#but over the course of a week he's added two songs.

[nordicbananas]

it's crazy how the third song on the playlist is fool by cavetown BAHHAHAH

[lnfours]

* ✰. — the meet cute | l.n

summary: you never thought your best friends wedding would be where you’d find the love of your life or the first part to ‘the mini valentine’s day playlist’

warnings: a meet cute!! best man!lando x moh!reader, a wedding between p and max f, pining, fluff, language, drinking, if you listen closely you can hear me sobbing in the distance

masterlist | next part | listen to the soundtrack

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the wedding venue was packed, people seated and excitedly chatting about the soon to be mr and mrs fewtrell.

you were pietra’s best friend, automatically promoting you to maid of honor when max had finally popped the big question. you were happy for her, excited to be apart of her big day with her, cheering her on just like you always had.

you peeked out into the crowd, puffing air out of your cheeks nervously. sure, you didn’t really have much to be nervous about, it’s not like you had to worry about messing up a speech or something grand like that. all you had to worry about was not tripping over the hem of your dress, of your own feet.

a presence pulled you from your thoughts, turning your head to look at the man who had joined next to you. you smiled softly at his tight lipped smile, thankful to see a familiar face.

“hey,” he said, british accent ringing through your ears, “we’re staring soon, you okay?”

you nodded, shaking your head and pushing the nerves down, “yeah, no, i’m good.”

you and lando hadn’t known each other before this week. of course you knew enough about max to know that him and lando were best friends, practically conjoined at the hip, but after all this time your paths never crossed. there was always something standing in the way of pietra and max introducing you to each other, despite knowing endless stories about the other.

however, the way you two had grown so close this past week you would’ve thought you’d been friends for years. it was an instant connection, an instant gravitation towards the other upon introduction. you couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was almost like he was as addictive as your favorite song. the kind you could listen to on repeat over and over again and never get sick of it.

“you sure?” he asked, eyes searching yours. you nodded back at him, smiling softly again. he didn’t bother pushing it further, but instead offered you his arm, “lets watch our best friends get married.”

you laughed softly, joining his arm with yours as he led you through the hallway and back to where the lineup was forming. you stood at the back with lando, arms linked still as the wedding music started. you felt those butterflies start to come back, gently squeezing onto his bicep.

he looked down at you and leaned his head towards your ear, “you’ve got this.”

you looked up into those stupidly gorgeous green eyes, brown curls perfectly styled. he looked good in a tux and he looked good in the hoodies he had been sporting at rehearsals too. you were pretty sure he could pull off just about anything, which was kind of unfair.

the doors opened and you and lando were face to face with the crowd. you smiled at the familiar faces, looking towards the cameras and phones before turning your head back to him. to your surprise, he was already looking at you. taking in everything about you, studying the side of your face like he was going to be quizzed on it later on in the night.

he had walked you over to the other bridesmaids before the music changed and the doors opened to reveal pietra in her dress. everyone stood, smiling and wiping away a few tears as she joined hands with max who had wiped his eyes on the shoulder of his suit.

lando met your eyes as the preacher spoke, the both of you smiling before you tilted your head down. the energy in the room made it impossible not to smile, not to be happy. plus, with the added feelings that sparked at every little touch and glance you and him stole, it was a wonder your cheeks weren’t hurting yet.

it was finally time for the reception, taking care of more ceremonial events before everyone intermingled. you had made your way to the bar, ordering a drink. you heard your name, looking over to see p and your group of friends waving you over. drink in hand, you wandered over to the girls who were begging to know just about everything.

“please tell me you and lando have a thing going on,” madison, the taller brunette, sighed, “if not, you need to.”

“no seriously,” chloe, the shorter, tanner, blonde said, “you two were making heart eyes at each other the whole time!”

pietra laughed, looking over at you, “i knew i should’ve rigged the bouquet toss for your favor.”

you rolled your eyes, “for one, we weren’t making heart eyes at each other. is he cute? one hundred percent, but i don’t know-“

“oh c’mon,” madison laughed, “you’ve gotta admit you want it just as much as he does.”

“how do you even know he wants it?”

“because he’s been staring at you all night,” pietra smiled, looking over at lando as he talked with max and his family, laughing before he felt eyes on him and his eyes met yours once again. he smiled, turning to say something to max before he took his friend took his glass. you whipped back around to the girls, just to find that they had disappeared, leaving you to have your moment with him.

he smiled, hands in his pockets as you turned back around to see him.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“no,” you waved him off, “the girls were just right here, and they disappeared.”

he looked around with you, “think they went over to the dance floor.”

you nodded, “makes sense,”

“ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom would like to invite you to join them on the dance floor for a slow song.”

you watched as couples joined hands, smiling and laughing as you spotted max and pietra swaying back and forth. her head on his chest as they danced, a smile on his face as his head rested on hers. completely in love.

lando looked over at you, clearing his throat softly, “did you wanna dance?”

you looked back at him, “you wanna dance?”

“well, they did invite us out onto the dance floor.”

“i don’t know,” you mumbled, “i’m not a very good dancer-“

he rolled his eyes with a chuckle and grabbed your glass from your hand. you sighed in defeat, watching him put it on the table as he grabbed onto your hand.

“you’re dancing, c’mon.”

“i have two left feet.”

“i think you’re just overthinking it.”

he had you there. you didn’t want to not dance with him, in fact there was nothing else you’d rather do. but the thought of his hands on you, it sent fire through your body and it made it impossible to think straight.

he took your waist into his hands, your arms wrapping around his neck. you looked down at your feet before your gaze was adverted as he lifted your head back up with a finger under your chin.

“don’t look at your feet, just sway,” he smiled softly, “if you look at your feet, you’ll fuck it up.”

you nodded, looking into his eyes again. this time you were close enough to see the specks of blue in his green eyes, how his eyelashes kissed his cheeks every time he blinked, how his beauty marks and freckles cutely decorated his face.

he was pretty, so so pretty. there was no denying it.

you licked your lips as he did the same with you, studying your face again as he tried his hardest to memorize it, “so…” your voice trailed off.

“so,” he echoed back, “‘re you having a good time?”

you nodded, “the best.”

“me too,” he said, reaching out gently to push a piece of hair from your face, “i’ve been meaning to tell you since i saw you earlier, but you look absolutely stunning.”

you blushed softly, feeling your cheeks turn hot, “so do you. handsome, i mean.”

he laughed softly, “i’m good with being classified as stunning.”

you rolled your eyes and laughed softly, “shut up,”

he smiled. normally he wasn’t this nervous when it came to asking girls on dates. normally he was able to keep cool, keep calm and achieve victory. but you messed with his head, sent him through a loop he had never been through. he wanted to do everything with you, he wanted it all.

his mouth spoke before his brain could filter it, “did you wanna go on a date with me?”

you looked up at him with wide eyes, immediate regret washing over his face as your silence made his cheeks turn hot.

“oh, i’m sorry-“

“no, it’s okay-“

“- i don’t know where that came from-“

“lando,”

“i’m sorry if i crossed any-“

“lando!” you laughed, causing him to stop his rambled apology. he looked at you, the smile you wore on your face calming his nerves.

“i’d love to go on a date with you.”

he smiled, chuckling to himself as he pulled you closer. your head rested against his chest as he held you close, “thank god.”

you laughed, smiling against his dress shirt, thinking about how this could be the beginning of the two of you, how it would all start right here in this moment.

[alonetimelover]

pairing: Ginger Spice's daughter!reader x Max Verstappen (ex-Harry Styles)

fc: Sabrina Carpenter

summary: After getting over her fear of getting into a relationship, YN started to 'soft launch' her new partner. Of course everybody knew who it was, but she wanted her fun. Harry didn't like it and still was petty. Max had had enough.

warnings: swearing, some suggestive comments, talk about verbal assault and not-so-great fist fight

masterlist part 1

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maxverstappen1 and yourinstagram added to their IG story!

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formula1gossip

liked by formula1fan84 and 200 383 others

formula1gossip With the one week break between Italian and Singapore Grand Prix, the two-time World Champion - Max Verstappen - was seen cozing up with a mysterious woman on his yacht near the Amalfi Coast. Any ideas who could that be?

view all 10 394 comments

maxfan94 my man is gone

maxfan958 making out on a yacht in a bright day? who is this man?

landofan48 not to be bold but i think i know exactly who that is

ynsmymama GUYS GUYS GUYS Ma'x story from yesterday and YN's were definitely one photo!

⤷ maxfan67 how?

⤷ ynsmybestie YN's story was the cropped version of Max's

ynsmybestie this is YN YSN, no thank you, i don't need confirmation - I KNOW

landonorris interesting

⤷ landofan49 WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE ?!

⤷ landonorris I LIKE GOSSIP

⤷ danielricciardo he's gonna kill you! prepare to end up in the wall on sunday, lando! nice knowing you!

⤷ landonorris mclaren i need new insurance

⤷ mclaren Fight your wars, Lando. Fight your own wars.

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yourinstagram

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 3 011 393 others

yourinstagram life lately has been exciting 💛

view all 99 202 comments

landonorris you rehearsing???

⤷ yourinstagram shhh, im making new music

landonorris will you be my photographer forever??

⤷ yourinstagram you only like the photo cause it's a thirst trap

⤷ landonorris shhhh, don't tell people

danielricciardo was the restaurant worth it?

⤷ yourinstagram you know it, dan

maxverstappen1 💛💛

carlossainz55 i like the fourth photo

⤷ yourinstagram I LIKE YOUUUUUUU

ynsmybestie WHAT IS THIS

ynsmybestie lando thirst trap???????

⤷ user84 he's not without a shirt though?

⤷ ynsmybestie HE DOESN'T NEED TO, HE'S STILL HOT

ynsmymama not only showing us that she's making new music but SOFT LAUNCHING ??? like if we didn't know already who that is

⤷ ynshands let's just pretend and see what happens

comment liked by yourinstagram and maxverstappen1

ynxmax no way that my ship has sailed no way

ynupdates new music when???

⤷ yourinstagram sooner than you think 🫣

user92 she already has a new boyfriend?

⤷ ynsmybestie already? it's been 6 months since it was made public that yn and harry broke up. and considering all the interviews and songs, they'd been broken up longer than that

⤷ ynsmymama you can say that or just shut your mouth user92

ynshands i just know that the last photo was taken after Singapore... that man was furious

⤷ maxandyn don't even... i'm blushing

⤷ ynsmybestie they all said that lando would end up in the wall and here he was on the 2nd place

⤷ ynsmymama the way that YN was cheering for Lando, knowing that Max had no chance anymore. this is a true friendship. and her jumping up and down at the podium ceremony????? I LOVE HER

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yourinstagram

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, danielricciardo and 3 383 032 others

yourinstagram got a man and here's the aftermath... NONSENSE EP is all yours to listen right now!

view all 42 394 comments

landonorris no problem yn for contributing to your cover photo! i am very thankful for the credit!

⤷ yourinstagram you know damn well why that credit is not there

⤷ landonorris but he took the photo with MY camera!

⤷ yourinstagram so i guess it's not my album because my pen wrote down the words

⤷ landonorris well, when you put it like that...

maxverstappen1 💛💛

⤷ ynsmybestie love me some man that comments same thing under my posts

danielricciardo STREAMING IT RIGHT NOW - KEEP YOU UPDATED

⤷ danielricciardo call it what you want - fit like a daydream? build a fire? starry eyes? yeah, he has those. you already wear that necklace he got you, don't you?

⤷ danielricciardo slut! - tangerine? what were you doing in the mclaren paddock, hmm?

⤷ danielricciardo bad for business - you've gone crazy, that's right. i've never seen you this crazily happy.

⤷ danielricciardo you are in love - i'll never forget the look in his eyes when he said "you are my best friend". and the photo on the desk is absolutely adorable (i'm going to be sick)

⤷ danielricciardo i think he knows - boyish look??? did you hear his jokes? he IS a boy! 26 yo and still a child. you'll drive? if he trusts you with the car you might as well get married, no kidding.

⤷ danielricciardo nonsense - WHY WOULD YOU RELEASE IT? WHY WHY WHY... I NEED TO BLEACH MY EYES AND DO SOMETHING MY MEMORY AND FORGET THIS SONGS EXIST. I WON'T BE ABLE TO LOOK BOTH OF YOU IN THE EYES NOW.

⤷ yourinstagram have you consider a career in doing yt reaction videos? you'd be gold

ynupdates i can't wait for twitter to react to all of these...

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danielricciardo, landonorris and maxverstappen1 added to their IG story!

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www.dailymail.com/harry_styles_confronted_max_verstappen

Harry Styles confronted Max Verstappen

Just last night after YN YSN's secret concert in Las Vegas, her ex-boyfriend, Mr Treat People With Kindness (Harry Styles) decided to 'bump into' his ex-lover and 'talk'. According to the fans on scene - it was aggressive, blatant and simply sad how Harry supposedly treated YSN.

When the concert ended and the lights went out, fans started to exit the venue and making their way home. Some of them decided to move to the back and patiently wait for the VIP people leaving. VIP list for that concert consisted of two World Champions - Lewis Hamilton and apparent new boyfriend of YN's - Max Verstappen, plus some of other F1 drivers. In the attendance were also YN's mum - Geri Horner and step-dad - Christian Horner.

Finally, YN went out first, but no one could even start asking anything when from thin air appeared Harry Styles - drunk and rocky. The yelling match started, which caught the attention of more people, but especially the said VIPs.

"Max literally flew from the doors and stood between Harry and YN. By that time, YN was crying and shaking from all the insults and swears that were spoken to her. Harry tried to move past Max, but he held him in place, placing a hand on Harry's chest. The singer didn't like it and pushed the driver. Now, the other drivers had also gone out and surrounded the trio. Two of them took care of YN and others were in place to eventually stop the fight. They couldn't. Harry took the first swing, but considering that he was drunk, Max could easily duck and wait for his turn. At the end, Max just went up to Harry and said something - looking him directly in the eyes, knuckles white and all that. Finally, they all left, leaving Harry there, sitting by the door. Max was holding YN so she wouldn't fall from all the shaking," said one of the witnesses.

Do you think that YN or Max will report an assault?

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yourinstagram added to her IG story!

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daniel3.jpg

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 1 004 931 others

daniel3.jpg yn and her nonsense boy whenever they're within half a meter radius

view all 84 493 comments

yourinstagram DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO

yourinstagram what in the hell are you doing??

⤷ danielricciardo i'm soft launching

⤷ yourinstagram my relationship?

⤷ danielricciardo YOU SAID YOURSELF THAT YOU WANTED TO DO IT

⤷ yourinstagram YEAH ME! and there's nothing 'soft' about it

⤷ danielricciardo maybe i chose some risky photos

⤷ yourinstagram too late. he just left to give you a visit :))

⤷ landonorris pray for daniel people! the man may have a boyish look but his a mad man!

⤷ yourinstagram and then he's visiting you, lan

ynupdates that is max verstappen. if i ever saw max verstappen that's him

ynsmymama nonsense making sense know

ynsmybestie I love that they still play the 'soft launching' game when just few days ago she was singing about Max's BDE

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yourinstagram added to her IG story!

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yourinstagram

liked by maxvertsappen1, danielricciardo and 5 003 238 others

yourinstagram win, party, afterparty

SCREW SOFT LAUNCHING - MY BOYFRIEND IS A 3 TIME WORLD CHAMPION, WHAT ABOUT YOURS??

view all 339 492 comments

maxvertsappen1 MY GIRLFRIEND IS A NATIONAL TRESSURE

⤷ maxverstappen1 Did I do it right, yourinstagram?

⤷ yourinstagram YES YOU DID MY LOVE

maxverstappen1 I love you

⤷ yourinstagram I LOVE YOU

danielricciardo who are you and what have you done with yn?

⤷ yourinstagram that's the thing - I'm finally me, unapologetically

⤷ danielricciardo I couldn't be happier for my best friend for finding someone that makes her the best version of herself

⤷ yourinstagram you sap! love you, riccy ric

danielricciardo I thank heavens that Geri or Christian are not looking at you account

⤷ yourinstagram oh she does "dad's rethinking the christmas dinner invitation" was her text

landonorris got (love)sick all over my bed from this content

landonorris congratulations Max, you champ! and congrats yn for making it through the night

⤷ maxverstappen1 Thanks, Lando. And she did really good.

⤷ landonorris keep it in you pants, will you?

⤷ yourinstagram I'm done.

charles_leclerc Congratulations!

ynupdates daddy max??? what in the hell

ynsmymama all those photos scream: I HAD A NIGHT TO REMMEBER

⤷ yourinstagram i did.

maxfan49 i've never seen him happier

maxfan93 rue when was this?

⤷ maxverstappen1 Last night / this morning?

⤷ maxfan98 what. in. the. hell.

ynsfan49 they really said: i'm in love, i have great nights and i'm gonna make that everybody problem

liked by yourinstagram and maxverstappen1

ynsfan95 my boyfriend is graduating tomorrow with an engineer degree!

⤷ yourinstagram SLAYYY

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maxverstappen1

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2 002 182 others

maxverstappen1 You're my best friend. 💛💛

view all 200 385 comments

landonorris say thank you to the third wheel of the year, max

⤷ maxverstappen1 stop flirting with my girlfriend then

⤷ landonorris i know you're thankful

⤷ danielricciardo leave him, max. it's the only thing that was left for him - hopeless flirting

⤷ landonorris do you know the sentence that starts with f and ends with u and has uck yo in the middle?

danielricciardo mama y papa

⤷ yourinstagram someone take that phone away from you

⤷ maxverstappen1 You're older than us

yourinstagram got my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue

⤷ danielricciardo are you quoting your own song?

⤷ yourinstagram no, i'm quoting words i said to him last night before falling asleep in his arms

liked by maxverstappen1 and 502 392 others

⤷ danielricciardo damn

charles_leclerc finally! i wouldn't be able to keep it a secret anymore

⤷ yourinstagram you spilled the beans to your engineers twenty minutes after we had told you

⤷ charles_leclerc but i didn't tell anybody else

⤷ pierregasly you told me!

⤷ georgerussell63 me too!

ynupdates SHE IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE TOO. YOU'RE NOT SPECIAL MAXIMUS

⤷ maxverstappen1 That's not my name!

⤷ yourinstagram Maximus??? i love it

ynsmybestie screw soft launching, leave it for Max to HARD launch

⤷ yourinstagram I thought I "hard" launched???

⤷ ynsmymama double meaning queen

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a/n: do we move on from this pair or crave some more drama?

[hoshifighting]

so...a thought struck me, what if mingyu decided to teach reader how to pleasure herself since he’d be gone for quite a while due to touring and something just doesn’t feel right? Reader starts whining and admits that “it feels so much better when you do it” 😭

Mingyu watching you masturbating / fingering you!

warnings: smut, fingering, squirting, voyeurism, masturbation (all f. receiving)

having an artist boyfriend was something you got used to over the years. you always cheered for him because you knew the love and passion he had for his career, his fans, and his members.

you were with Mingyu before he debuted, and there was something you needed to be well aware of from the beginning—the tours.

your boyfriend spent weeks, if not months, away from home. of course, sometimes you would join him, but you never spent a lot of time together because of his busy schedule.

during this time, you would pass like in celibacy. you would not please yourself, just as he asked you not to.

he had his needs too, but he always got worried because you would rather stay without masturbating, just feeling needy by yourself when he wasn't home.

so when he came home, you always had the best sex of your life, every time.

Mingyu stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you spread out before him. you lay back, fingers delicately circling your clit, your other hand squeezing your breast, moaning softly at your own touch. his gaze was intense, filled with both longing and lust.

"touch yourself for me, baby," he instructed, his voice a deep, commanding whisper.

your breath hitched, a shiver running through you at his words. "like this?" you asked, fingers moving faster over your sensitive bud.

"yes, just like that," he growled, his eyes never leaving your body. "I want to see you come undone before I leave. let me watch you, every second of it."

you moaned louder, your body arching slightly as you followed his instructions. "Mingyu... I can't believe you're making me do this."

he smirked, stepping closer to the bed. " keep going, don't stop."

your fingers moved with more urgency now, your breathing becoming ragged. "I wish you were touching me," you panted, eyes locked on his.

he bit his lip, his own arousal evident. "soon, baby. but for now, I want you to show me how badly you need me. how badly you miss my touch."

your hips bucked involuntarily, your body craving release. "Mingyu, please…"

"faster," he commanded, his voice dripping with authority. "I want to see you cum for me. make yourself cum for me."

you obeyed, your fingers working furiously, your moans growing louder, filling the room. "I'm so close," you whimpered, your body trembling on the edge.

"that's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice softening slightly. "let go for me. cum for me."

with a final, desperate cry, you cum, your body convulsing with pleasure. your arousal dripped from your hole, and Mingyu bit his lips to keep himself from diving between your legs to taste you.

"put one finger inside," he instructed, his voice husky and thick with desire.

your breath was still uneven as you complied, your fingers slick with your own juices. you slowly slid a finger inside, feeling your walls clench around the intrusion. "like this?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Mingyu's eyes darkened, his gaze locked on the sight of your finger disappearing inside you. "yes, baby. just like that," he growled. "now, add another one. I want to see you stretch yourself for me."

you whimpered, adding another finger, your back arching at the sensation. "Mingyu…"

he groaned, barely holding back his own arousal.

your two fingers squelched with the song of your wet pussy, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. you felt so exposed, your boyfriend watching you intently, doing nothing but observing. the weight of his gaze made your skin tingle, the embarrassment mixing with arousal.

Mingyu's mind was a whirlwind, picturing you touching yourself while he was overseas, already making him feel dizzy with need. the thought of you so needy, so desperate without him, had his blood boiling. he had to steady himself, his knees faltering at the image.

"Is it good?" he asked, his voice low and thick with desire.

"It feels so much better when you do it," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper.

those words made Mingyu's knees nearly give out. he clenched his fists, trying to maintain control. "fuck, baby," he groaned, his eyes darkening with intensity. "you have no idea what you do to me."

he watched as your fingers moved faster, your hips bucking in response. "I need you, Mingyu," you whimpered, your eyes locking with his. "please."

Mingyu couldn't hold back any longer. with a swift movement, he was on the bed, his hands replacing yours. "let me take over," he murmured, his fingers sliding inside you, finding that perfect rhythm that made you cry out.

your body arched against him, your hands clutching at his arms. "yes, Mingyu. just like that!" you moaned, feeling the pleasure build rapidly.

he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "you better remember this when I'm gone," he growled softly. "and know that I'll be thinking of this every night."

you nodded, too lost in the sensation to respond. his fingers worked you expertly, his thumb circling your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

It was embarrassing how quickly Mingyu could wash an orgasm over you with just his fingers. your abdomen trembled with sensitivity, and the knot in your stomach tightened almost unbearably.

you arched your back, feeling the heat pooling in your core as Mingyu’s fingers expertly massaged your g'spot, curving upwards with a precision that left you breathless.

a choked moan escaped your lips, followed by a desperate cry. Mingyu continued his relentless assault on your spongy spot, his fingers working you over with an almost possessive intensity. the pleasure was overwhelming, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“oh, Mingyu,” you whimpered, your voice breaking. “I can’t… I’m going to…”

“yes, you can,” Mingyu growled, his voice rough and commanding. “I want you to cum for me. Let go.”

with his words, the knot inside you unraveled. your body tensed completely, every muscle going rigid as the orgasm crashed over you in powerful waves. your cries filled the room, raw and uncontrollable, as Mingyu’s fingers never let up, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

you felt your walls pulse around his fingers, the wet sounds of your release mixing with your heavy breathing. Mingyu’s other hand came up to steady you, his eyes dark and full of desire as he watched you come undone.

“fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers slowing their movement but never leaving you, keeping you grounded in the aftermath of your climax.

"can I do something before I leave?" Mingyu asked, his voice low and teasing. you looked at him, confused, trying to catch your breath.

before you could respond, one of his hands pressed down on your belly, his fingers curling fast and hard against your g'spot again. you screamed, your body jerking as you tried to squirm away, but he held you firmly in place. the hand on your belly and the relentless assault on your most sensitive spot made your mind go blank.

"Mingyu, please!" you pleaded, your voice a desperate mix of arousal and overstimulation.

he just smiled, his expression one of satisfied determination. "just one more, baby. I know you can do it," he murmured.

“Mingyu, wait, I—” you try to protest, but the words turn into a moan as his fingers move with relentless speed.

The hand on your belly and the fingers on that spot—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

you let out a strangled moan, feeling yourself teeter on the edge of something even more intense than before. the pressure builds until you can’t hold back, and with a final cry, you squirt all over his hands, arms, and the bed.

Mingyu’s face lights up with a satisfied smile as he watches you, his eyes filled with pride and desire. your legs tremble pathetically, your body completely spent. you sulk at him, embarrassed.

he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I just wanted to give you something to remember me by...” he whispers.

[oneforthemunny]

take as needed |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

prompt: a hectic week at the hideout has you burnt out, fed up, and on the path of destruction. eddie is in your path, and tries to course correct.

contains: minors dni. smut. dom!eddie x sub!reader tones this time. soft!dom!eddie. emotional release spanking. masturbation male. angst, fighting, they're kinda mean to each other but ends in fluff. based off this blurb from a while ago.

"Behind you." Veronica held the beers over you, shimmying through the crowded back area towards her customers at the end of the bar.

It was way too busy for The Hideout- for Hawkins. College was out for the summertime, all the college kids that fled as fast as they could after graduation were dragged back for the summer. Most of them would rather be at some stuffy bar that with their families, and you couldn't blame them, so they found there way here. On a Friday night, slammed and the karaoke machine in full effect from nine til midnight. Thankfully, you got off at ten, only an hour of enduring the screeching off note wails of the drunken patrons.

"Great song choice, man. Super metal." You looked up to see Eddie, all black even in the summer heat, sliding behind the bar, fist bumping the drunk kid who'd belted Welcome to the Jungle complete with the filthy moans into the mic. It had made everyone laugh, hoot and yell out encouragements at him. Everyone but you, it just irritated you.

"Hey there, pretty girl." Eddie muttered, grabbing your waist while he slid past you. "When you get a chance, can you make me a drink, please?"

"I'm super busy right now, Ed." You huffed, fishing a pen out of your back pocket, setting it on the bar for the drunk sorority girl to sign.

"I know, baby," Eddie cooed, ringed hands rubbing down you arms gently. You knew the act was to soothe you, calm you down, but it did nothing to relax you, only pissing you off further. "Whenever you get a chance. 'm on my break. You need any help? Wha'dya need me to do? How can I help?"

"No." You grit, shoving the ice scoop into the clumped, melting ice with a rather hard shove. "Can you just get out from behind here? It's crowded enough, Ed. 'M boiling and you're in my way."

"Easy, ease up." Eddie frowned at you. "Just trying to see if you need any help."

"I'm fine." You slammed the glass down on the counter, Veronica's eyes cutting over towards you carefully. You'd been on edge all night, frustrated and annoyed from the moment you walked in, such a contrast to your usual very sweet and bubbly demeanor. The customers seemed to notice too, seeing as your tips were practically cut in half, even on a busy night.

You tilted the bottle up, not even bother to properly measure the amount of vodka you were dousing into the drink. Veronica raised her brows at Eddie, shaking her head gently. You pressed the lemonade tap before turning to him. "I'll make your drink if I have time."

"I got it." Veronica offered, pulling two glasses out. "What do you want, Ed-"

"-I can make it, Veronica." You sneered, jamming a straw in the drink and adding it to the tab. "Just gimme a goddam second."

"Hey," Eddie's eyes narrowed at you. "What's gotten into you? Take a fucking chill pill and relax."

"I am relaxed." You sneered, slamming the drink on the counter in front of the wide eyed girl. "You are pissing me off."

"Hey, the both of you," Ellen huffed from her place behind you. "Why don't you both go on your fifteen." She suggested. "Cool off, alright?"

Eddie didn't give you a chance to protest, wrapping his arm around your bicep lightly, dragging you back towards the kitchen. You grumbled the whole way, whining about your tips, scuffing your feet along the sticky tile, until Eddie pushed the back door open.

"...and fucking Veronica has been taking all the regulars tonight, and I get all these young fucks who don't tip. Fucking bitch, like, she knows that's not fair-"

"-What is your problem tonight?" Eddie frowned.

You blinked, a scoff leaving your lips. "Me? What's my problem? Are you- are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah. You're being mean tonight. What's going on?" Eddie's jaw clenched, teeth grinding together.

"Oh, fuck you, Eddie. I am not being fucking mean, you're such a-"

"Hey," His ringed hand caught your jaw easily, light but firm. "Enough of whatever you're pissed about, alright? You gotta get yourself together. You're being mean to everyone. Not a good look. Killing the vibe, babe."

Your lips pursed, shoving him off of you. "You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" You sneered, reaching for the handle of the door. "I'm killing the vibe- fuck you! I'll kill the vibe if I want to."

Eddie's hand smacked onto the door, shutting it before you opened it completely. "What has got you acting like this?" Eddie demanded. You shoved him again, reaching for the handle. "Hey, stop it. I'm being serious, alright? Did someone mess with you? You're supposed to tell me or Ellen. I'll take care of them you know I will. Won't let them mess with you. Just- Can you tell me what's going on with you. Why are you being so mean tonight?"

"You're so fucking annoying." You huffed. "Nothing it wrong with me. You're just pissing me off."

"Yeah? Well, you're pissin' me off, too." Eddie snapped. You faltered at his biting tone. "Pissing me off, and everybody else off with your horrible little attitude."

"I don't have an attitude." You mumbled.

Eddie scoffed. "Yeah fucking right. You've been awful all night, and honestly, I'm sick of it. So is everyone else, so you better stop it now. Alright?"

It was your turn to scoff, a heavy eye roll accompanied. "Yeah? Or what? Huh? What the fuck are you or anyone else gonna do huh? Send me home? Cut me? Please, be my fucking guest."

Eddie moved, pinning you to the door, hands on yours, closing around them firmly. "If you don't quit acting so bitchy and mean, then I'm gonna treat you mean. Give you a taste of your own medicine." Eddie growled, eyes pointed in a fiery glare that had your knees buckling.

"You got me? Keep this shitty little attitude up, and I'm gonna drag you to the back and give you an attitude adjustment. That what you want?"

Your heart jumped at the threat, tummy flipping and pooling with warmth. "Y-You're not going to-" Your voice shook, Eddie's challenging look cutting you off further.

"No? You sure? You really think I won't? Keep it up." Eddie snarled, letting your hands go. "I'm sure everyone would love to see you get put in your place after how awful you've been tonight."

You let out a shuddering breath, watching him reach for his reds, sifting through the pack, curls falling in front of his face. Eddie turned to you, cigarette around his lips. "What?" He asked, flicking the lighter. "You want one?"

Your nose scrunched, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open furiously. Eddie rolled his neck, inhaling deeply. It was going to be a long night.

Though your attitude subdued through most of the night, enough that at least you weren't so hateful outwardly, not slinging mean comments. Instead, you took to glaring, shooting daggers at Eddie. Thankfully, the bar died down enough for the two of you to go home in time, Ellen giving Eddie a wary look over your head while you wrote your time.

"Fuckin' asshole." You sneered, sifting through the wadded bills, flicking the cash into the drawer.

"What's wrong?" Ellen asked, passing the check to the group of girls across the bar.

"That jackass only tipped a dollar." You grit, tucking the singular bill into your bra. "Six beers and four shots, and he tips a dollar? What a piece of shit."

Ellen's lips pursed. "Well, maybe if you were nicer-"

"-I was nice." You snapped defensively.

Eddie's shoulders tensed at your tone, even from his place by the door he could hear it, much clearer now that the place had started to clear out.

Ellen's brow raised, looking at you then to Eddie. He could feel his face flush, mortified at your attitude. "You know what? It's died down, and you..." Ellen shook her head. "Veronica and I can close up tonight. You can go home early."

You scoffed, dumping the glasses into the tray. "I don't have a ride. I came with Eddie. It's fine, I'll start the-"

"-No, Ed!" Ellen waved him over. "You two go home early, alright? Last calls in an hour, it's dying down. We got it."

Eddie wanted to die, melt into the floor. He felt like he was in grade school again, getting in trouble because someone was talking to him, grouped in with the trouble when he was innocent.

You didn't argue, huffing when you split the tips in the jar, stomping away towards the back. "Ellen, hey, I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with her tonight. I think she's just in a bad mood-"

"-That's an understatement, Munson." Ellen grumbled, eyes rolling. "Did you two fight or something on the way here?"

"No, we didn't-"

"-Because I'm glad you two are together. I think you're real cute, but if it's going to effect your work like this. I'll have to stop scheduling you two together." Ellen gave him a pointed look. "And that's really gonna be a pain in my ass."

Eddie swallowed, hands buzzing, twisting his rings nervously. "No, I get that. It won't- You don't need to do that. I'll get it under control. This was just a one time thing. She's just having a bad day."

Ellen held his gaze, a stern glare that had Eddie's heart picking up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I hope so. I'm choosing to believe you because I agree, that," Ellen waved towards the back where you were no doubt sulking. "Is out of character."

Eddie nodded, muttering a sigh filled apology. Ellen waved him off. "Hey just make sure you two are good on Tuesday, alright? We'll start fresh. Have a good weekend."

"You too. And you, Veronica, thank you." Eddie waved, pushing the swinging doors towards the back.

He found you next to the lockers, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, foot tapping in annoyance. "What took you so long?" You snapped.

Eddie flinched, blinking back at you in disbelief. "What?"

"I've been waiting. It took you forever." You huffed. "You usually run out of here and tonight, when I'm already in a bad mood, you take forever? Are you just trying to piss me off?"

"Are you?" Eddie snapped. Your eyes widened, face falling at his tone, furious, annoyed.

"What?" You swallowed.

Eddie shook his head at you, grabbing the lock on his locker, spinning the combination. "You're..." Eddie scoffed lightly.

"What? I'm what?" You clicked your tongue in annoyance.

"You're being a real asshole tonight." Eddie looked over his shoulder at you. "Embarrassing, acting like this. Getting sent home early? How are you not embarrassed?"

Heat filled your chest, heavy and suffocating, different that the bubbling rage from before. "I thought you'd be ready to crawl in a hole after Ellen sent you home." Eddie flung the metal door open, letting it hit the others with a loud clank! that had you flinching.

"Then you get me sent home too, and you've got the fucking audacity to be mean? To talk to me like that?" Eddie glared at you over his shoulder. Your frame shrunk, heart pounding in your ears. It was the most subdued you'd been all night.

"I-I didn't get you sent home-"

"-The fuck you didn't." Eddie scoffed, grabbing his keys, his wallet out of the locker, smacking it shut. "You wanna know what was taking to long? I was talking to Ellen. She was telling me if we can't keep our personal life out of work, we can't work together. I was trying to tell her that we didn't get into a fight, and she didn't believe me."

Eddie took a step towards you, time card in hand. "She couldn't believe you were just mean like that unprovoked." Eddie shoved the card in the clock. "So what? You mad at me? Is that what's going on?"

"No." You muttered, looking down at your beat up sneakers, covered with sticky stains from the night.

"So what then? Care to tell me what's wrong? I mean, shit, we're getting sent home now. Feel like you should let me in on what's goin' on." Eddie threw his hands up, keys rattling between his fingers.

"Nothing's wrong-" You sneered, barely registering the ringed hand that caught your chin. Fingers squeezing your cheek in a firm grasp, pulling your gaze to Eddie's.

His eyes lidded, nostrils flaring down at you. "You better watch it." Eddie gritted. "Keep this shit up, and I'll lock that door and fix that attitude in here."

Your tummy flipped, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat. Agitation fizzled into arousal at the threat. You cursed yourself for feeling that way.

Eddie's eyes squinted, head tipping towards yours slightly. "That what you want?" He huffed, hand still firm on your cheeks. "You acted like this because you wanted me to be mean to you-"

"-No." You sneered, wiggling in his grasp, scared he could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "That's not why."

"So tell me why." Eddie's hand loosened, eyes still pinning you with his gaze. "Tell me what's goin' on."

Your chest sunk with a heavy guilt. Burnt out from tireless hours of work, cranky from lack of sleep, annoyed that Ellen let Pat off for the week when the place had never been busier. All of it eating away at you throughout the week until you finally snapped.

"I just wanna go home." Your tone was softer than before, still teetering on huffy. "I don't want to be in this place for another second. I'm so sick of being here."

Eddie nodded, tongue sliding over his teeth. Keys clenched in his hand, he stayed silent. The car ride uncomfortable silent, neither of you speaking first, the hum of the radio the only refuge.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Eddie broke the silence after nearly an hour. The two of you had gotten back to his trailer, going your separate ways to cool down. He finished a cigarette on the steps, let you do whatever you needed to inside.

He found you by the sink, scrubbing your makeup off. Mascara and eyeliner smeared down your lids, normally, he'd laugh. Squeeze your sides and tell you how metal you looked, silly and playful until you were giggling with him.

Not tonight.

A part of you wished he would have. It would have made you feel better.

That gnawing feeling of uncomfortableness was eating you alive from the inside out. Had your chest feeling tight, skin crawling with irritation. It had only grown worse, now that you were left to reflect on the night- on how you acted.

Eddie moved into the mirror behind you, pulling his shirt off, tossing it in the hamper. You brought the wash cloth back to your face, cleaning the smeared makeup from under your eyes.

Eddie's shoulders slumped. "C'mon." He sighed, softer this time. "What's wrong, baby?" His hands slid over your arms, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. "Tell me what's goin' on. I know something's wrong."

Your nose burned, pressing the warm washcloth to it. "I don't know." You muttered, opening the mirror, plucking the faded lilac case from the shelf.

"I just... I don't know." Your eyes rounded, locking with Eddie's through the mirror. "I just- I don't know how to describe it. I just feel off?"

Eddie nodded slowly, hands resting on your back gently. "Off, how?" Eddie hummed, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you into him. You didn't fight him, melting into his embrace instead. "Tell me what's wrong, honey. I just want you to feel better."

Your head tilted back to his chest, his arms heavy over your frame. "Just off." You muttered. "I feel like I need to just get everything out. Hit the reset button because I'm just so- so, bleh."

Eddie's lips curled gently, swaying you lightly in his arms. "I just am, like, unsettled. I'm so tired from work, but then I get home and I can't sleep, and then people are so fuckin' rude-"

"-Who's rude to you?" Eddie pressed, frowning behind you.

"Just the kids." You roll your eyes, shoulders tensing. "Snotty college kids. They think they're better than you or something."

"So come get me when they do that." Eddie's chin hooked over your shoulder lightly. "I'll take care of them. Kick 'em out."

"Then we'd have nobody." You shook your head lightly. "It's just- I don't know. I just feel really off." You paused, craning your neck to look at Eddie. "I feel like I need to get it all out."

Eddie stilled. "You-You want me to help you with that?" He knew what you were asking. "You want me to... To spank you?" It wasn't the first time you'd done this, still his cheeks burned at the word.

Your sex life was far from vanilla, teetering on outright debaucherous at times. He was no stranger to being mean to you in the bedroom, just like you weren't to him. Still, when you'd asked him the first time, to give you emotional release in this way, it felt a little odd to him at times. To bring pain to you, even if you asked, when all he wanted to do was smother you with affection.

Still, he'd do anything for you. You knew that, he did too.

It was why he swayed so easily. Your eyes rounding, lashes batting so sweetly up at him. "It really would help me feel better." His heart skipped, a sweet tone he'd been longing for all night. "I really think it would help."

Eddie nodded, hands sliding down your arms again, squeezing your elbows gently. You picked the hairbrush off the counter, handing it to him, taking his free hand and guiding him to the bedroom.

He let you settle over his lap, wiggling until you felt comfortable, a pillow under your face. Eddie twirled the hair brush in his hand, fidgeting while you settled. It was still new. How hard did he hit in this scenario? Did he soothe you? Scold you? Say anything at all? When you were playing, it was easier. In a headspace that came naturally with the moment.

"Ok," You hummed, turning to look at him, cheek pressed to the pillow. "'m ready."

Eddie hesitated. "You- And you're gonna tell me, right? When you want me to stop?"

"Yes." You nodded gently. "Just don't stop until I'm crying."

Eddie's cock throbbed, a roller coaster like drop in his stomach at your words. "Baby, I'm serious-"

"-I am too." You frowned. "Eddie, I promise I will tell you if it's too much, but... just please? Until I'm crying then you can stop."

"O-Ok," Eddie's breath stuttered, hand smoothing over your pantie clad ass, cheeky cotton panties that had his brain trailing off. "I'm gonna, I'm starting."

You settled back into the pillow, Eddie's hand rubbing down your back soothingly. Your free hand snaked up, folding over the middle of your back, fingers wiggling at Eddie's. A sweet gesture that made his heart swell, interlocking his fingers with yours, pinning your hand gently to your back.

The hair brush's smooth wood pressed to your ass, tapping in a warning that had your hips clenching lightly. Eddie hesitated, bringing the hairbrush up, then lower, readjusting his aim, before letting it fall. A soft clap met with a tiny grunt from you.

"You can do harder than that, Ed." You muttered.

"Harder? Are you sure?" Eddie hoped you couldn't feel his heart beating. "I don't wanna hurt you when you're not feeling good, baby."

"You're not hurting me. You're helping me. I swear." You said softly, squeezing his hand gently, reassuringly. "You can do harder than that. I'll let you know if it's too much."

Eddie brought the hairbrush higher, sending it soaring down with a firm smack that had your breath hitching. He waited, your hips squirming in his lap.

"That was good. Just like that, Ed." You whispered, taking a deep breath in through the burn in your nose.

Two identical hits fell to each of your cheeks, a tiny squeak of a cry coming from you. Your grip tightening against his hand with every fall of the hairbrush. Eddie was more confident, fell into a rhythm that felt more comfortable.

Hips wiggling, tiny whimpers and cries coming from you, rotating from cheek to cheek, lower then higher. Eddie brought the hairbrush down, a flick in his wrist that was sharper, stinging against your skin.

A tiny hitch, a sniffle that sounded watery had his ears perking. Eddie paused, feeling the hitch in your chest. "Keep going." You gritted, a white knuckled grip around his hand. "Keep going, Ed. Please."

Eddie brought the hair brush down again, twice, sharp flicks that had you crying out- a real cry, broken and breathy. Unsure, Eddie shushed you sweetly, letting the hair brush fall onto your upturned ass again.

"Shh, it's alright. You're doin' good, sweetheart. Let it out." Eddie rasped, cracking the hairbrush down again. "Doin' good for me."

The next fall of the hairbrush had a cry breaking though your throat, tears springing in your waterline, threatening to fall. The bubble in your chest filling fuller and fuller, close to bursting with the building irritation on your ass.

"You're doin' good. I know you've got to be feeling better." Eddie soothed. "You still good? Need me to stop."

"No," You cried, shaking your head. "K-Keep going, Eddie, please, keep going. D-Do it fast. Fast ones."

Eddie let the hair bursh rain down in quick successions, all over your ass, sharp smacks that had you gritting your teeth in irritation, eyes clenching shut until finally, you felt a wave wash over you. Heavy with emotions, it crashed into you, body shaking in sobs.

Face pressed into the pillow, you cried into the soft cotton, rubbing your face against the pillow case to soothe yourself. Eddie slowed, stopping when your hand loosened in his, body slack and shaking with sobs.

Eddie held you, arms tight around you though it felt like it was more for him. Soft coos and whispers, a hand rubbing down your spine. He hoped you couldn't feel his erection pressing into you. He felt torn, arousal he couldn't help but felt wrong when you were crying. Sobs so deep, stuttering in your chest and rocking your frame.

He hadn't realized how exhausted you were, a pang of guilt ringing through his chest when you started to slump in his arms. Usually, he'd get you calmed down, finish off the night between your legs, to make you feel better or maybe him.

Tonight, he let you settling into the mattress, rolling you onto your side, tucking the pillow under your knees, how you always slept. He wasn't sure how it was comfortable, teased you about it the first time he saw it. "It helps with my back, I swear." You had giggled, hiking a leg up over the pillow and settling into the mattress. Eddie didn't care how you slept, honestly, if it meant you'd sleep next to him.

Settling you under the blankets, Eddie carried the hair brush back into the bathroom, setting it back on the vanity's counter. He pulled the Jergens off the shelf, hand wrapping around his length, relieving himself. Tomorrow, he'd take care of you, spend the day in bed with you if you wanted, hopeful but certain that you'd be better in the morning.

[minisugakoobies]

It's You - Choi San | 3 AM

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF’s Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: sneaking around, sloppy making out, lots of cuddling and kissing, honestly this is super soft, drunk San is a whole different type of menace, a little angst on OC's part, pet names deployed as weapons (baby) Word Count: 2.1k Disclaimers: SFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend’s little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That’s it. How did this happen?

A/N: This started with talking about drunk San with @minttangerines and @kiestrokes, and then @moni-logues made me miss this couple, so boom! New vignette! I should warn you that I wrote this over the course of 2 days, entirely between the hours of midnight and 5 am because I've been staying up wayyyy too late to watch the Coachella livestreams (can we talk about Chellateez?! because holy shit!), so it's probably a mess and it's unbeta'd, so… blame any typos or incoherency on my fucked up sleep schedule! 🥱

Lyrics are from "Moondance" by Van Morrison, inspired by that one toktoq of San singing that song, which absolutely killed me.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It’s You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

It’s three in the morning, and you’re wide awake, at your desk, working frantically on an article whose deadline is mere hours away. For not the first time tonight, you curse your natural inclination towards procrastination and scrub your hand down your face, wishing you’d chosen a different career. 

There’s some noise outside your door and you realize San must be home. He’d been down at the Blue Bird with Hongjoong, drinking and hanging out with Wooyoung as he bartended. From the way San’s shuffling around, it sounds like Woo had been his typical kind self and given San more generous pours than he should have. A loud “oof” resonates, and you hear the armchair scrape the floor a bit, as if he were setting it back in its place. You wince, hoping he didn’t wake his sister, who has an early shift and needs to be up at dawn.

“Noona. Nooooooona.” Tap tap tappity tap. “Are you up? I can see - I can see your light.” 

San raps on your door, calling out to you in a voice that’s hushed but maybe not quite as quiet as he thinks it is. From his spot on your bed, Nero lifts his head off his paws at the sound, then blinks at you with his bright green eyes. 

“I know. He’s loud as fuck, isn’t he?” With a cluck of your tongue, you quickly hop up and open the door. San must’ve been leaning against it, because suddenly you’ve got a mountain on top of you, a loose-limbed one at that, eagerly but clumsily wrapping its arms around you. “San!” 

“Hiiiii,” San coos into your shoulder, where he’s buried his face. You shudder slightly as his breath tickles your skin exposed by the tank top you wear, and stagger away from the door enough to close it quietly as you can, not an easy task to do given the giant mass of man hanging his dead weight on you. 

“You know, your sister is sleeping just on the other side of this wall,” you remind him, but he doesn’t respond, too busy lathering the column of your neck with tiny kisses. “San. Come on, sit down.” 

With some stumbling from San and a not insignificant effort on your part, the two of you make it over to your bed. Your attempt at coaxing San into a sitting position fails miserably as he promptly splays on his back, pulling you on top of him. Nero hops off the bed in a huff. 

You go down like a sack of flour, not a gram of gracefulness in your fall, but San appears not to notice when your chin bounces off his sternum or your knee rams his thigh. He sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around your back, tucking you against him.

“Mmmm. So nice,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against the top of your head. 

It’s three in the morning, and you need to finish this damn article. Except that right now, your body is telling you that what you really need is to stay exactly where you are. Because the minute the warmth of San’s embrace surrounded you, your stress melted away. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms you, makes your own breathing slow. You close your eyes, nestling closer to him, sliding your own arms around his waist. You could so easily fall asleep like this. 

But he can’t sleep here. 

“San. San, are you awake?” 

“I’m awake,” he replies, but with closed eyes, which doesn’t really give you a lot of confidence in his response. “I am,” he insists when you shake him, rolling his head away, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warn him sternly. “I mean it!” 

San smiles, the one that tells you that he knows you’re going to give in to him, which is the smile you tend to see him flash the most often, because you’re weak for him and always giving in. But this isn’t one of those times when you can indulge him. No matter how much you want to. 

“Wish you’d come to the bar tonight. Wanted you there.” 

You knew that. He’d told you as much when he’d texted earlier. Unfortunately, you had to turn him down for the sake of remaining gainfully employed. He’d tried to convince you otherwise at first but finally said he understood. And then sent you a series of sad selfies, each one more pathetic than the last, lips puffing to an extreme. Because he understands the power that pout holds over you.

It’s embarrassing how bad you’re down for this man.

San’s fingers dance idly down your spine, and you sigh, eyes slipping shut again as you speak. “Believe me, I would’ve rather been there with you.” 

He hums, fingertips quickening their light minuet. He mumbles something into your hair, low and unintelligible from the way his lips are smushed against your head, so it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s not talking, he’s singing. 

“... marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…” 

“San,” you begin, but before you can warn him not to get any louder, he does so anyway, raising his beautiful voice a little, starting to get into it. 

“A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies…”

“Shhh!” Your shushing is cut short by your giggling, as you clap a hand over San’s mouth. “Oh my god, now is not the time for this!” 

This is one of San’s more notable habits - when a song gets stuck in his head, you’ll hear him singing it for days, just walking around the apartment humming the melody or, if he has an audience, belting out the lines. He knows how much you love his sweet tenor. Another fact about you he’s filed away to devastate you with at the most opportune times.

Like when you need to kick him out of your bed. 

He continues singing despite your hand pressing on his lips, slurring the words directly into your palm. His eyebrows are working overtime, top half of his face playfully conveying whatever lyrics are being smothered against your skin. He’s so ridiculous, so over-the-top, even at three in the morning when anyone else would be exhausted, like you felt before he walked into your room, since his energy is infectious and perked you up better than the multiple cups of coffee you downed in your desperate attempt to stay awake. That’s San for you - he’s always giving you something when you need it - his time, his help, his energy. 

So you decide to give him something back, and replace your hand with your mouth, drawing him into a tender kiss, imbuing it with all those things you feel but never say. His muffled singing becomes a hum becomes a moan, at first surprised, then pleased. One of his hands drops to your thigh and with a bit of urgent tugging, he maneuvers you on top of him, chest pressed to chest.

His kissing is only the slightest bit sloppier when he’s been drinking, wetter from his tongue caressing yours with somewhat less skill than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You like seeing this side of him, looser with his inhibitions, with whatever holds him in place - or holds him back. One day you’ll ask him to show you more, when you’re both sober. 

And when things are different. Less… ambiguous between the two of you. 

If you reach that point. 

“Noona.” San whispers, thankfully pulling you from the heavier thoughts threatening to sink you right out of the moment. You open your eyes to look at him as he pecks your cheeks.  “I like kissing you.” 

You grin, letting your forehead knock against his. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.” 

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” The look he gives you would melt the hardest of hearts. This is why you’re not afraid to be needy with San. There’s no reason to be, not when he’s just the same. 

“I like kissing you too,” you declare, kissing the tip of his nose, laughing at the way his eyes cross as he follows your lips. “But now’s not the time for that, either.” 

“Then what time is it?”

Laughing, you gently guide him into a sitting position, keeping your arms looped over his shoulders. His lust is morphing into sleepiness, eyelids drooping as he gazes at you, and your heart goes so soft at the sight of him. 

“It’s time for you to go to bed.” 

“Okay,” he chirps, immediately flopping onto his back again. 

“Ohhhh no, not here. You gotta go. I still have to finish my work, and you…” The words stick in your throat. You can’t be here. You don’t want to say them. You want him to be here. Tonight, and tomorrow, and on and on. 

But that’s a conversation for another time. Not three in the morning.

“You have to go,” you groan, sliding off the bed and grabbing his arms, less gentle and more insistent this time. “Come on, get up!” 

San lets out a whine of protest. “But baby, why can’t I stay here?” 

Oh, he would drop a ‘baby’ now, slipping it in so casually, so naturally, like there’s nothing unusual about him calling you that. As if it’s not something new he only started doing the other day, happening maybe a handful of times since. 

Since the two of you have been doing this undefined thing, there’s really only been one unspoken rule. You sleep in your bed, and he sleeps on the couch. Even on the nights when Haneul’s working the late shift, or she’s over at Jongho’s. You never know if she’ll come home early, so you don’t risk it. It’s just easier this way.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though. 

“Because. If Haneul catches you coming out of here - “

The sound of a door opening makes you freeze right down to your tongue, leaving your sentence unfinished. Your head swivels towards your own door. A pair of feet pad down the hall, getting closer, then fading away, until you hear another door being closed. The bathroom. 

“Noona.” 

You turn to find a sober-looking San staring at you. He reaches out, hands settling on your hips, holding on to you as you stand between his legs. Clinging again. 

“She’s in early today, right?” 

The two of you probably know Haneul’s schedule better than she does. You nod.

“Then I’ll just stay in here. She’ll think I never came home.” 

He makes it sound so simple. So reasonable. He’ll stay here until she leaves. Why didn’t you think of that? Is it because you don’t like thinking of San with someone else, even if said person is an imaginary person who exists solely to provide an excuse that will allow you to get what you want? And if you get what you want now, it’s only going to hurt more when you can’t have it anymore?

Yeah, that’s probably it. 

“I don’t know…” you bite your lip.

“Come on,” he wheedles, drawing you into his lap again, cupping your face with both hands. “Let me stay with you. Don’t you want me?” 

And there it goes, the last remaining bit of your resistance. 

“Okay.”

San seems a little shocked, face lighting up in delight, and you wonder if it’s at how quickly you agreed, or that you agreed at all. Maybe both.

“But we have to be quiet. So, you know…” You trail off, gesturing wordlessly. 

“No moondancing?” He emphasizes the word heavily, lifting a brow, and you roll your eyes but grin as well.

“Right, none of that.”

“Just cuddles?” 

As if he needs to ask. You nod. “But I’m not coming to bed until I finish my work.” You reclaim your seat at your desk, folding your arms over the back of it, trying to give the appearance of someone with a solid backbone, since yours is apparently made of pudding. 

“That’s okay,” San says, already tugging his shirt off, then his pants, until he’s only in his boxer briefs. He peels back your comforter, sliding into the soft sheets, and again the action is so natural, so normal, like he does this every night, that something in your chest constricts. “I’ll just wait for you.” 

Your first thought is that you should inform him that he’s going to be waiting a while, but then again, maybe he won’t. 

You’re feeling suddenly inspired. 

(It’s three in the morning, and you’re falling in love.)

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee @hiefisch

© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[murdrdocs]

II most wanted.

slightly suggestive content; implied oral (f receiving) southern!luke w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

thinking about riding shotgun with luke in a beat up truck, the one thing his father left for him. that one good and worthy thing his father left for him. refusing to see that his father could do good, luke believes that the chipped powder blue chevy, sweetly named jolene, was his doing, not his father. luke has worked tirelessly to take the hunk of clunk into something worthwhile. something he loves.

you're sitting in the passenger seat for once and not in the center. your head was previously laying on the crotch of luke’s faded blue jeans, but you now sit with your head resting on the headrest, your lower half at a slightly awkward angle to allow your feet to dangle out of the window. it feels good enough to ignore the cramp in your side and the pain in your lower back.

there's some song playing through the speakers of the truck. you've heard it enough times to hum along to it, but your stubbornness keeps you from asking for the name. luke sings along too, his voice a nice mix of smooth and scratchy in ways he can't control, but it still makes a beautiful symphony. his fingers thump against the worn leather of the steering wheel in time with the beats, adding in a few drum fills in between that you can easily see him replicating on his set in his detached garage.

the road in front of you is desolate. a windy backroad that he knows as well as the back of his hands. it's a two laner, meant for luke's truck and another to pass by each other without a second glance. but at this time in the evening, most people are home with their families, leaving the road all alone for you and luke. he drives in the center, the large wheels of his truck and the lifted cab making you feel like you're on a throne. like you're invincible as luke's truck straddles the weathered yellow center line.

you don't know where you're heading. maybe the diner just on the outskirts of town, shealy's. that one that always hosts truck drivers that are either too kind for their own heart, or too misguided when they try to mess with you, completely unknowing of the substance foreign to their feeble brains coursing through luke's veins. (on the nights where luke lost control, when the wrath got control of him, you would be the one to tend to his shiner and hide him in your room until he was unscarred enough to face his worrying mother.)

you turn to face him, watching his overgrown curls whip around his face from the wind. he's a little tanner, a distinct farmers tan on his arms from the work he's picked up over the summer. he's a little buffer too, surely from the way he's been working both on mr. sease’s land throughout the week and in his mother's garden on sunday's, a place he previously hadn't frequented much but he's been going there more since you encouraged it.

you take your feet out from the window to nudge your big toe into luke's thigh, gathering his attention. he slows to a stop sign, in the right lane this time, and turns the volume down enough to hear you.

he hums, turning to look at you with something so particular to him in his eyes. lovesick, your brain tells you. but the thought makes you turn all giggly and you try to hide your smile.

there isn't anyone else at the four way stop, so luke sits and takes his time. he looks at you. he's looking at you. your stomach turns and you suddenly really need a coke or sweet tea to cool you down.

"shealy’s?" you ask, your voice a little hopeful even though it doesn't need to be. it's rare that luke denies you of anything, especially the banana pudding that he knows you like at the diner.

"'course," he tells you. "your mom's not cooking tonight?"

you know how much luke loves your mom's cooking. but tomorrow is sunday, and he'll have more food than he knows what to do with by then.

you shake your head.

"shealy's it is then." he turns to face the road, places a hand over your calf, and speeds towards the diner.

later in the night, when you're back at your place and luke is ready to spend yet another night with you, you kiss him with a banana pudding flavored tongue. you're loaded up on hearty food and too-sweet treats, a quarter full container of banana pudding in the fridge and a half finished milkshake on your nightstand as testaments. it was originally luke's, but what's his is yours at this point in your relationship.

the pressure in your stomach makes you feel a little sick, but the desire deep in your abdomen and the sudden emptiness between your legs prevails past the food-induced pain. you straddle his hips, much like how you were positioned not too long ago in his truck. but the freedom of space in your bed allows for more range of motion. the space of your bed allows luke to lay you on your back, and slide down between your legs.

still, it's really nothing unlike what you've been able to do in the cab of his truck, too.

[starkwlkr]

Hey it would be great if you could write Charles and readers initial days as first time parents with ruby and how Charles got separation anxiety when he left his daughter for Singapore gp.

only these words | charles leclerc

title is literally my favorite chris cornell song 🫶🏼 i miss him

Charles fell in love with Ruby the second he laid eyes on her. She was practically his twin. Y/n joked that she had basically given birth to Charles’ twin. His family and friends came to visit in the hospital. It was hard to get Charles to hand over Ruby.

After Y/n was discharged from the hospital, the new family was headed home. Charles knew that Ruby wouldn’t understand anything he was saying, but he didn’t care since he kept explaining any little thing to his daughter as he drove back home.

“Those floaty things are called boats. When you’re older, you can get on one.”

It was like that for several weeks. Y/n saw how in love Charles was with fatherhood. He would change diapers, feed her and even got up in the middle of the night to calm the crying baby. One time, Y/n had listened to Charles talk to baby Ruby through the baby monitor after she had woken up.

“You’re so tiny. You’re my little princess, don’t tell your maman i said that, she might get jealous.” Charles softly spoke

Y/n chuckled. She continued listening.

“No matter what, you will always be my little princess. I guess that makes me a king and your maman would be the queen. A little girl born to a king and a queen. Princess Ruby Jules,” Charles went on. “I love you.”

And of course Charles would say those words to his little princess every night.

Thankfully Ruby was born during a break from the races so Charles was home for the first days of fatherhood. Eventually, it was time to leave his girls and return to the track which was something he didn’t want to do. The day before his flight, Charles was in Ruby’s nursery watching her sleep peacefully. He felt guilty for leaving, but Y/n assured him they would be okay since Pascale and Carla would take care of both of them.

“But what if there’s an emergency? You two need me here.” Charles said to Y/n.

“Ferrari needs you too.” Y/n replied.

“My girls are much more important than Ferrari. They can wait.”

When morning came, Charles didn’t even want to wake up. He understood he had a job and he needed to leave, but the thought of leaving his family broke his heart even if it was just for a few days.

“Charles, I will call you every day and night.” Y/n assured him.

“Why if Ruby forgets me?” Charles wondered.

“How could she forget her papa? She’s never going to forget you.”

It took everything to get Charles on the flight to Singapore on time. He kept giving kisses to both of his girls and telling them how much he was going to miss them.

“We’re going to be okay, my love. Ruby and I will be cheering for our favorite red car.” Y/n smiled and pressed a light kiss on Charles’ cheek.

“Mine?”

“No, number fifty five.”

y/nleclerc has added to their story

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

[anothermansjeans]

How would you think the team would react to meeting singer!reader??

HEHE FIRST TIME MEETING THE REST OF THE TEAM!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY !

cw: reader meets the team :), spencer gets embarrassed, reader gets embarrassed, but it's all in good fun!! song mentioned at the end is picture you by chappell roan!

wc: 1.1k

singer!reader masterlist

++

Having a two week break during a tour usually meant resting as much as possible before starting back up. For you though, it meant spending as much time with your boyfriend as possible before you're on the other side of the country.

Staying with Spencer brought normalcy to your life. Paparazzi weren't down your back, people minded their own business, and it was easy to blend in– he brought the calm to the storm that is your life. Today, you were feeling that it was time to get out of the house, and the only motivation that could muster you up out of bed was to potentially visit Spencer.

Y/N: paperwork day??

His response was almost immediate.

Spencer: Yes. There’s not much left to do. I’ll probably be coming home earlier today.

Y/N: awesome!! :) have you had lunch? i can bring you something!

Spencer: I have not. You don't need to come all the way here, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.

You smiled while reading his messages. He was always considerate of your feelings.

Y/N: noooo, i want to, spence. i want to meet the rest of your team as well…?

It took him longer to reply to this one, and you were scared you crossed an unspoken boundary.

Spencer: They can be a bit much, but as long as you're comfortable I would love for you to meet them.

You smiled, immediately letting him know you'd be there within an hour. It was almost exactly an hour later when you were walking out of the elevator onto his floor, clad with a baseball cap and sweats, holding your joint lunch in one hand and your phone and sunglasses in the other. You could spot Spencer within seconds, and as you got closer to his desk, you heard who you presumed to be his coworker whistle to him.

“Oh, pretty boy, I think there's a special delivery for you…”

Spencer whipped his head up, seeing you lift the brown bag as you continued to walk towards him. He stood up when you got to his desk, and took the bag from your hands, placing it next to the stack of papers before engulfing you in his arms. You– being completely used to this behavior– let out a giggle when you heard a muttered “who is that guy and what has he done to Reid,” coming from a woman off to the side.

You let go after a minute, and turned towards the three people currently standing with you. “Hi, I’m Y/N!” You sweetly smiled at them as they gawked at you, and you felt Spencer’s hand sneak up to your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

The built man in front you eyed the interaction immediately, and gave a grin as he extended his hand. “Derek Morgan. It's great to finally meet you.”

You shook his hand and turned towards the two women, “Emily,” she too put out her hand for you to shake.

“I’m JJ,” the blonde said as you shifted to look at her. A gasp was heard from across the room, causing everyone to swivel their heads towards the sound, and there stood Penelope.

“Y/N!”

“Penny!” The two of you met in the middle for a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Likewise, pumpkin.” The two of you giggled as the office doors above the bullpen opened up. The chatter below caused two men to make their way down with the rest of the group.

“Y/N, this is Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi,” Spencer said, moving back over to you and slyly placing his arm around your hip. Of course, he wasn't as sly as he intended because everyone on the team clocked the move.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the older man smiled.

“My son loves your music,” Aaron said, causing you to pale as you thought about the very explicit album you recently released, “the radio edits,” he added, noticing the relief flood your face.

You let out a breathy laugh and backed your body into Spencer's instantly melting into his body. “Right, well, I’m really glad I’ve met you all. Any time you want to hang out at a show just say the word. I’d be happy for you to come.”

They all hummed in appreciation, and Spencer gave you a squeeze, “do you want to have lunch?”

Looking back at him, you gave a nod, but before you could move an inch, Penelope spoke up. “Do you want to have lunch all together? The conference room is available and I don't think anyone has taken their lunch yet…”

Staring into Spencer’s eyes, you silently asked him if he was okay with it, and when he gave a subtle nod, you turned to Penelope with a smile. “We would love to! As long as that's okay with everyone?”

Everyone agreed, and you all sat around the round table getting to know each other as you dug into your lunch.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Spence, but I need to know what songs were specifically written about him.”

JJ’s question caused a blush to appear on Spencer’s cheeks and you stifled your laughter. “Um, well… the entire 'favorite’ album is about him.”

“Oh wow, an entire album?” Derek’s words were directed to Spencer, but instead of acknowledging him, he dug back into his sandwich.

A short laugh was released from your lips at the interaction. “Yes, a whole album. The uh, last five songs on my album ‘rebuilding’ are about him too.”

“And any singles?”

You lifted your eyebrows at the eagerness that came from Emily. “‘Espresso’, and 'Unconditionally’, but that one isn't officially out yet for streaming.”

“Wait, go back,” Penelope paused the conversation, “you said the last five songs… so ‘Picture You’ is definitely about Spencer?”

Now you and Spencer were both blushing. Clearing your throat, you looked everywhere but at the people around the table. “I mean… I like for my listeners to think about whoever they want… given the context of the song…” Spencer’s hand went to your knee, inching his hand towards your thigh and rubbing it gently, letting you know you're both in the same boat.

“But you…” Emily started, a small smile creeping onto her face, “thought about… Spencer.”

“Mhmm.” And that was all she was going to say on the matter.

“My man!” Beside Spencer, Derek clasped him on the shoulder and gave him a shake, everyone around you snickering.

As embarrassed as you were, you knew these types of conversations were bound to happen when meeting the people closest to Spencer, so in the end, as long as you had him, it didn't matter how embarrassed you were. For Spencer, it was the same. He understood your world the best to his ability, and he knew you showed your feelings best through your music. So what if he had to deal with a little bullying from his team?

++

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[steddieas-shegoes]

your heart sings to mine

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'open mic night' rated: M wc: 992 cw: alcohol, implied/referenced recreational drug use tags: mutual pining, idiots to lovers, love confessions in the rain

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

The bar didn’t call it karaoke night because they were hoping to attract talent.

At least that’s what the owner said when they arrived, ready to sign up for a song.

Steve sighed in relief, and Robin quickly got over it when she saw the list of people singing.

Eddie, of course, still added his name, much to the bar owner’s disgust and disappointment.

And now they were waiting through a line of mediocre at best singers, who probably only signed up because someone told them once that they had a nice voice.

"This woman knows that professionals have to be able to hit the notes, right?" Robin asked Steve, her face giving away her displeasure.

"I think she thinks she is a professional," Steve replied, wincing as the woman's voice cracked.

"I think I can at least hit the notes in the song I picked," Eddie grinned. "Promise not to boo me off the stage if I don't, though."

He was teasing; He had an actual band that he actually performed on stage with once a week. He would not only hit all the notes, but probably put on a hell of a show.

Steve was a little worried about that.

He'd only been to two Corroded Coffin shows before; The first was an accident when he was a senior, before he knew Eddie, and the second was with Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy shortly after Eddie was cleared to do regular activities again.

That show had been quite a life changing event for Steve.

It's not that he hadn't noticed his attraction to Eddie before, it's just that it was more on the backburner.

But seeing him on stage, lighting up the bar, becoming this huge figure while still maintaining his casual act of being the town outcast, Steve realized this wasn't just attraction.

This was the kind of feeling that happens when you aren't paying attention, when you think you know how you feel and then get hit with the moment.

That was over a month ago and Steve hadn't said anything to Eddie.

Nancy, of all people, had been the one to notice. She pulled him aside that night and asked him if he was sure.

And he wasn't. Not then, not now.

He was sure of his feelings, but not Eddie's.

"Eddie Munson!" the person handling the list called into the microphone.

"Cheer extra loud for me," Eddie winked at Steve as he got up and ran to the stage.

As if there was any chance Steve wouldn't.

The song started and Steve froze.

Head Over Heels was the last thing he expected to hear, and for a moment, he thought they mixed up Eddie's chosen song with someone else's.

But Eddie smiled into the microphone and started singing right on cue.

"Oh boy," Robin said from next to him.

Steve couldn't say anything.

All he could do was sit and watch and listen.

Eddie sang beautifully, his slightly rough voice adding an edge to a song that otherwise didn't have one at all.

When it ended, Steve stood up from his seat abruptly, needing fresh air, maybe a smoke.

The beer he'd been drinking wasn't doing it.

As he made his way outside, he pulled the joint Eddie had rolled for them to share out of his pocket, ready to light it.

He didn't smoke often, but this felt like the right time.

The rain pouring down outside didn't deter him from going, he knew he had a change of clothes in his trunk and he was willing to risk catching a cold if it meant having a moment outside alone.

But he was only alone for a moment.

He turned when the side door banged open, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Eddie's head turning from side to side to look for him.

"Steve!" Eddie said when he saw him against the wall of the opposite building. "Did you not like the song?"

He looked hurt.

Steve hated when he looked like that.

"No, I loved it," he said, doing his best to bite back the 'I love you' that wanted to pour from his mouth.

"Oh. Good," Eddie said, relaxing. "Why are you out here getting wet then?"

"Just needed some air."

Eddie frowned.

"Are you feeling sick? I can drive us back, I only had one drink."

"No, no. That's not it."

"What is it then?"

And Steve couldn't lie to him. He couldn't look at the vulnerability in Eddie's eyes, and think about the way he just sang Steve's favorite song on stage in front of at least 50 people, and lie.

"Why did you sing that song?" he finally asked.

"What? Because you like it," Eddie said, looking down at his shoes.

"But...why? Why does it matter if I like the song you sing at open mic night?"

"Because I want you to like me."

His voice broke and so did Steve's heart.

Steve dropped the joint on the ground, closed the distance between them, cupped Eddie's face in his hands, and kissed him.

It was wet from the rain, wet from Steve's tongue.

Wet from the tears he hadn't realized were falling from his eyes.

When he pulled away, Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, his lips red from the hard kiss.

"I love you, Eddie. Before the song, even."

"You-"

"Yeah."

"I think I blacked out."

"You didn't," Steve huffed a laugh.

"No I had to. Because there's no way you just said-"

"I did. I do. I love you."

"I just sang Tears For Fears in public for you. In front of people. On a stage. I think it's pretty clear I love you too," Eddie smirked.

They kissed again, for so long that their clothes were soaked through, long enough that Robin came to find them and yelled at them to get a room.

The back of Steve's car was good enough for now.

[thetempleofhades]

DANCE OF FLOWERS!

repost of one of my older fics that i had saved somewhere. I was and still am really proud of this fic, i still like it a lot.

Upon hearing about you, The Tsaritsa found herself eager to find out more. To see you with her own eyes. That’s why she finds herself in Monstad for once. She doesn’t want to be here, of course, but you’re more important than any of those she holds in contempt.

Laughter sounded from a crowded area just up ahead, and she went towards it. She listened to the tune playing as successfully weaved herself to the front of the crowd.

The laughter and music grew louder and she couldn’t help but watched in awe as you twirled yourself and the child you held onto, smile wide on your face. Your face flush red from happiness. This look was what she liked best on you. Happiness suited you better than the benevolent neutrality that people made you famous for.

Flowers were weaved into your hair, resembling the ones that bloomed all throughout teyvat. Flowers seemed to blood in her stomach as well as she stared at you, completely mesmerized.

You locked eyes with her and smiled at her, head tilting to the side before letting go of Klee’s hands and heading towards her. “Dance with me.” You spoke out, smiling happily at her without a single trace of fear as you grabbed her hands. They were cold, like ice, but you didn’t mind.

“Ah.” She spoke out finally, looking down at you and let you drag her out. She easily followed your footsteps and twirled you around without having to be told.

Venti watched closely while still playing the tune with ease. He was a bard after all. He knew why she was there and he didn’t want her hurting their precious creator, so he made sure to keep an eye on them.

“You dance really well, my lady.” You beamed at her as you held onto her hands, cheeks flushed as you still danced to the song that was nearing it’s end. “It was my honor to dance with you.” You smiled as you looked up and all kind of petals rained down upon the surrounding people.

You stepped back, letting go of her hands and reconnecting with Klee before turning around and heading off with Klee and Venti in tow.

She searched for you for weeks afterwards but never found you, so she went back to Schneznaya with hope that you may get her gifts and letters.

Every single gift and letter she sent was intercepted by one of the acolytes, except for a music box.

A beautifully crafted music box with the same tune that the two of you had danced to, and on top where the figurine usually was, sat you. Beautiful, kind, happy you with petals drifting around. It was a beautiful gift. One you fawned over to everyone that would listen.

“Your Grace....” Zhongli glanced at your pouting lips before his eyes drifted over to your puffed out cheeks and up to your furrowed eyebrows. “Please understand, it’s dangerous. We only wish to keep you safe.”

“Why would she hurt me? She’s been sending me gifts and letters! Which you always discarded Zhongli!” You crossed your arms, upset at the actions they took.

Zhongli’s face softened as he came closer to you and grasped at your hand so that he might press a kiss to it. “I’m sorry. I just want to protect you. I’m your loyal acolyte. I wish only good things to come your way. I should have consulted you first, my creator.”

Your face softened and a sigh came from your lips as you gazed at him. “I can never stay mad at you.... But!” You added on as his face brightened. “I want to meet with her! She sent an invitation to have tea with her in her palace! I’ll take Aether and Lumine! I’ll be safe so please Zhongli!!!” You pleaded with him, grasping at his hand, desperate for his approval.

You knew they only did these things to protect you, to protect your happiness so you always let it slide but you wanted to see her again so badly! You couldn’t stop playing the music box and listening to it with longing.

Venti sighed from the doorway before making his way into the room. “C’mon Zhongli! It’s the Honorary Knight and Lumine is just as capable! They’ll be perfectly safe. Let them have a little fun.”

“Alright.” He sighed as he agreed, making you jump for joy and hug him tight, repeatedly thanking him.

You were so happy! You had been waiting so long to see her again. Ever since that dance, you hadn’t been able to get her off of your mind. And now, you were going to have tea with her in Schneznaya. Lumine and Aether would be there too but you knew they wouldn’t cause any trouble, they were good people.

Oh, you couldn’t wait!

And that led you to where you were right now! In front of the Zapolyarny Palace with the twins at your sides and a bouquet of red carnations in your hands.

“You have to be on your best behavior, okay? No matter how much someone aggravates you. The Tsaritsa has been very kind to allow us to visit, so we must be kind in return.” You lectured them, sternly.

Lumine nodded her head and nudged Aether to the same. “We’ll make sure to be civil no matter who it is, right Aether?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry so much your grace. We’ll be role models!” Aether pumped his fist in the air with Paimon at his side watching in suspicious silence.

“Paimon too, right?” You smiled at the floating girl and she pouted before nodded reluctantly.

“Paimon will be nice.”

A snort cut through the silence as Scaramouche appeared in front of them. “Surprised to see you three, survival must be easy for you huh?” He smiled mockingly at them before it turned sincere once he turned to you and bowed. “Your Divine Grace, The Tsaritsa sent me to guide you to the tea room.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him and ushered your three companions to follow as you knew they disliked Scaramouche and you knew why but you aimed to have a peaceful tea time with The Tsaritsa!

“You’ve come.” Once she saw you, the Tsaritsa smiled at you, the corners of her eyes crinkling up with it. “I thought you wouldn’t, you never responded to any of my letters....”

You rubbed the back of your neck with a hand. “Ah, yes. The letters and gifts except the music box and the letter than came with it were all not given to me.” You spoke and upon seeing the Tsaritsa’s rising anger, hurried to soothe her. “They’re just trying to protect me. Will you forgive them this once?” You pleaded with her.

“If it’s what you wish...” She conceded, not wanting to go against your will.

“I... um.... I didn’t know what kind of flowers you like so I made red carnations for you.” You handed the bouquet over to her and she smiled down at it.

“You are much too kind, come. Let’s have tea together. Scaramouche, lead the twins and their companion towards the other table.” She commanded and you smiled at the three companions.

Lumine frowned but bit her tongue. You wanted them to be on their best behavior. Even if it means being nice to....ugh..... Scaramouche, she’ll do it. For you.

Aether was working hard to hold himself back, reminding himself that this was what you wanted.

“Sorry Travellers, heard you were coming and made sure you wouldn’t have too many options. Must hurt your head to think all the time, huh?” Scaramouche remarked as he smirked and walked forward.

Aether wondered if it was too late to stop being nice to that prick.

Meanwhile, with you and the Tsaritsa, you both were chatting happily with each other.

“Thank you for the music box. It was lovely.” Hands clutched at the teacup in your hands as you smiled down at the contents in the cup.

“I’m glad you liked it, you left an impression on me. I wanted to see you again.” She spoke out as she reached out her hand and brushed her thumb along your cheekbone. “I’m happy you came to see me.”

Red filled your cheeks and you nodded fervently. “M-Me too! I wanted to see you too......”

You bit into one of the tea cakes, a pink one. “Mmm!” You made a sound of approval as you swallowed it. “So good!” You spoke before taking a sip of your tea. "I’ve never had a tea cake that tasted so good before.”

The Tsaritsa watched you with a fond look on her face as she pulled back her hand and grabbed the white chocolate tea cake grabbed a piece of it with her fork. “Let me food you.” She insisted and you nodded eagerly, opening your mouth.

She fed it to you and you made another sound of approval. “This one is good too!” You looked so happy and she couldn’t help herself but to learn forward and press a kiss to your lips.

A crash sounded somewhere behind you and you turned bright red as you hid your face. “My lady! W-W-W-” You couldn’t form a response to what had just happened.

My first kiss!

You could have sworn you heard Scaramouche cackling behind you as Lumine whispered at Aether to calm down.

[spencerreidsbookfairy]

opposites don't attract

Dating a semi popular singer was odd. Well not odd to Spencer but to his team. 

Ever since he introduced y/n to the team he never heard the end of their semi passive aggressive comments about her.

“ she doesn't seem like the type to understand our job spence” JJ once said

“ imagine you guys have a nasty breakup and she has a temper tantrum and writes an album about you kid, she might go all taylor swift on you’’ Derek once added with slight humor in his tone

“ and her songs are awfully depressing and with the job do you really wanna surround yourself with someone who mopes around writing songs about how she’ll never be good enough!?!?” emily once added 

Two. days. Straight. 

Spencer had to hear this and the worst part is you had no clue they felt this way about you they were SO kind to you when you met them. Spencer just didn’t understand.

A week later you had an opportunity performing your newest songs at the Oscars of course the team went. Not to support you in any way but to support him.  

‘’ hey spence-” you cut yourself off when you realize that hes talking to his team you didnt wanna be rude and interupt, it looked intense so curiosity took the best of you and you hid behind the wall slightly peeking over the corner 

‘’ spencer her set list is so full of slow depressing songs i mean it would be a miracle if the crowd doesn't fall asleep mid song!’’ derek complains 

Oh. ouch.

Did they really not like the set list…should you change it?

“Guys lease be nice she might hear us and she makes spencer happy i wont stand here while you guys berate her!” garcia storms off right towards you so you quickly duck into the next room shutting it quickly

But the team wasn't done with the complaints.

“Were looking out for you kid she's a sweet girl but i think you to are complete opposites”

“ i know guys”

He said ‘I know”

So he felt the same way?

part two??

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend (Astarion x GN! Reader)

  This man has a chokehold on me and I have been plagued by this idea for about a week.

Title inspired by the song "i wanna be your girlfriend" by girl in red

CW: Mentions of violence and gore (not descriptive), bit of angst, comfort

(Not my photo. I believe it belongs to Daily Gaming)

Synopsis- You and Astarion are in the middle of a war to prove who can set the best traps. However, a lack of rules seems to have gotten you into a predicament neither one of you had anticipated.

Sometimes you take it a smidge too far. 

 You would love to tell people you are some cunning, daring rogue, but the reality is that you are consistently flying by the seat of your pants. Occasionally it works really well- this was not one of those times.

    You never felt the need to prove anything to anyone.

Well, until you met Astarion. Within the first three days of traveling with him, your confidence and patience began to wear thin. He would make snide comments when watching you attempt to unlock a chest or when you scare off your prey by tripping over a bush. Then he would smirk at you- with that stupid, beautiful smirk.

He enjoys adding salt to the wound by taking on the task you failed at; usually lock picking, sneak attacks, and Gods only knows what else he could make fun of you for. You are very aware that you are not some fancy rogue and it never bothered you until now. You had accepted long ago that you are just a street urchin moving up in the world after teaching yourself the trade.

  The final straw had been when you had placed traps to catch dinner. Your traps had been successful (naturally- traps were your thing) and you brought back three bunnies for Gale’s stew.

Oh, but of course Astarion had something to say. He always has something to say.

  “Oh look at that- how cute. I’m sure sheerluck was on your side,” he quips, “You’ll get better eventually.”

 Thus began the war of all wars.

It started with small traps- nuisances really. Tripwire, a laughing or sleep rune well hidden, and traps that release horrible smells. Then it quickly took a turn for the worst; what were once harmless pranks turned into trip wires that release a swarm of bees, simple pits began to get deeper, and blasting traps that would send either one of you flying into a nearby object. It was never truly life threatening, just questionable.

  Well, except for the bees. The bees were not the greatest thought in hindsight; considering both you and Astarion had to help each other with the bee stings- Shadowheart refusing to be involved. You both laughed and he even complimented you on your cleverness. You swore you could have exploded in that moment.

   You have a massive, childish crush on the man and maybe the competition was your subconscious way of getting closer to him. However, your other companions were getting sick of it pretty quickly. 

  They had all hoped after the Tiefling party that the two of you would put your silly competition to rest so that you could all travel together in peace and they would just have to deal with PDA.

What a silly thing for them to think. PDA hasn't happened, but the pranks did become less risky and less frequent.  You were okay with this change.

   You feel like you and Astarion have become close friends. Even though your tryst didn’t lead to a romantic relationship as you had hoped, you were happy to have Astarion in your life in any capacity. If that was just as a friend- then so be it. 

  Which brings us back to the beginning- when you realize that your ‘trap war’ had paper thin rules and the lack of rules just might be the thing that actually kills you on this journey.

  All you wanted to do was clean yourself off. It had been one last relaxing day before you set off to the Creche, but you had thought you might treat yourself. Baths were rare and far between these days and you want to enjoy it while you have it. However, you were not planning for a simple snare trap to foil your entire evening. 

  You get hoisted up into the air, slammed against the tree, and drop all of your belongings- including the knife you brought ‘just incase’. You glared at the knife and put your hand to your blood fountain of a nose.

 “Traitor,” you whisper with a pout as you look for a way to escape the trap.

  Suddenly, you freeze as instincts kick in. You hear the Gnolls before you see them. Your bloody nose from the impact of the tree had led them to you. They attempt to claw at you- trying to rip you down from the tree. You feel their claws tear into your back, the side of your arms, and one of them even manages to take a swipe at your abdomen as you scramble to escape. The cuts weren't life threatening, but they hurt. A LOT.

  You manage to use the rope to pull yourself up onto one of the tree limbs; allowing you to hide some of your body from the Gnolls, but you now have an arrow protruding out of your right thigh so obviously that isn’t working well either.

  You bite back tears, frozen in fear. You really did not want to die this way and you certainly didn’t want it to be because of Astarion’s trap. You have a feeling he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you died because of him. 

  You can imagine the blame and anger the rest of your companions would direct at him if the worst happened. You imagine the bloodshed- knowing full well that everyone (minus Karlach) would not forgive him for accidentally killing you. Lae’zel would be the first one to put a stake in his chest- her fondness for you is no secret. 

   Your heart thumps painfully at that thought and your resolve hardens. You will not die because you will not let that happen to Astarion. 

 You look around, your arms and legs shaking still with the residual shock and fear. You look for any sharp branches, a forgotten knife lodged somewhere, or even something you could cast a cantrip on to distract them. You have no such luck. 

 You resign yourself to your fate- the tears making a reappearance. 

 Unless one of your companions finds you first- you are going to either have to wait for the Gnolls to get bored and leave or they are going to kill you.

You pray to every God you can think of that you will survive the night.

_________________________________________________

 Astarion is trying to not look so desperate as he reads the first page for the hundredth time. 

  You had walked off a little over two hours ago- Lae’zel is on watch while the rest of your companions sleep soundly in their bed rolls. 

 The longer your bedroll remains empty, the more the pit grows in his stomach.

He didn’t know how to navigate your relationship after the tiefling party.

His feelings for you are confusing. The sex had felt different, he enjoys your company immensely, and he likes how warm he feels around you.

Instead of talking to you like a normal person or taking a moment to reflect, he decided to find some common ground- something you could laugh and talk about later. Normalcy.

He set up a snare trap close to the river you were all using to clean off and then a laughter rune trap somewhere on the path to the Creche. Hypothetically, they are very safe traps.

Unless he rigged them wrong? What if you ran into one of them and….

  No, I am sure they are just fine.

 He doesn’t even believe his own lie.

After about another five minutes, the anxiety rolling in his stomach becomes unbearable so he grabs his daggers and sets off in the direction you had gone two hours earlier.

  He walks quickly through the forest, checking his surroundings and looking for evidence that you were close by. As the minutes pass, he feels the hope of finding you safe shrink.

The wind hits his nose and he becomes stock-still.

He smells your blood- an alarming amount of it-in the air as he gets closer to the river. He fears the worst as he goes to look at the trap- hoping you will forgive him- that you are alive. Safe.

 He peers through the bushes and his eyes grow wide as the scene before him unfolds. 

  You are stuck up in the tree- his trap is still around your ankle. You are holding onto the branch like your life depends on it. It probably does since there are five Gnolls circling the tree like vultures.

  He can hear your soft broken sobs as arrows fly over you or hit the tree. He notices the arrow in your leg and watches as a second one lodges itself into your calf. You wince and close your eyes tightly- unknown to you that Astarion’s vision is clouded in red and his whole body fills with destructive, hot rage. He also feels fear, but he pushes it away, not ready to explore the why. 

  He lunges forward, slashing at the Gnolls with so much force that they are practically in half by the time they hit the forest floor. He is a man possessed as he carves his way through all five gnolls and then he climbs up the tree to you. 

His chest aches as he looks at you. He will never be able to forgive himself for causing you so much suffering.

  “Darling,” he says softly.

    You whimper in response and when you look at him- he feels all the air leave his lunges. If he needed air, he would have passed out right then. Your eyes were glassy with traces of fear, sadness, and loneliness- all emotions he is all too familiar with. Then you see it’s him and the biggest smile crosses your lips and you look at him with so much affection he almost feels ill. This was not the plan and he almost made you a midnight snack for a group of Gnolls.

  “You found me,” you say in a raspy, raw voice, “I thought I was going to be stuck here all night until Karlach or Gale found me. Or I was going to die.”

 You chuckle, but Astarion can’t get himself to share your same enthusiasm about his rescue mission as he cuts the rope. 

  He helps you down the tree and safely back on the ground. Astarion winces as you pull the arrows out of your leg. You find a healing potion amongst your things and chug it.

He collects your stuff for you. You give him another one of those brilliant smiles and Astarion tries to smile just as brightly back. You furrow your brows, but he turns away before you can keep analyzing him. 

  “We should head back,” Astarion mumbles.

______________________________________________

  The silence hangs in the air as Astarion walks with you back to camp. After about 15 minutes, you are back at camp and the tension in the air is suffocating.

 “Astarion.”

  Astarion freezes, turns on his heels, and looks everywhere but your eyes. He couldn’t bare to see you smile at him again- look at him like that again- not after he almost killed you.

  You maneuver yourself so you are looking in his eyes.

 “It’s not your fault,” he begins to protest when you shush him, “we didn’t set any rules and the trap itself was harmless. We didn't account for Gnolls when we started this whole thing.”

  “I almost got you killed.”

 “But you didn’t. It easily could have been you in that situation and me saving you.”

  “Will you please stop being so Gods damn forgiving,” he huffs with exasperation as he feels tears prick his eyes, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I put your life in danger. I almost-”

 Lost you. He chokes on the words. The fear from earlier begins to come back to the front of his mind. Watching you cling to that tree, crying, and in pain had made him realize that you just might be more important to him than he cares to admit. However, that’s a conversation for another time- once he sorts out what that feeling in his chest is whenever he looks at you.

  You look at him sharply, your eyes raw with sadness, “Stop that right now. I am okay. I lived. It was a mistake and I know your intentions were not bad. You don’t have anything to worry about Star.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you hang your head.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I- I should go-“ Astarion pauses as you interrupt him.

“Please don’t leave,” you whisper, “I rather enjoy your company.”

  You look at him with tears welling in your eyes. He stares at you in stunned silence, searching your face for any sign of deception, but he doesn't find it. His body moves before his brain can process what he is doing. 

 Astarion gently cradles your face in his hands and kisses you slowly, softly. He smiles despite himself when a gasp leaves your lips. You're alive and safe. When the warmth in his chest begins to spread throughout the rest of his body, he pulls away and steps back. Your face is flushed, a beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks. You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes before you shyly smile. Astarion could have melted in that moment. He finds himself smiling too.

 “Well I’m assuming that means you are going to stay?” 

  “I suppose I’ll stay,” he says while tapping his chin, “you do need someone to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble like that again.”

 You feign hurt and scoff, “Are you suggesting that this was my fault?”

 “Maybe if you were better with traps that wouldn’t have happened,” Astarion teases.

  You narrow your eyes at Astarion and you try to hold back a smile. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

You start towards camp before you pause and turn around. Astarion gives you a confused look.

You run over to him and place a kiss on his cheek. He tenses for a moment before relaxing again. You look at him sweetly, a soft smile on your lips.

 “Good night Astarion.”

  As you saunter towards your respective tents, Astarion takes one last glance at your tent- at you- before he lays down with his book. Except he still can’t get past the first page- he is too anxious for the sun to come up so that he can see your smile again.

[sugar-coat-it]

Body piercer! Matty part three 

Part 1, Part 2

I missed writing for this man so much my god he is my everything. If you haven’t read the other parts, go ahead and do that first for context perhaps! 

Fem! Reader

Contains: Mutual pining, cutie newly established relationship, mention of marijuana, proud concert bf Matty, him being protective of girlie at the show, exhibitionism (light petting in the crowd), rough quickie (unprotected), public sex (bathroom), fingering and fucking on the counter, Matty puts his hand over her mouth, mirror sex, choking (with jewelry)

WC: ~6.3k

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PART THREE- Your new boyfriend takes you to a punk show, ending with a quickie in the venue bathroom

—-------------------------------------

Both you and Matty knew in your hearts that this wasn’t just a fling. Flings didn’t stay up for endless hours on the phone, knowing damn well that you both had work the next morning. Flings also didn’t think about each other for every waking minute, always sending each other sentimental messages when things reminded them of each other. And, they certainly don’t touch you the way Matty touches you: like he’s like he’s been starved of you his entire life. He’d frankly been losing his mind, constantly daydreaming at work as he stared at the Polaroid of the two of you he kept at the front desk, knowing he couldn’t stand not calling you his girlfriend much longer. Not after the past couple of weeks you’d been seeing each other had been some of the best of his life. He was so antsy over the fact that he couldn’t actually call you his that it was eating him alive, where else would he ever find someone as perfect for him as you? His work friends teased him endlessly for being so head over his platform boot heels, telling him how he needed to lock you down as soon as possible. He endearingly calls you his “favorite client”, but you’ve quickly become his favorite everything (“No. You don’t even get it, mate,” he’d said, rambling on to some poor guy whose ears he was piercing, “she's like… the light of my life, really”). But, considering that you couldn’t close your eyes without picturing his pretty brown irises staring back at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges with all his twinkling, wild mirth, you weren’t faring much better.

 Just as you’d hoped from that first night together, his sleepy eyes were in fact now a constant in your life. He asked you to be his girlfriend after taking you back to the same cafe where you’d had your blind date. Needless to say, it was an enthusiastic yes on your part, and everything has been so much brighter since, you can hardly imagine your life without all of his ruckus. Your days with him are long and lazy, and the nights are even longer, often spent wrapped up in his sheets or giggling while curled up on his couch after a smoke session.

You’ve learned a lot about Matty in the time you’ve been together. Like his tendency to leave things in your flat, his ungodly marijuana tolerance levels, and his love for his puppy Mayhem. You’ve also found that he takes his music very seriously. Listening to music is like a ritual to him, one that he refuses to partake in with “trashy” music. You call it snobbery, he calls it having good taste, and lately, he’s been trying to share that taste with you. He’s almost been subtly brainwashing you into getting into his bands, playing their songs in his car, burning some of their tracks on his CD mixtapes for you (always scrawled with cute Sharpie doodles and bad handwriting), humming the melodies of his favorite songs to you while cuddling. Honestly, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working, you’ve found yourself adding his music to your playlists, combining your styles much like how the mohawked man has slowly rooted his way into every corner of your life. 

So of course, words couldn’t describe how thrilled he was when you agreed to see one of his favorite bands play at a punk rock show. He’d approached you with the idea tentatively, explaining that it was fine if you didn’t want to go, he’d just take one of his mates from work if so. The way his face lit up when you said yes, your heart could have burst as you watched his eyes sparkle with pure unbridled joy. Then, he leaned in and kissed every inch of your face, ignoring your giggles and protests of him tickling you while he declared how much you were going to love it. 

 When the day of the show arrived, you kept your outfit simple: baggy, ripped jeans, a white tank top, a band hoodie, and a studded belt you recovered from the depths of your closet, figuring you’d at least blend in with the grungier crowd that way. You put on one last thing to complete the look, hooking Matty’s chunky, silver chain (that of course, he’d left on your dresser) around your neck. You smile to yourself as you tuck it under your clothes, liking the feel of having him close to your heart like this. When did you become such a sap?

Meanwhile, Matty was pacing around your flat, making sure he had everything he needed and that you’d get there in time for doors. His reasoning for being punctual was much less about him than it was for you. He wanted you to fully experience being close to the stage because he knows how much you like to take pictures at shows, your constantly full phone storage being a telltale sign of that. He was going full-on concert boyfriend mode, also keeping your lipstick and your wallet in his little hip pouch so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying anything but your phone. He’d clearly thought this through quite a lot, he’d been looking forward to it for weeks. 

A sudden kiss to his cheek quiets the hum of his overactive mind when you approach him, his furrowed brows sloping to a soft look of adoration as he insists on you standing still so he can take a good look at your outfit. He holds his fingers up in front of him in the shape of a square, squinting one eye closed like he’s framing you for a memory. Sure, the relationship was shiny and new, but something about the way he looked at you told you this wasn’t going to dull with time’s cruel hands, not any time soon at least. 

“Ohh, yeah. Very punk rock, baby,” he smiles slyly, chuckling as you roll your eyes. 

“Hardly! I don’t exactly have the wardrobe for this.”

“Shh, nonsense. You’re like a regular Joan Jett, babe. But hotter.”

“But hotter? Wow,” you laugh, now glancing down at the jewelry adorning his hands and wrists, “I like your bracelet.”

Matty cringes, sucking a breath through his teeth while looking up towards the ceiling. He recalls just how he’d obtained said bracelet as a teenager with something to prove. He was never a bad kid, just a highly restless one who got bored too easily. Besides, he never got in any real trouble since his parents would have strung him up by his toes otherwise. 

“Erm, thanks. I think I nicked it when I was a teen.”

“You were a delinquent!?” you exclaim, causing Matty’s loud laughter to ring through the apartment.

“That’s a strong term, innit? Let’s call it… misguided… and stupid. Now c’mon, out the door, miss.” 

You shake your head playfully as he shoos you out of the flat, imagining a younger version of your boyfriend getting into all sorts of mischief. You can almost perfectly picture his toothy, boyish grin as he runs around the streets of his hometown with his mates by his side, freckle-faced and carefree, his curls in an unruly mop on his head. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in his younger, wilder days. An odd part of you hopes he still would have liked you. 

“Why do you still have it?” you ask as you start your walk to the train together. “What can I say? I’m unbelievably sentimental.”

The train ride is quiet, you share his wireless earbuds and listen to music side by side. The deal was that the queue of songs switched back and forth, you got to play one song, then him. He leans his head against your shoulder, the muss of hair atop the shaved sides of his head grazing your neck. He almost falls asleep as you start to scratch the top of his head. But, inevitably, all of his energy comes rushing back to him when the train comes to a halt. Immediately, he’s grabbing your hand to bound down the street to the venue, shouting about how good of a spot you’re going to get. 

—---------------------------------------------

Once inside, at a glance, you don’t exactly fit in here. A sort of insecurity festers in you as you eye some of the girls dressed in spikes and leather, they looked like they belonged here, and so did your boyfriend. But, you try to shake it off nonetheless, even if you didn’t feel nearly as cool as you wanted to. This place was like the high council of people who exclusively wear clothes with tears in them.

Matty stands close behind you as you pack in with the rest of the grungy-looking crowd. His hands are on your hips as he glances around, making sure that you have enough space to stand comfortably. He knows how these shows can get, and he’s made it his personal mission to make sure no one ruins the experience for you. He shoots a look at any guy who tries to stand too close to you, the coldness of his stare sending them inching away from your personal space with cowardice. In an instant, the mean look is wiped off his face as he glances down at you, seeing how happy you seem to be there with him. He leans down, the cool metal of his chain grazing your neck as he speaks near your ear, just loud enough so you can hear him over the buzz of chatter throughout the venue. 

“Can you see alright?” he asks, giving your hips a little squeeze. 

You nod with a smile, having a fairly clear view of the stage. You’re only about three rows back thanks to Matty’s punctuality. You turn your head, grasping the necklace around his neck gently before pulling him down further so you can kiss his cheek. A grin breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, he can’t help but chuckle at your little move, he loves it when you get bold with him. His lips brush against your ear as he murmurs “little minx” before standing back up to his full height.

Matty talks over the pre-show music as he tells you a bit of background about the bands playing tonight, prattling on about who plays what and what makes them so cool. You listen to him with an enamored look plastered on your face, nodding along even when you have no clue what he’s talking about, but what else is new? It only makes you adore him more with every detail rattled off from the depths of his mind.

“... and this one here I don’t know shit about, to be honest. I reckon they’re probably fine though,” he shrugs, showing you the lineup on his phone. 

You squint at the screen, tapping your nail against one of the names you recognize because of him. You blink up at him prettily, knowing he’s going to get a kick out of what you say next.

“This is the one with the guy who plays the drums with two pedals, right?” you recall, tilting your head at him, knowing damn well that you’re laying it on thick. 

“Yes!! Yes, exactly,” he beams, his eyes instantly lighting up before he presses an enthusiastic kiss to your temple, “That’s my fuckin’ girl. The coolest girlfriend.”

Soon, the show begins, and Matty lets out an excited whoop as the first band makes their entrance, the one he’d bought the tickets for in the first place. He lets go of your hips, taking a small step back to give you the room to dance if you want to. He’s so considerate of you, it makes a glowing sort of warmth swell in your chest. You glance back at him and he gives you two thumbs up, his face scrunching up with a grin that’s so earnestly Matty, you have to resist the urge to just grab him and kiss him till your lips are raw right in the middle of the crowd. Not to mention how fucking good he looks tonight, his tank top allowing his tattooed arms to be on full display, and it should be illegal how tightly those black leather pants cling to his legs.

Your attention turns back to the stage as the first notes ring through the small venue, grungy guitar chords echoing off of the walls. Nothing gives you the same feeling as live music does, the pure thrill it makes rush through you is unmatched (sorry, Matty). The music is harsh, it grates on your ears, but in the best way possible. It’s invigorating, fucking electrifying, it’s thrumming in the hollow of your chest. You feel alive. Matty leans over to see it all happen from just a step away, watching the stage lights reflect in your eyes. He hadn’t looked at the band once, this was far more mesmerizing than anything that could be happening up there. You’ve completely captured his attention, and when you start bobbing your head to the beat and singing along to the chorus, Matty almost drops to one knee right then and there. He’s already mentally noted that this song will in fact be played at your wedding reception.

As the set goes on, his eyes stay on you for the majority of the time, he’s just so taken by watching you have this much fun hearing his music, which is now your music too. He’s simply beaming with pride. Every time you look back at him with that thrilled look on your face while you’re moving to the rhythm only solidifies to him that you’re his absolute dream girl. And of course, he’s having the time of his life too. Matty mouthes along to all of the words, nodding his head in a way that makes his quaffed mohawk bounce with his movements. And, shit, it’s hot in the crowd, you can feel the heat radiating off of the bodies moving around you. The hoodie you brought may have been an oversight, you can practically feel your mascara melting off of your lashes. 

The show goes on, and when the moshing in the middle of the crowd gets increasingly rowdy, one man gets shoved and sent hurtling past the bodies between you and the mosh pit. You quickly hold your hands out to brace for the impact, knowing this can’t end well as you prepare to meet your leather-jacketed doom. The man is visibly very intoxicated and he would have stumbled straight into your body from the momentum if Matty’s hands hadn’t shot out to block him, catching him by his shoulders.

“Oi! Watch where you’re fuckin’ going, fuck’s sake!” Matty spits, sending him back toward the pit with a light push. 

Now, had Matty done his fair share of moshing and getting absolutely catapulted into other people at breakneck velocity? Yes. It’s not even entirely the guy’s fault that he almost crashed into you, he was pretty drunk and didn’t have his wits or his balance about him, but in Matty’s mind, he might as well have tried to tackle you to the ground WWE style. 

“I could have caught him!” you argue over the music, laughing at the bitter look on your boyfriend's face.

Matty raises an eyebrow at you and shakes his head with an amused smile, but doesn’t argue. Maybe you could have, but he wasn’t about to let some sloshed idiot break his girlfriend's back because that’s his job, dammit. 

The band’s set is finished with a bang, the final chords echoing in your ears as you try to catch your breath from moving almost nonstop, your heart thundering against your ribs. You turn around to face Matty with a giant grin plastered on your face, letting out a breathless, excited laugh. He just chuckles, eyeing the strands of hair sticking to your face from the sheen of sweat, your smudged makeup rimming your wide eyes. He’s not in much better shape, his tank top is clinging to his body like a second skin. By this point, your hoodie feels like it has its own climate, and you’re dying to peel it off. 

“Fun?” he asks, as you start to lift the fabric over your head.

“Oh my god, yeah,” you breathe, your voice muffled by the hoodie. 

“I-”

His next words die in his throat as his eyes immediately snap to your chest, his breath catching as he spots the clear outline of your nipple piercings through your drenched, white tank top and- was that one of his chains around your neck? He feels a stir in his tight leather pants as his mouth slightly drops, he can’t remember ever being so instantly and completely turned on. Heat ripples through his body, climbing up to his face as he shamelessly stares at your tits. Not only were you showing off his skillful work, but your pretty neck was adorned with the chain he’d forgotten all about at your place. It might even look better on you than it does on him.

 You’re tying your hoodie around your waist when you catch the look on his face, your brows knitting together with confusion till you follow his gaze and find your piercings proudly displayed through your shirt. As the realization dawns on you, you look up at your boyfriend with a coy smile. Matty shudders, lust crowding his mind as he struggles to come up with a coherent thought, one that isn’t wildly pornographic. He can actually feel his hands tense with the urge to grasp, to lay claim to you with his fingertips. You simply look up at him through your lashes, watching him short-circuit right before your eyes. 

Before he has the chance to say or do anything, the next band comes onto the stage, the crowd roaring to life a second time. You give him a knowing look before turning back around to face the direction of the music. Matty swallows hard, raking a hand through his mohawk like he’s grappling with demons… and losing.

The music is nothing more than a pulsing beat in his skull, his attention is fully on the back of your head. He begins to inch forward to you, his hands finding a home on your hips while you vibe to the beat. He brings your hips back against him, feeling your movements stutter as the protrusion in his trousers presses into your ass as if to say “Feel what you did to me?”. You get the message loud and clear, draping your weight against him, your head lolling back against his shoulder as you both rock to the beat of the drums, sweaty skin to sweaty skin. Matty’s hands begin to wander, mapping over the damp fabric of your tank top, up your stomach, over your ribs till- oh. You gasp, the stage lights strobing under your closed eyes as he squeezes your tits through your top. Matty can distinctly feel the barbells through the thin fabric, it drives him fucking wild. Your lips part as you melt into him like honey, your skin feels like it’s on fire as the music blares through the venue. Your stomach swoops when he dares to flick the piercings with his fingertips, danger humming in your veins as he gets bolder, as if you’re not surrounded by a sea of people. Your eyes snap open, you quickly glance around to find that everyone’s far too enthralled with the show to notice, not that Matty would give a shit if they did. No one can hear the way you whimper when he pinches your nipples. You stare down at the large hands that possessively grope your breasts, feeling a throb resound between your thighs. 

“Matty, you said this was the band you don’t know, right?” you call to him, your voice uneven and unnaturally high-pitched. 

His heavily lidded eyes look almost black with the way they darken as he reads between the lines. Even if it was one of the bands he liked, he’s pretty sure absolutely nothing could stop him from doing what comes next, not when his dick is this hard, and you’ve teased him this salaciously. Wordlessly, Matty lets go of your chest and grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd towards the exit. He moves fast, the urgency in his strides and on his face likely making people move out of the way quicker. You’d feel concerned about losing your spot up front if your mind wasn’t so scrambled with need, your legs rushing to keep up with your lanky boyfriend. 

Your head is spinning as he swiftly leads you into the nearest gender-neutral bathroom. Matty’s hands are on you the moment he closes and locks the door, he’s all over you in every sense of the term. You breathe in the musk of his sweat between the melding of your lips. The kiss is messy, it’s searingly hot as he desperately licks into your mouth, his fingertips digging into your hip bones. He backs you up blindly until your hips meet the bathroom counter, his hands reaching to undo the hoodie tied around your waist and toss it aside without breaking the kiss once. You didn’t think you could get much hotter than you were in the crowd, but now you’re burning up from the inside with white-hot desire.

Matty hastily turns you around to face the bathroom mirror, tagged with graffiti and littered with lipstick prints at the border. It was clear that the space was well-loved, but clean. A culmination of every aspiring artist and sticker enthusiast in the area, almost no spot on the wall was left untouched. Your eyes are drawn away from the decor as Matty grasps your jaw from behind you, turning your head to make you meet the almost feral look in his eyes through the mirror. He holds you that way as he leans down to press dire, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, his other hand snaking down your front to unbutton your pants. The feeling of his tongue stud soothing over faded love bites only makes you weaker in the knees. Matty fumbles with the zipper of your jeans for a moment before he shoves the clothing down your legs, the fabric pooling around your ankles. It’s clear that he’s not wasting time with his usual delicate, worshiping caresses of your thighs while he undresses you, this is an electrified frenzy. 

“No bra, baby? Is that how you want to play?” he mutters, his lips grazing the column of your neck teasingly. 

“I-I didn’t-” you begin to protest, only to be cut off by your own moan as he gives a rough pinch to your nipple through your top.

Matty follows the curve of your midsection with his hand, intense honey-colored eyes locked on you through your reflection, the image swirled at the edges with colorful spray paint. A shudder reverberates through your body as his fingers venture lower, dipping below the waistband of your soaked panties. Your body instinctually arches backward against his, mewling when his calloused fingertips brush against your swollen clit. It’s like he can light up every one of your senses with just a graze, your breath getting shallower by the second. You feel his stiff cock twitch in his trousers as you press yourself impossibly closer to him, every inch of his glowing skin flush against your back. Matty continues his loving assault on your neck as his thick digits gather the arousal pooling between your thighs. Your dazed vision trails downward as you stare at his hand shoved inside your panties from behind you, watching the fabric shift with every movement of his skilled hand. You whine as he circles your slit before beginning to sink his slicked fingers into you, your eyes squeezing shut as the dizzying pleasure thrums in your veins. 

“Shhh. You know how much I love your pretty noises, baby, but be good, okay? Can you do that? Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to, do you?” he murmurs, dragging his plush bottom lip against your ear lobe. 

You nod wordlessly, afraid that if you open your mouth, noise will overflow from you uncontrollably, his fingers being knuckle-deep in you is just too damn good. If you don’t control yourself, anyone outside could hear you, could know how good your boyfriend is filling you with his fingers, satisfying you to your very core. The thought of it alone makes your heart hammer in your chest harder. You don’t want them to know… because that would be wrong, it would be undignified… it’d be… kind of hot.

 His digits stretch you open as he begins to diligently pump them in and out of you, curling them towards the spot that he knows will make you see stars. He works quickly, his pace is almost feverish from his determination to make you fall to pieces as efficiently as he can. Matty’s other hand is groping your breast, squeezing the fullness of it, his rings pressing into your flesh through your thin tank top. You bite down on your lip hard enough that you think you might tear the flesh open, desperately trying to keep your whimpers quiet. Matty’s gaze on you is cautionary, his eyebrows slightly raised like he’s testing you, seeing just how much you can take. 

The last of your defenses come crumbling down as the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, the flood of sensations making a moan burst from your throat as he begins to draw tight circles on the bundle of nerves. In an instant, Matty’s hand is off of your chest and is clasped over your mouth, muffling any noise. Fuck.

“I mean it. Pipe down, or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, smirking at you as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“No- no, please don’t stop,” you babble against his palm like the idea of it was simply unbearable.

Matty’s hand stays firmly over your mouth as he withdraws his fingers from inside you, ignoring the way you squirm in protest, whining uselessly. He tugs your ruined panties down your legs, letting them join your pants in a heap around your ankles. It’s almost embarrassing how you can hardly contain your desire, but he likes it that way, knowing how needy you are.

“Matty, please, fuck, need it,” you mumble, and he can see the way your desire is clawing at you from the inside just from a glance.

“Be patient for me, my love,” he smiles, hurriedly pulling himself out of his uncomfortably skin-tight pants with his free hand, “You’ll get what you want. Being stuffed full with my cock, hm?”

You whimper as Matty nudges your legs further apart with his foot, leaning you forward over the counter onto your elbows. He whistles lowly at the sight of you, his eyes following down your spine, over the curve of your ass, and to your dripping pussy. You tremble slightly as he reaches between your legs, collecting your honey on his fingers before spreading it over his shaft, slicking himself with your arousal. A whine vibrates against the palm Matty holds over your mouth as you swing your hips in a desperate attempt to entice him. He just chuckles darkly, keeping his hand securely in place as starts to guide his cock through your folds, the head kissing your aching clit as he rubs it back and forth. 

Matty doesn’t waste a second longer, you can hardly process it before he’s pushing inside of you, gasping as he fills you inch by inch. His fingertips press into the side of your face as he tightens his hold on your mouth to muffle your mewls, watching as your lashes flutter, your face contorting with pleasure. He can feel your hot, heavy breaths fanning into his palm, your chest heaving as he bottoms out inside of you. Matty groans loudly, tossing his head back as he’s fully surrounded by your velvety warmth, forgetting his own volume rules that he’d set for you. Hypocrite.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good,” he sighs, reaching to pull your tank top over your breasts, “Stay like that for me, yeah? Wanna see your perfect tits.”

He barely allows you a moment to breathe before he’s snapping his hips against you roughly, letting out a strained grunt with every thrust. Sensations trickle up your spine like flickering flames as a muffled cry spills out of you. Matty angles his hips just right, hitting so deep inside you that you feel as though you’re being split open by each drive of his cock, it’s mind-numbing. Your whole body jolts against the counter with his purposeful movements, the edge of the porcelain biting into your hip bones. He can hardly focus on just one thing, his gaze darting from where he’s disappearing inside of you, to your gorgeous face, to your breasts. Matty’s raspy voice makes your eyes refocus on him, you watch in the mirror as he licks his teeth like he wants to devour you whole.

“You see how pretty you look? No, no, sweetheart, don’t look at me, look at yourself. God, isn’t she pretty?” he drawls, “You look so sexy, wearing my chain like that while you’re taking my cock.”

At his instruction, you meet your own eyes through the reflection, your eyebrows sloping as you realize that he’s right, you do look pretty when he’s fucking you. Your rosied cheeks, your blown pupils, your glowing skin… and your boyfriend’s hand over your mouth. Your chain bounces against your collarbones in tandem with your pierced tits, it’s no wonder he’s loving this position so much, he gets to watch everything at once. While you’re gazing at yourself, Matty reaches around and begins to rub two fingers on your clit, swirling them in intoxicatingly quick figure eights. You watch your own eyes go wide as the pleasure ricochets through your bones, making you light-headed. This must be the expression Matty lives for when he’s got you like this, the face to his sweetest wet dreams. You’re almost mesmerized by seeing yourself get railed to high heaven, it’s sort of an odd feeling.

In one swift motion, Matty lets go of your face and grasps the chain around your neck, pulling it taut against your throat from behind, ripping a shocked cry from your lips. 

“Ohh, she liked that one,” he grins lazily, tilting his head back with a groan as he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice, “Shit, not gonna last if you keep doin’ that, god damn.”

It feels like he’s stolen the air directly from your lungs as he lightly chokes you with the silver links you’d so slickly “borrowed” from him. Even just the slight restriction of oxygen has you reeling, your eyes rolling back as your hands claw at the counter, your whole body buzzing with mortifying heights of exhilaration. It’s a dizzying combination of thrill and precarious risk as Matty keeps a tight hold on the chain while fucking you with such vigor that you don’t feel attached to your body, the counter being your only loose grasp on reality. It only makes every drive of his cock feel that much more visceral, the tension coiling tighter in your belly. Heat prickles at your cheeks and the bridge of your nose at the purely obscene sounds of him thrusting into your sopping cunt, skin on skin echoing through the small space while his fingers abuse your clit.

It’s all building up so fast, quicker than usual due to Matty’s frenzied rhythm, his hips meeting yours again and again, unrelentingly. You bite back a wail as the tension so deep inside you reverberates in crackling pangs, threatening to break you to pieces as you arch backward. Your hips writhe against his hand both like you’re chasing the friction and trying to thrash away from its intensity. He can tell you’re on the edge of euphoria, teetering with every swipe of his fingers, every slam of his hips. He gives the chain a harsh tug, knowing it’ll send you spiraling into the depths of pleasure just beyond your fingertips.

“Fuck!” you gasp, one of your hands flying to grip his wrist as your mind goes impossibly blank, your nails digging into his skin, “I’m gonna- I-I can’t!”

“Shit, me too, angel. So close. Oh, fuck, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me while I fill you up,” he grunts, a burst of energy coming over him as he manages to piston into you even more brutally. 

It crashes over you like a thunderous wave, spiraling through you from your dizzied head to the tips of your curled toes. He lets go of the chain, putting his hand over your mouth again to stifle your cry, the disorienting rush of oxygen almost making your knees give out from underneath you, and they just might have if Matty hadn’t kept you supported against the counter. It feels like pure white light is fizzling under your eyelids as Matty makes you reach the stars with your climax, dousing you in pulsating bliss as you clench around him tightly. He lets out a deep, animalistic sound as he spills inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm beginning to falter from the effort. 

“Fuuuck!” he hisses through gritted teeth, along with other breathy strings of profanities. 

Slowly, his body stutters to a stop, giving one last roll of his hips before he collapses over you as delicately as he can, enveloping you with his chest to your back. He lovingly presses kisses to the back of your neck as your head hangs forward slightly, both of you gasping to catch your breath. 

“H-holy shit, babe. You’re so good…you’re fucking incredible,” he mutters, seeming just as dazed as you are. 

He can’t seem to stop complimenting you and loving on you as he keeps you held up with his hands on your hips, rubbing little circles into your skin as you both come down from the highest of highs. The afterglow clouds your head in a way that makes you feel like you’re floating with Matty being your only anchor to the ground. 

“Matty…” you mumble, reaching back blindly for his face.

“I’m right here. Right here, love,” he whispers, guiding your palm to his cheek. 

You smile warmly as you feel the scruffy sides of his head at your fingertips, Matty keeping his hand over yours sweetly. At the same time you both glance upwards at the mirror, letting out simultaneous giggles as you appreciate the state you’re in. He leans to kiss your cheek, peering into your eyes adoringly through the reflection, pulling your top back down over your breasts. 

“Oh my god… we’re a mess,” you snort, rubbing aimlessly at your runny mascara with your free hand.

“You mean you’re a mess, I look damn good,” he jokes, starting to slowly ease you both back up into a standing position. 

You both let out a breathy sound as he pulls out of you slowly, his cum beginning to streak down your thighs. Of course, Matty stares, swallowing thickly like he’ll never quite get used to the sight while he shimmies back into his pants. Diligently, he reaches for a handful of paper towels, keeping a gentle hold on your hip. You reach to try and smack his arm when he laughs at the way your legs are trembling, your knees wobbling due to how hard he’d railed you. He dodges the blow, grinning at you triumphantly.

Matty gently wipes away the residue of his pearly release, whispering a hushed “I know, I know” when you squirm at the sensitivity. Once he discards the paper towels, he kneels down to pull your underwear and your jeans back up, kissing his way up the outside of your leg as he does so, looking into your eyes with a playful glint. He kisses you deeply while he buttons your pants with nimble hands, not even letting you lift a finger as he takes care of his girl. You throw your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as he teases his tongue piercing along your bottom lip just to make you shiver. 

“My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your mouth.

You stay in the bathroom for just a little longer, kissing and whispering sweet things to each other while your bodies fully come down, Matty shouting at whoever keeps intermittently knocking on the door to fuck off. You can’t help but feel a little tinge of guilt in your stomach for “christening” the restroom the way you did, but you highly doubt you were the first. 

After he reassures you that the makeup streaked down your cheeks is “hardcore” and that you should leave it the way it is, you finally leave to re-enter the show (not before one final, drawn-out kiss, of course). Your boyfriend keeps you close by his side, his fingers interlocked with yours as you find yourselves at the very back of the pit, scattered with only a few other people. Matty guides your arms around his neck, grinning at you like a fool as you start to rock back and forth to the rhythm of the drums. His smile is infectious as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours, singing to you when the song reaches its chorus. He looks incredibly dorky as mimics the wail of the guitar solo, swinging his hips while his hands rest comfortably on your waist, almost like you’re about to slow dance. You tell him as such and Matty just tosses his head back with a laugh like a little kid. His eyes are sparkling, but not just from the iridescent stage lighting, it’s the look he gets only when he’s with you. You feel your heart swell in your chest as you continue to dance like you’re the only two in the venue, and he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the whole world. 

—-----------------------------------------

SO I was a liar and I did write another part. I intended this to be a blurb but I had so many more thoughts about them and their relationship eeeeee

The ending was soooo “do you wanna dance, dance at the back of the hall”

I love them. I need them to be happy forever actually. 

This one is dedicated to my lovely lovely friend B (@haveyouseenherlately) thank you so much for the ideas, you get body piercer like no one else, queen. Love you!!!

Go check out her stuff if you haven’t it SLAYS <3

[overtaken-stream]

What's your opinion on Katakuri being a dad ^-^, ik he doesnt pull out

Father!Katakuri headcanons

This is all my brain can come up with. It's a bit short, and I'm not satisfied with this, I feel like I could have added more, thus this has been collecting dust in my drafts. I hope you like it anon.

Warnings: End of Wano spoilers, this is meant for F!Reader.

I imagine he had children after Big Mom passed. Or a few years before she died, and of course, the marriage was arranged once Big Mom realized that she might just be left without any offspring from her third child.

And as much as I'd like to get lost in Father Katakuri, I can not ignore the warning signs this road presents.

The man doesn't see his children often enough. He always wanted to spend time with his family, but in this job, that isn't possible. Big Mom often holds his family over his head, making empty promises about him having a week off to help take care of the children, only to call him back before the sun rises on the fourth day. He had the courage to ask her for more time at the beginning, or to not disturb him during that single week where he spends time in metaphorical paradise with kids whom he loves and his partner whom he tries to shower with affection. He asked that of her once and when Big Mom does not deliver, Katakuri learns to cope with the dissatisfaction, it's a song he has heard of all his life, he knows every word and note that plays, he wants nothing more than to stop listening so that his kids don't step away from him again. It's impossible, and he comes to terms that he won't have that fatherly privilege. He feels like a stranger around the kids. No amount of comfort will be able to hide the truth.

It isn't the first time Big Mom pushed away a father from his biological children.

Although his time with his kids is short, it's always full of adorable moments, Katakuri is trying very hard to be a father even with his mother standing in his way.

I see Katakuri as a father of 3. Two girls and one boy, who is the youngest.

The man loves sweets, donuts, chocolate bars, cinnamon buns, and all, so he will be DEVASTATED if one of his kids isn't a big fan of sweets. He'll try to make them change their mind, maybe persuading them to eat a different kind of dessert, but once it becomes clear that they aren't into it, he accepts the fact with great pain, since he cannot share the simple pleasure of eating sugar with his child.

Katakuri often can't get his emotions across to others, including his siblings, but with his children, he tries, he really tries. This can be seen in spending quick yet platonically intimate moments with them alone and making small talk that he isn't a big fan of.

He also hopes that when the children grow up, there won't be any distance between them, it's basically a death sentence for him.

The moment Big Mom dies, Katakuri is finally able to keep his promise to his family and breathe with no one holding his leash.

I also think of him as a laid-back father who's strict when needed. His behavior is the result of countless years he spent mulling over his future family and what type of parent he would be. So this led to him walking on metaphorical eggshels that he imagined every time he got close to his children. Which they definitely took for granted.

Katakuri is very careful with his children because of it, I'd say that he is so scared that the kids would build a wall and be mad at him for not spending enough time with them that the man unconsciously started constructing the said wall.