked you up and took you to his bedroom.

Placing you on the bed, he spread your legs before sliding up between them to kiss you. God he loved kissing you. Your hand trailed down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He parted away from you to remove his top completely, then began placing wet kisses down your neck.

You arched your back, bringing yourself closer to him as he easily found the sweet spot behind your ear that made you moan sweetly. Even if you weren't together anymore, Max remembered every sweet spot of your body, and he was using that knowledge to his advantage tonight.

His goal was to make you forget about your boyfriend. And so far, it was working.

"As much as I love this, it has to go" he commented while looking at your lingerie. You sat up a bit so you could unclasp your bra, but before you could reach you hand around, his had already found the clasp.

"Laat mij voor je zorgen, schat." [let me take care of you] You didn't know what he said, but you absolutely loved it when he spoke in his mother tongue. You tried learning Dutch, but it was definitely a harder language to learn, plus Max wasn't the best teacher because he'd distract you often.

You let him remove your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. Then, he licked his lips before leaning closer to you and pressing a light kiss on your chest. His tongue peeking out to tease your nipple, making it hard by blowing cool air on it.

"Max" you moaned his name, itching for him to touch you properly. "You want me?" He asked like he didn't know the answer. "Yes!" You exclaimed, making him chuckle. "I'm all yours."

He moved further down your body, trailing kisses across your stomach before reaching the waistband of your panties. He didn't remove it yet, no, he was going to tease you as much as he could. Sliding his thumb to rest on your clothed clit, he put a little pressure and started rubbing slowly. "Barely even touched you and so wet already."

You groaned, just wanting him to do something, anything. "Max, please" you begged and that sound was like music to his ears. "I know, I told you, I'll take care of you. Just be a little patient."

Removing his thumb, he moved your panties to the side, finally seeing your glistening pussy waiting for his touch. He licked his thumb before placing it directly on your clit. Sliding it down, he separated your folds and spread your wetness all around. His face was so close that you could feel his hot breath.

He moved his thumb once again but before you could complain, he spread your folds apart with two fingers before placing his tongue on you, licking deeply. "Fuck" you gasped. His movements were licking and kissing your sweet pussy, getting you prepared for his cock. He muttered your name, "you taste so sweet"

You arched you back again when you felt Max slowing down, but his arm was resting on your stomach; the weight holding you in place. Then, you felt his tongue delve deeper in your hole, just enough to make you squirm but far from bringing you over the edge. He did that a few times before using his thumb to circle your clit again. Your mind was hazy due to the constant pleasure, and you didn't even notice when he moved his arm away from your stomach and entered two fingers in the hole he was teasing with his tongue earlier.

Bending his fingers just the right way caused you to let out a loud moan because you did not expect him to take it up a notch. Replacing his thumb with his tongue on your clit, he enveloped it in between his lips. "Max, make me cum. Make me cum on your fucking tongue." You more so instructed than pleaded but he happily obliged.

Increasing the intensity, he flicked your clit with his tongue over and over again while pumping his fingers faster, adding a third one as well. Since he wasn't holding you down anymore, your back arched as he brought you closer to the brink of an orgasm. One of your hands fisted the bedsheet underneath you while the other made its way into Max's hair.

His hair was the perfect length to pull on, using that as an advantage to bring him even closer to your sweet pussy. You tried looking at him but once the pleasure became too much to bear, your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you were sent over the edge.

Max slowed down but he was still lapping up your cum, moaning at the taste. Your hand left his hair and he pressed one more kiss on your clit before looking up at you. That was a beautiful sight. His hair messed up, his lips a darker shade, and your cum glistening around his mouth. And you didn't miss the way his eyes were still dark but shining now.

"What are you waiting for, come up here" Your voice was a little rough because you spent the last few minutes before your orgasm moaning nonstop. Max stood up, hands unbuttoning his jeans while he made direct eye contact with you. Then his gaze travelled lower, looking at you all spread out for him. When you realized that, you blushed feverishly and moved to close your legs.

"Don't. I wanna see all of you" He instructed and you had no choice but to listen. He slid in between your legs then kissed you again, letting you taste your own cum as his tongue was granted access to your mouth.

His own pleasure wasn't something he was after, instead, he loved trailing kisses down your body. Letting him express his love for you. But that was a conversation for another day.

Your small bubble of joy popped when you heard the familiar sound of your ringtone. You had an idea of who could possibly be calling you right now, and you didn't like it. max saw your expression turn sour after hearing your phone ring, knowing exactly who it was. "What do you say, let me pick it up and end it once and for all?"

You turned your head to face him, "no, let me handle it." You moved off the bed despite Max's pleads otherwise. You already had a missed call from him, and you knew how much he hated it when he could call and you wouldn't pick up.

"Where are you?" was how you were greeted. "oh I'm doing great thanks, and you?" your tone was laced with sarcasm but he didn't like it one bit. "cut the bullshit, where are you?"

"Where else would I be, I'm at ho-" you began telling your lie but he cut you off, "are you really at home? because I'm standing in our bedroom right now so you are clearly not at home."

"shit" you mouthed and Max saw your expression and raised his eyebrow in question because he couldn't hear the other side of the conversation. Your attention was brought back to the phone call once you heard your boyfriend call your name, "it is almost midnight, where the fuck are you?"

"Why are you home?" you countered, avoiding the answer to his question because you needed time to think of a lie. He was the type of boyfriend to call your friends and ask if you were with them, so you couldn't even lie about that. Plus, they didn't know about your relationship with your ex. Max knew exactly what was going on when you said those words. Then, you put the phone on speaker so he could hear your boyfriend's next words.

"I thought that I would surprise you, but you are not even here to greet me. Can't even do anything good for you nowadays." his words angered you but you knew how to keep calm in these moments, Max on the other hand did not.

"Maybe if you cared about her and loved her more, then she wouldn't be with me right now." Max spoke out loud, surprising both you and your boyfriend. "Is that Max fucking Verstappen? You better not be fucking him."

"Well I was about to but you called, so if you're done then hang the fuck up." You don't know what overcame you to say that but you did know that you were tired of it all. "You're cheating on me?" he asked incredulously. "This is not how I wanted to tell you this, but I'm not in love with you anymore. We're done."

"No, this is the right time because I found someone else, but I didn't go around your back to fuck someone else while we were still in a relationship." He insulted you but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. "Well then I wish you well. I'll come by to pick up my stuff later." then you hung up before he could get another word in.

There was a moment of silence before you looked at Max. "Does that mean you can stay the night?" he asked, making you forget about all your worries for now. "Yes, I'm staying" you replied which made a smile grow on his face. "Good, because I still plan on fucking you until the only word you can say is my name."

[rottingworship]

Beg and Bargain

The Proxies x Fem!Reader | Chapter Five

[Masterlist]

Summary: You find things you really shouldn't find, confront people you probably shouldn't confront, and do things you really shouldn't do. Things are only getting murkier.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, mentions of blood/nosebleeds, mind control, consensual mind control, non-consensual recording (?), mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 3.4k

Things just keep getting weirder. Toby seems to hate your guts and hates it even more when you don’t look at him. You can barely look Tim in the eyes ever since the incident in the woods. Brian has been acting off. And you are positive someone has been coming to visit.

You are still sleeping on the couch. There are three rooms in the cabin: Toby’s, Tim’s, and Brian’s. So, you stick with the couch, it’s probably the safest spot for you, you have decided.

No one seems to be getting along anymore and you have a nagging feeling that it’s you. You cannot figure out what to do with this information. It’s been keeping you from sleeping. It’s been almost about four days since The Operator has taken you in. Your vacation is almost over. And you are spiraling. Fast.

It is five o’clock in the morning when you wake up. You look around and see two doors open down the hallway. Tim’s and Brian’s. You are sure they are out doing whatever the fuck has been asked of them. You get up and walk to the kitchen. You had been able to buy some groceries, leaving you to have something to eat. If Toby hasn’t gotten to it first. You sneak into the kitchen, knowing Toby’s still in the cabin makes you uneasy.

You look around, scrounging through the cabinets. You move some stuff around and see a glass bottle glint in the lowlight of the kitchen. Your brows furrow and you grab for it. A bottle of whiskey. You suck in air and look around. You don’t know whose it is, but you need some. After the past few days, you’ve had… You need it.

You have not had anything to eat, there is nothing on your stomach. You don’t care. You just want enough to feel better.

You have not been out drinking in at least six months. You have never had a problem with alcohol. It just made you… loose with your abilities. When you drink, you have barely any control over what the fuck comes out of your mouth. Including the commands you throw at people. So, you had decided it was best to do it when there was no one to control. Leaving you to rarely ever drink.

You really do not care about controlling anyone anymore, so you drink.

It does not take long to take effect on you. You are playing on your phone, giggling and minding your own business. You really do feel like your problems are no longer, well, problems. You feel light, as if you are floating. You get up and walk towards the bathroom. As you pass Brian’s room, something catches your eyes. A camera.

“Hm,” You hum to yourself. “I didn’t know he liked recording things…”

Normally, if you were sober, you would have left it alone. That is none of your business. Yet, you aren’t sober, and you don’t care. You walk into his room, quietly. You look closely at it and ever so gently turn it on, looking at it. You fiddle with it briefly, about to set it back down in frustration when you can’t figure the damn thing out. Until you see a video. It’s you. Asleep on the couch. You think you’re going to vomit. The video ends. You go to the next one.

This one is in the woods. You make out that he’s hiding and there are two people ahead of him. Your stomach drops at the realization of who those people are. Tim’s jacket is undeniably noticeable. His mask pulled up to his head. You can’t see your face, but you know that’s from the other night. Then, it starts. You hear heavy breathing. Brian’s heavy breathing. You think you are going to be sick. You don’t feel so light anymore.

You hear Toby’s door open, and he walks down the hall. He is too groggy to recognize you are probably not where you should be. You stand still. He walks into the kitchen, and you hear him yell.

“My whis-whiskey!” He is pissed.

The front door of the cabin opens, and you debate whether you want to sprint out or hide in his room. The alcohol has you feeling a certain way. You rush out with the camera in hand, and as soon as you spot Brian you fly off the handle.

“What the fuck is this?” You are screaming, having been sent into an unbridled rage. Brian and Tim look at you in horror. They have never seen you so mad. Brian snatches the camera from your hand, and you immediately buck up at him. “Tell me what that is.”

“I don’t-” Brian grabs his head. He shakes it slightly. “Stop!”

You feel blood begin to trickle from your nose. “Tell me what this is!” You grab for the camera, but Brian is quick to maneuver away from you. Static begins to be the only thing you can hear. You let out a pained cry and grab your head. “What the fuck!?” Your head is pounding, and your nose will not stop bleeding.

They’re close… The Operator is close.

Toby rushes into the living room to see what you’re yelling about. You fall to your knees as Toby, Tim, and Brian try to figure out what’s going on. You can hear something being said but you can't make it out. Brian drops beside you and reaches for you. “Don’t fucking touch me!” You hiss, eyes on the floor. Brian’s eyes glaze over, and his hand drops to his side. Until you almost immediately release him from your mental grasp, and he watches you in terror.

“Make it stop!” You scream, a blood curdling scream. “Please, stop!” You are crying. Your nose will not stop bleeding. You know you need to calm down, if they are close, you have to stop. Your mind control is not going to work with the Operator around.

You are hyperventilating. You hear something in your ear. A voice, along with the static. You can make out certain words. Woods, woman, and information. “Okay!” You sob. “Okay!” The static and the nosebleed stop. You fall onto your back and let out a cry. Your eyes shut and you breathe out heavily. The wood floor creaks beside you and someone is crouching next to you. You hear it. He’s right beside your face. You feel it.

“You!” Toby lets out a groan. “You got into- into my whiskey!”

Your eyes open and you look over at him. Your absolute rage keeps you from being scared. You sit up and rub your head. Brian and Tim crouch down too and look a little more worried than Toby does.

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is level, soft. You look at him and wait for him to continue. “Have you ever been able to, I don’t know, mind control without looking at someone?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Uh, you have now.” Brian gives you an awkward smile.

It clicks. You were not looking at Brian when you told him to stop touching you. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. “I’ve never-” You shake your head. “Look, I gotta go, before the reason I’m here gets mad and decides to not let me be here anymore.”

You get up and walk to the bathroom. You clean yourself up as best as possible and go to find a shirt to change into. Once you’ve changed and grab your sneakers, you push past Brian, Tim, and Toby.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug dramatically, “to get rid of someone probably!”

“I’m coming th-then.”

You shake your head. “I’m not going alone with you.” You may have sobered up by now, but you are still feeling the confidence that alcohol gives you.

“We’ll come.”

“No!” You shout. “I can do this by myself!”

Toby laughs, “N-no you can’t. You’ve killed one person,” Toby brings up a finger, it twitches as he speaks, “and that w-was under different circumstances.”

“I’m doing this by myself.” You walk out the front door. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.”

They don’t follow you.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

You have ended up at the crime scene again. You spot the policewoman from before and figure she’s your target. The scene is almost completely cleaned up. You think they would have moved on by now. The policewoman is looking for something. More evidence. Evidence of you.

You suck in air and walk from behind the tree.

“This place is off limits!” She puts her hand on her gun. You don’t stop walking. “If you’re lost-”

“Not lost.” You respond. You look at the blood stained ground and grimace. “Y’know,” you look at her, your eyes locking with hers, “I may have some information for you. About this case.”

“We can go to the police station-”

“Not necessary.” You shake your head. “Come here.” You watch her follow your directions. She listens to you effortlessly. Her face drops when she reaches you.

“How did you-” She goes to grab her radio.

“Do not call anyone.” Your anger from earlier is still coursing through you. “I wanna talk.” You purse your lips. “What do you know about this case? Tell me everything.”

She begins talking instantly. “John killed himself. He came back to his hometown to kill himself.”

“What about Ethan? Tell me what he says.” You cross your arms. You need to know.

“Ethan says someone made John kill himself. His ex. Ethan says John told him that his ex is a wicked woman, whose words hold more weight and power than anyone knows or believes.”

You nod. “Perfect. Thank you for cooperating.” You smile at her. Her face drops and her lips turn downward into a frown. Her hand goes to her gun again. You shake your head. “Do not shoot me.” You grab her arm and look at her a little harder, she does not look away. “You are going to go back to the police station and act like nothing happened. We did not speak. You did not see me.” Your grip tightens. “And tell Ethan that John was right.”

You release the officer, and she walks back to her car. She drives off and you sigh. You are grateful for not having to kill her. But you still can’t help but feel some sort of anger at yourself for what you have done. A tree branch breaks from behind you, and you tense. Your head snaps back and you step towards the noise.

“Brian?” You shout. You let out a low growl and begin to walk towards the trees. “I know someone is there!” You yell out again. The woods are silent. You shake your head and take your time to walk back to the cabin.

Cold air hits your lungs as you inhale deeply. You close your eyes and shove your hands into your pockets. You hear wood being chopped before you see anything. You are close to the cabin. You want to groan, but you refrain.

Your eyes spot Tim, he’s chopping wood. He looks great, you make a mental note of that. You try to not think too hard about it though. As you walk towards the cabin, Tim stops. He looks at you and puts his ax down. You keep walking.

Your name rolls off his tongue. You almost turn around, but you don’t. You keep walking towards the porch. The door swings open and Brian and Toby walk out.

“Did one of you follow me?” You stop and look between the three of them.

“No.” Toby crosses his arms, “Y-You said you could handle it.” He deadpans.

You feel much colder suddenly. “Then who the fuck was in the woods with me?”

They all look at you in confusion. “What are you talking about?” Tim asks, taking a step closer to you.

“I assumed that asshole-” You point at Brian, “was recording me again!” You cross your arms, glaring at him. “But…” You pause, “if it wasn’t one of you… Someone is in the fucking woods.” You look between them. “I know I heard someone-”

“What were you doing?” Brian asks. “I mean, you just sorta tore outta here…”

“I was taking care of some things.” You huff. “Doing what I was told.” They all stare at you, asking what it was you were told to do. “The policewoman Masky and I saw was back at the crime scene. I just- I told her what I needed to.” This causes all of them to tense. You roll your eyes. “Come on guys, I’m not a fucking idiot. I just figured out what she knew and tried to find some stuff out about Ethan. And then, I told her to forget she talked to me.”

“And it w-worked?” Toby’s lip turns up, his bandage on the other side of his lips moving up slightly.

“Yes.” You want to punch all of them, you think. “I can actually mind control people that are not you three without fucking dying from blood loss or a massive migraine.”

Toby seems about as done as you are. Except he acts on his feelings. “I’m ti-tired of your attitude!” He takes a step, leaping off of the porch. This causes you to flinch back. Fear like the night he chased you down comes flooding back. “See!” He points at you. “You- You’re a fucking pu-pussy!”

Your face contorts. Tim does not let you respond. He steps between you and Toby, placing himself in his line of fire. Toby does not like this. Brian takes a step off the porch and onto the steps. He’s watching closely.

“Toby,” Tim warns, “Leave it.”

“Shut the-the fuck up!” Toby begins to yell. “If she wa-wants me to stop she’ll have to make me!”

“Make you?” You peek from behind Tim. “I can’t use my abilities on you without consequences!” You are screaming. “I am not using them on you again! On any of you! You aren’t worth it!”

This sets Toby off. “Worth it?” Toby looks like he is going to physically move Tim away from you. He lets out a laugh, an angry laugh. You look at him in terror and confusion. “We are-aren’t worth it?” He stalks towards you, causing Tim to step forward at him. “You’re on-only here because of your powers!” Toby is seething. “You are weak and useless with-without them!”

“Toby!” Tim’s hands hit Toby’s chest. You want to run but that didn’t end so well last time, so you stay still. “Knock it off!”

“You’re just s-saying that ‘cause you like her!” Toby snaps at Tim.

“Like you weren’t in the woods jacking it to her?” Brian almost laughs out. It’s comical really. You don’t think so, but he seems to.

“You were record-recording her!” Toby turns to Brian and growls out.

“That was not-”

“Sorry,” Toby is directing his energy at Brian now, “that w-was Hoodie. My bad!” You are left watching this unfold. You feel like you are outside looking in. You want them to stop. They do not.

“You sound like a jealous bitch!” Tim yells. “You just want her so fucking bad, you look absolutely stupid!”

“I could say the same f-for you two!” Toby points between Brian and Tim. You wonder if you can get away without them noticing. You slowly take a step back, scooting away from the three. Toby scoffs, “I mean, l-look at how nice you t-t-two have been to her! You want her just as badly as I do!”

Oh. They all want you. Is that why Toby has been so mean? You don’t like that.

With that, you take off in a dead sprint. You have time to make some headway. You hope once you get into the woods that you can lose them easily.

“Hey!” Toby calls out first, causing Tim and Brian to turn to you. “H-Hey!”

You are gone. The three take off after you. You realize extremely quickly you are not in shape to be running away from three trained killers, but that does not stop you. Instead, you keep going. Even when you hear footsteps catching up to you. That is, until arms wrap tightly around your torso.

“Calm down,” Brian says in your ear.

“I think I’m acting totally normal after that confession back there.” You go limp in his arms, tired from running. You know you aren’t getting out of his grip, so what’s the point in trying? Toby and Tim catch up to the two of you. You are dangling in Brian’s arms.

“What was that?” Tim asks.

“I was running away,” You look at him. “I don’t know where. But fuck!” You begin to wiggle in Brian’s arms. “Anywhere is better than here right now.” You sigh. There is a silence between the four of you. “Can we just… Go back to the cabin?” You want to pretend like you did not just hear what you had.

“Of course.” Brian releases you. He stays close though. They all do.

You begin to walk back. Slowly and painfully.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After taking a little nap you decide it’s time to eat. You sit at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal. You finally got your bowl of cereal. You stare at the food in front of you while you eat. Your mind is completely blank. You are gone. You barely hear when the chair in front of you moves out and someone sits down. You look up and find Toby. Your stomach twists.

“Toby-” Your voice is a warning. “What?” He’s looking at you, his eyes won't leave yours. You swallow hard, placing your spoon down and giving Toby all of your attention. “Did you come to apologize?” It's the first thing that comes out of your mouth. You instantly regret it.

Toby recoils. “No!” He barks at you. He seems somewhat embarrassed about what he wants to ask. “I want y-you to practice your mind control o-on me.”

You want to laugh. Genuinely. “Toby. Do you want me to get a headache and a nosebleed?” Now, this? This is comical. “I already said I wasn't going to use my powers on any of you.”

“You we-were able to control Br-Brian without looking at him.” Toby crosses his arms.

“You want me to practice on you because of that?” You question him. “That was probably a fluke. Why do you want to help me?”

Toby slams his hands against the table and stands up. You are growing tired of this. Toby turns to walk off. “Toby…” He doesn't turn back around. You inhale deeply and close your eyes. “Toby, why do you want me to control you?” Blood almost immediately trickles from your nose. Nothing you can't handle though.

He stops dead in his tracks, but he still doesn't turn around. “I can fe-feel something.”

“What?”

“Do it a-again.” Toby turns around to you.

“No!” You grab a napkin and wipe your nose. “Toby, I'm going to get-”

“Let me g-guess… Tim.” Toby rolls his eyes. You tense as Toby stalks back towards you. “Y-you seem to like him the most.”

He is jealous. You stand up from your seat and look at Toby. He's on the other side of the table, leaning towards you. “Why do you want me to use my power on you?” You ask again.

Toby’s eyes glaze over, and he begins to talk. “I have CIP, I don't feel pain like most people do.”

It clicks. You release Toby and wipe your nose again. He wants to feel something. You hum and look at him. You debate on asking him about Brian and Hoodie, or Tim and Masky. “What’s up with Brian and Tim?”

“They have dissociative identity disorder.” His answers stay short and sweet. You nod at him. Toby takes in a deep breath and watches you. He twitches slightly as you stare at him. “What?”

“Do you want to continue?” It comes out sassier than you want it to.

“N-N-No,” He turns and walks off. “I gotta go-” He cuts himself off and begins to walk to his room. As he walks off down the hall, you have an inkling of an idea of what he’s going to do. You try not to think too hard about it.

That doesn’t work. All you can think about is what Toby could possibly be doing. You have not relieved your own stress in so long… You aren’t hungry anymore. You need release. How the hell are you supposed to find that in a house with three men without them tormenting you about it? You need to find something out. And fast.

[rosemariiaa]

~Holding On~

pairing- Paige x Azzi

a/n: not really much to say.. but this was kind of sad to write. I’m taking requests for a while until I start on something new , so send what you want to read lovelies 💌

Anon Request: • can u write pazzi oneshot where paige has thanatophobia and has panic attack and azzi id there to comfort her •

themes: fear of dying

Enjoy!!!

The apartment was quiet, but inside Paige’s head, it felt anything but. Her breathing was shallow, erratic—her hands trembling as her mind spiraled down a dark, endless tunnel. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, the fear wrapping itself around her chest like a vice. She was trying to keep it together, but it was slipping, all of it slipping.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. The end. That moment when everything just… stops. What if it came sooner than she thought? What if she wasn’t ready? What if she left everything and everyone behind?

Her chest tightened, her heartbeat thrumming too fast, too loud. She pressed her back against the cool wall of her room, gasping for air that didn’t seem to reach her lungs. The world felt like it was fading, like she was falling, and she couldn’t stop it.

Azzi wasn’t supposed to come over tonight. Paige had tried to be normal during practice, tried to laugh and joke like always. But the moment she was alone, it crept back in. And now it was suffocating her. Somehow, through the fog of her thoughts, she heard her phone buzz. Azzi. She didn’t have the strength to answer it.

Then, the door opened. Paige’s breathing hitched when she heard Azzi’s voice, soft but concerned. “Paige? You didn’t answer my texts. You okay?”

Azzi’s eyes immediately landed on Paige, crumpled on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to hold her body together.

“Oh my God, Paige,” Azzi whispered, rushing to her side.

Paige couldn’t even speak. She could barely breathe. She felt a cold sweat trickling down her spine, her vision swimming. Her mind was racing, chaotic and frantic, screaming things she couldn’t control.

Azzi dropped to her knees beside Paige, her own panic rising, but she pushed it down. She needed to be strong right now. Gently, she cupped Paige’s face in her hands, forcing her to meet her eyes. “Hey, hey… I’m right here. You’re okay. Breathe with me, okay?”

Paige’s eyes were wide, unfocused, but she tried to latch onto Azzi’s voice. It was like a lifeline, a rope pulling her from the deep end, but it was hard. Everything was hard.

“I can’t,” Paige managed to choke out, her voice raw, broken. “I can’t… Azzi, I… it’s like… I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like I’m going to die. I— “You’re not going to die,” Azzi said firmly, though her voice cracked with emotion. She wrapped her arms around Paige, pulling her close, holding her as tightly as she could. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Paige’s body shook as she collapsed into Azzi’s embrace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Azzi held her, one hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing circles on her back. She didn’t say anything for a while, just let Paige cry, let her panic run its course. The weight of the fear was crushing, suffocating.

“I’m scared,” Paige finally whispered, her voice so small it almost broke Azzi’s heart.

“I know, baby. I know,” Azzi whispered back. “But you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

They sat like that for what felt like hours, the weight of Paige’s fear slowly lifting, little by little. Her breathing started to even out, though the trembling in her hands remained. She could feel Azzi’s heartbeat against her own chest, steady, grounding her in a way she hadn’t thought was possible.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Azzi asked quietly, her fingers still running through Paige’s hair.

Paige didn’t answer at first. She didn’t know where to begin, how to explain what it felt like to be so terrified of the end—so terrified of something inevitable. Finally, she whispered, “I think about it all the time. About dying. About not being here anymore. It’s like this… weight. I try to ignore it, but sometimes it just… it takes over. And tonight, I just—” Her voice broke, and she clutched Azzi tighter. “It’s too much.”

Azzi closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from crying. She hated seeing Paige like this, so vulnerable, so scared. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” she said softly. “I know it feels like you’re carrying it all by yourself, but I’m here. Always.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Paige whispered, her voice barely audible.

“You won’t,” Azzi said, her voice fierce, determined. “You’re stuck with me, okay? Forever, if I have anything to say about it.” Paige gave a shaky laugh, though it was more out of exhaustion than amusement. “Forever, huh?”

“Forever,” Azzi confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss to Paige’s forehead. “We’re in this together.”

Paige nodded, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She didn’t feel okay, not completely. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of her mind, but it felt… manageable, at least for now. With Azzi holding her, it didn’t feel like it was swallowing her whole.

“I love you,” Paige whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

Azzi’s heart swelled, and she kissed the top of Paige’s head again, pulling her even closer. “I love you too. And I’m going to be here, no matter how hard it gets. You don’t have to be scared alone.”

They stayed like that, tangled together on the floor, the world outside their small apartment fading away. For now, it was just the two of them, holding onto each other through the storm. And for the first time in a long time, Paige didn’t feel quite so afraid.

————-

tags: @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner 💌

[wannaeatramyeon]

DG x Reader: Public Announcement

G/N. Your relationship is leaked...

The first picture was leaked at 7:04pm. That was the moment everything took a turn. For the worse, you thought.

And it's funny the things you focus on. Not the rabid stans calling you every name under the sun, or screaming about how DG is betraying them. Nor the messages or calls coming thick and fast to your phone.

Instead you thought Huh. That's a particularly flattering angle of you, and an unflattering angle of DG, which almost never happens.

Both your heads bowed, foreheads touching. Gone is his cool aloof veneer. In place of it, he looks at you like you've hung the moon.

So all things considered, maybe this wasn't too bad.

Sure you looked close, intimate. More than friends. But you still had culpable deniability.

The next picture came 5 minutes later. Ah. You're kissing. There goes the deniability.

(If you recall that day correctly, he also left some love bites along your neck too.

You bring your hand up to your collarbone, touching the tender skin. You can still feel the heat of his lips.)

And this brings you to now, when a blurred picture of you, but not blurred enough, comes into existence with those bruises on your neck and walking hand in hand with someone with familiar pink hair.

Damn.

.

.

A statement is released from the PTJ company on the relationship status of their CEO.

You sincerely doubt that DG has vetted it first if the tone is anything to go by. And it seems like they're still going hard after the deniability angle. Blaming it on photoshopping and filters and whatever technology they can pull out their ass.

You're proven right hours later when DG storms home in a foul mood.

"Diego-" you start and that seems to snap him out of it.

"James," he corrects you, taking a deep breath to decompress. Because it's always James when it's just the two of you alone.

"James. It's fine, you can deny it. Play the company line. Blame it on AI or whatever," you swallow down the hurt.

He's never made you feel like a dirty little secret. Truth be told, the unwillingness to go public was more due to your dislike of the limelight. However, now that it is already public, it seems disingenuous to lie. To tell the world there's nothing there. And what if it's because it's actually nothing, that you're not important enough to stake his reputation on. Sure, it's selfish and self-centred but-

"No," James cuts through your spiralling thoughts with one word.

"No?"

"No." He takes a moment to consider his next move. Realises that out of all the things that could be leaked to the press, his unsavoury dealings and bloody past, this is by far the lesser evil.

Had hoped that when this moment would come, and he would announce this relationship to the world, he would have much more control. Be able to shield you from the negative attention.

Still, it's never too late to control the narrative or to do everything in his power to protect you.

James whips out his phone, fires off a text or an email or likely a social media post because moments afterwards, your phone goes crazy again.

"Diego Kang is all yours." He announces, tossing his phone onto the coffee table with a clatter.

You look at him, long legs crossed, body language exuding confidence. The wicked gleam in his eyes. His smirk, fangs bared and dangerous. He looks at you like he wants to devour you, make you entirely his.

As if you weren't already.

You're his and he's yours. And now the entire world also knows.

[baby-yongbok]

Meltdown

Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Autistic!Fem!Reader

❗Genre: Angst

❗Warnings: Heavy themes of autistic meltdown, Very detailed explanation of a meltdown, Heavy themes of Anxiety?, self-harm (no blood), Mentions of not being able to breathe, Chris is an asshole but not for long. Again, this is very detailed. + Bang Chan is referred to as Chris.

❗A/N: I'm very nervous to post this, but I want to put out content for neurodivergent community. As an autistic individual, I rarely see content with an autistic reader. It may exist, but I've never really come across it. So, here I am. This work is purely based on my experience with autism and is based on my own meltdowns. This is not meant to reflect how every person with autism has meltdowns. I hope that you enjoy!

✨️Masterlist✨️

“You always do this, you always do the same shit and then try to play it off as an accident. How many times are you going to make the same mistake?” Chris yelled in your direction, putting air quotes around the last word of his sentence. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep yourself stable.

“It is a mistake and I thought that I was doing a good job at avoiding it, I don’t perceive any of my behavior tonight as suggestive. I thought that I was being friendly.” Your speech is steady and smooth, a calculated response designed in your head to avoid conflict. That was your goal, avoiding conflict, but it seems that Chris’ temper has other plans tonight.

“Friendly? Are you fucking kidding me? You were practically saying your vows with all the compliments you were dishing out tonight. Laughing at every single word that your so-called friend said. I’m surprised you weren’t sitting in his fucking lap with the way your conversation was going.” Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the bright numbers of the digital clock to your right. You focus your eyes on the bright outline, trying your best to keep yourself calm.

“Chris, I really didn’t mean -” You’re cut off by his yelling, the sudden sound making you jump a bit, shifting your focus. 

“I don’t want to hear that fucking excuse. You didn’t mean it? Yeah, sure, you always say that. And why the fuck do you let him call you all of those names? Honey, sweetheart, and anything else that slips off of his tongue, right?” He moves from his spot across from you, circling the couch and stalking towards where you're sitting quickly, only stopping when there’s about a foot between you. “Are you fucking him or something? Do the two of you have history? Because I can’t think of another reason for you to be so goddamn disrespectful.”

“Wha- no, I- I never did anything with him.” Your eyes dart up to his face but your gaze quickly falls, you blink a couple of times trying your best to hold back your tears. “I thought.. I thought I was being friendly I was watching -” 

“Why are you trying to play innocent?” He squats down in front of you, his piercing gaze trying to find yours. Tears start to run down your cheeks and you start to rock your body back and forth. You wipe your tears away with open hands before starting to pick at your nails. “Look at me. If you’re not lying then look at me.”

“Chris I- I can’t right now. I’m r-really overwhelmed, I’m sorry.” He sucks his teeth at you, leaning closer into your space. “Please.. Back up.”

“Look at me.” He hisses and you can feel the tingling in your hands and feet starting as your thoughts start to spiral out of control. “Do you really think that you were just being friendly? Tell me, I’m fucking listening.”

His tone picks up towards the completion of his sentence, ending in a shout. You jump again, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. The thoughts in your head get louder as the seconds go by and you start to lose the ability to understand them. Every time that you try to pin point one of them it gets pulled away from you. You start to bounce your leg, fast and harsh. The bouncing of your leg paired with the rocking of your upper body seemed to have caught Chris’ attention. The real Chris, not the one that was standing in front of you seconds ago allowing his jealousy to spiral out of control in a fit of anger.

“Hey..hey” He lowers himself onto his knees, his eyes that were angry seconds ago now glazed with worry. “I’m.. I’m sorry I lost it, I know I shouldn’t have, I just..”

He reaches his hand out to touch you, a soft attempt at comforting you but it was the last thing that he should’ve done. You jump at the contact, a small whine falling from your lips. He moves his hand quickly, muttering a small apology. You bring your hands up to cover your ears, attempting to shut out the heavy buzzing of your thoughts. You start to rock your body quicker as you lean forward, shrinking into yourself. 

“Fuck.” Chris hisses under his breath, his hands helplessly resting on his lap. He knows that you didn’t mean it, he knows that you have trouble interacting with your friends due to your autism. And he knew better than anyone what could happen when you got overwhelmed. He could usually see it coming and nurse you back to a more stable headspace but this time he couldn’t. This time it was him that caused the meltdown, the fault was at his feet and there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was wait and watch as you went through the motions. 

It was the screaming that pulled him out of his thoughts. The piercing sound of you wailing, the verbal expression of the pain you felt as you tried your best to understand what was happening in your head. His eyes fixed on you immediately, he took you in slowly, maybe too slow. Your hands were laced in your hair pulling harshly at the roots as you sobbed, you were mumbling something through your sobbing. At first he couldn’t understand but eventually he caught on and his heart shattered in his chest as he reached for your hands in an attempt to loosen your grip on your hair. 

“Stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes.” You mumbled as your tears fell. Your grip on your hair tightened just as Chris made contact with you, he tried desperately to gently pry your fingers from your curls. 

“Baby, you can’t do that.” He nearly whispered, his voice was easily drowned out by your screams as you tried to get as far away from his touch as possible. “Baby, please.”

“Stop making mistakes, Stop making mistakes.” Once Chris was able to loosen your grip you balled your hands into fists. Your body tensed and your breath caught in your chest. Chris watched you with wide eyes, he slowly tried to move a bit closer to you, preparing himself to stop you from hurting yourself if needed. 

“You have to breathe.” The panic in his tone was evident, you could hear it but you couldn’t react. There was too much going on, too much to process. “ Babygirl, please please breathe.” 

You bang your fists against your thighs, trying to get your brain to slow down, trying to coordinate breathing with thinking, moving, anything. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why couldn’t you just stop holding your breath? Why? The more you thought about it the more frustrated you got. You could feel a burning in your chest as you looked up at Chris, eyes wide with panic. 

“Babygirl, look, follow me. Do what I do, yeah?” His voice is soft yet strong as he tries to mollify the panic rising in his chest. He attempts to instruct you, using his hands to guide you into making your chest rise and fall as it should. You watch his hands, trying to concentrate, Trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the harsh buzzing of your thoughts. The longer you focus on the movements of his hand the more that you can feel your chest start to move. You take in a sudden breath, gasping a bit and choking for a second. You follow with another quick breath, gasping again and the pattern continues until the burning subsides and an intense dizziness hits you. 

“You did it, you did so well, baby.” Chris whispers, his eyes wide and glossy. “You got it.”

Your body starts to relax a bit as you work to regulate your breathing. You slowly unclench your fist, resting your hands in your lap and scratching at the fabric of your jeans. Your movements start to slow and you sit up straight gradually, every move hurts a bit, the aching in your muscles already starting to set in. Your crying continues as you pant softly, you mumble the same statement to yourself a couple of times before you direct your words towards Chris.

“I’m s-sorry. I thought I-I was doing it right I t-thought…” Your sentence trails off into a pained sob as you bring your hands up to cover your eyes. The guilt of your reaction came flooding through instantly. First you make your boyfriend mad and then you have a fucking meltdown about it? You just can’t win, huh.

“Please don’t apologize, I should be the one apologizing. I should be begging for forgiveness right now. I had no right to get that angry, I was jealous and it was stupid. I was insecure, I’ve been insecure about you hanging out with him for months and I let all of that pent up emotion out and I hurt you. I’m so so sorry, I understand if you don’t forgive me, I wouldn’t either. I know that you struggle and I still fucked everything up.” He moved a bit closer to you, a mere inch separating the two of you. 

You shook your head acknowledging that you could hear him. Your brain was slowing down just a bit and you didn’t want to add anything to the whirlwind to disrupt it. 

“I’ll get your meltdown kit, and I’ll pick out your safe clothes. You need to take a hot shower to try and soothe your muscles… you’re going to be sore in the morning, okay?” You shake your head, glancing up at Chris for just a second before you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight but you try not to let it bother you. The aftermath of a meltdown was something that you’ve grown used to after all. 

“Please believe me when I say that none of this was your fault. I’m so so fucking sorry, this will never happen again…ever.” He nearly whispers the last word before he stands from his position in front of you, rushing off to get your meltdown kit equipped with sensory aids of all types along with a pair of noise canceling headphones and a pair of tinted glasses in case the light is too much for you to take in. 

You keep your eyes closed as you wait for him to return, the pitter patter of his feet across the hardwood is louder than usual as he makes his way back over to you. He leaves you with the kit before rushing to start your shower and pick out your clothes. You always tell him that after you have a meltdown you just want to be left alone, you need space to come down completely. He watches from afar as you put on the headphones and open your favorite calming candle to smell. He makes sure to stay just far enough for you to have your space but close enough to be there if you need him. Once you go to the bathroom for your shower he sits outside of the door, listening for any signs of a follow up meltdown. He takes a deep breath and before he can stop it a tear falls, trailing down his cheek and leaving a path for the rest to follow. He squeezes his eyes shut as it all replays in his head. He yelled at you, he caused your meltdown, you could’ve passed out or ended up more hurt than you already are. God forbid you had a shutdown, he’d never be able to live with himself if he caused that but he could honestly barely stand himself now. He took out his phone, typing a text to Minho, hoping for someone to help calm him down before he sees you again. He’ll only allow himself to fall apart behind the scenes, he doesn’t want to add to your distress any more than he already has. A couple seconds go by after he’s sent the text before his phone is vibrating in his hands. He swipes the green button and brings his phone up to his ear. He takes in a shaky breath before he lets the words leave his lips.

“I fucked up…”