#his car also went to heaven with him

[daftmooncretin]

supernatural movie reboot but its a ghostfacers mockumentary about their attempt to make a “serious film” about sam and dean winchester. opens on ed and harry going “CUT!” and the camera pans to a guy that looks kind of like jared padalecki pulling off a party city wig. turns out the finale was actually part of the ghostfacer’s retelling of supernatural. Sam Dean and Castiel spend the entire movie chasing after ed and harry trying to stop the thing being made. (its a huge commercial success and they screen it at the destiel wedding)

[boygirlctommy]

btw my parents ARE in fact watching supernatural. they’re on season 3 👍

[sheathnknife]

kicking my feet and giggling at damon spending the rest of his human life tormented by the possibility of never seeing stefan again, not finding peace until he finally has his brother in his arms in the afterlife despite marrying the girl of his dreams… his very own eternity of misery….........

[thinkinonsense]

FANTASIZE❦

old!logan howlett x fem!reader

*mdni

cw: cursing, nsfw, age gap (reader is twenty-five)

wc: 1k+

a/n: i have no idea where this came from. i was supposed to be working on something completely different but apparently, this needed to be written first instead. yes it is inspired by the unreleased ariana grande song.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Logan couldn't read minds. He never longed for the ability or power; he was better off not knowing what others had going on in their heads. He only wanted to peek into someone's mind when he caught your twinkling eyes lingering in his direction. Luckily, he could still read your mind even without the mutation because your fantasies were written all over your face.

It was obvious to anyone caught in the same room as you and Logan, that there was tension. You burned holes all over his body with your intense gaze. If Logan was in the mood to entertain your little crush, he could compliment you in a way that was sure to make you blush.

"Good form today, kid."

"Lookin' pretty today, sweetheart."

"Lemme fix that lipstick, dollface." That one left you with an ache in between your thighs as his thumb brushed your lower lip. "Can't have you walkin' around here a mess, now can we?"

Logan wasn't sure if he would ever make it to heaven but seeing your lip tremble with need was close enough for him.

If he saw you in a dress with a pair of mary-jane's, he would try to catch a glimpse of your underwear in the reflection of your shoes. It didn't always work but it made him feel young again.

No one was brave enough to address it due to him being twice your age. Despite being twenty-five years old and already having graduated from the school, it was still considered taboo to some. If anyone asked Logan about it, he would brush it off as a schoolgirl crush that you would eventually grow out of.

It was truly harmless he thought. You got the attention you craved and Logan got to see a pretty young woman squirm in her seat because of him. It never went further than flirtatious comments and lingering stares.

❦

Today might be the worst day of your life. You and Logan were being sent out together on a mission to find a mutant that lived two hours away. It wasn't the mission that worried you; it was being stuck in a tiny car with only Logan for one hundred and twenty minutes.

"Why aren't 'cha talkin', dollface?" Logan asked, almost teasingly.

For almost twenty minutes, he was aware of your eyes watching his hand hold the wheel. Logan was also incredibly aware of the effect it had on you. A little broken sigh escapes you when his hand clenches tighter around the leather, making his veins pop even more.

"Too busy fantasizing 'bout me?"

No matter how much you tried to find someone your age to be with, your heart always went back to Logan. He treated you differently than anyone you've ever met. Sure, sometimes he made you feel like a kid but he also knew you could handle your own. Logan wouldn't let anyone underestimate you; that kept you crawling back to him.

"Maybe I am." You shrug, fed up with his games.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, taking a deep inhale of your sent. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"

You were used to Logan's overly confident personality that he tried to use to intimidate you; and make you stumble over your words. It wasn't gonna work this time. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but you needed him to admit it first.

"Us in the backseat of the car." You admit, biting the inside of your cheek nervous for his response.

"Really? And what are we doing back there?" He asked, cocking his head curiously as his eyes remained glued to the road.

"You're on top of me, makin' me feel good." Your words were coy but that was the point. Logan liked being the tease; having all the power.

"Keep talkin', dollface."

There it was. You had him right where you wanted him.

You pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking your head and telling him, "No, I shouldn't"

"Why not?"

"Because an old man like yourself can't keep up with me, right? At least that's what I heard you tell the Professor."

Logan couldn't believe you had heard their conversation earlier this week. The Professor was the only person who knew the truth of how Logan felt towards you. When Charles asked him what was stopping him from pursuing you, all Logan had to say was, "I'm too old for her; can't keep up with such a young thing like her".

Which was far from the truth.

"So obsessed with me that you're listenin' to my conversations now?" He growled, pulling the car over.

"Stop acting like you aren't obsessed with me too." You smile at him. "I know a few pairs of my underwear 'mysteriously' disappear from my hamper. I know that you can hear me through the walls late at night, panting your name."

With each sentence, you inch closer to him. Logan could only compare you to the snake in Eve's garden; encouraging him to give into his temptations.

"I also know that you want me." Your eyes were dark with desire, making his pants tighter. "So, if you can't get it up or claim that you don't want me then that's fine with-"

Logan fumed with irritation and lust. Not thinking twice before slamming your lips into yours. He tasted exactly like you imagine; tobacco and mint. You were addicted; no one could ever compare to him.

In a rush, his rough hands pulled you into his inviting lap before one cupped your jaw and his other made its way up your skirt, toying with your lacy underwear. He wasn't going to give it to you that easily.

"L-Logan, please," You moan against his mouth, trying to create some friction on his lap. "Need it."

God, he's waited a long time to hear that; to see you so desperate in his arms. When he pulled back to look at you, Logan couldn't be more pleased with the image in front of him. Your eyes shut tightly, face scrunched, trying to concentrate, and lips pouty with annoyance. Logan removes his hand under your skirt; causing the prettiest whine to escape you. He thought you might be what finally kills him.

"We aren't done, sweetheart." He groaned in your ear. "Get in the backseat because you are gonna tell me every single one of your fuckin' fantasies."

[lottiies]

LIKE A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN

→ Sneaking around with your grandparents’ ranch hand during the summer!

CW: x Fem!reader with she/her pronouns, starts with fluff and turns into smut, switch!Leon, dry humping, cowgirl, butterfly (i think that’s the position name?), fingering, short hold the moan snippet, reader wears a sundress at one point, mention of a palm injury via a cut

WC: 1.8k

NOTE: written just for fun to entertain myself during an excruciatingly long car ride, sorry that it’s fast paced </3 title lyric is from ‘tulsa jesus freak’ also i tried my best at a southern accent for him okay

MASTERLINK

You always complained whenever your parents sent you on your annual trip to your grandparents’ place. Mosquitoes ran rampant and a prayer whilst holding hands was mandatory before every meal. Summer was supposed to be a break so you could be lazy in bed all day, but now you had to go help tend to the animals.

Sure, farm animals are cute and all…but gushing over how adorable they are is much different from actually taking care of them. So much for that ‘Charlotte’s Web’ childhood dream of yours, none of the pigs are like Wilbur!

But you had a change of attitude when you went the summer after your freshman year of college. Upon your arrival, your suitcase was hauled by strong skin-kissed hands, like if your packed belongings weighed a mere pound.

Looking up, your eyes met irises that rivaled the beauty of the ocean.

Oh.

You almost had to physically lift your jaw back up to introduce yourself. Then you ran upstairs to bury your face into your pillow.

Leon Kennedy. Would his last name suit your first name? Or vice versa? Jesus.

That first summer was full of fleeting glances and flirtatious conversation. There was something romantic about being in a space far away from civilization. Like you were in your own little universe with him whenever the two of you snuck around. During dinners, you always nudged at his leg with your boot to mess with him, liking the way he cleared his throat to ward off a smile.

And maybe you relied on silly methods to see if your feelings for him were reciprocated.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck. Last one.

He likes me!!!

Childish excitement coursed through you, an instantaneous smile on your face. You thanked Mother Nature for giving you the answer you wanted.

You also thanked the Sun every day for gifting freckles to Leon. One day, you held onto his face and tried to count them all. Squinting your eyes, you counted aloud, missing the way he looked at you with nothing but sweetness in his gaze.

The world around you was muted, as if the cows standing behind the fence had stopped mooing just for the sake of your concentration.

“Sure this is gonna work? Listen, I’ve always been an optimistic fella but—“

“Shh, you’re distracting me.” After a beat, you groaned. “Fuck I lost count. Okay, hold still for real this time.”

“Sure, doll.” She’s real cute, he thought to himself.

Or that one time when the Sun’s beams were too hot and made Leon take his hat off so he could pour a fresh bucket of water on his head. You felt so betrayed at the sight.

“You’re shitting me!”

“What?”

“Your roots…” Not very polite, but you pointed at his hair. “I thought you were blonde. Like, born blonde.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He hid his amusement with a shrug, lowering his head to give you a better look. “Haven’t had time to dye it.”

And of course, you owed the Moon some gratitude for being an audience member to a memory you cherished. If said memory could be physically stored, you’d keep it on a frame so you could rewatch the moment your relationship blossomed.

The confession came when two heartbeats aligned, two bodies snuggled against each other on top of the roof. Leon gazed at you as if you hung up the stars and moon that were beautifully assorted in the sky, the same ones he had admired all alone prior to you coming here. He never thought he’d have a pretty woman wanting to get to know him.

“This is crazy…I can actually see the constellations out here.” Your words were a murmur, the glimmering dots above reflecting in your pupils.

“And ya couldn’t back at home?”

“Pfft. With all the pollution in the city? Not a chance.”

“Yeah? Mus’ be a special night for ya, then.”

It was. But not because of the view, rather, because of the handsome guy holding you close like you were his girlfriend.

“Yeah, it is.”

A hat was placed onto your head. His hat.

You broke your admiration of the stars, turning to look at him instead. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, suddenly his hand was cupping the side of your face. His skin was scarred and calloused against yours, a physical manifestation of how different his lifestyle was from yours.

Books always made it seem like butterflies would be swarming in your stomach at moments like these. But you felt calm. This was fate, it was supposed to happen. And who were you to deny the universe’s pull and Cupid’s arrow?

Leon was a gentleman first and foremost. “Can I…?”

“Mhm.”

Your first kiss was witnessed by the moon.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You kept in touch through letters. Leon was old fashioned, and very rarely did he pick up his cheap flip phone when you tried giving him a call. Something about his phone always being stored away, he hardly used the thing anyway. He already had the task of picking up the mail, so it wasn’t like your grandpa or grandma would get it.

You didn’t mind much. There was something endearing about sending letters, running to the mail like you were a dog fetching the weekly newspaper. It was hard to imagine his voice sometimes when reading his letters because he wrote all properly, it didn’t match his accent.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to send another letter. I accidentally cut my hand when fixing up a fence and it took a while to heal, it left a scar. I’m okay though, promise. Just don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything like that. Your grandpa was real nice about it, he gave me some time off, he’s got a kind heart. And your grandma kept cooking up some soup…said it would help me heal quicker. Not sure if it’s true, but it left my stomach happy and that counts for something.

The entire time I was resting, I found myself thinking of you. Would you have patched my hand up if you were here? Kissed my pain away?

Every time I look at the moon, I wonder if you are too.”

You always traced over his handwriting with an unclicked pen before proceeding to leave a kiss mark on the corner of the page and putting it in your stored pile.

Summer became the highlight of your years. You actually packed cute clothes now, flowy sundresses and some matching undergarments you wouldn’t mind Leon seeing. Of course, you also bought some riding gear, wanting to partake in his hobbies too.

The instant you were back at the farm and the two of you were alone, Leon grabbed you by the hips and pressed you up against the outdoor wall of the house, smiling at you all coyly.

“Missed ya. Shoulda jus’ stayed here with me.”

“Thought you liked me for pursuing a higher education?” Your grin matched his. Maybe after you got your degree you’d join him more often.

“Mhm.” God, that intellect of yours was sexy. He could listen to you ramble about your ambitions for ages. “Wish that college of yers was nearby, though.”

“That makes two of us…I missed you too, by the way.” Your lips inched closer to his. “A lot.”

His cheeks turned roseate, his heart thumping as fast as the hooves of a bronco at a rodeo. “…Yeah?”

“Don’t sound so unsure! Need me to show you?”

“I’d appreciate that, y’know how I am.” Leon wasn’t the most self assured, having been worried you’d find some college guy to get with.

All it took was some more sweet talking and daring touches on your end before he hoisted one of your legs up with your permission, the fabric of your dress lifting and bunching around your hips, the plush of your ass pressed against the weathered down paint of the walls.

He let you set the pace, keeping you steady as you bucked your hips against him, your panties soaking from the friction of his rough denim jeans. Your mouths clashed messily out of pent up desperation.

It didn’t go farther than dry humping, though.

Leon made sure your first time with him was more planned out, not wanting it to be in some confined space or rushed. You rode him until dawn, your knees meeting the soft blanket he laid down against the grass with each roll of your hips.

“Ah ah ah. Slow, sweetheart, slow.” He pleaded in a throaty voice, you were killing him, milking him over and over.

“Fuck…okay.” You slowed your pace, your breaths mingling when you rested your forehead against his.

“That’s it. Like that.”

And after that, there were more spontaneous times.

You wanted to get dicked down on your mattress so that’s what Leon gave you, if only your bed wasn’t so fucking squeaky. He had to put pillows behind your headboard.

“Shh…gotta be quiet f’me.” His hand covered your mouth, muting the moans that almost spilled from your mouth.

Leon wouldn’t live to see another day if his boss found his sweet granddaughter’s ankles hugging his neck and her toes all curled.

You ran your nails against his scalp, turning his hair into a mess, taking advantage of the fact he didn’t have a hat indoors. He bit down on his lip harshly to prevent himself from groaning aloud. Yeah, he had to climb out your window after that.

You almost got caught once inside one of the rundown abandoned stalls that was in need of some fixing. You were sitting betweens Leon’s spread legs, his hand down your pants. His palm gently smacked your clit with every push of his fingers inside your cunt. Open-mouthed kisses grazed your neck, making you loll your head to the side.

If only your granddaddy hadn’t interrupted.

“Son, ya in here?” Some incoherent grumbles before he got to the point, thankfully giving you some time to smack Leon’s hand away, snickering at the expression on his face — like he was about to be put six feet under. “Need yer help with the pipe I was tellin’ ya about earlier.”

“‘m on it.” Leon called out after pecking your lips, but there was a crack in his voice that left you silently giggling as he got up and wiped his fingers on his pants. He seemed so embarrassed, sparing you an apologetic glance and then tipping his hat down to hide his flustered expression from his boss.

But who knows, your grandparents adored Leon. One day he’d muster up the courage to tell them he was sweet on you, or maybe they’d catch the two of you holding hands under the dinner table.

Either way, you were no mere summer fling, and he let that be known by adorning your finger with a shiny promise ring.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Unexpected Visitor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader

WC: 788

A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.

"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .

Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.

He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"

You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."

"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.

You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"

"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."

"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.

"y/n?"

You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"

"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.

"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.

"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"

"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."

"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--

"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.

"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"

"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."

"Oh how is Jack!"

"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."

You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--

"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"

"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."

"W-Well, um--"

"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.

"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.

"I think today is their two year anniversary."

"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"

"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."

"No we clearly do not know Hotch."

Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."

As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."

"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"

"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."

[mediacircuspod]

This scene was absolutely beautiful BUT it’s also the crux of the issue. You guys this is where the problems start. Because—because Crowley’s already cast out, he finds COMFORT in the idea that they are lonely together. “As far as he can” becoming “as far as they can” is an END to his complete “otherness” and something to appreciate, to covet, and to find solace in. He’s finally not alone.

But—and this is important.

Aziraphale does NOT feel that. He can’t.

This moment is completely and utterly devastating for Zira. He finds out he’s not damned and sure, he’s relieved. But he’s no longer “an Angel” in the way that he’s learned is right. He’s now unchangeably and forever; less holy—a concept that is dearly important to his identity. “[Going] along with heaven as far as he can” is a FAILING on his part. Not heaven’s(at least to him). There is no solace or comfort—he finds existence like that—just the two of them—achingly LONELY. And that’s just how his perspective demands to be taken. It’s the only perspective he is capable of in that moment AND after it, too.

Take into account Crowley has went from having no one AT ALL to having SOMEONE. And he puts EVERYTHING he has into it. This is not good. It’s unfair to Aziraphale. And it’s unfair to himself. On the opposite side, you have Aziraphale. Who has just went from having the ENTIRE HEAVENLY HOST, to having this SINGLE demon— who, one minute ago, Aziraphale thought would be dragging him off to hell.

And the part that aches is that this perspective hasn’t changed. Aziraphale feels like his existence is lacking because he wants so badly to be GOOD. And good is Holy. Good is heavenly. He’s the problem for having morals that are misaligned.

Spoilers for the last episode:

Aziraphale has just been given the validation that he is not only GOOD but the most HEAVENLY Angel there is, the Supreme Archangel, even. And if heavens morals are now HIS morals, then that’s EVERY PROBLEM SOLVED. With a bow even, because Crowley’s basically on heavens side anyway, he’s GOOD, isn’t he? He’s been good this whole time, so why wouldn’t heaven want him back? Reinstating him as Angel would fix everything. They can be together, and they can be good, and they can be HOLY. All Aziraphale’s conflicting emotions about loving Crowley can be packed away because Crowley will be perfect again—and surely Crowley wants to be perfect—wants to be forgiven.(sorry everyone, that hurt me too, oof) Aziraphale is SHOCKED by Crowley’s refusal. He’s devastated that his version of perfect is treated as something naive and distasteful.

Crowley’s devastated too. He’s just lost “their side”. A concept that for 5000+ years has been THE ONLY THING he puts love into besides his car and perhaps his plants(And humanity, but he’ll never admit to that—I’m looking at the “No more dying” scene). Crowley is constantly being devastated by Aziraphale. He’s “too fast”, he’s too evil, he’s too good sometimes. Crowley has always been TOO MUCH. But this is different because for four years, he’s had “them”(on their own side) without the hiding, and without the denial and without Aziraphale constantly putting former jobs between them. PLUS he has a mountain of trauma centered around the concept of “forgiveness”, so that’s not great considering Aziraphale’s last words to him(THAT HE HASNT SAID ALL SEASON EVEN WHEN HE MADE CROWLEY APOLOGIZE IN THE FIRST EPISODE, AHHHHH). He’s losing everything and he’s desperate: Why isn’t he enough, hasn’t he been enough these last 4 years? Hasn’t HE been enough the last 6000?

Aziraphale has always been enough for Crowley. But being enough for Crowley doesn’t fix how Aziraphale has never been enough for himself, not since Job. He looks at this offer as a chance for HIM to be enough, and for Crowley to be FORGIVEN. Crowley looks at it as a betrayal because it’s Aziraphale saying Crowley ISNT enough, and he NEVER has been.

But that’s not what Aziraphale is saying. He’s saying, “Let me fix it for you”. Crowley is hearing, “Let me fix you for it.” Two completely different and completely horrifying concepts.

And then Crowley needs to say HIS piece(oh my gosh, btw, this was heartbreaking).

“Let’s be together on our terms” is basically what I’ve distilled it down to. But Aziraphale hears, “Let’s run away from our problems”

Aziraphale doesn’t want to run away, and Crowley doesn’t want to change who he is.

They both want to be together so badly but they don’t understand why they each want it so differently. And Aziraphale can’t compromise because he’s brainwashed and LOATHES himself. And Crowley can’t compromise because he’s traumatized and LOVES Aziraphale just as he is. Crowley doesn’t want to be good on heavens terms. He can see Heaven for what it is; “toxic”. He hates heaven not only for what the Host did to him, but for HOW THEY TREATED Aziraphale.

They both don’t understand each other because for all the pleading and presenting and monologuing, they never once in that whole conversation, actually talked.

[vampirehoon]

txt reactions when you fall asleep on a couch (_ _ )z

a/n ✧ this is my first try at group reactions and i hope they’re ok. i would love to do more of these with requests of what to do. i would gladly take requests (also thank you for the likes!)

✧ YEONJUN

he’d been showering before he’d join you to watch a movie together but he took longer than you expected.

he found you fast sleep on the couch, pillows propping your head up and a blanket draped over your legs and waist.

ofc this man would find you very adorable, covering his wide smile as he fondly takes a pictures to stop himself from saying how cute you are out loud (he doesn’t want to wake u up.. yet)

he’d leave you to tidy up your bedroom so he could wake you up and take you to bed.

insisting he hold you bridal style back to bed, you held onto him weakly and he brought you to bed safely.

you two got cozy in bed, in each other’s arms, and yeonjun’s smile didn’t fade even after falling into deep sleep.

✩ SOOBIN

soobin promised you that the two of you would head back home before your heels would cause you pain.

the party and you and soobin went to was amazing and lively but at what cost when you could feel the blisters developing on the back of ankle

soobin found himself deep in a conversation with a friend of his and you found a soft couch to land on and take off your heels.

the couch felt like heaven and your feet felt way better that you drifted to sleep on the couch.

soobin ended the conversation, knowing that’s it late and he should get you home and when he finds you on the couch asleep, he doesn’t want to disturb you.

he brings a chair beside you, as you took up all of the small couch, and admired you silently. he’d ease you awake by playing with your hair.

he’d eventually get you fully awake, carry you (along with your heels) to the car, and head home to sleep properly.

✧ BEOMGYU

you and beomgyu travelled to place similar to ikea to browse furniture and also to mess around

you and beomgyu faking a dinner in a simulation kitchen and laughing when he hit his head with a cabinet (you felt bad but couldn’t stop laughing)

it baffles you how fast you got exhausted with him, and it didn’t help when beomgyu invited you to test out some couches

he’d stretch his arms out to you, whining“lay with me”, and you’d roll your eyes and join him.

he made them really comfortable and the third one, beomgyu joked if you both could lay here for a minute or so.

so he did and it didn’t help you at all, your blinks got heavy and you didn’t want to fall asleep in a store but you did

beomgyu could tell you feel asleep when he moved his head and you held him tighter.

he thought you were absolutely adorable, and totally would buy the couch now so he wouldn’t have to move you or disturb your nap.

he said to you he’d love to snuggle at home as he woke you back up.

✩ TAEHYUN

taehyun had an opportunity to take you along with him to a friend meet up dinner.

the place you ate at was really elegant and the food was really delicious.

a bit too delicious that you ate more than you normally would.

food coma hit you as soon as taehyun and his friends excused themselves from the table to go to the bathroom. you were left in the booth alone where you all sat - absolutely full.

you only rested your head down on the seat to rest but you ended up falling asleep.

and it seemed like you were drunk because you were out cold and one of taehyun’s friends asked if he had let you drink.

which he laughed at, and gave you a bit more time to sleep. you can’t sleep there forever and taehyun knew there was a way more comfortable bed waiting for you at home.

taehyun woke you up and adorned a smile, softly speaking to you. “let’s get you home cutie.”

✧ KAI

you and kai had spent a good chunk of the afternoon building a couch you got from ikea

many troubles of finding pieces and having to double check lead to being very tired.

you built it and enjoyed the couch in its glory, sitting and then stretching along the cushions

kai thought drinks would be refreshing after this hard work so he excused himself to go get some from the kitchen.

he spent a bit deciding whether water or lemonade would be more refreshing and ultimately picked water.

he came back and saw that you fell asleep and he found it endearing. he understood and was curious for himself of how comfortable this couch was.

without hesitation, and with the same fatigue, kai joined you on the couch and fell asleep beside you.

opening his eyes later to bring you into his chest so you could snuggle better.

[secretsofafangirll]

oral fixation - m.s.

summary: matts girlfriend loves to have things in her mouth. when she gets home after a day of minor inconveniences, she seeks comfort from her boyfriend, in a rather, unconventional way.

warnings: oral (male receiving), praising, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), soft!dom matt, sub!fem, talk of anxiety,

a/n: couple of things; one, the girl doesn't have a name so you can imagine whomever you'd like, two, i've started planning my Matt series...anyways, hope you guys like it! :)))

"A touch / From your real love / Is like heaven takin' the place of somethin' evil"

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

For my entire life, I’ve loved having things in my mouth. 

When I was younger, it was impossible for my parents to get my thumb or my pacifier out of my mouth. The comfort that came from having the object resting in my mouth was too intense for me to leave behind. Behaviors like that followed me into childhood with things like gum or lollipops. In high school, I chewed copious amounts of gum, always had a pen or pencil in my mouth and played with my lips all the time. 

Naturally, when I managed to find myself a boyfriend, he became aware of my oral fixation in many ways. He would always notice how often I had things in my mouth or if I was biting my lips, he would offer me something else so I didn’t tear up the delicate skin. It got to a point where, if he and I were laying down together and one of his hands was unoccupied, I would simply reach down and grab his hand, bringing it to my mouth and wrapping my lips around one of his fingers and playing with it in my mouth. Of course Matt enjoyed this himself, but there were other ...situations, where this oral fixation benefitted him much more than putting a finger in my mouth. 

Matt also understood why I do what I do. Him and I both struggle with anxiety, and we both have for years. In high school, I was medicated for it and had a hard time getting through the day. However, I hated the way that the meds made me feel and I swore to my parents that I wasn’t going to take them anymore and that I’d find another way to cope. Matt copes with alone time and silence but I get more overstimulated than he does and when I do, all I want is to have something in my mouth and someone to touch. 

Which is why on days like these, anxiety ridden and insane days, I need my boyfriend and one of his extremities to rest between my lips. 

After several cars cutting me off on the road and almost hitting me on the way to the gym this morning, I was already slightly shaken up and worried for my safety. When I got to the gym, there was a man somewhat following me around, conveniently using all of the machines next to me. After that, I went to the grocery store in hopes that they had some grapes and snacks for me to feel better, they were out of seedless grapes which sent me into a frenzy about the way that the seeds feel in my mouth, and the self-checkout lanes were under renovation and I had to talk to the cashier to check out. 

I took shallow and quick breaths as I walked swiftly out to my car. I tossed the bag into the back seat and swung open the driver door. The second that I was enclosed in my car, in my space, I was able to calm myself down. Once I had myself under control, I started the car and drove home. When I arrived, I grabbed my things from the car and headed inside. I used my house key to unlock the front door, using my foot to close it behind me. I tossed my keys in the dish and heard Matt typing on the couch. 

“Hi baby,” He said without looking up. I didn’t respond because I just wanted to put the groceries I picked up away and sit with him. “Alright,” He said and continued typing away. 

I put the cold stuff in the refrigerator and the dry stuff in the pantry and cabinets before heading to his room to slide out my dirty and uncomfortable gym clothes and into one of his shirts. Once I was comfortable and the smell of his cologne filled my nostrils, I was finally ready to lay down next to him on the couch. 

“Sorry,” I murmured quietly, gently taking a seat next to him and pulling a blanket over my legs, curling into his side and latching onto one of his arms, “I just wanted to put those away so that I could sit with you.” 

I sat there looking for something of his to grab onto but his hands were occupied and I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I put anything else, if you know what I mean, in my mouth at the moment. I sighed quietly to myself and began to bite on my lips. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” He said, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. 

I continued my assault on my lips and I felt the skin tear and the metallic taste of my own blood rested on my tongue. When it started to hurt too bad to bite my lips, one of my hands found my mouth and I started to bite and suck on that instead, the other arm wrapping impossibly tighter around his. His elbow nudged my side and he looked over at me. 

“You doin’ okay?” He asked without looking away from his computer where he was replying to emails and taking notes in a Google Doc. I only hummed, unwilling to take my fingers out of my mouth. My lack of a real response, which I know he hated, made him finally look up at me. My eyes blinked guiltily at him when his brows went from furrowed to concerned, “Sweetheart,” He sighed and reached up to pull my hand away from my mouth. I flexed all of my muscles to keep it in my mouth but he tilted his head at me and pulled harder, his strength easily overpowering mine. 

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, relaxing my muscles and looking down my hands with guilt and embarrassment written all over my face. 

“Hey,” He said softly, reaching out to grab my jaw and gently pull my head up to look at him, “You don’t have to say sorry. There’s nothing to apologize for.” He shook his head and looked into my eyes for an explanation, “D’you have a bad day?” He asked and closed his computer screen ¾ of the way down. 

“Kind of,” I said, questioning in my tone, “I don’t even know. It’s just been, like, too much.” I tried to spit it out but I struggled to pin-point how, exactly, I felt. It was just too much.

“That’s okay, baby,” He cooed, “You want my hand?” My eyes widened in excitement and I nodded before correcting myself with a ‘Yes, please’. 

He brought his left forearm up to my mouth and I played with his long fingers trying to pick which one I wanted. I decided on the pointer first, but planned to use every finger but the pinky. He used his other hand to scroll through emails and business inquiries, also scrolling through pinterest to find inspiration for future videos. 

I, on the other hand, swirled my tongue mindlessly around his fingers, taking them all the way into my mouth and then back out, my saliva coating his fingers down the knuckle. Every so often, he would shift his hips slightly or clear his throat and scratch his neck. I knew how this was affecting him, but he also respected my needs more than his and wouldn’t want to make me uncomfortable. After close to twenty minutes had passed of my sucking on his fingers, he looked at the time on his computer and closed it all the way. He leaned back against the couch, his hand still in my mouth and he turned his head as it laid against the top of the couch and he watched me mindlessly play with his fingers. When I fully pulled off his middle finger alone, I pushed his ring finger to meet it and took them both fully into my mouth. He groaned and I snapped my eyes to meet him and worked my mouth around his fingers. 

“God, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that when you’ve got my fingers down your throat, honey,” He instructed gently, understanding of my rather fragile nature. I pulled off his fingers, letting my tongue teasingly drag across the length of them. 

“Sorry,” I swallowed to clear my throat and scooted closer to him. He reached across himself and wrapped his dry hand around my thigh and under my knee to pull me onto his lap. I squealed at the sudden movement but settled and nuzzled into his lap. 

“How many times are you gonna apologize, hm?” He questioned with a smile, tucking my hair behind my ears. 

“You know how I am, Matt,” I laughed and grabbed his wrists and put them on top of my thighs, encouraging him to tickle them. 

“Yeah, I do,” He smiled, “But that means that I know you’re gonna keep saying sorry until you feel better.” He accused me and I smiled like I’d been caught stealing, “What else do you need, baby?”

I blushed and looked down at my hands, “I don’t wanna-,”

“Oh, you’re gonna.” He said sternly. 

“I want you.”

“You have me.” He said and nudged my chin with his knuckle, “What do you need?”

“Need your cock,” I said quietly. 

“What was that?” He turned his ear toward me. 

“I need your cock, Matthew.” I said louder. 

“There she is.” He said and gently moved my thighs to allow me to sink to my knees in front of him. “See? Wasn’t that hard, no?” 

When I was comfortable at his feet, I worked to remove his belt and unbuckle his pants. He did the work of actually pushing them down. His hard cock sprung out of his pants and he hissed as the cool air penetrated the sensitive and tacky skin. His tip was lathered in a small amount of pre-cum and he pulsed and twitched slightly. I pouted at the sight for two reasons; one being that it made me want him in my mouth even more, and two, I felt bad for the state I’d put him in. 

“Matty,” I whined, tracing circles with the fingernails on his knees, “I didn’t know it was this bad. I’m sorry.” 

“If you say sorry one more time, all you’re getting is my fingers,” He tutted. My eyes widened in fear. 

“Okay, I’ll stop.” I promised and he smiled down at me. 

“Good girl.” 

I got to quick work pumping his cock in my hand to get him ready. His cock looked so big compared to my smaller hand. It didn’t even fit around the entire thing. He groaned and hissed at the stimulation, his breathing getting heavier and slightly more labored. Soon, I leaned down and gently licked the tip before wrapping my lips around the tip. Pleasure and comfort washed over me and I continued to sink my head down onto his dick. His hands gathered my hair in a make-shift ponytail on my head and he held my hair out of my face. He didn’t push my head down, he just simply aided me in my quest for comfort, which I was most definitely finding. 

“There you go baby,” He praised, “So fuckin’ good,” He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. 

I took his cock down my throat slowly, suppressing the slight gag reflex I still have, though it’s not too bad. I whined around his dick with comfort and need. 

“What baby?” He asked breathlessly, pulling me off him, “Why’re you whinin’? You got what you wanted, no?” 

“No!,” I protested, pushing his hands away, “I’m fine! I just love having you, s’all.” I explained with a smile before going back down on him. As I continued to work his cock, my body visibly relaxed and the sighs of content that left my mouth. Matt simply closed his eyes above me, opening them periodically to watch me take him down my throat. 

Matt started to get close, his hips becoming restless under me and his hands that were in my hair started to guide me down his cock faster. He moaned and whimpered as he grew closer and closer to the edge. 

“Oh fuck-,” He whimpered, “God, so good, baby. So close.”

His stutters and whimpers encouraged me to work with him faster, yet take my time on all of his sensitive bits. I relied on the relief that accompanied the weight of his cock on my tongue. I worked him until hips stuttered and bucked off the couch and he moaned my name and praises into the air.  

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.” He whispered, bucking his hips into my throat making me choke slightly but I didn’t care, “M Sorry. Fuck,” He whispered and then e shot his load down my throat. I felt the warm liquid hit the back of my throat and I swallowed it down. “Show me,” He demanded, once he caught his breath and he pulled me off him all the way. I stuck my tongue out to show him that I swallowed it and he smiled at me in response, lightly tapping my cheek with the hand that held my jaw. 

“Thank you,” I sighed, my throat somewhat sore. 

“No, thank you, my beautiful girl.” He leaned down and kissed me gently, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs. When I pulled away, I bit the inside of my lip and looked into his eyes, silently yearning for more. His brows pinched together and his mouth opened slightly, “What, baby? Not enough?” I looked at him with a guilty smile and shook my head. 

“I just want more,” I said quietly. He opened his mouth to respond but as soon as he did, his laptop and phone dinged several times, he looked at his phone and saw what it was. 

“Look, sweetheart, I’ve got more work shit to do,” I groaned and sat back on my heels below him but he pressed a finger to my lips, “But, if you’d let me finish you impatient little baby,” he teased, “if you’re good and hold me without moving your tongue at all, you can stay where you are.” 

“Yes please. I promise I’ll be good,” I nodded my head and sat back up right. He nodded at me and grabbed everything he needed to continue working and I took him back into my mouth. I zoned out with him in my mouth but it was still exciting to be getting what I’d been craving all day and my tongue jerked against a few times. 

“Ah, ah,” He asked, “Settle, sweetheart. You promised me.” He directed and when I calmed down around his cock, his hand patted my head softly and he went back to typing away. 

//

a/n: i'd been working on this for about a week or so. hope you guys liked it!!

[bloodymarymorstan]

So yesterday I watched all the historical scenes of Crowley and Aziraphale in chronological order and then feverishly came up with a new interpretation of the "you go too fast for me Crowley scene" so here it is:

Ok so now we know from season 2 that the Dirty Donkey pub where Crowley holds his heist-planning meeting is right across the street from Aziraphale's bookshop. This means that when Aziraphale goes to meet Crowley in his car he literally just walks across the street, but it also means that when Crowley offers to drive Aziraphale somewhere he isn't offering to take him home. The previous implication of that interaction was that Crowley was going to drive Aziraphale back to his bookshop, but Crowley knows that the bookshop is only a 30 second walk away so that's obviously not the case. In fact, Crowley doesn't actually ask Aziraphale if he wants to be driven home, what he actually says is "can I drop you anywhere?" and then "I'll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go".

So now we know that Crowley isn't trying to drive Aziraphale home, the conclusion we have to draw is that he's asking him if he wants to go somewhere else with Crowley. This is kind of a covert way of wording things, but Crowley is still testing the waters at this point in their relationship. He pulled this same tactic in 1941 when he said he would give Aziraphale a "lift home" and then ended up taking him somewhere else which led to them spending the entire evening together. "I'll give you a lift" has essentially become code for "let's hang out". This also explains why Crowley looks genuinely disappointed and upset when Aziraphale turns down his offer (and why Aziraphale acts apologetic about it).

But, considering that we know Aziraphale has fallen for Crowley by now AND that they went out together in 1941, why the "you go too fast for me Crowley" line? My explanation is this: in 1941, Crowley nearly got in big trouble with Hell simply for having been seen with Aziraphale, and not only did he not seem that bothered by it but he is now asking Aziraphale if he wants to go out again even though they've both been directly confronted with the risk this poses for him. I think it scares Aziraphale that Crowley is willing to risk so much just to spend time with him - he's not ready to confront the truth of what that means yet, and he's also not yet at the point where he'd be willing to take the same risk with Heaven. As usual, Crowley is a step ahead of him in terms of his commitment to their relationship, hence "you go too fast for me". Keep in mind that Aziraphale was very caught up in the moment in 1941 and has had a lot of time to reflect since then about the potential consequences of a relationship with Crowley, and he's just not ready yet even if he definitely wants it.

As a side note, I think it makes a lot of sense that this is the point when Aziraphale agrees to give Crowley the holy water (and why Crowley is more determinedly seeking it in the first place), because now both he and Crowley more fully understand the the danger Crowley will be in if Hell finds out what the two of them have been up to.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ call out my name | kei tsukishima

warnings: timeskip! tsukishima, fem! reader, confessions, out of character tsukki (i'm so sorry), slight choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, hickeys, making out, hair pulling, feral/possessive tsukki

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 3.4k

a/n: IM BACK BITCHES WHATS UP?? also this is not proofread in the slightest so buckle up

part two of shameless

❥ song: call out my name - the weekend

Any relationship is complicated, no matter the nature of the relationship. Humans are stupidly complex creatures, after all. First, they want one thing, then another, and another. Humans are greedy, lustful, depraved creatures with desires that are so disgusting that even God himself can’t leave heaven because he is scared of what he has created. And you were ashamed of what you so craved, what you desired. It wasn’t money or power. That’s too simple. And your grades were already so perfect, so you didn’t need that either. No…what you wanted was someone. Someone who you hated with a fiery passion that rivaled the sun. And yet, he lit a fire inside you with even the simplest disapproving glance filled with such mockery.

Kei fucking Tsukishima.

Tsukishima was the one person on Earth that you seriously considered committing a felony over. Every time he flashed that smug little smirk, it only added more gasoline to the pyre of your hatred towards him. He was the worst, and he knew that too. He made no effort to get along with anybody who wasn’t Yamaguchi, bless that sweet boy’s soul. 

And yet, you found yourself in Tsukishima’s dorm room, alone with the bastard, at least three times a week, maybe more. You weren’t proud of it, and you did everything you could to deny it openly. Those hickeys? You just happen to get drunk in a bar and make out with some stranger in their car. Your roommate kept asking where you were most nights, and you told her you went on dates in the library. She wouldn’t check, obviously, because she would never step foot in a library. 

You hated him, but you were addicted to him. Addicted to the way his lips rolled alongside yours in such a sinful dance. Addicted to his molten fingertips sliding under your tight top to grope your breasts from behind as his teeth sank into your neck. Addicted to how his tongue slid across your core, making you feel like you were floating on a cloud as you came undone before him. And especially addicted to how Tsukishima fucked you like you were his, and he was yours. The way his body moved expertly with yours, the way his hands caged your head between them as he fucked you, rolling his hips against yours as his massive cock hit all the right places that made you both see stars.

The worst part was how nice he was after he came. He would pull you into his arms, brush your hair to the side, and kiss your neck. It was such an extreme juxtaposition to how he fucked you. You weren’t entirely sure what part of his personality was just an act. Or, maybe it wasn’t an act. Maybe he genuinely cared for you…yeah, right.

You glanced at the clock on your desk. Almost midnight, great. Your ballpoint pen was clicked off, thrown into the Star Wars mug with the rest of the pens that were dangerously low on ink, accompanied by highlights that ran dry weeks ago. You glanced at yourself in the desk mirror, observing how strained your eyes looked. 

“So much for blue light glasses. These things never fucking work,” you muttered under your breath, pushing them further up against your exhausted face. Your roommate, fast asleep on your dorm's other side, looks unusually peaceful. A strong contrast to how bitchy she was with her other bottle-blonde friends. You looked away, groaning as your head started to throb. Maybe working on a paper for seven hours straight wasn’t the best idea.

Your office chair was pushed aside as you carefully stood up, examining yourself in the larger mirror on your door. Incredibly messy hair, a thin white tank top with a loose strap, and pajama bottoms that were more appropriate for Christmas morning. 

“Not like anyone will see me anyways,” you grabbed your keycard and swiftly opened and closed the door to your room, hissing as the ugly fluorescents that decorated the halls offended your eyesight. Horrible, and you pay all this tuition for shitty lighting.

The water fountain hated you, and you hated it. Although it was responsible for kickstarting your passionate encounters with Tsukishima, maybe it wasn’t so bad. You glanced at your palm, looking at the dinosaur bandaid he had so carefully applied many nights ago. It was amazing that it hadn’t fallen off. 

The water was a relief as it touched your lips���cold, crisp, and hydrating. Water was always best late at night when everyone else was asleep, and the halls were devoid of the ramblings of your dormmates. Peaceful, almost.

“I didn’t expect to see you out of your room until morning.” a familiar voice broke you out of your moment of serenity. Damn.

“Hi, Tsukki,” you sighed, wiping the stray bits of liquid from your lips. “I was working on a paper, and I lost track of time, I guess.”

Tsukishima chuckled. “I’ve been there before, but Tadashi was always there to snap me out of it. I guess your roommate doesn’t have that same level of courtesy, I suppose.” he shoved his pants in his pajama bottoms, SENDAI FROGS VOLLEYBALL TEAM embroidered on the side with green and yellow thread.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hair out of what was left of your messy bun. “Yeah, well, Tadashi is a sweetheart. My roommate is…less than desirable. I’m never doing a random roommate assignment again, that’s for sure.”

Tsukishima took a step forward. “Tadashi is asleep at the library. He’s working on some notes for the Edo period lecture,” he smacked his lips. “Wanna keep me company?”

You blinked, and he was in front of you, tracing your lips with his calloused thumb. “C’mon, you know I like it when you pretend that you hate me and everything that I do.” his hand encircled your waist.

You gasped, quickly adjusting the loose strap on your tank top. “Listen, as much as I would like to have you fucked the shit out of me, I just finished staring at a computer screen for seven hours straight,” you took his thumb away from your lips. “I’m not really in the mood.”

His gaze saddened. Was that a hint of disappointment? “Well, who said we had to fuck?” he smirked, adjusting his glasses.

“Uh, maybe the two-dozen times we’ve fucked since I cut my hand?” you pointed to the fountain.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Keep your voice down, yeah? You might wake up the R.A.” Tsukishima smiled as an angry blush bloomed on your tired face. “How about some coffee instead? My older brother got me a miniature coffee machine before he moved me in. Claims it got him through many sleepless nights.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And why are you being so nice to me?”

He leaned down, his golden eyes boring into yours. “Because sometimes, I’m not a total asshole.”

His side of the room was immaculate, with everything in place. Tadashi’s was messy, as per usual, but it was alright with you. Tsukki’s desk was also impossibly neat, boasting a stack of perfect papers and ballpoint pens that all seemed to work well enough. And the crowning jewel, the mini coffee machine with four different kinds of pods to choose from, how incredibly classy. 

“I never took you for someone who drank anything except dark roast,” you said, picking up a coffee pod with caramel decals on the label. “Did your brother get you these as well?”

Tsukishima shook his head. “No, Tadashi did. He got mad because he claimed I’m missing out on a full coffee experience, whatever that means,” he sighed, sitting in his desk chair. “Honestly, I’ll never understand him. He’s so positive all the time, it’s strange.”

You took a seat on his neatly made bed. “Well, one of you two has to be. There’s always a grumpier one in a duo, especially roommates.”

“Are you the grumpy one in your dorm?” he placed a mug under the coffee dispenser. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you smiled, admiring how Tsukishima looked in his dorm's dim, warm light. The fairy lights on Tadashi’s side of the room subtly illuminated his face, softening Tsukishima’s sharp facial features. “But, you’re even more grumpy than I am. I’ve never seen you genuinely smile.”

Tsukishima placed the coffee pod in the machine and closed it. “I can smile without being sarcastic, you know.”

The whirring of the coffee machine filled the awkward silence as he sat down on his bed next to you, his lithe fingers dancing over your knuckles. “You just don’t see me smile.”

“Well, when do you smile?”

Tsukshima licked his lower lip. “After we fuck. When you’re in my arms, and I’m brushing your hair. You can’t see because you’re facing away from me, but I smile.”

Your heart stung at those words. Why was he being vulnerable with you, and now of all times? His hand intertwined with yours, his gorgeous golden eyes not daring to make contact. “I told myself that if I ever grew feelings, I would cut this off right away,” he sighed, staring at his slippers. “But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It would be torture for me, even though you hate my guts.”

Wait a damn minute. “Tsukki, is this a confession? You’re confessing to me, and I look like this? Oh, god.” you stifled a chuckle.

“Shut up and let me talk!” his cheeks boasted an angry blush. “I like spending time with you, even with your bratty attitude. When we kissed for the first time, it was like…it was like I finally reached the end of a long road. I sound so stupid, I can’t believe I’m being…soft.” he placed his hand in his palms, muttering curses into them.

You smiled and moved closer, pulling his face out of his hands. “Tsukki, do you have a crush on me?” you tilted his chin to face yours. “Because I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have a crush on you.”

He bit his lip. “Really? You aren’t being a smartass right now?”

“Really.” your face matched his red hue, offering him a genuine smile that he craved so desperately. 

“Fuck, come here,” Tsukishima pulled you flush against his chest, cupping your face as he slowly kissed your bitten lips. His hands secured themselves around your hips, massaging the exposed skin between your tank top and pajama bottoms. You sighed into the kiss, admiring how soft and gentle he was being with you. 

He slowly pushed you down so your head was almost hanging off the foot of his bed, his rough hands sliding up and down your waist. Your arms locked around his neck, tugging at the loose blonde baby hairs at the base. After what seemed like ages, Tsukishima reluctantly pulled away, resting his burning face between your neck and shoulder.

“Somebody’s embarrassed,” you teased, lightly massaging his back. Fuck, had his back muscles gotten stronger since the last time you saw each other?

“I’m not embarrassed,” he groaned into your neck, placing feather-light kisses along your jugular. “Love confessions are stupid, that’s all.”

“So why did you confess to me, hm?” you pecked his cheek.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Because I don’t think I could live with myself if you started seeing someone else. Or even worse, someone that I knew. You,” he squeezed your arm. “You belong with me, isn’t it obvious?”

So fucking adorable. “So, why won’t you look me in the eyes and say it?”

He peeled himself from your neck and pressed his forehead against yours, doing exactly as you told. He observed how beautiful your eyes were, how they reflected off of the fairy lights. Fuck, you were a goddess. 

“You’re so stupidly beautiful, fuck,” he pressed his lips against yours once again, more passionate than before. Your legs wrapped around his waist, securing his position as his teeth nipped at your lower lip, groaning as you raked your hands through his golden curls. “So pretty.”

Tsukishima’s hands grasped your wrists, pinning them above your head on the plush mattress. Breaking the kiss, his molten lips trailed down to the sensitive spot above your collarbone, suckling harshly. His hips roll into yours, his erection prominent under his sweatpants.

You groan into the kiss, opening your mouth for his tongue to explore as your mouths sinfully dance together lazily. Tsukishima’s lithe fingers leave your wrists and grasp at your breast, silently cursing the bra you wore. 

He reluctantly breaks the kiss. “Fucking take it off. Let me see you.” he groans, flinging his shirt across the room without hesitation. 

Your hands slide under your shirt, slowly removing it as your face bores a confused expression. “You’re just gonna call me a slut for being so easy, aren’t you?” your voice is barely a whisper as your gentle hands unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to spring free.

Tsukishima feels his breath hitch in his throat. He’s going to die, and it’s all your damn fault for being so fucking sexy. 

“Not tonight, love,” he whispers against your clavicle, his thumb rolling over your pert nipple. “Tonight,” his tongue dances around your areola. “I’m gonna show you how much I like you, you stupidly pretty girl.”

Your fingers dance in his hair as he shamelessly sucks on your breasts, alternating between massaging them and kissing them, leaving no breast unattended for too long. Your thighs wrap around his waist, pushing his erection closer to your clothed core.

“Tsukki-” he cuts you off with a harsh kiss.

“Kei,” his hoarse voice groans, fidgeting with the hem of your pajama bottoms. “Call me Kei. Fucking scream it, let the whole damn hall know who’s making you feel so good.” 

His finger glides across your soaked cunt, dipping inside with ease as your sweet, candied moans fill his ears like an opera. His fingers work fast, not even bothering to slide your panties to the side as your voice spikes octave by octave.

“Say my fucking name,” Tsukishima demands, his thumb rolling over your sensitive clit. “Say my fucking name like a good little girl, and then I’ll make you see stars.” his erection is painful inside his sweatpants, precum staining the boxers underneath. 

“K-Kei! Oh, fuck, I’m so fucking close!” you cry out, your hands tugging on his hair like a feral animal as his fingers continue working their way to your precious orgasm. His teeth, sharp as a vampire, nip and suck at your neck, leaving a blooming pattern of black and purple hickeys on your delicate skin, marking you as his until they eventually fade away. But he’ll just keep giving you another hickey, and then another, until everyone on the entire fucking campus knows who you belong to.

Just as you were teetering on the edge of release, he pulls his fingers out of your sobbing pussy and licks them, not breaking eye contact with you once. “So fucking good,” he groans. His hands pull down your bottoms along with your panties, leaving them dangling around your ankle as you lay beneath him, naked and unsatisfied.

“Kei, what the fuck? I was so fucking close!” you complain, lightly shoving his chest. “What’s your deal, man?”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond. Instead, he shoves apart your thighs and wraps them around his head, bending you in half. His chapped lips trail delicate kisses inside of your thighs, nipping at the apex before his tongue licks a teasingly slow stripe on your core.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh, groping your tits as his tongue begins to lap up and down, occasionally sucking on your clit.

“Can’t fucking get enough of you, oh my god,” Tsukishima groans, sending vibrations throughout your pussy. “You taste like nectar, love.”

Love. That was the first time he ever called you something affectionate. Something other than degrading you and making you feel lesser than he was.

“Kei,” you breathe, feeling the familiar sensation of your stomach coil tightening up. “I think I’m gonna-”

“Cum.” he commands. “Cum on my face like a good girl,” he whispers, mouth covered in your slick as he suckles on your throbbing clit one final time, sending you over the edge and into an ocean of euphoria.

Your back arches into the pillows behind you as you ride out your orgasm, Tsukishima licking up every last drop of your release with vigor to rival a man starved. Finally, he allows your legs to rest back on the mattress, wiping your cum off his face.

“That was amazing,” you reach your arms out to cuddle him, thinking it’s all over.

“We aren’t done yet,” Tsukishima takes off the rest of his clothes, his painfully hard erection slapping against his tone stomach, precum drooling down the tip. “What, did you think you got to cum just because I was feeling generous?” his voice is laced with sarcasm.

“Well, yeah-” he interrupts you yet again.

“You’re wrong, love,” his forehead connects with yours, golden eyes staring into your own, the plain lust and desire for you swirling within. 

His filthy mouth parts open. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that the thought of another man will make you sick.”

Tsukishima aligns his cock with your entrance, slapping his throbbing tip on your clit a few times. “Beg for me to fuck you, pretty girl,” he commands, not even bothering to reach for the box of condoms next to the bed.

You bite your lip. “Please, Kei,” your voice is shy. “Please, fuck me. I want you so badly, please,” your small hands wrap around his neck. “Show me how badly you want me, Kei.”

As his name leaves your lips like dripping honey, something inside of him snaps. Tsukishima plants his hands on either side of your face, shoving his cock inside of your soaked core without giving you time to adjust. His expert hips start to roughly piston in and out of you, shaking your body and the bed altogether. 

“Holy fuck!” you sob, your hands quickly migrating to his back, nails scratching hard against his muscles. “Kei, too much! Oh fuck, too rough!” you beg and plead, your cries falling on deaf ears as Tsukishima is lost in a frenzy of lust. Lust for you, lust for your body, lust for your brain, lust for everything that could make you you. He was secretly and disgustingly obsessed with you. The thought of another man touching what was so obviously his drove him insane. Why not just take what was his?

“Fucking take it, you’re so fucking beautiful when you take my cock,” he roars into your ear, his hand wrapping itself around your throat for a gentle squeeze. “You’re all fucking mine, aren’t you, love?” his cock is ruthlessly fucking your poor pussy, his balls slapping against your ass as he hits that one spot that makes you see stars.

“A-All yours, Kei! I’m all yours. There’s no one else!” you sob, wrapping your legs around his slender waist once more so he can fuck you impossibly deeper. 

His mouth contorts into a wicked smile, glasses falling off his sculpted features and onto the floor to be forgotten about. “That’s right. Oh, I fucking love it when you’re smart.” his hand presses against your belly. “You can feel me in here, can’t you, love?” he harshly thrusts.

“Kei!” you shriek, your nails making crescent-shaped indents in his skin. “I-I’m gonna fucking cum, Kei! Fuck, make me cum!” tears swell in the corner of your eyes as that familiar coil sensation fills your gut once more. 

“Hold it. I’m, fuck, I’m so fucking close. Cum with me, yeah, my love? Cum with me like the good girl I know you are.” his voice becomes shrill as he feels his own release approach him, slotting your lips with his as both of your climaxes approach at the same time.

“Fuck, cumming. I’m, oh yeah, cumming-” his cock twitches inside of your ruined cunt, spilling his white hot seed into your womb as you release all over his member, coating it in your slick that he loves so dearly. 

The room stays silent as Tsukishima collapses into your chest, giving each one of your tits a chaste kiss. “Fuck…I got too carried away, didn’t I?” his golden eyes land on the faintest of hand marks around your bruised neck. “I’m…I’m so sorry, love.”

Your delicate hand cups his face, kissing his nose. “It’s okay, Kei. I got what you meant.”

Tsukishima becomes shy again. “Yeah, of course you did. You’re smart like that, smart girl.” he rolls over and pulls you into his chest, pressing a lingering kiss on your sweaty forehead. “...sorry about now using a condom.”

“What was that?”

“Shut up and go to sleep, dummy.”

“Okay, cutie.”

“And don’t call me that!”

[neonvqmpire]

we need to talk about how close aziraphale actually was to saying no to the metatron after the kiss and why:

he's extremely conflicted and keeps looking out of the window to crowley in the car.

he previously said "nothing last forever" when crowley told him that he cant leave the bookshop (crowley also meant "you cant leave me"; the bookshop is a metaphor for their lives on earth for him) and he states exactly this as the first objection here. obviously the metatron shuts it down by appointing muriel as the next owner of the shop.

now he's stuck between wanting to be with the being he loves & who he now knows loves him back and his deep inner need/duty to do good. crowley's confession and kiss clearly made him question his decision and change his mind because here is when he actually decides for both.

you can see how he does not want to join heaven alone. he keeps looking out the window when asked if he needs anything to take with him.

he desperately needs crowley there but he can not have him so he lies and says no.

i this moment he tries to say no to heaven one last time. he starts saying "i think i-" and then looks out to crowley one last time. he's really considering crowleys offer here. i think the decision that he makes instead is actually FOR crowley as well.

he decides to join heaven not as he was previously convinced by the metatron to do good and rule together with crowley (which he did not want to do) but instead to go and keep a close eye on heaven FOR crowley.

aziraphale isnt stupid, he remembers what crowley said about heaven being toxic.

i think the confession and kiss makes him question heaven. crowley, who fell for asking questions made aziraphale question heaven too. something that he was always too scared to do. he has started to rebel in his head. he realised that something has to be up with heaven/the metatron bc they offered him the position. he decided to go but with a completely different purpose than before. 

he puts on a smile and it seems fake because it is. he wants to appear like he hasn't just fundamentally changed his position and decided to go against the one force who he was always afraid of yet dependent on. 

this is sth extremely relatable to someone who is queer and autistic and was raised by very conservative family members. even the thought of supporting queer people felt rebellious, terrifying but also extremely exiting and powerful because i knew it was the right thing to believe. 

aziraphale was being so brave here. he saw a glimpse of the life he wants and can have and choose to join heaven anyway to fight for this life. he is convinced it will not be possible for them to be together if heaven is still kicking about and making him feel powerless and scared. he wants to secure their future by changing or possibly even destroying the system from the inside out. 

unfortunately he didn't have time to tell crowley about his change of intention and i think it really breaks his heart. crowley would probably not understand it anyway. they still have a lot to work through and learn but ultimately they will find each other again. they always do.

i am so so interested to see where and how they meet again in s3, if we get it. after everything i just really want them to be happy and to spend their eternity together. they deserve it after all they went through.

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[55szn]

lacy - mv1

max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

summary yn can't keep hiding her true feelings towards max

wc 1,6 k (i was supposed to keep it short for this one but oh well)

warnings this one angsty as fuuuck, reader kinda sucks sorry

a/n first post of this series omg i'm so excited!!!!!! i haven't written in a while so this may not be the best of my works but this is still one of my favorites <33 also english is not my first language so...yeah

YN sighed as she pulled the balaclava off and immediately ran her hand through her sweaty hair, attempting to make it look decent. Once again she was finishing behind Max. The Dutch looked back at her as he got down from the top of his car and gave her a sweet smile, she tried her best to reciprocate that smile but it probably looked as fake as it felt.

She couldn't really pinpoint when her rotten mind had started to harbor these feelings towards the man she loved.

YN's first encounter with Max occurred when they were barely teenagers, amid the noisy circuits of karting competitions. There was something captivating in that lanky and slightly awkward teenager that drew YN to him like a magnet. As time went on, their bond deepened, among endless talks of shared dreams that seemed unreachable at the time.

The first time Max kissed YN, she felt in heaven, enveloped in a kind of excitement she had never known. It didn't take long before he asked her to be his girlfriend and she accepted thinking life couldn't get better than that.

The mutual decision to keep their relationship under wraps seemed obvious, a conscious choice made as they started their parallel journeys into Formula 1, that was not the kind of attention they were seeking.

She felt true happiness for Max's overwhelming success, she truly did, at least at the beginning.

But YN found herself caught in the shadow of his success, a place she hadn't anticipated occupying. Eventually every podium celebration and victory lap, served as a bitter reminder of the expectations she was failing to meet. She couldn't acknowledge these feelings so she masked this resentment beneath a facade of congratulatory smiles and kisses. The press was no help. They endlessly compared their careers and although YN had managed to get some satisfying results, she was nowhere near Max's level. They ate it up, it gave them good headlines to pit them against the other. They were the embodiment of a tantalizing narrative – two very young drivers with great success in the lower categories, shared dreams and a seemingly unbreakable "friendship", both coming into F1 with good teams and high expectations but only one of them was reaching those expectations. It was a good story, sure. But the story was tearing YN apart.

Perhaps the tipping point arrived with a very specific headline, its words forever etched into her brain: "Max Verstappen: Vettel reincarnate." With each syllable, YN's throat constricted, her stomach twisting into knots. Max seemed to effortlessly get everything she ever yearned for, now he was getting put at the same level as her biggest idol and inspiration which proved to be too much to handle for her. And with each of his accomplishments the poisonous seed of envy took root within her heart.

It was so contradictory, when she finally admitted it to herself. She loved Max more than she loved herself and maybe that was the root of the problem, her own insecurities and bruised ego. But it was becoming impossible to fake a smile every time she saw him on that top step. She knew it wasn't true but she almost felt like Max was out to get her.

She hated Max. And she hated herself for that fact. How could one harbor so much love and hatred for someone at the same time?

She was loosing her mind, her fragile facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions. Of course the ever attentive eyes of the press and the fans noticed the way her once adoring glances towards Max were now replaced with icy stares. How she couldn't even make the effort to raise the corners of her mouth whenever Max complimented her skills or her racing. His tenders words of admiration which once felt like a warm summer breeze began to feel like bullets grazing her already wounded skin, they felt like mockery. It was only a matter of time until Max started noticing this too.

Something was clearly happening, and that's why he found himself knocking on her apartment's door late at night, the echoes of the particularly hard weekend YN had endured still reverberating through his mind. The bitter taste of failure and disappointment still lingered on her lips. YN had struggled with the car and couldn't even make it out of Q2, and Sunday's race offered little reprieve, finishing in a P11 that tasted of unfulfilled expectations. While, of course, Max had made a brilliant pole position and had won the race, once again making everyone worship the ground he walked on. He hadn't seen YN since the race finished. She flew back to Mónaco that same night without even letting him know and without even asking if he wanted to fly back with her, which was the case almost every weekend. Max wasn't stupid, he could tell something was up with her lately, the distance she was putting between them, he was loosing her. And he loved her too much to let her go without a fight.

The door creaked open, YN's figure against the dim lighting within. Her jealous eyes clouded with heavy feelings. She stepped aside wordlessly, allowing Max to enter, her silence was louder that any word could ever be.

He carefully walked in, the all too familiar environment of his girlfriend's apartment suddenly feeling cold and foreign. Max was tense before taking a seat on the armrest of her couch. His heart felt heavy, he already wanted to cry. He had trouble getting the words out, something that had never happened in the years he had known YN. What had they become?

He swallowed dry before finally finding his voice. "I think we need to have a talk." His gaze was pleading for her to meet his eyes, but she kept staring at her shoes.

She froze at his words and her fingers tightened around the edge of the table she was leaning against. She could tell this conversation was coming, yet she dreaded the flood of emotions threatening to consume her, scared of the things she could say.

"What is it, Max?" Her voice was strained, an inner battle developing inside her, trying to control her emotions.

"You know what it is about, schat." Her jaw tightened at the pet name, now it somehow sounded condescending, even though deep down she knew that wasn't true. "YN something's been bothering you lately. I know it. Please talk to me."

YN's heart clenched painfully at his words, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her own inner turmoil. How could she even begin to articulate the burning envy and resentment that coursed through her veins every time she looked at him? How could she admit out loud to hating the man she loved more than life itself?

When she finally looked up and met his stare she felt the monstrous feeling that had been gnawing at her conscience completely engulf her and she wasn't in control of her own words anymore. Her eyes burning with a contradictory mix of longing and loathing. "Are you seriously asking me that, Max?" Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion.

Max recoiled at the intensity of her stare and her tone, a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach by the anticipatory feeling of his world crumbling down completely. "YN, I..."

"You know damn well what's going on." YN's voice cracked with emotion, her words laced with a bitterness that made it unrecognizable to both of them. "You have everything, Max. The wins, the championships, the adoration of the whole fucking world. Everything I ever wanted, you took it for yourself." She knew she wasn't making sense, the words were spilling out of her mouth before she had the time to catch them.

Max's heart constricted with an unfair amount of guilt. "YN, I... I had no idea you felt this way."

"And why would you?" She retorted, her voice rising with each word. "You're too busy basking in your own glory to notice how much it's killing me to be constantly compared to you." That wasn't his fault, and she knew it. It was the pure and evil hatred that consumed her that was speaking those words.

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. "I'm sorry." He shouldn't have to apologize for what he accomplished after years and years of hard work, yet he did, the fear of loosing her bigger than the need to acknowledge his self worth.

The hurt mirroring in his eyes was obvious, her tone softened before she spoke again. "You don't have to apologize, Max. You deserve it, you deserve it so much. I know that and you should too." She took a sharp breath in. "But knowing that doesn't change how I feel. I...I hate you."

He looked at her, stunned. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning.

"I do. I hate you Max. I hate you for being able to get everything I've only ever dared to dream of." She couldn't believe she was admitting it to Max's face, breaking the heart of the man she claimed to love.

Max felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under him, the sting of her words cutting deeper than any wound ever could. "I can't believe you're saying this," he mumbled, his voice chocked.

"I wish I didn't have to Max but I can't bear to keep lying to your face. I wish I could just pretend like everything's okay, like I'm still happy for you. But I can't, I'm sorry." YN's voice cracked with the weight of her confession, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him with a strange mix of love and loathing. "I love you too much to keep lying to you."

The silence was sepulcral, years and years of shared moments full of love completely destroyed by the sick envy that had infected YN.

But the truth is, their love was doomed from the beginning.

[glitterjay]

— spelling

⭒ head (f. receiving), club, mention of alcohol, afab!reader, strangers, suggestive content mdni!

⭒ c's note: i apologize for not continuing lover boy or enemies to lovers, i haven't had the creativity to continue the stories :( take this drabble as my apology

⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin @jaylaxies @americanojake

reblogs help me a lot and are very much appreciated!

you frowned when the waiter placed a drink in front of you. to be completely honest, you didnt feel like drinking at all, going to the club to simply keep your mind off your hectic life. when he saw your confused expression, he pointed to a guy sitting a few seats away from you, saying it was on him.

it took the stranger some time to approach you, noticing you hadn’t touched your drink at all. “i don’t blame you,” he spoke, taking the empty chair next to you. “it’s a harsh world. i wouldn’t trust a random drink either.”

you laughed slightly, still playing with the straw that came with the cup. "why bother, then?" "it was worth a shot."

he had introduced himself as heeseung. he said he was there because his friends had dragged him along but had left him alone for some hookups. he was a nice guy and incredibly handsome. the black button-down that he was wearing made his jaw look sharper and also helped the lights to glow on his face.

he caught you staring as you both talked, but he wouldn't admit it. in fact, he liked it when you lost your senses while staring right at his lips and apologizing for not hearing what he was saying. he knew he was handsome.

he had to admit you were quite stunning yourself. the dress you were wearing only added to your beautiful appearance. he was a gentleman about it, sneaking compliments here and there. if you were completely honest, the nice words were boosting your ego.

"say, heeseung, your friends are here to hook up, but i don't see you trying to find someone."

"oh, i did. it's up to her if she want to hook up or not."

-

and that's how you ended up guiding heeseung and his car to your house. it took him five seconds to have your back against the wall as he stared you down with hungry eyes.

you were fast to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling his lips to yours to close the gap. he tasted like gum mixed with alcohol. your lips, on the other hand, tasted like the watermelon lip gloss you were wearing.

-

everything got heated in a matter of minutes. you had dragged heeseung to your room, where he invited you to sit on his face. he was pretty straight forward, which made you blush furiously, but it made him giggle.

"put all your weight down."

"what if i suffocate you?"

heeseung grabbed your thighs and pushed them down, forcing you to sit directly on his face. one of your hands went directly to the headboard of your bed for support as the other pulled on heeseung's hair.

he was experienced, tongue moving deliciously around every corner of your core, tasting all of you. his strong arms rocked your hips back and forth, making your clit hit his nose. you were in heaven.

the way he was licking your folds had you seeing stars already, but the way he was moving was quite familiar. You realized every lick was tracing something, like a letter.

H E E S E U N G, he spelled.

it drove you crazy thinking how he was somehow marking his name on you. you rocked your hips faster along his face, feeling the knot on your stomach tighten. heeseung noticed you were close by the way your walls clenched around his tongue fucking you.

his right hand reached your clit, rubbing fast circles. your thighs closed on his head, almost suffocating him. you tried to get up, but his arms were holding you still. you started to doubt if heeseung was even breathing at this point.

every thought was long gone when you reached your orgasm, letting your juices free all over his face. it was then when heeseung loosened his grip on your thighs and you were able to get off him, plopping right next to his body.

"already tired? baby, im not even done yet."

© glitterjay | tumblr

[bunnys-kisses]

the dnf club (vol. 3)

alex albon

tags: smut/pwp, brazil gp '24, gentle sex, praise (kink), missionary, established relationship, affection & laughter, large chested!reader

a/n: another edition of the dnf club. i can't believe there were five dnfs at the brazil gp! as a result, i present to you the dnf club!

carlos edition // franco edition // lance edition // nico edition

"alex!" you chirped as you wrapped your arms around your lover. a terrible day on the track couldn't be solved without a few kisses. you leaned over him as you gave him a kiss on the cheek, "you'll get 'em next time."

he smiled a little at your affection towards him. you always tried to see the best side of things. always told him that one race is one race, and that there are far too many to worry about one dnf. but, the season was winding down.

"i know, love. just a little beaten down by it."

back in the motor home for the team, you knew that you had some time before you had to pack up for the weekend. franco would be returning soon and he too was already brow beaten from his own dnf.

you didn't want to rub it in with the sound of the bed's headboard rocking against the wall. franco got to mope alone while alex at least could smother himself in your soft skin.

and alex did just that. you stripped of your clothes and got into bed with him. he was down to his briefs as he laid on top of you, mindful of the weight on you. and rested his face between your breasts. the strong emotions melted away as soon as your played with his dark hair.

"honey." he groaned as he shifted a little. you kissed the top of his head and he shuddered.

"i love you so much. i'm still proud of you for giving it your all today. you did good." you praised him and alex's cock twitched in his briefs. you tilted his face up to look at you and you went for a heated kiss. he groaned against the kiss and you smiled against his lips.

it was true, you were quite proud of your lover. your partner. your boyfriend. you could never drive a formula one car, so for him to do it week after week was amazing. his ability to think of the fly, be in total control of vehicle while surrounded by other vehicle going at insane speeds was something to admire.

"i'm just happy your safe. it's a lot easier to fix a car than it would be to fix you if you got hurt." you patted his cheek lovingly.

he replied softly, "of course, i have to come home to you after every race." he kissed the valley of your breasts soon after and moved away. he looked down at you as he braced his hands on either side of you.

you smiled up at him, then pulled him down a little to give him a soft, tender kiss. when he broke it, you yelped as he took you by the hips and leaned your bottom half up against him. your slick pussy across the front of his dark briefs, leaving a little wetness on the fabric.

you splayed your hands across his chest. your nails painted the same colour as the williams team colours. you even had alex's number painted on your thumb. you smiled up at him lovingly and said, "good, you better come home to me." then broke into a wife grin, "because you know i'll change the locks."

he chuckled a little, "oh i know." he leaned in to kiss you before he rested on his knees and worked to get his briefs too. once he was nude, he added, "sometimes i'd rather be at home with you then on the track."

you blushed and adverted your gaze for a moment, "you flirt." you knew you were special to alex, he adored you. you weren't just lovers but also friends, each other's support through everything.

he replied, "only for you. i love seeing you embarrassed when i give you compliments." he leaned forward and rubbed his cock up against your slick entrance with one hand on your thigh, "you look adorable when i make you squirm." then sank his cock into you. you tensed up for a moment before you were able to relax a little, letting him slip into you.

"fuck, alex." you shuddered, "you feel like heaven." you smiled a little and he leaned down to kiss you. you two had been together for long enough, you knew each other's bodies painfully well. how to make each other feel good. alex was a generous lover, he always wanted to make you feel good.

but after a rough day at the track, you wanted to make sure he felt good. that you could help heal the wound of a dnf. that you could restore a little bit of his confidence.

"my darling man." you giggled, "my everything." you said with a soft love in your tone. alex just leaned closer, hands on either side of you once more as he moved against you. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him move against him. you licked your lips a little, the taste of your lips gloss. you noticed the gooey gloss across alex's lips.

he looked cute in bubblegum flavor.

"you're beautiful." he said as he moved against you. his pace wasn't particularly rough. he rocked against you and he gave you a soft smile. there was something about you that turned him on greatly. not just you beautiful looks, but also how sweet you were. your kindness knew no bounds, you seemed to light up every room you were in. he could still remember when you found a stray dog near your apartment and chased it down. you then sat with it outside all afternoon, even getting a sunburn, until the owner was found.

you were his friend, his lover, his girlfriend. hell, his future wife (he knew you'd die if he called you that). even at alex's worse, he still was confident that you loved him. and he in turn loved you, a deep kind of love. a steady foundation for a life to built on top of. and even with the immense chaos of formula one, you always had one another.

he went in for another kiss and continued to move against you. he gripped onto the covers under you. he moaned into the kiss and you smiled against his lips. you pulled away and said, "you're amazing. if they had a trophy for the best boyfriend in the world. you'd be the record holder for it."

he chuckled, "i wish that was an award as well. but, i'm afraid if they had one for best girlfriend, it would be unfair to every other woman on the planet." his voice warmed your soul, his words made you giggle and before you could cover your face in embarrassment. he took you by the hands and pinned them to the soft bed under you, "don't hide yourself from me." he continued to move against you.

you moaned, "i'm supposed to be the one praising you. not the world way around." you back arched a little bit from the movements. you felt the leap in your chest as the pace moved a little faster.

"you've already done enough. every day you do more than enough for me." he captured your lips once more. you moaned against his lips and felt his warmth around you. you felt safe in his touch, how could you not? he loved you down to the very fibre of your soul.

you held his hands as he moved against you. when the kiss broke, you smiled at him. you could see the warmth in his smile. you giggled a little, "you're something else, alex."

"that's good because you're something else as well." he felt the curl of pleasure in his gut as he continued to move against you. even with such a bad weekend and the inability to race. he knew at the very least he could be by your side. kiss you as much as he liked.

the bed shifted a little as his pace increased.

"that smile of yours." he groaned, "lights up my life."

you clutched his hands tighter, "and what about mister albon? i see how you smile in front of the cameras versus when it's just us. you're charming with the press. but, you beyond amazing when it's just us." you tightened your legs around his waist and he shifted his position to get a better angle with you.

"of course i am." he said as he kissed the side of your jaw, "how could i not? you just bring something out in me. even when the races go bad or the car breaks. i know seeing you will just light me up right again. i have to be a certain way with the press. but with you, i can just be me." you pouted a little at his sweet comment and he kissed you on the lips once more. the kiss was feverish as the two of you felt closer to your orgasms.

"don't pout, my love. i'm only telling the truth." and you felt the race of pleasure through your body.

you held onto his hands tightly as he moved against you. your tensed up quickly as you came around his cock. the heat of pleasure bloomed in your gut. orgasm crashed over you and you felt amazing. alex went in for a heated kiss and held onto your hands tightly, pressed them into the bed as he worked your pussy some as you orgasmed.

he hissed through his teeth as he soon finished as well. the rush of pleasure made him curse under his breath as he continued to work your achy cunt. he let go of your hands and you took him by the face to kiss him on the lips. soon he slowed to a stop and his face ended up back between your breasts as you both panted heavily.

"i love you so much." he said as he held you tightly.

you kissed the top of his head and played with his hair once more. you felt warm against him. comfortable with your love for one another. you whispered promises against his head.

"my amazing girlfriend. my amazing love." he held onto you tightly as he got comfortable. any anxiety or anger that lingered from the results of the race seemed to vanish.

there was always the next race, and that one he knew he'd be successful with. he knew he could dnf an entire season and he'd still go home to you. love you in every way he could. because you, in the simplest terms, were his everything <3