#anyway i’m gonna try to be around more this weekend! it’s just been busy with the puppy and social stuff

[fatelcved]

my sister got me to finally sit down and watch the o.ne p.iece live action and suffice it to say chiyo’s getting a verse or i’m making an oc at some point

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Look Out for You

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You stop taking care of yourself, literally worried sick when the boys don’t come home from a hunt.

Three days. Not a long time, right? Just a long weekend, really. 72 hours. It didn’t even qualify as long enough for a vacation. It was no big deal.

At least, until three days turned into four. 72 hours turned into 96. Regular texts turned into silence.

You’d been lounging around the bunker for four days. For the first three, you were anxious but functional. You hated it when the boys were out on a hunt far away; you spent the whole time worrying.

But it all went downhill when they didn’t come back. They were supposed to be back in three days at most, but that marker had come and gone and there was no word from Sam and Dean.

You hadn’t gotten any sleep the night they didn’t come home, and you found yourself too nervous to eat now. You’d called Castiel more times than you could count; he was busy in heaven, so you’d weren’t expecting a reply, but you tried anyway—nothing. You’d done the same with Sam and Dean’s phones, with the same result.

Four days turned into five; five to six. The food in the fridge was going bad, not that it mattered; you hadn’t eaten since day three. You hadn’t slept or showered, either; you couldn’t bare to to anything but pace around by the door, waiting, hoping, praying.

By day seven, you were pretty sure you were delirious. Whether it was from hunger or sleep deprivation you couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except Sam and Dean coming home.

You felt like a rope, frayed at the end; like one little tug would unravel you completely. The tug came in the form of the sound of the door opening. Your whole body stiffened like you’d been shocked, and your exhausted system couldn’t take it. You knees gave out under you, and before the door was even open you began to cry. You weren’t even sure why; whether it was relief that Sam and Dean might be back, or fear that it was some intruder that would find you so vulnerable and kill you easily. Part of you didn’t care anymore; either way, the torture would be over.

“Guess who—hey!”

You heard the voice as if through a deep fog, and it didn’t register in you until you felt hands at your arms and face.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You forced your eyes into focus and saw Dean, his face hovering over you as he cradled your face in his hands, his brows drawn together in concern. Sam was at your side, holding onto your arms as though to anchor you to the world.

“S’m…De…” your voice was hoarse, and just trying to speak sent you into a coughing fit.

“Hey, hey it’s ok,” Dean soothed once he was sure that you weren’t hurt. He pulled you into his arms. “It’s ok, we’re right here.”

“You-you said three days,” you sobbed. “Where were you?”

“I’m sorry.” You felt Sam’s arms around your shoulder as he pulled himself closer to you. “We’re so so sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked as he pulled back. “You look awful, when was the last time you slept?”

Your answer was cold and direct.

“Day three.”

“Commere.” Dean sighed and stood, lifting you into his arms. “You need to sleep.”

You let Dean carry you into your room without a word, Sam following behind. But when Dean laid you in your bed you had to ask—

“Where were you?”

“The hunt went a little sideways,” Sam said. “We kept trying to send messages, but nothing went through.”

“I’m gonna have to give the communications system in the bunker a check,” Dean piped in.

“I’m sorry,” Sam added. “We really did try. But we can talk more about the hunt later, you need to sleep now.”

The room was quiet for a minute as you settled down in your bed. You were the first to break the silence.

“Can you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Dean said, and Sam sat on the edge of your bed. “We’re not going anywhere.”

…

Sam, exhausted from the hunt, ended up falling asleep right next to you. Dean, however, was too distracted to sleep. As soon as you and Sam were settled down and breathing deeply, he went straight to the kitchen. He was pretty sure just looking at you that you hadn’t eaten in a while, but he wanted to be sure. Sure enough, when he got to the kitchen, he found that there was almost as much food in it as there had been when they’d left. He set about preparing some food with whatever wasn’t expired.

“Dean?” Dean turned at the sound of your voice to see you sliding into the kitchen in your socks, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey kiddo,” Dean smiled softly. “Commere, I made you a sandwich.”

Dean watched carefully as you made your way to a stool and dig into one of the sandwiches he’d left on the counter.

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you ate?” Dean asked.

You swallowed guiltily and avoided Dean’s gaze as you shrugged.

“Sweetheart…”

“I couldn’t,” you said finally. “I was too scared.”

“Baby,” Dean sighed, pulling you into his arms when you shuddered. “I get it, ok? I know you were scared for us, but you can’t do that. You gotta take care of yourself. I don’t even wanna think about what would’ve happened to you if we had taken even longer to get back.”

“It’s just so hard.” Dean held you tighter when he heard your tear-strained voice. “I need you guys. I don’t know what I’d do if you guys didn’t come back…”

“I know, I know,” Dean soothed, his arms tightening around you. “Ok, we don’t have to talk about this now. Just get some food, and maybe a shower, ok? And then you should probably sleep more.”

You nodded your assent and returned to your sandwich. After a moment, you said—

“Dean? You…are you guys gonna be around for a bit?”

“Me and Sammy aren’t leaving until you’re taken care of, ok? You need some sleep, and you gotta be taking care of yourself. Plus, the bunker needs a serious grocery run. So yeah baby, me and Sam are gonna be around for a bit.”

Dean chuckled softly when you jumped up and hugged him again.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“Anytime, little sister.”

“Mm, sandwich.”

You and Dean broke apart with a laugh as Sam staggered into the room and went right for the food.

“You gonna get some more sleep after that sandwich?” Sam asked you, suddenly serious.

“Yes mom,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

Sam and Dean both chuckled at this.

“Just looking out for you, kid.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iv) - pt 1 pt 2 p3

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : maybe the only way matt and y/n can stand being around each other is to fuck each other

warnings : weed, alcohol/drinking, smut (slightly rough but not very?? pretty filthy tho), profanity

mickey speaks : rlly hate how the smut turned out but maybe its jus me being a perfectionist + i changed a lot of shit ab UCLA (mostly grad dates) to fit into my narrative okay, i knowwww. only sorta proofread bc ive been busy, enjoy <3

THIS IS PART FOUR GO READ THE FIRST THREE PARTS DUHH

"FUCK!"

the turn of spring to summer in LA is typically the most eventful time of year. more parties are thrown than ever before in celebration of the season change, the boom of tourism begins, and of course school years are ending.

you celebrated your college graduation from UCLA only a week ago, with a large dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant and your friends all excitedly in attendance. matt was also there but you let it be known you invited him only so you wouldn’t feel bad (though he claims he wouldn’t have cared if you did or not).

you also shared an excruciating breakfast that same morning with your parents (both suffocating you with their traditional views that reminded you exactly why you moved hours away from them to attend school). you were cautious to wear items of clothing that would hide your tattoo and kept any conversations on the topic of your schooling rather than outside interests (not that they even care to ask) out of fear you may expose your routine of going out to party most weekends.

your brother was also at breakfast and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep a positive attitude for you. you immediately noticed his wet face when you gave him a full hug after your ceremony, which made you cry, mostly out of missing him and love.

"it's not that bad!" andrea looks at you in the mirror as she continues to give herself soft curls.

“how the fuck did i manage to make this one downturned and this one up,” you reply in frustration while you point to either wing of eyeliner on your grimaced face.

andrea giggles and aims the stick of the curling iron at makeup remover lying in the sink, “just get a q-tip and fix it, cariño.” (“honey”)

you move around her to grab a q-tip from a small jar in the medicine cabinet before following her instructions, getting extra close to the mirror.

remi barges in the bathroom dressed in a mini skirt and a detailed patterned top, “hi nick!” she exclaims to her phone screen, placing it down on the counter while untwisting her lipgloss.

you can see nick’s awkward face as he sits in the car (making his camera jump at any dip or bump in the road), “sooo…this better be erin’s bathroom ceiling im staring at.”

“and if i say it’s not?” remi giggles to herself before rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss further.

“i’d say what the fuck are you guys still doing at home?! y/n’s our mutual friend that even got us into this bitch and i’m not just walking into some sorority house acting like i know any of these fucking people.”

“and we didn’t go to college!” chris exclaims to add to the point.

“yeah, we didn’t go to fuckin’ college!” nicks adds before his face falters, “the fuck does that have to do with it?”

chris’ voice is low as he explains himself, “you know…like, obviously we aren’t gonna know shit about some delta kappa omega?”

nick comedically pauses and the three of you watch the screen to see him staring at chris with no facial expression, “…okay chris. anyway, get your asses over here ASAP. we need you.”

“okay, we don’t need them. you’re being dramatic just chill out,” matt huffs from the driver’s seat.

“hey, we’re leaving soon i promise, nick.” andrea assures and remi picks her phone off of the counter to show the girl.

"thanks, but we'll be fine. erin told me where to find her, let's not get ridiculous." matt continues dismissing the conversation he finds so unnecessary.

you hold yourself back from saying anything but you can’t help but wonder just how close erin has got to matt. and how she managed to hold any conversations without pissing him off (no way a little lap dance dismissed matt’s entire personality). she hasn’t been too explicit about anything happening between them, only cluing you all in through her frequent mentions of him.

chris’ loud voice beams, “yeah, you ladies take your time! nick gimme the phone-” chris’ smiley face takes up remi’s screen now that the phone has shifted, “you know, who the fuck are we to tell any of you to rush?!” he sees andrea in view (with a form fitting dress and warm toned makeup) and can’t help the rush of words that decide to spill from his mouth, “andreayoulookfineasshitbytheway- and i just think, uh,” he giggles at his poor recovery and at andrea shaking her head and biting the side of her mouth (her very andrea way of blushing). “um, yeah, fuck, what was i sayin’?” he turns to matt.

nick laughs from the backseat at chris’ comment (he thinks it’s generally embarrassing opposed to andrea who finds herself embarrassingly flattered by him).

“nothing important, say your goodbyes now, we just pulled up.” matt gives his short advice and takes the phone. “see you, bye,” he hangs up and chris punches his arm immediately.

“dudeee!” chris groans. matt doesn’t give any reaction besides handing nick his phone back without looking at him.

“we’ll see them in less than an hour, get your shit.” matt tilts his head out the door as he opens it and exits the car.

“he’s so annoying.” chris huffs and turns to nick as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“i don’t know him, he’s your fuckin’ brother.” nick shrugs and acts clueless. chris laughs into his seat and nick knows making chris laugh makes him feel way better than just shitting on matt would’ve.

matt opens his door again, “get your gigglin’ asses out here!”

౨ৎ

matt's suprised he's lasted this long at this party without a fucking drink.

he's seen just about every partygoer trope there is - drunk guys and "you need to sober up" girlfriends, overly excited drunks far too impressed by each new song that plays, the loner type who strictly speak within their circle even when wasted, et cetera - and has managed to lose everyone he knows in this crowd, leaving him alone with DD responsibilities in a sorority house bouncing with excitement in honor of their “graduating senior sisters.”

speaking of, he’s only spoken to erin once all night. he did see you with your friends briefly, early in the night before you were swooped away with nick to be introduced to some guy he just met.

so like all times matt is bitchless and bored, he decides to smoke. he reaches in his jacket pocket for the joint he rolled before the party, in case of emergency.

but just as he raises the lighter towards his mouth he's interrupted by an airy, high pitched voice, “um, excuse me!” matt looks over, “yeah, you. sorry, you can't have drugs in the house.” the blonde frowns.

“it’s weed…” matt clarifies, taking the joint from between his lips.

“uh huh! and that is prohibited, outside please,” she guides her hand, drink in tow, towards a sliding door behind her.

he's not gonna nitpick with some chick about the umbrella term of 'drugs' or debate whether the alcohol she's drinking lies under it, so he just nods his head “cool,” and removes himself from his spot against the wall to walk around her and out of the door.

౨ৎ

you slump against a nearby couch as you recover from a hour of dancing alongside your best friends. remi sits next to you and leans her head on your shoulder as you both look around at the room full of people (a shade of deep fuchsia covers the room from multiple LED lights around the large house).

when you feel your own blinks become slower you shrug your shoulder and look at remi's profile, "we should probably get up rem, or else we'll fall asleep. this couch is way too comfy." you sigh.

"mmm... yeah. kinda want another drink but," she turns to look behind you both, "the kitchen's all the way over there..."

"now i know you two aren't tapping out of my party already?!"

you both look over to see erin dressed in a small glittered party dress, making her shine as she walks closer. "erin, where the fuck have you been?!" you excitedly rise from the couch and give her a hug.

"it's actually so fucking hard to host a graduation party, especially with my sorority sisters- they've had me doing all these traditions and shit, i haven't had time to talk to like anyone!" she explains to both you and remi.

"well, at least you look good, bitch!" remi adds and holds erins hand to make her twirl in her dress.

"thank you," she blushes and looks down then back to you two, "have either of you seen the triplets?"

"i think nick's off with some dude and chris is 'teaching' drea how to play beer pong..." you trail off and look to remi, "have you seen matt at all...?"

"not recently, i don't think so?" she looks over to erin.

"oh okay, that's fine. just wanna make sure they're having funnn." she draws her words out as she plays with the ends of her hair and smiles. you and remi can both tell she something bothers her more than she's leading on.

"e, come with us to grab drinks," you hold both remi and erin's hands and guide them with you to the kitchen.

౨ৎ

matt hadn't realized how hard he was staring at you dancing until chris came up to him with wild eyes and a loud laugh, making him snap away from whatever trance he was in.

"you okay, matt? your brain's not buzzkillin' right?"

matt straightens himself to no longer lean on the wall, "no."

"you sure?"

"yes?"

"maybe you should say fuck DD and have a drink or two, might give you somethin' to smileee aboutttt!" chris laughs.

"don't be stupid, chris. 'm not driving drunk."

"obviously we'd get an uber, matt." he emphasizes with a 'duh' attitude. "i get funnier when drunk, not stupid."

"right," matt offers a light laugh.

he throws a hand over matt's shoulder as they both face the crowd of dancing people, "god damn andrea's fucking hot- swear she's been feelin' me all night," chris hypes himself up then brings his red solo cup towards his mouth.

matt's eyes shift from you to andrea, who's limbs move just as freely and smile is just as wide. "that's good, that's good," matt nods. "she's nice."

"she's everything, bro." chris shakes his head in awe, "but, uh, do you have any cash on you?" matt turns his head, eyes showing his annoyance. "i'll pay you back, you know that matt. just like $20 to get me in the poker game outside."

"chris-"

"please, matt," he begs.

matt lets a heavy sigh out through his nose as he rustles in his pocket for his wallet. "you're my favorite now," chris kisses matt's hand quickly before he's heading off with a crumpled twenty in hand.

matt's eyes follow him until he's fully gone, then he's turning to look for you again. only this time it's not a challenge at all, you're already on your way.

you pull at the bottom of your little black dress (which rode up some due to your eccentric dancing) as you approach. "hi, matttt," you sing. it's known to most of your friends that when you're drunk your emotions are ten times stronger, and right now you're feeling extra carefree.

matt can tell you've definitely had a few drinks, so he tries to keep the conversation civil. "hey," he cracks a smile.

"are you not having fun?" you ask. you've wondered ever since you recognized him across the room.

"sure, i'm having fun." he shrugs, keeping eye contact with you.

you notice his all black outfit and blue jean jacket, "we kinda match," you look down at yourself then towards him, "i had a jean jacket too...it's um, in a closet somewhere i think."

"then you must have great style," matt jokes.

"oh i think that was clear before i happened to match you," you joke making use of your hands while speaking.

"mhm, sure..."

"so, do you wanna dance with us?" you smile in question.

"absolutely not," matt laughs and brings a fist to his mouth.

your smile drops, "right, you watch us dance but laugh at the thought of participating...?" you move your eyes to each side, "'cause that makes sense, matthew."

"no, it's not like that. you go have fun, i'm just not one to make myself look stupid for fun." he shrugs.

"so we...look stupid?" you squint your eyes in amusement knowing matt is trying to be such a hard ass for no reason.

"you said it," he laughs.

now you're a bit annoyed. "so you go back to being a loser all alone right here in this corner, and i'll go back to this stupid party and enjoy myself."

"alright," he rolls his eyes, "go ahead and be dramatic about it."

"will do," you sigh and begin to walk over to your friends, presenting matt with the gift of your middle finger directed towards him behind your back.

and matt thinks he just might take chris' advice on having a drink or two.

౨ৎ

you hate that matt is still on your mind.

and it irritates the fuck out of you that you're now giddy seeing him for a third time tonight. but to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you've gotten to the point where you're so buzzed you've become horny.

you came outside on the hunt for remi, who told you she was looking for erin, and ended up finding all three triplets at a makeshift poker table full of rowdy men.

and as some wise person must have said: when horny, find someone to fuck.

"y/n!! whatcha doin'?" nick notices you and gives you a wide grin offering you a chair near the table.

"hey, nick. 'm sorry i can't really stay i just, um, need to borrow matt."

matt. who isn't paying much attention to anything around him now that the four shots he took settled. with his phone in one hand and a beer resting in his other, he's bound to be startled when you come behind him and whisper in his ear, "heyyy, sorry to bother but can we talk?"

he blinks and looks behind him, "y/n?!"

"come," you motion with your fingers and begin to walk away as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and starts to stand up.

"yeah?" he asks getting closer to you.

you wordlessly bring him back into the heated house and navigate until you find a mostly empty hallway (all while he keeps annoying you by repeatedly asking what you want).

his back falls against the wall, "way to confuse the fuck outta me. what's good?" the hand you were once holding dives into his front pocket out of habit and the other continues to hold his beer.

"i just need you to take me home."

"y/n, i'm no longer driving myself home, let alone you," he shakes his head.

"right, i figured, smartass."

"glad those comprehension skills still work. grab your phone and order an uber, 'm sure you dont need my help."

"matt. i want you to come home with me." you sigh in defeat.

"oh shit." matt dead pans. "ohhh shit." his eyes widen before a a laugh breaks through his closed mouth, "sunshine...you're tryna' fuck?" he looks up at you from his spot against the wall.

you scramble a lie to make yourself look less pathetic, "you're a last resort trust me," you roll your eyes. this was way better in your drunken mind than reality.

"still made the list though!" matt jokes, "wow. who knew you were so romantic? bringing me all the way over here just to tell me you wanna fuck. and at your place? how sweet," he can't help but poke fun.

"fuck you," you say under your breath.

"well only because you asked so kindly!" he goes to wrap his arms around you before you push him back against the wall.

"are you done?"

"i guess." he shrugs.

"so will you or not," you try to keep your confidence and not allow matt's comments to embarrass you. "it's fine if not, just-"

"yeah," matt's smirk slowly grows. "meet me out front, i'll have to go lie to my brothers but i can be quick."

౨ৎ

"why am i shocked you're actually here?" you ask as you shut the car door and look over to matt, phone screen reflected on his face.

the car begins to speed out of the neighborhood as he turns off his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket, "let's be serious for one second," he reaches over and pulls at the end of your dress, "you wear this and look like that and you think i'd say no? i'd be crazy. i mean, yeah, your fuckin' mouth can irritate me to pieces but-"

"actually just shut up, matt" you remove your head from leaning against the window and move across the middle seat to kiss him. you pull apart fairly quickly though, "how are you less mean yet extra annoying when drunk? i shoulda went with my last last resort." you shake your head.

matt grumbles before leaning to kiss you again.

౨ৎ

after a car ride full of teasing and rushed kisses, you both made it to your apartment complex.

you fumble with your purse as you search for your house keys, distracted by matt’s lips moving over your neck. you pinch your eyes shut in frustration, “mattt, give me a second,” you nudge your shoulder into him to get him off of you.

“let me see it,” he grumbles grabbing your purse and finding your keys with ease, moving his arms around you and unlocking the door.

“you make it look so easy,” you breathe and open the door with your body pressed against it.

matt lets go of you and follows you inside.

you lean a hand on the wall next to the door to quickly remove your heeled shoes and matt watches you with dopey eyes and glossy, excessively bitten lips before deciding to take his shoes off as well.

you walk closer to him once he’s done, your dress riding up your legs and barely covering your ass at this point. you look up to him and softly ask, “do you need anything to drink?”

he brings his right hand up to hold your face and moves close to your lips, “you know i don’t want a fucking drink.”

“you don’t?" your pout is genuine even though you're teasing him. he knows you're sweet enough to really get him a drink if he desired. he draws his thumb across your slumped lip before you speak again, "well…what do you want, matt?” you move your hands to the waist of his jeans, tracing the outer seam.

he pinches his eyes shut and moves his head to lean on your shoulder, he’s not gonna be the one to say he wants to fuck you. you want to fuck him, that's why he's here. so he’s definitely not begging you to touch him.

“hmm…?” you hum as your hands go to either side of his face, bringing him back to look at you. he looks into your eyes as he drops his hand from your jaw. you notice the pink splotches that still linger on his face, recovering from the heat of the party atmosphere and now the heat of this moment.

matt looks down at your lips, “you know what i want, and you want it too.” his hands travel down and push the front of your mini dress up as he feels over your underwear.

you mouth hangs open and you move your hips against him softly. begging him with your actions rather than your words. and those tend to speak the loudest.

"so what do you want, y/n?" he asks quietly without breaking eye contact.

"matt-" you breathe, wanting him to do anything more than a juvenile rub over your underwear.

he licks and sucks your neck as your hands capture his hair. “where do you want me?” he sounds out of breath when he asks so close to your ear. he finally moves his fingers past the waistband of your panties to nudge your clit as he taunts, “hmm…? you want me right here?”

you whine, “we can’t right here."

"why not?" he breathes against you, annoyed.

"i can't have you fuck me in the foyer i share with my best friend,” you just know andrea would be pissed if either of your body’s fluids made it onto the freshly vacuumed carpet.

he retracts his hand, “then why are we just standing around? show me to your room,” his voice is rough.

“why don’t you try to guess which is my room is mine?” you smile with your faces far too close together.

“why don’t you be a good host and give me a tour?” he retorts.

“that’s not fun,” you push.

he growls and lifts you up, walking past the living room and into a hallway that splits in two (all while you incessantly kiss his jaw and upper neck). he huffs at his ridiculous situation and reaches for the first door he sees. a toilet sits at the end of the room and a cluttered counter to the left.

“bathroom,” you mutter with a giggle.

matt responds with a snipped tone, “mhm yeah i’ve seen one before.”

his grip on your waist grows harsher as he opens and closes a multitude of doors with you commentating over.

he finally makes it to your room with you mocking him in a cheer of celebration as you climb off of him and turn on the dim light near your bedside.

matt would normally take in the room around him but his headspace is far too sexually frustrated to give a shit about how you decorate your room.

he opts to stand near the door and eye you from afar, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you.

you notice this (as well as the fact that matt hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said about minding the mess of clothes piled in the corner from your struggle to pick an outfit earlier) and slowly walk back towards him. the soft yellow light blurs behind you and highlights the edges of your figure in a mouthwateringly pretty way that makes matt antsy.

when you’re close enough matt somehow pulls you closer. his nose nudges against yours messily before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. your hands feel for the end of his shirt and move underneath it to touch his warm lower stomach. you can feel how his body expands and curls as he breathes through your unwavering kiss.

despite wanting to keep the tension high, you break apart from matt to tease a bit, “can i touch you?” his face is scrunched absentmindedly from his desire and his lower lip finds its place tucked behind his front teeth when he rushes a nod to you in encouragement.

you push him away from you softly, “take your jacket off.” you move to your bed and after the sound of a jacket hitting the floor, you find him right on your feet, chasing your kiss and heat.

he leans over you and immediately finds your lips once more. now that he’s on top of you he finds himself wanting to get you to say how bad you want him.

his hands meet your thighs and move your dress as they run up to your rib cage before moving back down to squeeze your thighs.

matt’s surprised when you’re the one to involve your tongue in the mix, making the kiss sloppy yet intimate. your hand then crawls into his hair to keep him close.

but he doesn’t let you hold him for long, taking your hand from his hair and laying it against the bed, raising himself above you. “what do you want sweetheart?” he lowers his other hand towards your stomach, grazing your tattooed hip gently before feeling your underwear.

“you,” you respond in defeat and desperation.

“oh? and you want me to…?”

“matt. touch me,” you take your free hand and guide his own under the waistband of your underwear.

“but i thought you wanted to touch me? now you’re just bein’ selfish.” he keeps his hand close to your pussy, running his index finger across your lips kindly.

you look at him with droopy eyes, “please."

so matt lets you be selfish. he selfishly wants to taste you after all. he lowers himself to your face and captures your bottom lip once more, sucking then biting down slightly before moving his face further down your body slowly. your dress maintains its rippled shape in a bunch right where your tits lie.

he makes his way to your tattooed lower hip, still a little impressed with his execution of the cartoon (as it's not his typical style) and showing this with a kiss, then a light lick (making you shudder the tiniest bit). as he furthers, he finds the space on the bed is not enough, opting for the plush, carpeted floor.

matt sits on the back of his calves to watch how your body reacts when he pulls your panties down, only he misses the satisfied smile curling onto your face when you move your head to the the side.

he shifts your pliable legs to give him a better view of your heat's entirety, spreading your folds gently as he gathers spit in his mouth and spills it onto your clit. his eyes flicker from your face (choking on a moan) to the bead of saliva mixing with your natural slick that has him on edge. “that feel good?” he asks and moves his fingers up and down your pussy slowly, bumping your clit but not lingering long enough.

“yes...so good, matt,” you encourage in a broken whimper.

he hums, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. you moan out lowly and you can't help but close your legs around matt's head. he normally would lay them flat again and tease you but he finds the pressure and dizziness turns him on so much more. his hands rest at your hips, moving up and down and your legs cradle his head as he works his mouth and tongue on you.

"mm fuck," you reach above your head to grip the soft colored comforter in your manicured hands. matt never falters, his licks only become needier when he adds two of his fingers to curl inside of you.

he continues his restless actions until the moment right before you have registered you were about to cum. then, he's immediately removing himself and standing up, wiping his face with one hand as the other hurries to unbuckle his chunky black belt.

you grumble and fix yourself to sit up and look at him, now discarding the belt into his own growing pile of clothes on your floor. he begins to unbutton his pants when he hears you whine and pull at his ego to get him to come back. “how fucking typical. should’ve known i'd barely get one orgasm, let alone two out if this.”

matt immediately stops unzipping his jeans and comes closer to stand above you, his face clearly annoyed. he gives your pussy a light slap, making you whimper. “keep talking shit, brat.” he grits through his teeth and slaps it again making a filthily wet sound that has you moaning.

he doesn't stop at that; he begins to harshly rub your clit back and forth without mercy, keeping eye contact as his face hovers your own, before moving his fingers inside of you while his thumb continues to work your clit. continuous loud moans crowd your room before you eventually meet your high with rolled eyes and shaking legs.

matt quickly pulls his fingers out and wipes them against your thigh leaving it sticky and shiny like golden honey. finally able to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, allowing his needy cock to be free from the tightness. you move to the edge of your bed when you hear the small clap against his stomach, eager to find matt as ready for you as you are for him.

he watches from above as you admire his length while your fingers ghost over his sensitive dick. you then bring your mouth closer, dribbling spit over his tip and wrapping a fist around him. you look up into his hooded eyes for approval then take him in your mouth and jerk the rest of him with your hand.

he groans and bites his pink and undoubtedly swollen bottom lip as you suck and hollow your cheeks around him, even taking him all the way at some points. and though this feels fucking amazing, he wants nothing more than to be inside of you right now.

he holds the base of your neck then squeezes lightly to get you to pull away, spit erotically traveling with your lips. “can i fuck you now?” his voice is perfectly hushed yet demanding in tone.

you nod and matt wipes your lips, “good, take that dress off.” he removes his own shirt and reaches for a spare condom he’d put in his pocket before leaving the house (for no particular reason). he turns back to you, with your breasts now on display for him, ripping the package with his teeth.

you motion for him to give it to you and he complies. somehow even when you’re literally putting a condom over his dick, you’re a sweetheart about it: kissing it once he’s fully covered and turning yourself over onto all fours without him having to ask. because you understand yourself and have the confidence to choose the position you’d like to be fucked in. and matt would be lying if he said that isn't so fucking attractive.

he smirks as he adjusts himself on the bed, feeling out every inch of your full ass before moving his hands to squeeze your waist. you lay your head against the plush comforter, arching yourself further in anticipation. “matt,” you blubber out a whine.

he takes the base of his cock and guides it through your folds, “mhm…i know.” he sees your face twist in amusement, “oh, you like that, huh?”

you lick your lips and nod your head before matt finally pushes himself fully inside of you. his hips start in slow, rhythmic patterns before becoming uncontrolled and incomplete- and the same goes for your moans.

matt's almost hypnotized by the way your ass moves in reaction to his thrusts (slowing himself down just to watch in detail and only speeding up when you start to get really antsy over it).

as you both get sloppier and chase your highs, matt decides to flip you over and tuck your legs into your chest for a different angle. there's something especially needy in the way he rubs at your clit and makes a mess of your tits with his mouth that drives you insane with pleasure.

"my- shit!" you moan harshly under matt.

"hold it," he huffs.

"can't," you whimper, "just-"

"shhh," matt captures your lips as he quickens his pace, feeling his own climax approaching. after a few moments you're breaking the kiss to roll your head away, exposing your neck as you uncontrollably cum around matt.

"fuck," he moans, stilling his movements to maximize his release.

he takes a moment to breathe before removing himself from you, immediately fucking his fingers into you while rubbing your weak clit (just to be annoying) until you push him away and tell him to fuck off.

he lets out a chuckle as he removes the condom and discards it appropriately. when he comes back over to you you're on your side with your own arm wrapped around your waist in comfort.

matt sits next to you, "that good for you?"

you just nod and bite back a smile.

matt hums in pride, running a hand over your exposed ass before leaning down to kiss and suck a dark hickey into the skin.

"c'mere," you tug his hand.

he complies and you turn to open your legs for him once more, grinding a bit once the two of you begin to kiss again.

you reach between the two of you, taking matt's half-hard dick in your hand and stroking. as you pick up your pace he whines and begins to thrust into your hand in need.

until you hear your front door open. to which you push matt off of you and on to the floor, hearing him groan as you snap at him to get in your closet.

you crawl under your comforter while matt hurries to gather his things from your floor and get into your closet.

you hear andrea stumble a little making her way through the house and you catch your breath just as she knocks on your door and cracks it to check if you're sleeping.

"y/n, you awake?" she slurs a whisper.

"yes. hi drea, how'd you get home?"

she opens the door a little further but continues to lean on the door frame, "how did you get home? was lookin' all over like 'where's my girl?' everyone was usless though," she sighs.

"sorry, i took an uber," you giggle, "i got sleepy, i guess."

"mhm...you and me both." she yawns expectedly.

"you should get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, okay?" you smile from your bed.

andrea nods, "'kay, love you." she leaves with a sleepy smile.

"love you," you reply as she shuts the door again.

you let out a relieved breath, glad she hadn't suggested a sleepover like you'd both normally do when drunk.

matt walks out of your closet, almost fully clothed, buckling his belt again, "gave me fucking rug burn, thanks."

you move a hand over your face, "sorry- i just don't need anyone seeing you here."

"'s fine," he shrugs and takes a seat on your bed, "how long is it gonna take her to sleep so i can leave?"

"less than five minutes," you pick at one of your acrylic nails, seeing matt place his jacket on your bed makes you almost laugh to yourself, "shit, i left my jacket at erin's."

matt grins to himself and adds, "shit, i left my car at erin's," with a shake of his head.

you both laugh softly before it fizzles.

matt's back is towards you as he opens his phone to order another uber home. and now the silence brings you back into reality and suddenly you're feeling sick to your stomach about erin.

it takes you a little but you eventually mumble towards his back, "matt you didn’t fuck erin, right?"

"no," his voice sounds distracted and like he wouldn't care even if he did.

you focus on a loose thread in your comforter that you pick at, "...kay. not that it matters 'cause this was only for tonight. but i know i would probably die from guilt knowing i fucked with you after she did."

he turns to see you genuinely out of it and seeming to shelter yourself under your blanket. he leans towards you and rubs your arm softly before whispering, "don't make it a big fucking deal, nothing's different." his stare actually makes you feel far worse but you nod as if you agree anyway.

he stands up and puts his jacket on, “you sleep well okay, sunny?”

"shut the fuck up, you don't care about how i sleep," you whisper.

he breathes a laugh and reaches for your door.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper

[lovebugism]

hiiii 😊 i LOVE your writing, especially shy!reader!! i heard you wanted more spooky/angsty requests, so...

maybe one with eddie where they're camping with the group around halloween and everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire, but reader gets really scared and doesn't wanna hear any more, but she can tell eddies having so much fun that she doesn't say anything. eventually eddie notices something's wrong but reader won't tell him what, then he figures it out and comforts her?

ty lovie! hope you like it! — eddie comforts you when your imagination runs too wild, maybe a little more than best friends are supposed to (shy!reader, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You know you shouldn’t be as scared as you are, but you keep torturing yourself anyway.

Robin Buckley, as it turns out, has about the same storytelling abilities as Edgar Allan Poe. She spins a web of horror with nothing but a couple wretched words and a wild imagination. Lit up orange by the simmering campfire, you listened to her in wide-eyed horror — like a child just learning about the boogeyman.

She’s stomping out that fire now, laughing loud and pretty after telling Nancy some dirty joke, and acting like she didn’t just get done telling the gnarliest ghost story of all time. You’re frozen on the rickety bench that overlooks the pitch-black lake, too busy convincing yourself that there’s a figure in the treeline — a Jason Vorhees equivalent on his way to murder you in your sleep.

Eddie’s sitting beside you, though. The warmth of his presence puts you at ease, like a belly full of food or a warm bed. You nearly jump out of your skin when he rises from the picnic table.

“Me and Steve were gonna go smoke,” he tells you, pulling a smushed carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You okay here?”

You blink at him for a moment. It takes you a second too long to hear him, having been so stuck in your own head. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod and try your best to smile something convincing. It’s a grimace, at best.

Eddie sees right through you. You’re rarely so passive with him. He’d only asked ‘cause he doesn’t like to smoke around you much. He knows you don’t like it. Now he’s scared he might’ve offended you in some way.

“You sure?” he presses, bushy brows pinched in concern.

You nod again, much slower this time and far more dramatic.

Eddie smiles down at you, pink and lopsided. This quiet, sarcastic version of you is much more familiar. “Well, are you gonna speak, or are you gonna do the not-talking thing for the rest of the night?”

He flicks a strand of your hair. You squint. What not-talking thing? you’d argue if he didn’t know you so damn well. Instead, you just tell him, “I’m okay,” in the firmest tone your mousy voice can muster.

“Do you wanna come with?”

He cocks a thumb over his shoulder, where Steve’s brave figure ventures up the darkened trail to his dad’s lakehouse. You cower under the weight of his chocolate stare, wringing your clammy hands in your lap. 

“Is that okay?” you ask in response.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course, it’s okay! Want you everywhere I go.”

You try not to get all flustered about it. Friends aren’t supposed to burn up like a stove-eye when their best friend is nice to them. It’s impossible not to, though, when Eddie’s leather-clad arm wraps around your shoulders — to keep you close, maybe, or to keep you warm. 

Your stomach is in knots about it either way.

You lean further into his warmth. He smells like cologne and boy and a weekend on a lake. You wrap your arms around yourself when a crisp breeze prickles your skin. You clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

Eddie sees everything you hide from him and holds you tighter. “Told you to wear a jacket.”

“It was warmer earlier!” you retort without missing a beat.

“Well, that’s why you listen to me.”

“I didn’t have a jacket big enough to wear over my sweater!”

“I told you to borrow mine, you loon!”

“But then you would’ve been cold!”

The married couple arguing fills the darkened woods, illuminated only by a dim moon and some amber lanterns hung every couple yards. Something rustles in the pitch-black, and the bickering ceases. 

Your heart lurches into your throat. You gasp, almost cartoonishly so, and your sneakers scuff along the gravel when you freeze.

Eddie laughs it off like he always does. The warm, honeyed, boyish noise doesn’t comfort you like it usually does. “It’s okay,” he tries to assure you through his chuckling, squeezing your shoulder with a warm hand. “It’s probably just, like, a rabbit or something.”

You remain frozen and unswayed. “Sounded heavier than a rabbit…”

“What? You are, like, an expert on wildlife now?” Eddie teases, if only to make you smile. You do, but just barely. He holds you tighter and juts his chin back to look down at you, grinning wide to make up for the lack of yours. “You spend one weekend in a cabin, and suddenly you’re a know-it-all on nature?”

You start smiling wider despite yourself. The sparkly feeling Eddie swirls in your chest is much more powerful than the tiny, lingering fear in your tummy.

“I just know what footsteps sound like, dork.”

The rustling returns, louder now. Tree limbs crack when they’re broken beneath the weight of something definitely heavier than a rabbit. When two figures appear from the blackened forest, you stumble into Eddie on instinct. He presses you closer to him without thinking, pulling you backward from the lanky silhouettes across the trail.

One step closer, and the shadows have faces. Jonathan and Argyle stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the tall grass. They’re starry-eyed, gazes rimmed red. The latter lifts the hem of his t-shirt, forming a bowl of something you can’t see.

“Hey, brochachos!” Argyle greets, perhaps a little too loud for the late night.

Jonathan is the only halfway sober one of the two, so he notices the fright dancing in your features before his best friend can. He mumbles, much quieter in comparison to his brightly-dressed counterpart, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“The hell are you guys doing out here?” Eddie wonders with a partly forced laugh.

“Scavenging for mushrooms,” Argyle answers like it’s obvious. He brings down the bottom of his shirt and flashes the makeshift bowl of mushrooms he’s collecting there.

The brunette boy nods. Slow, dumbfounded, and a little impressed. “That is a… totally normal thing to be doing in the middle of the night… We’ll, uh— We’ll leave you to it, I guess.”

“I’ll make sure to save you some!” the Californian boy promises as the two of you head up the trail.

Eddie’s hold on you doesn’t waver. His leather arm is firm in its grip and its delegation to keep you close to his side. You’re halfway stumbling to keep up with his longer strides, but you don’t mind it. You’re just happy to be held. 

“You can breathe now, you know?” he teases. 

You manage a trembling laugh. You know you have nothing to worry about, but you’re still high-strung and worried without cause. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know— I got a little scared.” 

“Yeah. I can tell,” Eddie scoffs. “Feels like I’m hugging a rock right now.”

Your laugh is more genuine this time, but still a bit forced. Eddie can tell. You’ve been quiet all night, reserved and a little standoffish. You’ve always been a little timid in your way, just more than he’s used to now. 

“Was it those dumb ghost stories everyone was telling earlier? ‘Cause I said we shoulda just played Spin the Bottle instead.”

You lean further into him to nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just a baby.”

“No, Robin is just the second coming of Stephen fucking King.”

“Yeah, that’s also probably true,” you concur with a shrug, feigning a sort of nonchalance despite your racing mind. “My imagination is just… a little crazy sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know,” Eddie sighs, then slows down so he can face you more. His features are softened beneath the amber glow — more so when he gazes at you with a honeyed fondness you’re not entirely sure two friends are supposed to have for each other. 

You’re cold when he unwraps his arm from around your shoulders — warm again when he holds your cheek in a calloused palm. You hope you’re not burning him with how hot your face has gone.

“I wanna know what’s going on in here,” he murmurs quietly, tapping a ringed finger to your temple.

“It’s a scary, scary place,” you joke back. It’s mostly true, but you figure it’s easier than saying that your brain is so often filled with thoughts of him.

“Well, I’ll protect you from whatever nasty horrors your mean ol’ brain conjures up,” Eddie promises, nose scrunched and dark eyes sparkling.

Your chest swells with a foreign warmth, so hot it burns. “Thanks, Eds,” you mumble, trying your hardest not to melt into a puddle at his feet. The two of you fall into stride once more.

“I’ll even let you sleep in my bed and put your cold feet on me if you want.” He offers it begrudgingly. Like it’s some kind of burden. He doesn’t mind it, though. He’d beg you for it if you wanted him to.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “How chivalrous.”

“You’ll have to put up with Harrington’s snoring, though.”

The two boys are sharing one room while the rest of you girls share the other. You pinch your brows and flash him a pointed look. “Eds, you snore.”

His face screws up in offense. “I do not!”

[hwaslayer]

favorite things | pmylm drabble (jyh)

⇢ favorite things - drabble one // ft. the pmylm couple

summary: yunho's been having a rough time adjusting to the 'real world' and gets upset when he can't have the person he needs the most right away.

words: 2.8k

warnings: cussing/mature language, jealousy/insecurities, yuyu is upset and doesn't really know how to control his feelings rn cause he is just a tired boy 😭, a small lil fight, the awkward silent treatment, yuyu and yeo talk thru his feelings for a bit, kissing/making out, sorry if i missed anything i quickly whipped the rest of this in bed lol

a/n: whipped this baby up because i just felt the need to and i missed my babies!! (+ this lil IG inspo hehe) more drabbles to come 🫶🏼 love you in slow motion update this weekend annnnd i’m gonna have to push back the fallen angel hwa fic cause im all over the place 🥹 but we’ll do better!! lol stay tuned!!

Yunho has entered the real world and he is exhausted. When his mom used to joke about living and working in this so-called real world, he used to think it was just a thing to keep him on his toes, shake him up a little bit.

Nope, that shit was all real.

And he hates it.

He hates it because it's the one thing that brings another fight to the table for your relationship. Ultimately, Yunho knows all he has to do is adjust and he'll be fine in the long run. Both of you will be fine in the long run.

But today, that feels like a stretch and he is short of patience. Unusually short of patience than usual. He knows you don't mean any harm but for some odd reason, today he feels like the world is going to swallow him alive and everything is triggering.

The first thing is the fact that he has to stay a bit later than usual to finish up a project he had been working on. He was hoping to rush home and spend some time with you before you were off to practice for the evening, spending 2-3 hours with your friends and the group.

That didn't happen.

So, when he gets home and you've already texted him saying you've left with a sad, crying face, he's bummed. He gets himself comfortable anyway, heating up a cup of ramen since he's not too hungry. Maybe he'll get some food with you when you're out— it's one of his favorite things to do.

Now, the second thing that makes him a little more irked is the fact that 2-3 hours go by and you haven't texted. He knows practice can run long, but it's also a little unusual for you to not keep him updated. You finally do a bit past 8pm with a quick:

you: hi baby, sorry! practice was a bit busy, i was caught up during breaks. i'll be home soon then i'll come over after i shower, okay? wait for me (: we should go on a food run! hehe

yunho: sounds good, love. i'll be here.

It closes to 9pm and Yunho isn't hungry anymore. The cup of ramen will do since there seems to be a dim chance of getting food with you, especially when you tell him you'll be over in a quick second but you’re still nowhere to be found. Yunho charges to the door anyway and is hoping to greet you when he swings the door open. Instead, he's greeted with you laughing and giggling with Hyunjin downstairs in the lot as he hands you a bag of to-go food.

Let's set the record straight— Yunho loves your friends. He knows he can trust them, and he knows they're all genuinely good people. He's always been happy you had a good group of people around you.

It's just today, he really, really missed you. After a long ass day. And he knows you [and Hyunjin] mean no harm in your actions, but he can't help but feel a tad bit insecure [and slightly jealous] that you aren't rushing over to see him after not being with him all day. He knows he can blame this on the fact that he's exhausted and a little short on patience. God knows he really did try to keep it cool and brush it off.

He couldn't help it.

Yunho shuts the door again, leaving it unlocked for whenever you feel ready to come upstairs and hang out with him. He sits on his computer chair, irritated, and throws on a game to distract himself momentarily. Maybe it'll help ease whatever he's feeling,

But, nope.

It doesn't.

Because when you walk in, you're still yelling out to Hyunjin and whoever before you shut the door, place the food on the counter and walk into his room. You throw your arms around him from behind and Yunho lets out a small, audible sigh. That was already alarming enough for you, but you still dip your head to the side and try to grab his attention.

"Hi." You place a quick, chaste quick to his cheek, but Yunho doesn't move.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Is all he says plainly. "I was just waiting for you."

"I know, but Hyunjin stopped by to give us food—"

"I thought we were gonna grab food together?"

"Oh." You frown because it completely slipped your mind, or else, you would've left the food at your own apartment to save it for tomorrow instead. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't think he was gonna swing by with food. We all left each other earlier without any plans of—"

"It's okay." He taps your arms as a signal for you to let go of him. "You should go eat."

"We can share, there's more than enough—"

"All good." It's petty of Yunho, he knows. For him, it's the fact that you told him you wanted to go on a food run after practice. Another small, but meaningful thing you two did often. He doesn't blame Hyunjin for anything at all, no. There was no way of preventing that, and who the fuck was he to make you reject food from a friend?

He just wished he could take you to get food. Watch you order your favorites and do your happy dance in his passenger's seat. It's another one of his favorite things.

"Yunho." You slowly step aside and sit on his bed, your appetite all of a sudden gone from how distant your boyfriend is being. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset."

"It's fine."

"Is it really? Because something feels off and I wanna know what I did so I can fix it."

"It's nothing, Y/N." You almost flinch at the way he calls you your name instead of his cute endearing nicknames. It throws you off guard so much that you resort to a flimsy, broken:

"Okay." It's barely above a whisper. You stand to head back out to the kitchen, quietly eating a bit of Hyunjin's extra to-go thai food before setting some aside in a tupperware for Yunho and placing it in the fridge. The rest of the night goes.. like that.

In silence. With weird tension.

You hate it.

You wish you could just fix whatever you did wrong, or that Yunho would tell you no matter how 'silly' it may sound. He's always been so good with communicating, even during small disagreements, you weren't sure why he was avoiding it this time around.

You quietly get ready for bed, brushing your teeth and flossing before changing out of your sweats and hoodie to Yunho's shirt. You pad into the room, slipping yourself deep under the sheets and pull up some vlogs on Youtube that you need to catch up on.

"Tired?" Yunho asks from his computer chair, still playing his game.

"Mhm." You look at him, hoping he'd come over to kiss you, cuddle you. Shut off the computer and lay next to you, show you any kind of affection. He doesn't budge, though. You feel your bottom lip trembling, your heart slowly cracking in various places. You have to take a breath to prevent yourself from crying, and Yunho can feel it. He can feel your gaze on him, he can tell you're seconds away from crying. So, Yunho stands and shuts off his computer. But, he starts to head out to the living room and you're on the verge of breaking down. His way of avoiding the issue and getting more upset was to shut down. Deflect.

This wasn't like Yunho at all so you knew something was wrong; something was that bothersome to him.

"Baby." You call for him softly, and he just looks at you. You can tell he's conflicted between keeping this up and dropping it entirely, but it doesn't seem to be enough. It's not enough for him to drop it because his expression doesn't change. He still seems cold, distant. Tired. Unlike the Yunho you're so, so used to seeing and having.

"I'm just tired. Go to sleep."

"Where are you going?"

"The living room."

"Let me come with you."

"Y/N. Please go to sleep. I told you nothing was wrong." You watch the way his jaw slightly ticks before brushing you off completely and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. A loud sigh escapes his lips as he treads to the couch and plops onto it, leaning his head back onto the edge. He shuts his eyes, giving himself some time to sort through his feelings because what the fuck, Jeong Yunho?

He knows this is much needed, though. He needed to step away for a second to regroup. He doesn't want to unintentionally hurt you by saying or doing things that he doesn't mean. He's tired, and he's acting like a fucking baby because he just wanted you at so many points today— yet, the universe just didn't let him have you. That wasn't your fault.

None of this was your fault.

He needed to do better. Just because he was exhausted, didn't mean he had to act this way towards you.

"Yo." Yeosang walks through the door, dropping his duffle bag to the floor as he steps out of his shoes. "You good?" He furrows his brows at the sight of Yunho just resting his head back with his eyes shut close.

"Mhm."

"Where's Y/N?"

"In the room." Odd, Yeosang thinks. It's not like you two to be separated like this. It's pretty obvious Yunho is bothered by something and that you've probably gotten into a small fight over it. Yeosang isn't one to meddle much, especially when it's not his business to. But, he is concerned seeing his roommate like this. It's probably one of the rare times he ever sees Yunho upset.

"You sure everything's okay? I'm not really used to seeing you sitting out in the living room in silence like this." Yunho lets out a tiny chuckle that's barely audible, but he finally turns to Yeosang and purses his lips.

"I guess. Just exhausted lately."

"I bet. You've been working your ass off." Yeosang looks into the fridge before stepping away with a cold water bottle and heading towards Yunho. "Y/N put some food in there for you, by the way."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. It has a little sticky note on top." Of course you did, why wouldn’t you? You always thought about Yunho no matter what.

"Fuck."

"What?"'

"I've been such a dick to her tonight."

"What'd you do?"

"It's so stupid." Yunho begins to explain how his day has just been all over the place— from work, to staying late and not being able to see you before practice, no updates until 3+ hours after practice, looking forward to a food run that didn't end up happening because of Hyunjin. All Yeosang can do is laugh a bit and shake his head.

"Dude, we all have bad days. It's inevitable. You're still adjusting so don't be so hard on yourself. It's hard going from a routine you were so used to, especially with Y/N. Then, having to switch it up and play tetris with your time. It's not easy. But also, I'm sure Y/N has been feeling the same way. She's just doing what she can to support you first and foremost. She'd never hurt you intentionally, and I know she'd always choose you in the end." Yunho's head drops as he leans onto his knees and sighs again.

"Fuck, you're right. I don't know why today was so difficult. I guess it all piled on for me and I didn't know how to sort through it."

"All good. Shit happens." Yeosang shrugs. "Anyway. I'm gonna head to bed. You should probably do the same. I know she's probably waiting for you."

"Thanks." Yeo gives him a little dap before he's off to get comfy and end his day. Yunho stays on the couch for a few more minutes before he brushes his teeth and washes up for bed. He stands in the bathroom for a few more seconds before gaining the courage to finally talk to you about everything that's been going on today. When he walks in, you're still bundled under the sheets, but your phone is against the wall and a video is playing. He can hear you sniffling through the video though, and he knows you've been crying.

God dammit, Yunho.

"Baby?" You hear Yunho softly call your name as he slips into bed and wraps his arms around you.

"Mhm?" You respond, still facing away from him.

"Can we talk?" You sigh and exit the video, locking your phone before turning towards Yunho and setting your phone onto the table.

"Don't force yourself if you aren't ready to."

"I am, and I'm sorry." He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes and it instantly feels like you have your loving, incredibly sweet and attentive boyfriend back.

"What happened?"

"I don't really know. To be honest, I don't have that great of an explanation. I was just tired and I was really looking forward to seeing you before practice. I couldn't see you then because of work, so I was even more excited to see you after practice and to go on our run together. But, you came later and the whole thing with Hyunjin—" He pauses and shakes his head. "It was so stupid and childish of me. I didn't need to act that way, and I'm so sorry I was such a dick to you over that." You cup his cheek and caress the surface with your thumb.

"You should've just told me, babe."

"It's so dumb, though?" He furrows his brows, mainly at himself.

"Nothing is dumb. Whatever hurts you, hurts me. We're in this together, remember? We're on the same team. I just need you to communicate and be honest, like you always tell me. Okay? I'll do anything to fix it and make it better. I'm your safe space like you are mine."

"I know." He leans into your touch before placing a soft kiss to your palm. "I'll do better."

"We have our bad days and that's okay. It won't make me love you any less. Tell me if you need space or if you need anything from me. I want you to be happy and comfortable."

"I know."

"Okay. And I'm sorry about the food run. I promise I'll keep my end of it next time."

"Wasn't your fault, baby. Nothing could have prevented that." You give him a tiny, toothless smile before kissing the tip of his nose.

"Are we okay?" He nods.

"I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He repeats before leaning in to peck you on the lips. He holds the kiss before parting and looking you in the eye, brushing the hair away from your face. He dips in for another kiss— this time, it's deeper. More passionate. His hand comes down to the small of your back as he presses against you, slipping his tongue in to fight for dominance against yours. The kiss is so full of love and neediness, but there's no push or pressure to make anything out of it.

So, Yunho continues to kiss you. Pushing up against you ever so slightly while parting from your lips to leave a trail across your jaw.

Your chin.

Your neck.

Back up to your lips.

He loves the way you softly sigh in content, listening to him repeatedly whisper 'I love you' against your lips. Into your neck. Across your jaw. He loves the way you gently bite onto his bottom lip as a way of asking for more. He loves the way your fingers tug on the ends of his hair, the way you press your lips against his cheek, forehead, nose. The way you caress his cheeks and never let him go.

It's amongst the many on his list of favorite things.

He continues to coo you and praise you in between kisses throughout the night, smiling while hearing your giggles and smothering you with more kisses until you find yourself getting sleepy. He holds you close and sings a soft lullaby, playing with your hair as you drift off to sleep with the cutest smile on your face. He can’t help but admire you, fighting the exhaustion that’s been hitting him all week for a little longer. He fights it until he can’t anymore but fuck it, it’s all worth it.

Because sitting at the very top of his favorites list is you.

⇢ permanent taglist: @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

[slxtslovebambi]

𝙒𝙚𝙩 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙯 💦 💭

Eren Yeager x Fem!reader | MDNI

Mentions of: Armin, Jean and Connie.

Synopsis: based of : Wet Dreamz by J. Cole.

[ Eren basically is a loner without any game. He finds himself crushing over the popular girl that sits next to him in his math class and keeps passing him cute letters and notes, praying that she’ll be the one that’s going to take his virginity!]

Warnings: Fem!reader, mentions of sex, Eren being head over heels for you, mentions of virginity loss, cuss words etc.

Wc: 2k+

Eren has always been a laid back kid.

He likes video games, smoking and staying out of drama.

Of course he like girls and stuff like that too, it’s just that he never really went out of his way to try and talk to them. The girls at his college are mostly not interested in him anyways since he’s kinda a loner and he’s not interested in changing anything about that…

At least that’s what he thought until he first met you. He could never forget the day you walked into his math class and sat down next to him, with a warm smile on your face and a cherry lollipop between your plump lips. He immediately noticed your pretty face and the way you smell.

He found himself so fascinated with the way your hair looked that whenever he was watching porn late at night by himself in his college dorm, he specifically looked for girls with a similar hair type. He loved talking to you just to hear your soft voice and cute giggles, but after your professor expressed multiple times that he doesn’t want you guys to distract the other students, you had to switch to exchanging small letters and notes.

At this point Eren has a whole little box full of notes that you wrote him since the beginning of the year.

Everything started off so innocent until you started flirting with him, trying to make him blush and get a reaction out of him, like the virgin whore that he was. Attending classes felt like a reward now, since he gets to spend time with you on a daily basis.

You often catch him starring at you, but you never thought much about it.

If only you knew that secretly he was wondering if you’d be able to make him nut the same way it feels like when he does it himself to your photos.

You’re not the it girl at campus but you are popular for sure. You’ve always been pretty confident, not taking shit from people and making sure that everybody knew not to play around with you. He’s truly fascinated by you and he finds himself quickly developing feelings for you.

Even his friends noticed his behavior change. Since he met you he’s daydreaming a lot more, mostly about the way that your thighs would make a perfect pillow or the cute pout you have on your lips when you don’t understand something and you have to ask him for help.

"Bruh what the fuck? Yoo Eren? Earth to Eren?"

Connie waves his hand in front of Eren's face to catch his attention.

"Huh?" Eren responds, snapping out of his hypnotic state.

"We’re asking if you’re coming to the party on Saturday?" Connie asks curiously.

"Nah I’m busy this weekend, sorry guys." He mutters quietly in response.

"What do you mean you’re busy? You never miss a party!" Jean looks at him shocked.

"Y/n is coming over this weekend, that’s why he’s acting that way." Armin reveals his best friends secret with a smirk on his face.

"He even told me I’m not allowed to come home till Sunday." He continues.

"Wait, wait, WAIT! Y/n L/n? Bro you better forget about her." Connie looks at Eren like he’s insane.

"What? Why?" Eren looks up to his friend, suddenly all ears again.

"She’s like wayyy out of your league, there’s no way she’d let you try anything with her!" Jean shakes his head, trying to prepare his friend for a heart break.

"Who said I wanna 'try anything’?" Eren starts getting annoyed. He knows all of those things but that’s not gonna stop him from dreaming night and day about your pretty lips warped around his dick, crying and gagging for him with that seducing look on your face that you always give him.

"Ohh right, I forgot our boy is still a virgin. Don’t worry, you’re not less of a man!"

Jean ruffles through Eren's hair.

"I never said I was?!" Eren looks offended over at his friend.

"Yeah but you thought it." Connie laughs.

"I hate you guys." He just rolls his eyes… but what if they are right?

Did he ever have a real chance with you?

And do you even like him?

—

Friday was like any other day…

at least that’s what Eren expected when he sat down next to you like usually.

You immediately noticed that something was off. He seemed so cold and distant and even after you asked him "did I do something wrong?", with a cute pout on your face, he only responded with a "nah don’t worry." before turning his head away from you again. The truth is that Eren was just scared. Hurt and scared to be specific.

What if Jean and Connie were right, and he’s just your way of passing time during your boring lectures.

He always felt a little delusional for thinking there could be something going on between you guys, but the conversation he had with his friends yesterday just made things worse.

Eren basically ignored you for almost the entire lecture, thinking about thousands of reasons why you could think that he’s not good enough for you.

He always had his fair share of insecurities, but he still hoped you’d like him regardless.

However all of his worries got dismissed after he opened the letter you passed him when nobody was looking.

'𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆?'

It said, written perfectly in your handwriting.

You smile at him innocently before tapping the end of your pencil against your bottom lip.

There’s no way you would write something like that if you weren’t interested in him… right?…

You’re so cruel for playing around with him like that. At this point it doesn’t even matter anymore if all of this is a joke or game to you, Eren is willing to risk it all.

If he ever had the glimpse of a chance with you, then now is the time to make use of it and shoot his shot. He’s definitely going to keep the note and brag about it to his friends though, simply to prove them that he’s not some virgin loser and that he knows how to talk to girls, even if he doesn’t do it a lot.

He smiles softly to himself before ripping out a piece of paper from his notebook and scribbling something on it.

He hands it to you while giving you a cocky attitude. '𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦' You read on it. '𝑶𝒉 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚?' you write back with a sly smirk on your lips.

'𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯… 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰'

If having wet dreams about you would count, he’d definitely be considered a pro… so it’s not that much of a lie is it?

'𝒐𝒉 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒐? 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘' You giggle in amusement before you give him the small note.

~That girl is going to be the death of me ~

Eren thinks to himself as he noticed the bugle in his pants. Luckily none of his friends were here, seeing him embarrassed at the fact that he is fully bricked up, because of you just writing on a stupid piece of paper.

'𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱��𝘢𝘯' he writes back, trying to keep his cool to impress you.

Deep down he knew he’s scared to death right now, even if he doesn’t want to admit it…

—

"You’re still here? Get the fuck out Armin, Y/n's gonna be here in like one hour and I still need to…get ready!" Eren bursts into Armin’s room after hearing him talk on the phone.

He never wanted to impress a girl so bad in his life.

"Shut up Eren I’m talking to my mom!"

Armin puts his phone on silent as he tries to make Eren leave by pushing him away with one hand.

"Fuck no, don’t ruin this for me! You need to leave."

Armin unmutes his phone before he sighs and starts speaking again.

"Wait mom, I- I’m gonna call you back. Yes I promise I won’t drink much. Okay, yeah love you too, bye." He hangs up. "what the hell is wrong with you man?!" he glares at Eren. "Did you already pack your things?" Eren continues bugging him.

"Yes I did, now stop rushing me or I’ll tell Jean and Connie that you practiced how to put on condoms last night!" Armin threatens him, remembering the painfully awkward encounter he had with his best friend.

"Okay okay but you have to leave now, please Armin." Eren nearly begs. This is one of the most important days in his life, there’s no way he going to let anybody fuck this up.

"Fine, I was about to leave anyways." Armin sighs while rolling his eyes as he takes his backpack from his bed and puts it on before grabbing his keys from his nightstand. "Thank you man I love you!" Eren says relived, following Armin to the door.

"Yeah whatever." Armin says before walking out of the door and closing it behind him.

—

The entire hour that Eren had left, he spent by lighting up scented candles around the house and praying that he won’t mess up, not tonight.

It can’t be that hard right? He watched enough porn to know the basics, he just hopes that you won’t notice it’s his first time.

The moment the doorbell rang he almost had a stroke…. However it was nothing compared to the way his heart was beating fast when you sat down beside him on his bed after he lead you in his room.

Fake it till you make it right? That’s what Eren thought when he started kissing you, pretending that his last kiss wasn’t in middle school. Getting hard on time was much easier than he thought it would be.

He felt his heart skip a beat when your warm hand slides under his shirt as you start trailing your fingers over his abs. Your skin is so unbelievably soft, it feels like heaven. You make him take off his shirt and play with the buckle of his belt before he pulls your face closer by your chin, only leaving inches between you.

"You’re so fucking pretty." He mutters under his breath while inspecting your face.

He always wanted to have you to himself, and seeing you like this, so desperately craving his touch just drives him crazy.

Usually he feels like you hold this power over him, but you whispering quietly in his ear "I want you so bad." was a major ego boost to him.

He can’t believe that his friends almost had him convinced that he wasn’t good enough for you… ridiculous.

He takes off your dress and removes your underwear, as he watches your nipples get hard at the cool air, with a smirk on his face, before he takes out a condom from his pocket.

It’s now or never.

He gets rid of his pants and puts on the elastic rubber just like he practiced the night before.

Now that he’s so close to losing his virginity, realization hits him, killing the adrenaline that just rushed through his veins.

He feels the palms of his hands getting sweaty and his breath quicken as he tries to keep himself from panicking to much.

He takes a deep breath and moves his hardened member to your entrance before you flinch and stop him right when he’s about to put it in.

"What’s wrong?" He asked confused.

Did you notice that he’s completely inexperienced? This is so embarrassing, he should have just told you the truth when he had the chance to.

"I need to tell you something…" you shyly look up to him. "Did… Did I do something wrong?" Eren says, worried that he’s making you feel uncomfortable.

"No it’s just,… please be gentle okay?" You try to avoid eye contact before continuing.

"Don’t laugh at me but… I-I never did this before."

Eren chuckles lightly to himself.

"I’ll try to keep it down for ya."

This is going to be so much more fun than he thought it would be.

Hope you enjoyed it, I refuse to believe that there’s people out there that don’t know the song, but if you don’t I can only recommend listening to it! 🧎🏾‍♀️

most recent work <3

[collecting-stories]

Not in Chronological Order ch. 5 - Orange Magic

setting: Central Park// Saturday morning

summary: Reader and Sonny are watching his niece's softball game on Saturday morning and he is interrupted by a series of work calls.

A/N: This takes place 13 months into their relationship. Also, I mentioned on the series page that I've taken some creative liberties with Sonny's nieces and nephews, which still stands. I'm giving his sister Teresa three kids, including a daughter named Sofia.

<- Not in Chronological Order Masterlist | Lie Like This ->

...divider by @saradika

“Thought ya weren’t gonna make it,” Sonny called his tone light and teasing. It was still cold for the middle of March and he had his Fordham hoodie on, hands in his front pocket though he took them out as you approached, pulling you into a hug. You were careful of the coffees in your hands as you wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your face against the collar of his hoodie and kissing the side of his jaw. 

Once you’d extricated yourself from his embrace and handed him one of the coffees you said, “And miss a softball game for six year olds?” You asked, “doesn’t sound like me.”

“Yeah, alright, I don’t appreciate the snark,” he joked. 

Dating Sonny had just been dating Sonny until about three months into the relationship when he decided he’d waited long enough to introduce you to his family. Now, over a year into your relationship, you felt like you were dating the entire Carisi clan. Dates turned into family parties or Sunday night dinner or watching his nieces and nephew play sports early on Saturday mornings and it all felt bizarrely more domestic than any of your previous relationships. Maybe that was simply because the last time you had a serious boyfriend was ten years ago when you were twenty. 

Today you’d gotten yourself out of bed early and taken the subway into Manhattan to see Teresa’s youngest daughter’s softball game. You’d been invited by Teresa before Sonny could even remember the date. She’d texted an entire schedule for each of her three children’s sports and school activities to you at the beginning of their school year when you’d only been dating Sonny for six and a half months. 

“Just FYI,” you mentioned, shifting your coffee to balance between the crook of your arm and your body so you could clap as Sofia came up to bat, “I’m mad at you.”

Sonny’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at you with a mix of concern and confusion, trying to wrack his brain for a reason that you would be upset with him. Between both of your busy schedules you’d managed to keep any dates that you scheduled and he’d been on time to every apartment tour for the last two weeks. 

“What? Why?” He finally asked, unable to think of any particular reason you had for being mad at him. 

You turned your face toward him, that sly smile creeping over your features, causing him to realize that you’d been teasing him. “Because you didn’t tell me about that Italian place on Locust.”

“Near my parent’s house?” He asked, not concerned anymore but twice as confused. The two of you had been over the bridge almost every week for Sunday dinner but he couldn’t think of another reason for you to trek to Staten Island, at least without him. 

“Yeah, I went last night with your mom." 

"You went to dinner with my ma?” Sonny was more than positive that you hadn’t mentioned a Friday date night with his mom at any point during the week. 

“She said she wanted to take me to dinner for my birthday, just the two of us,” you shrugged. 

“Ya went to dinner with my ma?”

“Yes. She texted me like, two weeks ago, and asked if I wanted to have dinner,” you explained, “anyway…the point is, why didn’t you ever take me there? The food is so good!" 

"I can’t believe you went to dinner with my ma and didn’t even tell me about it,” he replied, “I can’t believe she’s texting you.”

“Jealous?” You joked, bumping his hip with yours. “Where’s Teresa anyway?”

“Paul’s got the kids this weekend,” Sonny replied, nodding his head in the direction of the bleachers on the other side of the diamond where his ex-brother-in-law sat with two small children. 

“Oh fun,” you muttered. Teresa had introduced you to Paul only once but that had been more than enough for you to get a measure on him. 

“So, what did you and my ma talk about?” Sonny asked, looking at you over the rim of his disposable cup as he took a sip. 

“Well, she spent a good half of the time asking me when I was planning on making her a grandmother again,” you replied, “although, at least your mom has more of a filter than you do." 

Sonny had ungracefully blurted out, halfway through dinner on your second date, that he wanted to have kids someday and he was looking for a serious relationship. As if two dates in a week was enough to know whether you were going to devote the rest of your life to him. You were planning on it, in fact, though you had avoided saying so two dates in. 

"What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, looking incredulous at the accusation. 

Before you could answer, his cellphone went off and Sonny stepped away from you to answer it, already falling into ADA mode. You turned your own attention back to the game, scanning the game to see where Sofia was and finding her in the dug out, waiting for her turn to bat again. 

“��I can email it to ya first thing tomorrow morning. I’m not in the office right now,” Sonny said, looking back toward the Little League diamond, his gaze softening as he watched you clap for his niece. “Yeah, yeah…I’ll talk to ya later, alright, bye Liv.”

Sonny made it over to you after hanging up, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and kissing your cheek. 

“Do you need to go?” You asked, turning your head to meet his eyes. 

“Nah, just some paperwork. Nothing I can’t get in the morning,” he replied. 

“Are you sure?” You knew you sounded surprised as he looked over at you, the beginnings of an apology already forming on his tongue.

“Yeah, ya just got here and we’re supposed to look at that apartment after lunch.”

“I know,” you turned back to the game, “but if you have to-”

“I don’t." 

A year and a month into dating Sonny, you knew that his job was more than important. It was demanding on a good day and soul-draining otherwise. The work he did was necessary and hard and you understood. Yours wasn’t an easy job either, though you had more structured hours than Sonny sometimes got. Both of you had brought up jobs and relationship expectations somewhere around the three month mark but neither of you had really gotten anywhere solid and the discussion had been shelved for later. For further down the road when things were more serious. 

Talking babies with Serafina Carisi and apartment shopping seemed like the time to unshelf that conversation but neither of you really wanted to. 

"So, dinner with my ma?” Sonny asked, trying to get back whatever you’d had before Sonny had answered the phone.

“Oh yeah, we covered all the topics. Jobs, children, future wedding, why you haven’t proposed yet,” you laughed at Sonny’s expression, “her question, not mine.”

“She’s something else,” he muttered, pressing his face into your neck. 

You reached up with one hand to pat the top of his head, running your fingers through the soft, salt and pepper, waves. No work meant no hair gel. “She told me that we should move to Staten Island so when we have kids she can babysit and we don’t have to worry about work or daycare.”

“We just have to worry about commuting back into Manhattan?” Sonny asked, slightly muffled by your sweatshirt. You could feel his mouth against your neck as he spoke, breath warm in the cold morning air. 

“What, you don’t wanna sit in hours of traffic every day?”

“Dream come true,” he hummed. 

Sonny’s phone rang once more and he groaned against your neck, giving you a gentle squeeze before he pulled away. You heard Liv’s name leave his lips as he stepped further away from you and the game. Serafina had referred to the relationship as a test of patience. You wouldn’t put all the blame for busy schedules on Sonny though, there were plenty of dates that you had interrupted with a phone call or times when you’d brought work to his house when you were supposed to be having dinner together. 

“Are you sure you don’t need to go in?” you asked when he made his way over to you again.

“No,” he pocketed his phone, “sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” you laughed, stepping away to throw out your empty coffee. When you came back over he was frowning. “What?”

“I am-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking yourself into his side. He slung an arm around your shoulders instinctively. “I just meant, I’m not mad that you have to work when you’re off the clock. You know I get it, I just…wish you wouldn’t apologize. It gives me false hope that maybe next time you won’t go into the office or answer the phone and I know you won’t.”

“It’s just, the case we’re working on-” Sonny started to explain.

“Dominick,” you huffed, cutting him off, “I literally just gave you an out, you don’t have to explain. I’m not mad.”

“You seem a little mad.”

“Well…” You turned into Sonny more, fiddling with ties on his hoodie for a moment before meeting his eyes, “it’s 10am on a Saturday and I’m watching your niece play softball and thinking that maybe your mom wasn’t so crazy for asking me about kids cause I could totally rock being a ‘soccer mom’ someday and then I just spiral further into my head like…will Sonny answer the phone when our future children with Italian names are running around playing baseball and then I realize I’m being totally irrational because half the time I’m the one on the phone and then-”

“Hey,” Sonny cut you off this time, pulling you closer to hug you, kissing the side of your head, “we both have crazy jobs and we knew that getting into this and I know you are more than understanding about my schedule but that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry that I gotta answer the phone when I’m with you." 

"I know,” you replied, “I just feel like, the interruptions happen whether you make excuses for them or not…I just don’t want us to be those people that like, make the excuses. I don’t wanna lie and say that next time I won’t pick up a second shift and I don’t want you to say that you won’t stay late at the office cause then we’re just lying to each other.”

Sonny looked contemplative as he considered what you had said to him. Finally, he nodded, “I agree…I just feel guilty sometimes hassling you with interruptions when we’re supposed to be off.”

“I don’t think this is a compromise we can figure out over the course of one conversation,” you replied. A Little League baseball game probably wasn’t the best place to be hashing out your feelings as it was but there was certainly no easy end or compromise to the situation at hand. Down the road, you imagined, it would have to evolve into other conversations too, more nuanced, about family instead of just you and Sonny. “But if you do have to go in to the office…”

“Just for like an hour tops, I promise we’ll make the open house." 

"We better,��� you tried to sound threatening but it was hard to do when you were smiling, “cause I showed Serafina the places we were looking and it’s the only one she likes.”

“She’s not living in it,” Sonny pointed out.

“Yeah but she said it’s got three bedrooms so that’s at least two grandkids.”

“With Italian names,” he teased.

“Depends,” you replied, detangling yourself from Sonny as his niece ran over to say hello. 

“On what?” He asked, though he was looking at Sofia and waving, a massive smile on his face.

“I’ll tell you when little ears aren’t around,” you joked. 

Sofia made impact with his legs before he could answer you and Sonny lifted her up, settling her against his hip despite her being six and all limbs, happily kicking him as he hugged her. She launched into a recounting of the game, as if neither of you had been there and seen most of it. You couldn’t help thinking that maybe Serafina was right when she told you that a year and a month was not too short a time to already be thinking about kids of your own. Interruptions be damned, you’d spend the rest of your life with Sonny if you were given the opportunity.

[luchitohamilton]

lewis being interview by margot laffite for canal+ at the qatar gp '23

I act like a kid all the time. I’m not embarrassed about it; I love having fun. So that’s why, you know, I’m always skydiving, surfing or I’m skiing or I’m riding my bike or whatever might be, that’s me being a kid. And that’s something I refuse to ever let go.

transcript below :-)

So Lewis. I don't want today to talk about the World champion, the Formula 1 driver, I would like to talk about Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton, if you don’t mind. Can you describe the kind of kid you were at home and at school? What kind of kid were you?

[Smiling] Did you ever had a show called Dennis the Menace?

Oh yes of course.

You did?

Of that kind, yeah. Denis la Malice.

I was like Dennis the Menace 2.0. [laughs] I was climbing trees, I was just always riding my bike down the fastest hill. Naturally super competitive in everything that I did and, uhm, my dad helped me concentrate that energy into racing and that’s where stability came.

We know you were a huge fan of Ayrton Senna, but did you watch like every single F1 race, documentaries about F1?

No, when I was a kid I only watched documentaries on Ayrton Senna, read his books. Anything to do with Ayrton I would have it, whether it was a coffee mug or, not that I drink coffee as a kid, but I was watching Gran Prix from like since I was like 4 with my dad on the weekends. Yeah, Sunday sitting with my dad watching races was one of the best times, I remember.

If you could go back in time, where and when would it be?

It would probably be when I was living with my mum, before I was 8, so, yeah.

You are running the world so, how difficult is it to build friendships?

Yeah, it’s definitely not the easiest I would say. My two closest friends are from school, yeah, they are my brothers. Places where I’ve found good friendships are obviously on my job, and then when I’m doing music, when I’m working with musicians, it’s just like a different realm and there I’ve built some incredible relationships also.

What does being a grown up mean to you? Is it like tiresome to be more conscious of the impact you have on things and people, rather than the pleasant innocence of being a child?

I act like a kid all the time. I’m not embarrassed about it; I love having fun. So that’s why, you know, I’m always skydiving, surfing or I’m skiing or I’m riding my bike or whatever might be, that’s me being a kid. And that’s something I refuse to ever let go.

When you play a game with some children, maybe your family, nieces and nephews, do you let them win?

No, I try to win! I just [laughs] and they are good, they are getting good, so I have to get my wins while I can. But, my dad never let me win anything when I was a kid. I think is good to learn how to lose anyways, so [laughs]

Are you always on time or sometimes you’re late?

No, I’m always late. The only time I’m ever on time is when I’m getting in the car to race. But like if I’m going for a flight, I’m always late. I don’t know, I like the limit, yeah. [jokingly] I like getting there around the limit, I like the rush.

What are your thoughts and feelings about Max Verstappen? The man he is, the kind of champion.

He’s done an exceptional job. I think the team has done an amazing job. Collectively they truly deserve the success. Max has been faultless this year, he’s not made any mistakes. I only hope that there’s a time when I’ll be able to put up a fight for him.

When you quit F1 would you still want race like Dakar or the 24 Hours of Le Mans?

I currently don't really have any, like, zero, like, feelings to do those things. I love motorbikes, I’ve always loved Moto GP, still love it today. I have 2 super bikes. I think I probably always just gonna take my bikes out. I won’t compete professionally in anything ever again. It takes 10,000 hours to be, you know, a master of something else. I wanna spend that 10,000 hours on being the best dad or something like that, you know, or running my businesses in the best way I can. Where all my energy and focus will go to. For now, I’ll continue to skydive, I’ll continue to surf, those are probably the, riding the bikes, surfing and skydiving, those are the 3 fun things that I’ll make sure I always do.

Merci Beaucoup, Lewis.

Merci.

It was a pleasure as always. Thank you.

[wonjnz]

some zb1 members as confessions i’ve received

₊˚⊹ genre: fluff | wc: —

₊˚⊹ warning(s): swearing | inspo: —

₊˚⊹ a/n: i found my notes rating these and i got this.. i changed like a detail or two to fit the scenario and member (+ no WAYY im writing it exactly how it happened 😭😭😭) this only includes yujin and gunwook for now!

not fully proofread yet!

you promised yourself that you’ll listen to class this time, but it seemed yujin had other plans instead.

“what?” you say exasperatedly as yujin keeps poking your arm with his pencil for the nth time, you don’t notice yujin’s slight smile as you’re too busy answering the textbook activity your teacher assigned. “shouldn’t you be answering too?”

“yeah, but i’m bored.” you roll your eyes at his response, “and you’re gonna be begging for the answers at what, two in the morning?” yujin chuckles at your prediction, to be fair he wasn’t in the mood in answering some math exercises at all, especially when you’re around.

but you don’t seem to budge right now to his frustration, he wanted your attention to be on him for the whole period, not on some dumb math questions. you could do that later, anyway. and that’s when he thinks of the perfect idea:

“hey,” he starts off.

“you wanna know who’s my crush?” yujin says, you perked up at the thought of finding out about such top information. and finally you have something to tease yujin about that’s not about him sleeping in class. yujin tries his best to hide his grin, perfect.

you put down your pencil, “who?” to which yujin hovers his hand over your own textbook, writing ‘you.’ with his god-awful handwriting. it took you at least twenty seconds as if it was some code that needed to be deciphered, when you finally understood you looked up at him surprised.

“really?” yujin nods and grins at you in response, you failed to notice his lightly red tinted cheeks while doing so. “you wanna guess mine too?”

taking your own pencil, you also wrote ‘you!!’ on the edge of his page. yujin’s grin grew even wider especially when you tried erasing it, trying to suppress a giggle as if you just did the most amazing thing ever.

and needless to say, your class was spent trying to hush up each other’s giggling and yujin finally got to bask in your attention for now and the days to come.

“you want ammo?” you hear gunwook’s extreme ass of a mic over your pubg game, you’ve been playing battle royale with him the whole night considering it’s a weekend the next day.

“i’m good,” you say after ransacking another house for loot, you could hear gunwook hum a bit before you start hearing his blasting fan over his mic. “someone’s here by the way, i’ll look for him.” he says, eventually getting a kill.

soon enough, you both won, with gunwook proudly flexing on you about having more than ten kills and saving you from enemies. “you’re lucky i even revived you after getting sniped that bad, if it was gyuvin i’d leave him there.”

“sure man, whatever you say.” you say jokingly, you’re not sure if gunwook got the memo since it became scarily quiet right after. even gunwook’s fan wasn’t heard and his mic could pick up any minuscule sound known.

“you’re cute.”

“..which fucking demon possessed you this time?”

it took a few seconds of silence before gunwook laughs breathlessly, almost as if he’s been holding that for the whole game. “i’m being serious. i didn’t wanna say that a while ago especially when you got sniped that—”

“oh shut up, i could’ve called you cute but i guess nevermind..” you tease, though you regret it right away when gunwook’s mic suddenly exploded with him saying sorry on repeat. you swore your ears rang the whole night ever since.

[suzukiblu]

Look we all know the existence of certain risks of things like child stardom, mediocre adult supervision, and people who go for specific kinds of positions of authority being fucking bastards, SO: there is an unnecessarily involved omegaverse AU in my head where Rex Leech takes way, WAY worse advantage of a freshly-decanted omega!Superboy in order to pay off all of that money that he owes to assholes, and instead of JUST betting on metahuman fights and making shitty investments and selling Superboy's likeness to anyone who's buying and all that, he kinda just . . . gives Superboy some "tips" for how to win over or get favors from certain people in the entertainment industry and similar fields. Or just anyone Rex is trying to wring some cash out of, basically.

So Rex makes better money! Pays off a couple of debts! Is still irresponsible and shitty with it and making stupid decisions, but look, a couple extra bucks never hurt, and the Kid is fine with it! ‘Course he is!! 

And this read-more will DEFINITELY support that POS POV! Definitely!! For sure!!!!

And so not-even-technically-presented, definitely-not-legal Superboy is hanging out with and being encouraged to FLIRT with skeevy older people and general creeps who are taking full advantage of this naive teenager with Superman's face every chance they get. Superboy doesn't know better, and he trusts Rex; the guy can be a little sleazy sometimes but he's still watching out for him, so . . . this is normal, right? And Rex says they REALLY need this investment/this opportunity/this money, so . . . 

So like, Superboy gets abused and doesn't have the frame of reference to understand it. He really doesn't like that part of this gig, but Rex says it's important and, well, if it's just this once . . . if he already did it last time . . . if it'll only be a night or two, or maybe a long weekend . . .

It's not technically prostitution, but also Rex absolutely DOES just fucking sell the Kid a few times and repeatedly justifies it to himself with crap like "he's a teenager, he's a horndog and a flirt anyway, and obviously he likes the attention" and other fucking awful bullshit like that, because he is more concerned with the money than, idk, anyone’s mental health?? Though he doesn’t mention it to anybody who’s not a client, obviously, Roxy’d kick up a fuss and Moon might get territorial and talk the Kid out of it, and Dubbilex, hell, he doesn’t even understand how show business WORKS!! 

But of course word DOES get around about it, just a little, and then it starts happening more and more often, and Superboy likes it less and less and starts to halfway HATE it, honestly, but Rex keeps saying it's IMPORTANT and NEEDS done and just . . . 

He gets–used to it, kind of. Almost. 

It’s just how it is. 

And then like, hand-wavey convoluted I’m-still-undecided-what-exactly shit happens and Superboy somehow ends up in alpha!Lex's official custody, probably through Lex bribing a lot of people and committing some fraud and shameless lies, and Superboy assumes . . . alright, well, he guesses now he's like a fucking kept boy or something, huh. He doesn't like that idea at ALL, but at least Luthor's only one guy. And he seems like the jealous type, so he probably won't wanna share too much. Right? 

So that could be worse, Superboy guesses. 

Lex, an oblivious supervillain who is actually NOT aware of what kind of way worse advantage Rex was taking: this is great. I’m going to get a good grade in clonefather, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve, and then we’re going to conquer the world. >:3 

Superboy, simultaneously: . . . seriously, I’ve been here like a WEEK already, is he gonna fuck me or NOT?? 

And thus ensues a not-actually-funny comedy of errors where a traumatized kid keeps expecting to get abused and even Lex FUCKING Luthor is not that much of a prick and therefore totally misses literally every sign of the Kid trying to follow the appropriate “script” with him. Hm, Superboy wants attention for some reason, fine. MERCY, get the kid a black card to entertain himself with. 

. . . now the kid wants attention even MORE? 

baffling. 

Superboy, internally: if he keeps buying me all this stuff he must REALLY want something BAD, but where the fuck else would I go anyway, so . . . 

Lex: I’m putting on a movie and reviewing my files in your general area. Congratulations on receiving my attention, now don’t interrupt me. 

Superboy: . . . . . . what is even happening right now. 

And then a very peculiar experience of very slowly accidentally making a pack happens to both of them, wherein Superboy did not expect a dad out of this kept boy scenario and Lex did not expect an actual PUP out of this world domination plot and they’re both increasingly bewildered by everything the other does.

[jakesguitarsolo]

Happy Sexy Sunday lovelie!! I hope your weekend has been nice so far

I couldn't help but thinking about lovemarks, there's just something so endearing and sexy about them, hickies and scratches...and oh bruises. Look, I know that Jake can be all dom and rough in bed, but there's no denying that deep down he's the most tender and gentle lover boy, I feel like he'd feel bad about leaving bruises on you, he'd gasp when he found them when he is cleaning you up or when you are taking a shower, he'd apologize over and over and offers to kiss them better, causing you to giggle, but also couldn't help feeling cocky and smug about it

Happy Sexy Sunday to you! 😘 (So sorry about how late this is. It’s been such a busy day.)

Well now you’re giving me more ideas about my impure Jake thought from this morning so this is kind of a continuation of that…

18+ BELOW THE CUT! SMUT! Minors DNI!

Jake’s fingers are digging hard into the flesh on your hips as he fucks you from behind over the kitchen counter, fully aware that it’s gonna leave bruises. But that’s exactly what he wants, isn’t it? He loves leaving marks on you. This morning, you can already feel the impression of love bites all over your neck and shoulder. Jake isn’t letting up though, and that’s the last thing you want anyway. You beg Jake to fuck you hard and deep, and he always does, just the way you like it. He’s pounding into you at a relentless pace now, and the sounds your bodies are making together are pornographic to say the least. Jake can tell you’re close so reaches down between your legs, which are now soaking wet from the arousal dripping down your thighs, to rub quick tight circles on your clit. He whispers beautifully in your ear, “Come on, love. Give it to me.” It’s definitely a plea at this point as he can hardly contain himself, moaning your name and whimpering as his body is pressed flushed against yours, wanting to come undone with you. You feel the heat rise in your belly, trying to warn him as you barely get the words “Jake, I’m com—” out. Your orgasm hits you like a fucking brick wall, and you feel Jake thrust one last time and hold himself deep as he spills into you. He slowly pulls out and you feel his cum drip down your legs. Jake gets down on his knees behind you and says, “can I kiss them better please?” You nod and he immediately starts kissing those spots on your hips where he knows bruises will form by tomorrow.

“I’m *kiss* so *kiss* sorry *kiss* my love”

You laugh, “it’s okay, Jake I’m fine really.” He doesn’t stop kissing up and down your sides as he continues, “no, it’s not okay. As much as you and I both love these pretty marks on you that prove you’re mine and only mine, I do need to be more gentle with you, love. I don’t want to hurt you.” You might still be high from the post-orgasm endorphins, but you do know the hickies on your neck and the bruises on your hips will be tender tomorrow. “Well you know I like a little pain, Jake, but you can try to make it up to me if you want.” He steps away to grab a washcloth from a drawer and starts to clean you up. He comes back up, gives you the sweetest open-mouthed kiss on your lips and pulls away to say, “I’m going to start a shower for us.” Jake scoops you up in his arms and carries you to your shared master bathroom. You sets you down in front of the mirror to turn the shower knob on to hot. Turning your head to the side a bit, you take a look at yourself in the mirror and run your hand over the marks on your neck. In the reflection of the mirror, you see Jake smirking to himself. He doesn’t think you can see him, so you decide to mess with him a little. “Ouch! Baby, this actually does hurt more than usual,” you wince and pretend it hurts. Jake turns you around to face him now and pulls you into his warm body. “I really am sorry, love. Will you please forgive me?” Fuck, you love him like this. All sweet and loving, wanting nothing more than to please you and make you happy. “I’ll forgive you if you do me one favor,” you assert. Jake is quick with his response, “Whatever you want.”

Moving your face closer so your lips are lightly grazing his, you say, “Make love to me in the shower. Please. Gentle and slow this time.”

Jake grabs your hand in his and guides you towards the shower doors as he agrees, “Anything for you, darling.”

[suzy-queued]

A Gallavich tale, told 100 words at a time.

**This story is now complete!**

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

A man jumped into the back seat of Ian’s car.

“You a driver?” Dark hair, one small piece of luggage.

“Yeah, only if you’re registered on the app.”

“Screw the app. Take me to Nashville.”

Ian choked on his Gatorade. “That’s eight hours from here.”

“So?”

“You gotta plan these things out. Get matched with the right driver.”

“It’s not like I knew that my fucking boyfriend was gonna run off to fucking Yee-Haw Land to elope with my sworn enemy.”

Ian checked the rearview and saw pain behind those angry blue eyes. He switched his app status to OCCUPIED.

---

Ian took the entrance ramp onto I-90. They should arrive in Nashville around … oh, 3:37 AM.

“I have an emergency kit.” Ian nodded with his chin. “Under the seat. A few comforts in case you need ’em.”

The passenger shuffled through the insulated bag. “Boxed juice. Granola bars. Fucking gummy bears, man? This is childhood stuff. You got any Jack Daniels?”

Ian felt a spark of disobedience. “I’ve got a few joints in the glove box.” This was definitely off-book behavior, but it felt right. “They come with a price.”

“What’s that, Jeeves?”

“You’ve gotta tell me your whole story.”

---

The dark-haired passenger scoffed. “You don’t look like you’ve got the stomach to get caught up on my bullshit.”

“Try me.”

“Whatever. Fuckin’ sadist.” He settled into his seat. “You ain’t wearing a wire, right?”

“Not today.”

“All right, so, you ever heard of Berry Buds?”

“Those stuffed animals in the shape of fruit? Don’t people use those to smuggle coke?”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “You too delicate to hear about crime, pumpkin? There’s murder, too. Betrayal. And a pair of pink flamingos.”

“Wait, back up. You forgot the most important part. What’s your name?”

The passenger only smiled.

---

Man, this passenger could talk. Ian heard an hour’s worth of Milkovich family crimes.

Milkovich.

Ian didn’t know the guy’s first name. Only how passionate he was, the excitement in his voice.

“So Iggy launched the box of M-80s into the river, right, and this long-legged yahoo waltzes up.” Milkovich paused. “Wait, did you just yawn? If it’s such a chore to listen, I can fuckin’ stop.”

Ian made eye contact in the rearview mirror. “I was promised murder. A boyfriend.”

Milkovich slunk in his seat. “Keith.” All his passion faded to pain. “Yeah … guess I can talk about him.”

---

“Keith is …” Milkovich seeped with defeat and anger. “He’s the first person who saw me as more than a thug. We met at the liquor store. Been together seventeen months. I thought we were long-term, you know? Then he starts spending time at clubs. Digging into the scene. I don’t give a fuck if he does coke to let off steam. But he keeps getting it from the same guy. Real tall motherfucker. White-blond hair. Wears sweater vests.”

“Northside prick.”

“Oh, you know this guy?”

Ian had seen plenty of club action. He hardened in solidarity. “I know the type.”

---

“Anyways, that’s how I realized my piece-of-shit boyfriend is marrying fancy-pants Logan Covington, the motherfucker who snipes our business and has led the biggest anti-Milkovich smear campaign this side of Michigan.” The passenger let out a sigh. He slowed for the first time in an hour. “Shoulda known by that haircut. He came home looking like a walking Ken doll.”

“So, wait.” Ian sorted through the complicated story threads. “Are you going to kill your boyfriend?”

“No, man, keep up. I want to get him back.” He leaned forward, laying his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “And you’re gonna help me.”

---

Ian scoffed. “Don’t rope me into your drama.”

“Come on, man. We show up at the chapel, tell Keith I’m dating you now, let the jealousy unfold.”

Unbelievable. Ian shouldn’t even consider the offer. He had a ton to do this weekend. But Milkovich was obviously hurting.

Ian scratched his chin. “And I’d be on the clock the whole time?”

“What, you scared to do it? You a homophobe or something?”

“I’m gay.”

Milkovich stared, hard. He looked Ian up and down. “You never mentioned that.” He gave a coy smirk.

Ian felt a shot of electricity. “You never asked.”

---

The Silver Diner in Lafayette, Indiana bustled with activity.

Milkovich talked over the sizzling grill. “Still don’t know why we stopped here.”

“Can’t think on an empty stomach.” Ian flagged the waitress.

Jolene smiled, leaned into the booth. “Order’s coming right up, sugarpot.” She touched Ian’s arm as she left.

Milkovich frowned. “That shit happen to you a lot?”

“What?”

“Chicks waving their boobs in your face.”

“I don’t really notice.” But Milkovich noticed. Interesting.

“It’s good, actually. We can use it in our plan. People find you attractive.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t say me.”

---

Milkovich rolled a coin across the diner table. “You see that? Table's tilted by a degree-and-a-half. Cheap off-balance pedestal leg. I’d have used a trestle instead.”

Huh. This guy’s shoulders relaxed when he talked about normal stuff.

“The key with builds like this…” The guy was smart. Layered. Funny. And his eyes twinkled when he geeked out about construction, apparently.

Ian was finding new ways to be awed each minute.

“…at least shim the motherfucker because…”

Ian interrupted. “I’m in.”

“Huh?”

“Your plan? I guess can pretend to like you.”

Ian’s stomach swooped. Pretend might not be the right word.

---

“Seriously, you’ll do it?” Milkovich raised an eyebrow. “Okay, lay it on me. Tell me everything about you.”

Ian enjoyed sharing his details. “I’m one of six kids. Two sisters, three brothers. Wait, you’re not writing this down? You’re gonna memorize all this shit?”

The guy leaned forward, intense, piercing. He traced his finger around Ian’s wrist. “We’re chained now. I’ll remember everything about you.”

This was absurd, but the guy seemed dead serious.

Ian felt goosebumps. He took charge and matched the guy’s intensity. “Then tell me your first name.”

A quick tongue flick. The guy nodded. “It’s Mickey.”

---

Turns out, scheming and joking with Mickey was easier than breathing. Ian drummed on the table. “Okay, how’d we meet? I gave you a ride somewhere?”

“And then I rode you.” Mickey laughed. “Simple enough. How about second date?”

Ian’s inner romantic spun into action. “A rooftop picnic. You brought snacks and whiskey.”

“Hm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

“I brought a tire iron and gun because I didn’t trust you.”

Mickey smirked, like these lies were becoming reality in his head. “Wise man.”

Ian swelled. His weekend suddenly had purpose. He’d be the best fake boyfriend in the goddamn world.

---

They hit the john before they got back on the road. Pissed in outdated urinals, washed their hands.

Ian watched Mickey closely. Every turn, every strut, every smirk. That’s how he noticed that Mickey flinched when the hand dryer shot to life.

“Mickey Milkovich.” Ian laughed. “You can dump a mob boss in the Chicago River but you’re afraid of a little hot air?”

“It’s fucking startling.”

Mickey paused in the doorway. Tilted his head. Looked up at Ian. “Keith … he never noticed that about me.”

Ian elbowed him, defusing his sadness. “I’m going to learn all your secrets, boyfriend.”

---

Around midnight, the rhythm of repeating street lights on Interstate 65 lulled Ian toward sleep.

“Can I ask you a question?” Mickey looked damn relaxed, too. Seat leaned back. Legs stretched out. Talking in a low voice. “Let’s say I blew this.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Say I end up alone. Do I deserve that?”

Ian could certainly judge. He’d heard about Mickey’s crimes, his family, his dating history.

He wanted to hold Mickey’s hand. He wanted to find the right words to remedy this hurt.

“Mickey, you are the most –”

A bang. A crash. Ian’s face smashed into the airbag.

---

Ian took inventory. He was conscious. Neck pain. Bleeding nose.

He scrambled to unfasten his seatbelt. To wave away the airbag dust.

He pawed at Mickey’s leg, arm, chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m scraped up.” Mickey coughed. “What happened?”

“Someone clipped our bumper. We spun out. Hit the guardrail. I was out of control.”

“Why are you pulling on my eye?”

Ian lowered his hand. “Checking for a concussion.” He tried to steady his breath, calm his panic. “I’m sorry. I let you down.”

Mickey set his injured hand on Ian’s, offering shaky reassurance. “Better than being worm food, man.”

---

The cops had come and gone. Reality settled in. Ian’s car was undriveable. They were stranded.

Mickey’s anxiety spiked. “How the hell am I getting to the wedding now?” He paced along the shoulder, pointing at Ian. “Who drives for a fucking living and doesn’t have roadside assistance?”

Ian spoke via speakerphone to a random tow company they’d Googled. “It’s a silver Camry. Near exit 130.”

Mickey yelled into the phone. “Just look for the goddamn ring of fire lighting up I-65.”

Ian prayed for strength. “Ignore him. There’s no fire.” Unless you counted the flames rising from Mickey’s nostrils.

---

Ian talked to Mickey in the crammed cab of the tow truck. “I told you I’d get you there. I’ll think of something.”

The mechanic pulled into a repair shop. “Car can stay here. Hank opens at 7:00 tomorrow.”

Mickey exploded. “It’s not open 24 hours?”

“This is Indianapolis, not L.A.”

“How are we supposed—"

Ian held up a hand to stop him. He could feel Mickey’s desperation, his impatience and heartbreak. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

The mechanic pointed across the street. To a run-down motel called King Richard’s Royal Inn.

Mickey glared. “Well, long live the fuckin’ king.”

---

Josie at the front desk didn’t even look at her computer. “I’m sorry. It’s race week. We don’t have room for more guests.”

Mickey glared at Ian. “Come on, Gingerbread. You’re taking me to the Motel 6.”

Josie snorted. “You’ll be lucky to find a campground in this town with a vacancy.”

“Guess I’m sleeping in your fucking lobby, then.”

As if Ian didn’t feel bad enough about this situation.

A chime sounded on the computer.

“Hey, now.” Josie smiled. “We’ve just had a cancellation.” She looked between them. “It’s a single. One full-sized bed.”

Mickey didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it.”

---

“Door’s flimsy enough to kick open.” Ian unlocked the motel room.

Mickey groaned. “No TV. No closet. They better have hot water.”

“Jesus, the bed’s small.” Ian’s neck ached. This was officially hell.

“You gonna be all right, Red? We’ve got to get used to touching each other.”

Ian grabbed him and pulled him close, roughly. “Think we’ll be able to fool Keith?”

And, damn, Mickey’s face was right fucking there, looking tired. Cranky. Kissable. “We should do it bareback in the middle of the chapel just to piss him off.”

Oof.

Ian was not going to survive this night.

---

Mickey cracked the bathroom door as he showered, fogging up the motel room.

Ian sat on the bed, still for the first time tonight. He felt warmth. Pain. Adrenaline let-down.

Mickey’s silhouette moved behind the curtain. A hint. A tease. An invitation.

What if … Ian pulled the curtain back?

He could feel those sturdy shoulders, that smooth skin. Trace his tongue along the water droplets. Grab that thick … hair.

What if Mickey dropped his guy and took Ian on? Then what?

Would Mickey get tired of him?

Desire. Curiosity. Potential. Ian’s thoughts swirled like water.

… then the shower clicked off.

---

“Jesus!” Mickey pulled the curtain back. “Damn water turned to ice.” He jumped from the shower, lunging for a towel.

And of course Ian had been staring and saw everything. Mickey’s dripping body. The toned muscles in his legs. His stomach. A quick flash of his anatomy.

Ian turned away.

“Fucking freezing, man.” Mickey’s wet feet slapped on the floor. “This is on you, Gallagher.”

Ian peeked. The towel did nothing to hide the curve of Mickey’s ass.

God, Ian had to tamp down his infatuation. Maybe cockiness would work instead. “I hear skin-to-skin contact gets you warm the fastest.”

---

Mickey huffed at Ian’s joke. “You tryin’ to see me naked?”

“It’s for science. Research.”

Mickey shrugged and reached for the knot of his towel. The world moved in slow motion now, a tattooed hand tugging white cotton.

The fabric fell away, sliding down his leg. Dark hairs matted against skin. Body with the right balance of definition and softness.

Ian’s heart beat fast. He felt it getting stronger and stronger and stronger.

He glanced up and fell into Mickey’s eyes.

One touch could overcome the silence. One touch could reveal Ian’s crush.

Mickey smiled, all confidence. “Your turn, Loverboy.”

---

In this game of chicken, Mickey was winning.

Ian gulped. It was only fair, right? Mickey needed to see his body for their boyfriend charade to work.

Ian peeled off his jeans. His t-shirt, going slow and begging all his parts to stay chill.

Mickey never broke eye contact.

Ian slid his boxers down, breathless.

“Patriot tattoo. Boobs tattoo.” Mickey nodded. “Carpet matches the drapes. Uh-huh.”

How could Mickey stay so calm when he was tearing Ian’s nerves to pieces?

Mickey stepped within touching distance. “Only one more question, hot shot.”

“What’s that?”

“How good of an actor are you?”

---

Ian held his ground. “I’m a great actor.”

“Could you kiss me right now?” Mickey’s gaze raked down Ian’s body. “Kiss me and not get hard?” Mickey spoke oh-so-slowly. “We’re together, right? So we supposedly kiss all the time. Can you control yourself?”

A song burst through the tension. A silly cartoon voice repeating, You are my cute-cumber. You are my cute-cumber.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “Fuck, my phone.”

He scrambled, but the sound went silent before he got there.

Ian laughed. “Seriously? That’s the cheesiest alert.”

“You don’t understand.” Mickey looked up with pain in his eyes. “That’s Keith’s ringtone.”

---

Keith’s call shifted Mickey's vibe from flirty to flustered.

Ian slid on his boxers and jeans. Being naked suddenly seemed wrong.

“Why the fuck was he calling?” Mickey threw the towel over his lap. “He didn’t leave a voicemail. Is he having second thoughts about the wedding? Should I call back?”

Ian had no clue how to help. “Just take a minute. Breathe.”

“My brain’s turning to mush here, Gallagher. I’m exhausted. I’m confused. We haven’t eaten in hours. And now this? Tell me what the fuck to do.”

Ian didn’t think. He yanked Mickey’s head back and kissed him.

---

The kiss was overwhelming. Tinged with panic. Wonderful. Scary. Exciting. Over too soon.

Mickey touched his own lips. “That’s good. I … needed that.”

“This trip’ll be stressful enough without you freaking out. When the anxiety ratchets up in that head of yours, I’ll take care of you, all right?”

Mickey nodded. Took a second. Smirked. “Knew you couldn’t do it.”

“What?”

“Knew you couldn’t kiss me without getting hard.”

“You’re an asshole.”

But the intensity on Mickey’s face told Ian not to push. The bright blue eyes. The absolute relief at being taken care of.

Ian let the moment simmer.

---

Ian needed to be supportive. A bodyguard. A wingman, offering safety pins and pep talks.

He pulled two joints from his pocket. “You weren’t meant to face this weekend sober.”

“Fuck, man, you always know what I need.”

“Snagged ’em from my glove box after the crash.” Ian lit up and offered one to Mickey. “I know everything seems fuckin’ hopeless, like your life is wrecked. You ain’t wrong.”

“This supposed to make me feel better?”

“The point is, it’s okay to be who you are.”

“What’s that, big guy?”

Ian threaded their fingers together. “A loser, just like me.”

---

The wee hours passed in a purple haze of weed and exhaustion.

They didn’t sleep. They lay beside each other in that tiny bed, clothes on, joking and mumbling.

They bumped elbows, knocked knees, held hands.

Ian ached for more touch. For a kiss that meant more than comfort.

Mickey’s icy blue eyes held him at bay. I can’t face that yet. Please let me hover outside of reality a little longer.

In the orange glow of sunrise, Ian gathered his nerve. He asked the question he’d been pondering all night. “You still want to go to this wedding, Milkovich?”

---

Mickey sat too far away on the motel bed. “Why wouldn’t I go? Keith is my boyfriend. We live together.”

“How’s that gonna work out once the newlyweds get home?”

“I still want to go.”

This wasn’t right, goddammit. In the movies, a kiss leads to a romantic finale, not this stubborn insistence to stay on course.

Ian grasped at one last hope. “To win Keith back?”

Mickey inched closer. He held Ian’s chin. Broke into a smile. “To show him what a big mistake he made.”

This time, the kiss was only about the two of them. Fuckin’ finally.

--- * --- * --- * --- * ---

Hey. Is this thing on?

Gallagher’s been doing an okay job telling this story, but now it’s my turn. And none of that past-tense, passive bullshit. I’ll tell you everything the moment it happens, okay?

You’re gonna witness every mile, every pit stop, every tacky decision my ex makes for this wedding. His abysmal choice in groom. Some godawful silver balloon arch. Those lime-flavored vodka Jell-o squares he loves so much.

Damn, I can’t wait to see the scowl on Keith’s face when Ian and I start playing tonsil hockey on the dance floor.

We’re gonna fuck some shit up.

---

It’s seven AM. I’m camped outside Hank’s Body Shop drinking coffee-colored swill.

Ian’s beside me, giving me bedroom eyes, running his fingers up my arm. He’s tempting as fuck.

Hank unlocks the door and lets us in. “Knew you’d be waitin’.”

I spot Ian’s car, nod toward it. “What’s the damage?”

“Her bones are good, but you’re looking at three grand in parts and labor. I have an opening on October first.”

“October? That’s six weeks from now.”

Hank shrugs. “You can tow her somewhere else. No skin off my teeth.”

Ian eyes darken, and not in a sexy way.  

---

Look, I’ve learned a lot about Gallagher in the past day. If he says he’s gonna do something, he will.

We’re definitely getting to Nashville.

He’s got about eighty tabs up on his phone. “Ubering is ridiculously expensive. A rental car’ll surcharge me because I’m not twenty-five.”

“You’re not?”

“Not until next May.” Ian doesn’t even look up. “Greyhound leaves at 11:30. What time’s the wedding?”

“Six.”

“Guess we’re taking the bus.”

I fucking hate this idea. Ian can tell. He grabs me by the waist. “We can cuddle the whole way there.”

Okay, maybe I fucking love this idea.

---

We leave the car behind. Leave the body shop behind. Check out of the motel, leave it behind.

All I’ve been doing lately is letting things go. Releasing the goddamn trapeze wire and falling without a net.

My ex is the hardest fucking thing to let go.

Ian and I sit in the back seat of a cab, on our way to the bus station. He holds my hand, simply. “This is the first time I’ve seen your shoulders relax.”

He's a six-foot-high, freckly-armed godsend. It's easier to let go when a motherfucker like that is waiting to catch you.

---

The bus trip passes in a blur. I’m lost in a tangle of Gallagher limbs. He touches my forehead, cups my cheek, kisses me every minute on the minute.

After all the shit we’ve gone through, the ride feels too easy. Roadblocks are easy to rally against. But when the path is clear, doubt creeps in.

We pull into Nashville Station at four o’clock. It’s sunny. The air smells like Keith.

He’s probably putting on his tux and double-checking the flowers right now.

I’ve been obsessed. I haven’t taken a moment to breathe.

Fuck.

Am I doing the right thing?

---

I shove down my hesitation, because fuck Keith. If I want to crash his party, I’ll do it with a wrecking ball.

Ian and I step out of an Uber, bleary-eyed. The white chapel sits in a commercial strip, bathed in neon.

There’s two pink birds dressed in tuxedos mounted out front. I rip one from the grass. “Goddamn flamingos, man. That was supposed to be our thing.”

A man greets guests at the chapel steps. “Thank you for coming, thank you ah-very much.” Rhinestones. Bell bottoms. Sunglasses.

I can’t handle this shit. “He’s having fucking Elvis officiate his wedding?!”

---

I’m ready to find out what kinda froufrou shindig my ex is throwing. I’m gonna bust in his skull the second he vows himself to that prick Logan Covington.  

Only … I haven’t moved yet.

Ian sets his hand on my neck. He touches a muscle that calms my whole goddamn body. “Hey, there’s a pizza place around the block. You up for it?”

I blink. “Bustin’ this up isn’t going to help anything, is it?”

He shakes his head.

Fuck. That voice of reason finally takes hold. “Pizza it is, then.”

The moment we turn, I hear a voice. “Mickey?”

---

Keith’s tux is perfect. His hair is perfect. “What’re you doing here? H-how are you?”

“Me? I don’t have a care in the goddamn world.”

He’s got candles in one hand and hideous flowers in the other. He pauses, like there’s no fucking sense hiding what’s going on. “I’m dying to know what you’re thinking.”

Well, fuck, I am, too. Because I didn’t plan this far. This whole trip’s been fueled by spitfire and rage. Now here we stand, face-to-face, and I’m torn between revenge and the strong freckled hands of my Uber driver.

I open my mouth to speak.

---

I can’t find the right words. My mouth works on autopilot. I turn my head and lay the biggest goddamn kiss on Ian. His body tenses, then he melts into it like we’ve been doing this shit for years.

I forget that Keith’s there. Elvis fades away. The chords of the practicing organist fade away.

I pull back slowly, staring at Ian.

“Um, hello?” Keith waves.

“Ian and I are gonna grab some grub. Maybe check out that haunted Nashville tour. Have fun with whatever bullshit you’re doing today.”

I don’t care how petty I sound.

I’m finally fuckin’ free.

---

I hear Keith stammering behind me. I don’t care what he has to say or what a clusterfuck this’ll be after the dust settles and we return home.

Ian and I shuffle down the sidewalk arm-in-arm.

The pizza ain’t Chicago style, but it tastes amazing. The hotel Ian picks for us ain’t fancy, but the sheets are clean.

We kiss against the wall. He peels off my clothes.

25 hours. 475 miles. One motherfucking Elvis. One round of drowsy sex.

I’m comfortable tangled in Ian’s gangly arms.

We do the thing I’ve been dying to do for an eternity … sleep.

---

Ian hands our key to the hotel clerk. “My friend and I enjoyed our stay.”

I nudge Ian as we walk outside. “Why’d you call me that?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

I pinch my eyes. I need more.

Ian slinks against me. “You’re my… lover.” Now he’s getting it. “Wanna bite you. Wanna nibble on you the whole way home.”

Better, but I still need more. “When we get back, will you be my—”

“Yes.” For Ian, it’s as simple as that.

We got no car. No plan. We only have each other.

And that’s all I fuckin’ need.

---*---*---*---*---

ONE YEAR LATER

Ian threw a receipt onto the kitchen table. “Finally paid the last toll. Got all the Camry repairs done.”

Mickey smirked. “We never got to show off our fake dating skills on that trip.”

“There’s one last souvenir I gotta deal with.” Ian got down on one knee, holding a small black box. “You’re in this house – this home – all the time. Might as well make it official.”

“You sayin’ you wanna get hitched?”

“You up for it? No flamingoes, I promise.”

Mickey pulled him into a kiss. “Pretty wise choice, hopping in your car that day.”

[britcision]

Okay WIP Wednesday! I’ve had a real fucking busy weekend painting the house and building new furniture and making some fucking HELLACIOUS overalls (pics later maybe???)

But I basically haven’t been on except my occasional cursed thought, and hopefully I’ll be around more and actually get to some messages this week 👀 maybe

In the meantime! Here is the Danny segment I considered giving you last week!

————————

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence iii

Honestly, driving in Gotham wasn’t even all that exciting from Danny’s perspective. After being tossed around the GAV despite the seatbelts, a couple of cranky fellow drivers just didn’t register.

If they hadn’t been going through the city, maybe going highway speeds it might have been different, but he’d kind of worked out how loud he had to be to be heard.

By Jason snickering when he screamed at pedestrians.

If they didn’t want to be screamed at they shouldn’t be trying to loom menacingly.

Of course, that just meant now was the perfect time for him to use his new power for evil. Danny flipped his visor up, straining as high as he could to yell to Jason.

“SO, THAT CONSTANTINE GUY?”

There was a sudden click in his ear and he jumped as Jason’s voice came through, quiet and definitely amused.

“There’s a radio in your helmet, Danny.”

Oh.

News to fucking him, he was pretty sure that wasn’t standard in motorcycle helmets, but not from any lived experience. Johnny 13’s dead experiences were a little out of date.

Poking around the sides of his helmet, Danny soon found a button.

“Sweet. Looks like you finally forgot to mention something,” he teased, and heard Jason snort loud and clear.

Didn’t have to hold the button to talk then. Good times. He’d get Tucker to take a look on the way home after he ecto infused it. For now he flipped the visor back down.

“Looks like,” Jason agreed dryly, swerving them around a cluster of traffic.

He wasn’t exactly sticking to the letter of the law, they were definitely half again over the speed limit, but they hadn’t gone on a sidewalk so it was nothing to a Fenton. There was even an empty slot in the lane he merged into.

“So what about Constantine,” he prompted, and while it broke Danny out of his musings, it also reminded him of the exact thing he’d planned to do to make the trip more interesting.

“Oh, I own his soul. Like, a dozen times over,” Danny chirped perkily, grip tightening just before Jason had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting the car beside them.

They sped off again before the sudden swerve caused comment, and passed a block or two in silence. Then Jason sighed.

“Of fucking course you do that for everything and not just Mariokart.” He mostly sounded resigned, so Danny allowed himself a snicker.

“What, it’s not like we’re gonna die. You’re even still on the road,” he dismissed easily, waving a hand to show just how unconcerned he was.

Did not expect Jason to huff, reach back and grab his hand, and pull it back around himself.

“I’m reconsidering teaching you to drive,” he told Danny flatly, and Danny pouted but took the hint and held on.

“Oh come on, you can’t say that, you haven’t even seen me try!” Danny protested.

Jason made an unimpressed noise.

“Your town’s weather includes reports of if your parents will be on the road.”

Which, by the way, was totally unfair of him, since he’d never have known that if Danny hadn’t told him. Or Tucker hadn’t told Tim.

Same difference.

“My parents, not me,” Danny argued anyway, shrugging, “and it wasn’t their driving that killed me.”

This time he was close enough, snugged tight to Jason’s back, that he felt the guy’s whole body shiver with a loud and rumbling growl. The same growl he’d heard and soothed earlier.

Something had really riled up Jason’s pit ghost.

Danny hummed another quick soothing trill, stroking his aura gently across Jason and his extra passenger.

Sort of trying to do it unobtrusively; he would actually really prefer that they didn’t fully crash. It kinda worked, in that Jason managed to unlock suddenly solid muscles enough for them to make the next turn.

“Sorry,” Danny said quickly, kind of to both of them, “guess Pitty doesn’t like the death jokes today.”

They passed another few buildings in silence, anf Danny had definitely noticed by now that they weren’t heading for the manor. Didn’t matter so long as Jason knew where they were going.

Danny waited him out, long enough that he almost wanted to make another joke and lighten the mood. Again though, Jason broke it first.

“Pitty.” He did not sound impressed. But he didn’t feel mad. More what the fuck just came outta your mouth.

Danny gave him a quick squeeze, and almost felt the pit purr.

It was kinda getting stronger the longer they hung out. Technically that probably meant that both cores were making progress.

“Well, technically you probably get to name it, but until you come up with something I’m calling it Pitty,” Danny explained, and rather felt that Jason should be grateful.

Unlike the rest of his family, Jason had seen the full list of how Jack Fenton named things. Danny preferred to think he took after his aunt.

He coulda called it the Fenton Pit Friend or something. Really, it wasn’t hard to think of anything worse.

From his aura, Jason now seemed to be intentionally ignoring him.

Stewing in indignation-disbelief-confused-confused-confused. Well, that was his call.

Anyway.

“Back to Constantine though, I wasn’t kidding. I do actually own his soul,” Danny said casually, since they’d gotten distracted from his previous attempt to make the drive more interesting.

For a moment he wasn’t sure if Jason would rise to the bait this time either, and then another sigh came over the radio.

“Y’know, somehow, that’s the least surprising thing you’ve said. Man sells his soul so much everyone seems to have a chunk,” Jason grumbled, and Danny snickered.

“Oh, pretty much. He’s the Caterpie of human souls. He never made a deal with me directly though,” he added quickly, without being fully sure why.

He was pretty sure Jason wouldn’t jump straight to “Danny is a soul trader”, but honestly he’d gotten used to getting ahead of wilder trains of thought.

“Oh? How’d you get twelve then?” Jason shot back, clearly warming back up to things.

Mission accomplished. Danny grinned.

“Well, previous Ghost King was in nappy time for a couple thousand years, but he had this whole thing about collecting souls to add to his army of thralls, so basically anyone could sign their soul over for a chunk of power. Real charmer,” Danny snorted, rolling his eyes.

It was so far from the worst thing Pariah Dark had ever done, but so far it was definitely the longest lingering annoyance.

“I got the impression,” Jason agreed in pretty much the same tone, prompting Danny to continue.

Which. Yeah. Was more fun than thinking about the mountain of thrall contracts still awaiting their owner’s deaths, which the Observants were still fussing over.

Nobody wanted more thralls, souls wiped clean of everything that made them, well, souls. Just unliving batteries. Even ghosts found them creepy.

On the other hand, there was nothing the Observants loved more than rules. And the rules said a signed contract had to be honoured.

Really they shoulda expected Danny to ask who the fuck signed for Pariah, since he was (again) in nappy time prison. He hoped nobody else died while they sorted that out.

“Danny?”

Ah. Yup, he did it again. Danny shook his head and sighed, kinda missing the wind in his hair. It kept him more present than the enclosed space of the helmet.

“Sorry. So, John Constantine, clever bitch, wrote himself a contract that signed his soul over to the Ghost King, not Pariah Dark. Got through whatever screening was in place no problem, and now he’s my problem.”

A problem that Clockwork had presented Danny with on his fucking birthday no less.

That had been part one of the soul screening process; who was stuck with Pariah by name, and ho boy that was a depressingly long list… and still growing, though it had slowed recently.

News of Pariah losing his crown was slow to spread, and frankly Danny himself could be doing more to help that, except. Well.

Not taking the damn crown himself until he had to. Not wanting to give the creeps of the world anything to call him.

There were a lot of good reasons, okay? And Clockwork had specially singled out Constantine’s contract and delivered it to Danny himself as a birthday present.

“Well, that explains one,” Jason agreed with a snicker, pulling to a stop in front of the police station, “but what about the other eleven times?”

Danny snorted a laugh, sliding off the bike and stretching. As much fun as hugging Jason at high speeds was, he didn’t like being still for too long.

“Tax season,” he explained cheerfully, pulling off the helmet and looking around, “I guess we’re meeting Harley here?”

Snickering to himself, Jason pulled off his own helmet and tucked it into the storage on the back of his bike. Danny passed it over, noting that Jason had also had to get a second little pod for the other helmet.

He wasn’t gonna ask. Maybe they were in storage?

“Yeah, we’re meeting Harley here. Better not to swing by the manor for a while,” Jason added, his expression souring.

Which did make Danny feel a little bad actually. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jason with his family…

But before he could say anything Jason ruffled his hair roughly, shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault, Danny. This kinda shit happens every other week, Bruce gets on his bullshit and I steer clear. He’ll calm the fuck down eventually and remember to mind his own business,” he explained dryly, nodding towards the doors.

Danny hesitated before moving to follow. It felt true, he could feel Jason’s sincere-exhausted-familiar-still over it clear as day, it just.

“I’m still sorry I wound him up though,” Danny finally decided, heading after Jason up and in. Jason who rolled his eyes and held the door open.

“Danny. He winds himself up. You could be a literal angel and he would not fucking care. You couldn’t unwind him even if you miraculously found the key. We’ve all tried,” Jason said with a sigh, though at least the anger seemed to have burned off into just…

Tired.

Jason just felt tired.

Probably cuz he was off fucking around with Cass last night, but Danny wasn’t about to call him out on it.

Not when they’d just walked into the police station (ew) and the wild sight of Harley Quinn, hair in pigtails and dressed in her signature red and black, sat on the duty officer’s desk with a bat. Filing her nails.

Total silence filled the room, broken only by the swing of the doors opening as Danny and Jason stepped through.

The whole room was watching her in a kind of terrified awe, like she was a particularly dangerous bomb waiting to go off. Danny’d swear they weren’t even breathing.

She looked up as the door opened, grinning broadly at the sight of them and waving in a large, exuberant gesture.

“Oh, there’s my boys! Hey boys!” She called in obvious delight, and half the room flinched.

Didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t even been in Gotham for ages, let alone being her former roguish self. She had the kind of presence that left a lasting impression.

No wonder Danny liked her. She coulda fit right in with his ghost friends.

Maybe she’d come join them for fight club.

——————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai

[drabbles-mc]

Crunch-Time

Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & OC Evangeline Reyes

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This exists in the same universe as Interruptions but can be read without having read that first. I have the next part of this universe written up already as well, so I'm hoping to post that over the next few days at some point. this piece and the next one are focused more on the three Reyes Siblings than Evangeline and Franky but i promise it is all gonna come back together haha. anyway! as always unedited and unbeta'd because the muse caught me by the jugular tonight lmao

The morning had been quiet so far. Mornings in the middle of the week didn’t tend to be busy times for most of the shops on the strip, and Evangeline’s was no exception. She took advantage of the lack of foot traffic, calling and emailing with the people on both sides of the border who sent her their clothes and jewelry to sell in her shop. She was far from a big name or a huge retailer, but she was good and fair to the artists and designers that she worked with. And for a lot of people who were just trying to make some extra money to get by, that was more than enough.

She was updating some of her order spreadsheets, getting to the bottom of her first coffee of the day, when the bells above her shop door chimed. Out of habit she smiled, turning her head slightly to the door even though her eyes were still on the computer screen in front of her as she spoke to the customer who had just come through the door.

“Bienvenidos! I’ll be with you in just one second.”

“Okay,” the woman responded, a twinge of uncertainty in her voice.

Her tone got Evangeline to look up and over at her, wondering what was going on that was making her sound like that. The woman was standing in the tiny little foyer area of the shop, right by the chair that her brothers usually occupied whenever they stopped by to bother her. She looked a little older, enough gray strands of hair mixed in with the brown to be prominent. She had dress bag draped over her arms. Despite the fact that the woman seemed to be trying to keep a neutral expression, Evangeline could see the worry in her eyes.

She got up and walked around the counter, stopping a few feet in front of her before asking, “How can I help you?”

The woman drew in a deep breath, and for a moment Evangeline wasn’t sure if she was trying to steady herself, or if she was about to let loose a tirade. She braced herself for both regardless. The woman locked eyes with her, lips curled into a small frown. “I’m so sorry,” she said, words tumbling out along with the deep breath she’d just taken, “just barging in like this. But I didn’t know…a friend of a friend recommended you and I just,” her shoulders slumped in defeat, “I’m in a bit of a tough spot.”

Evangeline nodded. “Okay. What kind of tough spot are we talking about?”

The woman gave a small lift of her arms, just enough to draw attention to the dress bag. “My son’s wedding is this weekend, and the dress that was supposed to be delivered a month ago isn’t going to be delivered until next week so I had to go out and buy another one but nothing fit off the rack and everywhere else is saying they can’t get it done in time,” she spoke like the sentence was never going to end, like she had been trying to pick certain bullet points to say and then just decided on all of them, “and I understand it’s short notice and it’s not their fault but I really need—”

Evangeline took a small step forward, just close enough so that she could rest her hand on the outside of the woman’s arm. “How about,” she spoke gently, “we get this on you and take a look. Let me know what you need done and I’ll see what I can do about having it ready for you before your son’s wedding.”

The woman’s eyes instantly glassed over with tears of relief as she nodded. “That would be great. Th-thank you.”

She nodded as she let her hand drop back to her side. She motioned for the woman to follow her towards the back of the store. “I’m Evangeline, by the way.”

The woman let out a shaky laugh. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even—” she shook her head, “April.”

“Nice to meet you, April.” She reached and opened up the door to the dressing room. “Let me know if you need help.”

It didn’t take long for the woman to re-emerge. Evangeline instantly smiled. The dress was beautiful—a deep purple floor length gown that was one-shoulder. From the first glance she could already tell that, unless April was planning on wearing heels high enough to snap her ankles walking down the aisle, the dress was at least going to be hemmed. If that’s all it was, she could get it done quickly, but she didn’t want to speak too soon.

“I know it’s not the dress you wanted,” she said as April stepped up onto the small platform in front of the trifold mirror, “but it looks amazing.”

She laughed and smiled. “Thank you.”

Evangeline was slipping on her wristlet that had a collection of pins and sewing needles jammed into it. “So, what are we looking to get done?”

She sighed. “I at least need it hemmed…”

Evangeline nodded as she looked at the flats the woman was wearing. “How short? Are you wearing heels or—”

She laughed and waved her off good-naturedly. “I’m too told to be worrying about heels and a dancefloor at this point. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t fall over and take my son down with me.”

Evangeline laughed. “I get it, I get it. Alright, so we’re hemming. What else?”

She motioned to the waistline. “If you could let this out a little bit maybe? Feels like I can barely breathe let alone eat.” She paused to laugh. “And I know they got a really good cake for the reception.”

Evangeline hummed in amusement. “Well, can’t have you missing out on that, can we?”

“I’d love not to.”

She nodded understandingly as they talked about a couple other small things that she was looking to have done to the dress. She made a quick lap around to get the full scope of it before giving her final verdict. “I should be able to have this ready for you by the time I close up shop on Friday.”

Shock completely absorbed her expression. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I got a couple jobs that can wait until next week. I can get this done for you as long as Friday isn’t too late.”

April’s laughter was coated in relief as she stepped down and wrapped Evangeline in a hug. “Thank you.”

She hugged her back, unable to stop herself from laughing as well. “Don’t thank me until it’s done,” she joked.

She had April step back up onto the platform so that she could start pinning her dress where it needed to be hemmed to. Now that the initial panic that caused her visit was mostly resolved, Evangeline noticed how much more relaxed they both were, but especially April. They made small talk as she walked around and placed her pins and marked where she needed to for later.

Getting the dress marked up was, surprisingly enough, the quickest part of their exchange. She understood why it was hard for April to find a place to take care of her last minute—it was prom season and the start of wedding season so most places were probably slammed. It wasn’t as though Evangeline’s schedule was painfully open, but she always tried to leave herself a little wiggle-room just in case.

The two of them were putting the dress back on the hanger after April had changed back into her regular clothes when Evangeline heard her brother’s bikes outside. Or rather, she assumed it was them—it wasn’t as though the other members of the club made a habit out of stopping by to visit her very often.

She was purposely ignoring it as she and April traded contact information. The roar of the engines stopped, moments later the door chimes rang, and Evangeline was still intent on ignoring it all. She noticed the way that April turned to look and see who had walked in, and she also noticed the momentary shift in her expression. It wasn’t a negative change, but she definitely hadn’t been expecting two men in club kuttes to walk through the door. Evangeline couldn’t blame her for the shock.

She walked with her back towards the front of the store, still not acknowledging her brothers. “I’ll give you a call first thing on Friday to let you know when you can come and pick it up.”

April had let out so many sighs of relief that she’d lost count, but she added another one to the tally. “Thank you so much. Really, I, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course. It was nice meeting you, April.”

She nodded. “You too.” She tucked the card that Evangeline had given her into her purse as she tried to slip past Angel and Ezekiel without getting in their way. She brushed by Angel, giving him a small nod and a kind, “Excuse me,” on the way.

There was a smirk on his face as he stepped out of her way. Hands tucked in his pockets he put on the most charming voice he had as he said, “You have a good day, Miss.”

Her smile stretched a little wider. “Thank you.”

Once the door shut behind her, Evangeline immediately rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I could kill you for how ridiculous you are. Sabes?” She gestured to EZ. “He wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

Angel laughed as he held his hands up in surrender. “What? I was just bein’ n—”

“You weren’t bein’ anything good. Poor woman just trying to come in here to get a dress hemmed and she’s gotta…” she trailed off as she shook her head.

EZ was trying and failing at his attempts to stifle his laughter. He looked at Angel. “Told you we should’ve come later.”

Angel waved him off without even looking at him. “Nah, nah. This is breaking news. Can’t wait.” He focused on Evangeline. “Think I might have a job for you.”

She was shaking her head as she turned around and started returning to the back of the store. “I told you guys—I only stitch fabric. I’m not sewing up anyone in the club who—”

Angel sucked his teeth in annoyance. “No, Eva. I meant,” he huffed, thrown off his game. “Will you fuckin’ listen?”

EZ wasn’t even trying to hide his laughter anymore. Evangeline turned around and faced Angel, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing vaguely in the air. “Alright, alright. I’m listening. Dime.”

“Like I was fuckin’ saying,” Angel started again, “I think I got a job for you.” He reached dramatically into the pocket of his kutte. “Think you got time to maybe, I dunno,” he pulled out a small slip of fabric that Evangeline almost didn’t recognize for a moment, “stitch on your little brother’s Secretario patch?”

Evangeline’s smile was warm as she laughed. “Got a promotion?”

“Hell yeah,” Angel agreed.

She nodded as she folded her arms across her chest. “Congratulations, Angel.”

He gave a dramatic bow. “Thank you, thank you. Please, don’t feel like you have to hold your fuckin’ applause.”

She laughed. “I think I still will.” She saw the way he was shaking his head at her and stepped in to hug him. “I’m happy for you, ‘manito.”

He kissed the side of her head. “Thanks.” Pulling back, he looked at the wristlet she was still wearing from her meeting with April. “Really, though. You think you could, uh, maybe stitch this—”

“Angel Ignacio. You’re not actually—”

“Just if you had some fuckin’ time, I don’t know!”

She shook her head. “I don’t. I don’t have time. Here,” she plucked a needle form her wristlet and quickly went back and grabbed a spool of thread that would be tough enough to stitch his patch on effectively and handed it to him, “This should do just fine. Won’t take you very long.” She heard and saw the way EZ was laughing and quickly turned her attention on him. “Don’t laugh too hard, Prospect. A title flash is easy—wait ‘til you need to stitch on your bottom rocker.”

It got EZ’s laughter to stop and Angel’s to pick up. He walked over, roughly shoving his shoulder against EZ’s. “Yeah, what she said. Shut the fuck—”

“That’s not what I said,” Evangeline cut him off with a laugh.

Angel waved her off. “Close enough.”

It took a few moments for all of them to stop laughing. Once they did, Evangeline asked, “You going next door to tell Pops now?”

Angel shook his head. “Nah.”

Evangeline sighed. “Angel—”

He knew where she was going next so he stopped her before she could start. Turning to look at EZ, he said, “We do gotta ask him about delivering to the clubhouse though. Cater the celebration.” He returned his attention back to his sister. “This one you actually gotta show up for. Since it’s for me.” He grinned.

EZ laughed. “It’s not just—”

Angel held his hand up. “Shut it, Prospect.” He raised his eyebrows. “You gonna come through?”

“I don’t—”

“It’s Friday! Not even a work night!”

She tilted her head in confusion. “That’s still a work night for me, you know.”

He let out the type of groan someone would expect from a petulant child not getting their way. “Come on, Eva. It’s gonna be a good time. Other charters coming through and shit.”

Normally she made it a habit not to hang around the clubhouse too often. She had no bad blood towards the club, not really. Everyone was just doing what they knew how to do in order to get from one day to the next. She was no different than them in that regard—her means were just different than theirs. She didn’t hold it against them but she also wasn’t going to let it upend the life she had been working very hard for years to create for herself.

Her guest appearances were rare. Every now and then if one of her brothers had needed something she would stop by. Sometimes she wouldn’t even go past the main office for the scrapyard, leaving whatever she’d brought with Chucky and a note. She could count on one hand the number of parties that she could say that she really went to. The look in Angel’s eyes had her thinking that that miniscule number was about to go up by one.

“I’m gonna be late,” she finally conceded after a few more seconds of silence, “’cause I’ve got some stuff I’ll need to catch up on but—”

Angel was already hugging her and laughing. “That’s what I thought!” He let her go and started to backpedal towards the door. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work. Gonna go tell Pops we need him Friday too.” He looked at EZ and nodded towards the door. “C’mon, he ain’t gonna say yes unless you’re the one asking.”

EZ chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll catch up in a sec.”

Angel opened the door, calling back to his sister, “Love you!”

“You better!” Evangeline was still shaking her head at him even when he was out of sight. She walked the rest of the way back to take the purple dress off its hanger and put it on the dress form to start working. She was lowering herself down to the floor to get started when she said, “What’s on your mind, Ezekiel?”

He shrugged, hands holding the edges of his kutte as he walked back to her. “Nothin’. Now I’m just stressing about having to stitch on my rocker in a few months.”

Evangeline laughed. “If you’re really up a creek with it maybe I’ll help.” She paused, still not looking directly at him as she reiterated, “But really, what’s going on?”

He paused as he tried to figure out how to go about trying to start the conversation that he wanted to have. “If you don’t wanna go…”

She looked up at him for a moment. “Angel’s very excited. I don’t have a problem showing up for a little while for him. It’s fine—I don’t need you to give me a pass.”

“You’re not excited though.”

She allowed herself to fully plop down on the floor. She kept her legs bent so that she could drape her arms across her knees. “I…I’m glad that it’s going well for him. For both of you, actually. I know that this,” she made a vague gesture towards his kutte, “is what you’ve both chosen to do. And you’re apparently very good at it. I’m glad you found something together.”

“Yeah but you’d rather—”

“There’s no rather,” she cut him off but made sure to keep her tone calm. “We’re all grown, EZ. We’ve,” she chuckled, “we’ve been grown. You should know that better than…” she trailed off. “We’re all just doing what we have to do to be okay. I’m not going to start holding that against you or Angel now.”

“Really?”

Evangeline was too smart to take the bait that was packed into his tone. She gave a simple nod and a small smile. ���Really.” Before he could try to push her farther, she gestured towards the door. “Angel was right—he’s gonna need your help getting Pop to agree to play caterer for you guys.”

He frowned for a moment, not expecting the dismissal. “Right.” He started to back up towards the door. “See you Friday then.”

She nodded, still offering a smile. “You will.” She watched as he turned and walked. “Ezekiel?”

He paused at the door, fingers wrapped around the handle but he didn’t push as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Love you.”

The frustration disappeared from his face, at least for the moment. “Love you.”

Mayans Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!):

@garbinge @withmyteeth @darqchilddaydreamz @artemiseamoon @proceduralpassion

@justreblogginfics @narcolini @cositapreciosa @fanfic-n-tabulous

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

21st Day of Christmas

Christmas Card Blues

Summary/Prompt: The reader reacts to getting Christmas cards from married couples with pictures of them with their smiling children.

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, infertility & miscarriages, implied smut

Christmas Masterlist | Masterlist

You and Jensen have been married for just over a year now and have been talking about and trying to have a baby for most of that time, but it just doesn’t seem to be in the books for you, or at least not yet. It doesn’t help that you only see each other every other weekend or a couple of times a month due to his busy filming schedule but you’ve been trying as often as possible anyway. After a few false positives and a miscarriage, you’re starting to lose hope. It’s difficult to handle the emotions on your own. You know he’s there for you and wants to support you but he’s often just too busy to be there as often as you would like or need. The pain of the loss and longing is always there but now, at Christmas time it all feels so much more intense. 

The Christmas photos and cards don’t help. Genevieve for one sent our homemade cards with a picture of their whole big happy family on the front. Of course, you love her, Jared and their little ones, so it earned pride of place on the front of the fridge. But as much as you love them it also makes you sad every time you look at it. You know it’s still early days but you just thought you would’ve at least been pregnant by now. You and Jensen had talked extensively before the wedding about how you dreamt of having a family together but now that you’re trying to make it a reality, it’s easier said than done. 

You’re standing in the kitchen with your hand on your stomach and tears in your eyes when Jensen returns from checking on the brewery. He’s been home from filming for a few days now but he’s had a list of other things to check on before Christmas in Austin. Part of you knows he likes to keep busy, but you also can’t help but wonder if he’s avoiding you since you’ve failed to make your and his Christmas wish come true. You’d both hoped you’d either have a baby in your arms for Christmas or at least a positive pregnancy test or ultrasound photos; instead, you have nothing. 

When he sees you he knows exactly what’s on your mind. He wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his chest as he kisses your head. “I know, Sweetheart. I’m right here. It’s gonna be fine. We’ll get our family one day. We can start looking into IVF and other options in the new year.”

“It’s my biological job to have a baby – reproduce – and I can’t even do that. I’m so useless.”

“Hey, hey. You’re not useless. This isn’t your fault. These things just happen. It could even be my sperm for all we know. But we will figure it out. Together we can get through this. I can take some time off early in the year, and drop back on my workload a little so I can be here with you. I know it’s hard doing this on your own.”

Your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter causing you to pull away and check it. Jensen looks over your shoulder knowing you won’t mind or would tell him if you did. As you tap on the notification a picture pops up of your sister, her husband and their young children. You tap the like button and then turn your phone off before placing it screen down. Jensen kisses your head again sweetly and wraps his arms around you from behind. “That will be us one day. We haven’t been married long. Just try to be patient. You’ll get to be a mother one day.”

“I’m sorry…You came home for a happy Christmas and here I am just moping around.”

“Don’t apologise, Baby. It’s hard and you’re hurting, and that’s okay. I’m here to help carry the load now. It’s okay to feel everything that you’re feeling.”

“It’s also just…I know your mom is gonna ask tomorrow when we get there…”

“Ask what?”

“Where her grandbabies are? We’ve had a year why haven’t we gotten on to it yet? You know I love your family, but your mom has high expectations and I always fall short and now I haven’t given you a baby yet when they know you want one. They know I’m a failure and that you should’ve married someone else.”

“You done venting yet?” he asks softly. You nod. “Okay. I know that’s how you feel, but that’s not how I feel.” He spins you around and lifts you on the bench so he can stand between your legs, be at face-level with you and meet your eyes. “You’re my stunning wife who works so hard to allow me to live my dreams while you stay here and keep everything afloat. The brewery, handling invoices with Steve for my music, this house, also being there for me whenever I need you, all while trying to do your own thing and now on top of all that you’re stressing about having a baby. I love that you’re motivated and driven and want to do all that. And as long as you’re happy, I’m happy, but you’re not happy. So, after Christmas, we’re gonna talk about lifting some of this workload and stress off you. We’ll negotiate. Also, us having children is none of my parent’s business. But if she asks I can take the blame.”

“You’re gonna take the blame for my miscarriage…We didn’t tell them for a reason.”

“They don’t need to know. I’m barely home. I’m working too hard. When would we have a chance to try? Put all of that on me. It’s true and I can take it.”

“But we have…We’ve been trying every time you come home.”

“A couple of times every other weekend? It’s been amazing, I’ve loved every time. But it’s still minimal. If I was home more often we could try every night. Get a lot more practice. But regardless, they don’t need to know. If mom says anything I’ll handle it. Having a baby isn’t supposed to be stressful, it’s supposed to be fun.”

“It was…in the beginning but now…”

“I know. I just want to get back to that fun.”

“Me too.”

“How about we just forget about it for now?”

“You’re finally home and you want us to not have sex anymore?”

“Did I say that? I don’t remember saying that,” he says teasingly. “I just mean, we stop putting so much emphasis on the why and just go back to making love or just focusing on the pleasure. Be in the moment more. If it happens, it happens. No more planning.” You nod in agreeance. “I’m glad you agree because I really want you to lay back on this bench for me.”

His hands squeeze your thighs as he kisses you deeply and then guides you to lean back. He sinks to his knees as his hands grip the waistband of your leggings and pull them down your legs.

[beechersnope]

Summer of Cum Days 25/26/27: ball massage, come marking, coming without permission

logan/lando, warnings for verbal humiliation, hate sex, dirty talk about a third person (not present), unhealthy non-monogamous relationships, 1536 words

***

They’re so close that Logan can feel the menthol-cool bite of Lando’s breath on his lips.

His own must be hotter, just as intense. He’s sweating all over, more than he had been in the car. The AC’s broken, he thinks, but neither of them are going to get up to check. They definitely aren’t going to spare the two minutes it would take to call the front desk to complain about it. The loser can take care of that, after.

“We need lube,” Logan insists. Lando’s hands are dry despite the heat. They’re rough. Lando’s uncut; it doesn’t matter so much for him, but Logan’s not as lucky.

“Pussy,” Lando shoots back before angling his body toward the nightstand to grab the bottle Logan uses when—when Oscar’s not around.

Logan watches the way Lando’s muscles ripple under his skin, and he feels something hot, nasty squirming under his own. It makes him harder, even though it shouldn’t. It’s not desire—it’s envy. No wonder Oscar’s so fascinated by her shiny, new toy. Why shouldn’t she be?

Lando sets the lube down on the bedspread and grabs Logan’s thighs, hauling him even closer as he settles in against the headboard. Logan’s too tall to splay his legs out the way Lando is doing, so he bends his knees a little and leans back on his palms to keep himself upright. He doesn’t need his hands anyway.

“You think Oscar could ride us like this?” Lando asks as he slicks up both hands, grabbing his own dick and Logan’s in tandem.

Logan’s breath hitches a little in his throat. He forces it out. “Yeah,” he says. He’s imagining it without really meaning to, Oscar’s pussy around his cock, Lando’s cock in her ass. Lando would like it better that way, he thinks. Oscar likes to complain—almost wistfully—about how obsessed Lando is with her ass.

There’s an optical illusion created by the way their thighs cross over each other as they sit face to face on Logan’s hotel bed. If they both had pussies, they’d be scissoring, but as it is, Lando has his own cock in his left hand, Logan’s in his right, both so close that the only way to tell whose belongs to who is by the foreskin, or lack of it.

Once Lando strokes both hands up over the tips of their cocks and covers them completely with his fingers, it doesn’t matter so much.

“Fuck,” Logan says with a shuddering breath. It’s better with the lube. The glide of Lando’s hand is smooth but the grip is almost suffocatingly tight.

“You should say something,” Lando says, dragging his hand down again. “It’s not fair, if it’s just me.”

“It’s already not fair,” Logan replies automatically. He doesn’t explain, but Lando doesn’t need him to.

“What does Oscar do?” Lando asks. “When she does this for you?”

Logan wants to bluster and boast his way through a response, lie and say that he always gets her pussy, or her mouth. The truth is that they rarely have the time anymore, and a rushed handy is about all he can hope for over the course of a race weekend—and then, only if Oscar’s not too busy with her new teammate instead.

“I like it when she plays with my balls,” Logan answers a bit too honestly.

Lando arches his eyebrows and slides his hand down both their cocks before dropping his fingers down to gently cup each of their scrotums, massaging gently, almost hesitantly, like he’s never thought to try it on himself before. “Like this?”

Logan shakes his head. “Harder than that,” he says, swallowing hard.

A shit-eating grin spreads rapidly across Lando’s face. “You’re gonna make it too easy to beat you,” he taunts as his motions get a little rougher. More confident with every passing second. “Maybe that’s what you want, yeah? To lose to me? Knowing I’m fucking her, and you’ll only get the sloppy seconds—if you’re lucky.”

Logan lets out a sad, pathetic little whine that’s accompanied by his cock flexing involuntarily, precome beading at the tip, dripping off his cockhead onto Lando’s hands.

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” Lando says. “I should take it easy on you. You need all the help you can get, don’t you? Fucking—DNF-ing every fucking week while your girlfriend gets podium.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Logan retorts. He wishes she was. “And it wasn’t a podium.”

“Good as, and you know it.”

“Shut up.”

“Then say something.”

Logan’s thighs are trembling. Lando’s being rough enough now to actually remind him of Oscar, and it’s having what Logan assumes is the desired effect. The first one to come loses, after all.

“If she was here right now, we could both eat her out,” Logan finally says, and he feels sickly satisfied when the twitch of Lando’s thigh muscle mirrors his own. “She’s flexible enough, right? We could both get our mouths on her, easy. You could probably eat her ass and she wouldn’t even stop you.”

Logan knows Lando’s never even gotten a finger down there, and Logan lords it over him every chance he gets. It makes him almost giddy to think about it, that Logan’s satisfied with her cunt, her mouth, her thighs, her hands—but Lando wants more, and she won’t give it to him. Won’t let him take it. Logan sometimes fantasizes about things he shouldn’t, about making Oscar so desperate for his cock that she’d beg Logan to fuck her ass instead, just so he could rub it in Lando’s face, saying: “See? See how she lov—”

Logan digs his toes into the sheets around Lando’s hips and bites his tongue to stop himself from coming.

“Can’t believe you’re that close already,” Lando hisses. “Fuck, you’re pathetic. This is why she always picks me.”

Logan wants to punch him. Logan wants Lando to make him come even more. But not yet.

“Maybe I should make it easier on you,” Lando says as he slows the movement of his hands. “It’s not your fault your dick’s faster than your fucking car.” He pulls away from their balls, grabbing their cocks again instead. For a second, that’s all Logan thinks he means by it.

But then Lando lets go of Logan’s cock entirely. He keeps his hand out, cupped around nothing, a cushion of air between his palm and Logan’s dick, but he continues to mimic the same rhythmic strokes of the hand around his own cock, and Logan feels a strange tingle along the shaft of his cock every time Lando moves, like Lando never stopped jerking him off in the first place.

“There, is that better?” Lando taunts. He keeps it up for a few seconds and then closes his fist around Logan again, and then he repeats the process, over and over, until Logan goes a bit cross-eyed, suddenly unable to differentiate between Lando’s cock and his own, or whether Lando is touching him or not.

Logan feels his balls drawing up tight somewhere around the eighth or ninth time that Lando strokes him, and he comes like that, with Lando’s fist closed tight around the head of his cock. But then Lando laughs, and Logan refocuses his eyes, and he realized that he’s spurting onto Lando’s open hand, completely untouched.

Logan can still feel the other one somehow—the one wrapped around Lando’s dick, stroking hard from base to tip, and it’s like Lando is milking all the come from his cock without laying so much as a finger on Logan as his cock shoots long hot pulses of come into the air for what feels like hours.

“Looks like that’s P1 for you, mate,” Lando says, still laughing, a horrible mocking thing that leaves score-marks permanently etched into the bony interior of Logan’s skull. “At least now you can actually say that you came first, for once.”

It’s a hypocritical joke, and Logan should call him on it, but he can’t seem to remember how to speak. He still feels like he’s coming, still feels like Lando is stroking him through the aftershocks of his orgasm even though Lando has yet to touch him again even once, and through it all he keeps leaking come down the shaft of his cock, onto his balls, his thighs, the sheets, all of it wasted.

“Fuck,” Lando says with an especially vicious twist of his hand. He uses his other hand—now free as a bird—to leverage himself away from the headboard and into Logan, their cocks brushing against each other with only Lando’s fingers acting as a barrier between them.

Once fully upright, Lando splays his hand against Logan’s sternum and pushes, shoving Logan down on his back. Lando fists his cock frantically, finishing with a series of throaty grunts onto Logan’s spent cock, their come mixing into a disgusting, torrid mess against Logan’s flushed skin.

“You should have saved it for her,” Logan says, glaring defiantly as Lando hovers over him still.

“You should get me hard again,” Lando replies. He levels Logan with an unyielding stare. “And then you should jerk off about it while I fuck your girlfriend.”