#i need to walk around in a circle and scream into my hands or something

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for Completed Fics 10K - 15K Words

12 fics in this category. Decent amount of Lovesquare, but you also have a fic from the rarest rarepair I've ever recced, I never even considered Vivica/Marinette before.

All of these fics will be in my Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2024 Collection, and if you like that, please consider checking out my other collections, Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2023, Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2022, and Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics - Misc. Years.

circling back to you by @taketwoinink

Things have been breaking between Ladybug and Chat Noir for a long time, for even longer than Marinette knew about. He keeps trying to walk away and she keeps dragging him back. They're running around in circles and something - or someone - needs to change. So when he leaves a note on a rooftop for her to find, telling her he's left again, Marinette's willing to swallow her fear and her pride to get to the root of whatever problem started this in the first place.

So this is a season 4 fic, rooted in the Ladynoir conflict of that time, with Chat giving up the Black Cat Miraculous again. I love how much we see of Marinette's thought process, how clear it is how much she cares about him, how much she wants him to realize his own value and wants to hear the actual problems he has (including the ones to do with her) in order to fix things, to make it so they can fight as a team again. Because while she could be Ladybug without him, she doesn't want to be.

---

And Mark Ronson Can Get Stuffed by @liiinerle

Marinette gets a call from Vivica, Jagged Stone's guitarist, with a proposition. She wants a producer - and she's heard Marinette's the best one for the job. At least, that's what Jagged says, and well, the only real competition is Bob Roth... ... but Marinette still isn't prepared for the whirlwind of feelings she'll get spinning through her brain whenever she sees Vivica play. Or for the realisations she'll make about herself as she sits engulfed in a type of music that feels like it gets her, and gazes up at the angel who's holding the guitar.

So this is a RARE rare pair, I've never seen Vivinette before! Man though, is this a great first fic for the pairing! I love seeing Marinette's efforts to be the best producer she can be for Vivica, not totally realizing at first why she's so nervous and determined to be the best she can be for her... and then becoming all too aware of her feelings XD. I especially adore how enamored Marinette becomes with Vivica's songs, being deeply affected by them but unable to put her feelings into words well enough to give feedback.

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Stop Time by @liiinerle

— she put her hand on the page, blocking it so the words wouldn’t scream so loudly at her. They had screamed more than enough already. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her fingers together, crumpling the paper slightly — just enough that it didn’t look so pristine and mocking. It needed to be full of despair, in every possible way. “Marinette —” started Mullo. “No! Never again. Marinette is… gone, forever.” She let go of the paper. Now it lay alone in the light, as the last thing she could ever tell them. That she loved them, that she’d miss them, that she would never talk to them again. A suicide note. Of sorts. ----- Fu accidentally names Marinette as the new guardian, and not Ladybug. She's forced to fake her own death and go into hiding in order to get away from Hawk Moth. She finds a hiding spot in the Louvre, but there she's forced to face the effects of her going away by a very unexpected source: her friend Alix.

Definitely mind the tags on this one! But if it ain't triggering to you, then I highly recommend reading it. You can really feel Marinette's struggles here, with basically making herself homeless, unable to reach out to her friends and family, needing to steal just to feed herself and the kwamis, and then dealing with everyone in her life grieving... and then moving on. Except for a few people who don't...

It's just... it's really good, really heart-wrenching.

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To Feel The Sun From Both Sides by @nemaliwrites

"Be careful," Cat Walker finally says. He lets her go before taking a big step back, as though purposefully trying to put more distance between the two of them. "You might fall." "No, I wouldn’t," says Loveybug. She takes one step forward for each one he takes back — continuing their dance from before. "Not when I have you to catch me." -- The masks they wear might be different, but it doesn't matter. They'll still find their way back to each other.

This is a Loveybug AU fic, obviously. I love the philosophy in this one, where Marinette comes to a revelation on how to feel about love, on how she loves, and how this change in her worldview naturally makes her transform into Loveybug.

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Not Quite Right by @ladynoirfanao3

When Marinette wakes up one morning, she can’t help but feel that something is just a little bit… off. No one else around her seems to feel the same, however, and she is forced to shake off the strange feelings. It proves to be more difficult than she imagined, especially when an akuma attack leaves her feeling helpless as she watches Chat Noir and Ladybug arrive on scene.

So this is an interesting one, Marinette feels like something's off, and seeing the way Ladybug's acting just reinforces that. I love the mystery element here as both she and the audience figure out what's happening and she and Chat Noir try and fix things.

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impromptu training exercises by @14muffinz

“I didn’t do anything,” Rena says proudly, not flinching away from the ire of their leader. “Eagle, on the other hand…” “DO YOU HAVE IT!?” Rooster Bold shouts eagerly, running forward to shake Rena wildly by the shoulders. “Do. You. HAVE IT!?” “YES,” Rena shouts back. [Eagle deposits an heroic object of importance known simply as The Ball in Alya's bedroom. Chaos, a game of keep away, and bonding insues. Also, a spreadsheet.]

This was a really fun fic! Basically the NYC superheroes play this training game where they attempt to steal this one tennis ball from each other and hold onto it for as long as possible. It's led to this one, ratty ball becoming an important piece of superhero memorabilia.

Naturally, the Miracuteam continues the tradition.

I love how you get little vignettes of what all the different characters are doing, getting a glimpse inside their heads as they try to find, steal, and keep The Ball. If you're a fan of hijinks or the Miracuteam more generally, this'll be right up your alley!

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Mamma Mia! by @ladynoirfanao3

When Marinette discovers she is pregnant, she is distressed to realize any of the three men she slept with in the recent past could be the father; Chat Noir, Ladybug’s partner and ex with whom she had gone through a tearful breakup - the mysterious Cat Walker, Ladybug’s rebound - or Adrien Agreste, Marinette’s current boyfriend. Bit of a twist on the base concept of Mamma Mia, where she doesn't realize all three potential fathers are, in fact, the same man.

So this is a fun little fic. I loved seeing Adrien and Marinette independently wrestle with the situation - Adrien, with maybe being the father of his former girlfriend's children (but maybe not), and Marinette, with needing to tell her former and current boyfriends that they might or might not be the father, and having to deal with a potential change in their relationship because of that.

Oh yeah, this fic is rated M, but the sexual content is relatively mild. The foreplay is detailed, but the actual sex is just implied.

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Bend the World Around It by @kasienda

“Tell me it was real." She can’t look at him. She can barely stand the pain in his voice. She definitely can’t face it. “It wasn’t.” He shakes his head, and turns to her - his eyes swirling in their intensity. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Tell me that you were there. We were there together, having the same dream.” She squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to lie to him. She needs to lie to him. But she can’t. Lying would be like it never happened. But it did happen. And if it’s all they get to have, she wants him to know it. “I think we were having the same dream,” she whispers, unable to meet his eyes.

So this is an adorable Jubilation aftermath fic, with Ladybug and Chat Noir both mourning the loss of what only they remember, of a dream that never was. And them deciding that screw it, it may not have been real to anyone else, but it was real to them. They remember those years together, and they want to live together, if only during the times when they can afford to be missing from home. They remember being happily married, and crave that life.

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Are Hexagon Square Dances A Thing? by @hueynomure

Tikki flew right in her space, playfully booping her nose. "Marinette!" She threw her hands in the air. "What!" "You're going to be late for patrol," the kwami giggled. Marinette checked her phone and she muttered a few choice Mandarin curses. She couldn't be late, not today! Chat was waiting for her! She called her transformation and strode to her balcony's trapdoor- She accidentally caught a glimpse of her reflection in the vanity mirror and froze. She slowly turned and blinked, almost disbelieving her eyes. Her featureless, smooth polka-dotted suit was just gone.

So unlike in most Loveybug AUs I've seen, Ladybug adoting the Loveybug identity was an accident. She decided to confess to Chat Noir, butterflies in her stomach, and then when she transformed, she was Loveybug.

Unfortunately being THAT smitten makes it difficult for her to fight like she usually does.

Luckily, there's another Black Cat who she is currently less in love with who can fight alongside her...

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Me and You, We're Roses of Blue by fennieaile

For centuries, the blue rose has represented mystery, royalty, and that which is unobtainable. Why? Because the blue rose is artificial. Unnatural. So close to being real, but not quite. The unfortunate, disappointing result of humanity daring to challenge the natural order. And for some reason, Felix Graham De Vanily can't stop thinking about it. Meanwhile Kagami Tsurugi, despite everything, thinks they are wonderful. And Adrien Agreste, who prefers his roses red, is just here for a good time. (A story in which Felix reflects on his childhood, his relationships, and the nature of what's artificial and what's real.) (Alternatively, a story where the ideal date is destroying a dead man's property in the name of art, and two cousins who are actually brothers' bond over one truly terrible joke.)

I love Felix's and Kagami's introspective talks, with Felix reminiscing about the past - both the good, and the bad. He still has trouble believing that his life is this okay now, and especially that the class (and Marinette in particular) are actually friendly with him. Him and Kagami deciding to destroy some of Gabriel's things is great.

I think my favorite part is when Chat decides to give Felix birthday greetings. Chat loves to mess with him and Felix just doesn't understand why. Chat apparently has a little brother he likes to do this sort of thing with, so why can't he got bother that guy instead?

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The Art of Blossoms by @fruitdragon1a

Marinette is a florist. Adrien needs a bouquet. Or: Five times Adrien walked out of Marinette's store with flowers, and one time he left with something far more precious.

This is a classic, adorable No Powers Adrienette AU. I love that Nino and Alya are a couple and are friends with Adrien and Marinette, but that Adrien and Marinette don't know that they have friends in common, it leads to some fun reveals!

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Peppermint Kisses by @kuromori4

After a holiday adventure with his best friends goes horribly wrong, Adrien unexpectedly finds himself finally confessing his love. Too bad he confessed to the wrong girl.

This was fun and cute. An akuma attack gone wrong results in Adrien being a bit woozy and confessing his love to Ladybug... which would be fine, if he was Chat Noir, but as Adrien... well, there are problems.

Plus well. He HAS started catching feelings for Marinette as well...

It's cute, has some nice Ladrien, and just a nice, pleasant read.

---

Even a Lucky Charm Can't Find a Soulmate by BeeRye

After a heart-to-heart with Alya, Marinette decides to go all in on finding her soulmate. The problem is, in a world where countless methods of getting a soulmate exist, how can she even go about making that happen? Meanwhile, Kagami can't make heads or tails of Marinette's strange behavior, but she won't turn down more time with her. If only she could do something about this troublesome crush that shows no signs of easing up...

I love a good soulmate fic, and it's even better when the two people choose each other. Marinette WANTS Kagami to be her soulmate, and Kagami wants to be with Marinette. Honestly, that's enough.

Also, Alya's the MVP here. Sometimes lovebirds just need an outside perspective in order to get out of their own heads and actually do what they need to do to ask out their crush.

[cherrylight]

sighs.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (Dilf!Simon, your next door neighbor, reader’s around early 20s, Simon’s around late 30s~early 40s) pt.2

Just retired and move into a new flat, Simon doesn’t expect someone to knock on his door when he’s unpacking his belongings. With slight annoyance, he opens the door and try to dismiss whoever is out there.

His annoyance vanishes quickly when he lays eyes on you, young, gorgeous, gazing up at him with a baggy shirts barely cover the sweat-shorts. The simple apron on the outside looks incredible on you, the fabric of it rises and taut around your chest. Greeting him with a grin and hand him a plate of biscuits. A welcome gift for the new neighbor, you explain to him before leaving with a wave, hips swaying tantalizingly as you saunter back to your flat and close the door behind you.

He becomes closer to you each day, helping you without a word when one day he hears noises from the staircase outside, swings open the door of his flat and discovers you struggling with the heavy groceries bags. When you sheepishly knock on his door again, holding a screwdriver and fidgeting it, telling him you have some issues with assembling the new bookshelf you bought, he already starts his steps and walks into your flat, finish the work in minutes while you circling around cutely and trying to help like a desperate puppy.

To express your thankfulness to him, you invite him to have dinner with you, become a habit of yours when he shoots you a glance with a ‘Not bad.” but devours your home cooked meal like a man starved for days.

Sweet, beautiful girl, a year before graduating from college, expressing your insecurity about your future when he hinted that you can share your worries with him—a person who has much more experience than you— a while ago, he provides some insight and rational advice, swallowing back the words he’s been thought about for months now: Slide the silver ring on your ring finger with his name name engraved on it, makes you his missus and away from all shites the society is boiling everyday. A man alone for years and has low material desires, he has the money to take care of and spoil you without any hesitation.

He’s been fisting his cock whenever he hears your moans coming from the other aide of the wall. Hell, you don’t know how shitty and thin the walls are, the soundproof ability of them is imperceptible when it comes to louder sounds. Simon listens closely to the sounds, closing his eyes, head leans back on the armchair, trying to imagine how you must be right now. Hands in sync of the squelchy sounds of you pumping your fingers in and out of that soaked pussy. His cock’s so huge, even his own palms are just big enough wrapped around the girth, and an obscene growl left his lips as your whimpers and moans turn higher and sultrier, definitely look like a goddess when you’re weeping tears, stuffing your cunny full and craving for the release. But when you finally tumble over the edge, he snaps his eyes open and groans the second his name comes out of your mouth with such honeyed tone, crying his name in need and suppressed desire.

Simon jumps up from the armchair, heavy cock forming an obvious tent when he shoves open his door and knocks on yours impatiently. “Wait-Wait me a second…!” your voice hits his ears with trembles that can’t be left unnoticed.

“ 'S what you want, love? getting bent over by a man older than you and fucked stupid? Is that so, princess?” He squeezes himself through the crack of your door, kicking it close and pinning your upper body on the shoe cabinet beside the door, your legs dangling in the air as he drives the fat tip into your entrance ferociously, tight cunt still spasming from your orgasm and makes him grunts out a curse, “Fucking screaming my name when you touch yourself, hmm? you know you can come to me anytime you need something, like I told you before.”

He gets you cry out in pleasure without any concern of receiving complaints from other neighbors, wrapping your legs back and standing between your wide-spread thighs, leaning his weight on your back while his hips rocks unrelentingly. “No more, no more…Simon!” You clenching down on his shaft so nice and hot, milking him loads after loads, the angry tip of his cock abusing every spots inside you, and your legs are shaking uncontrollably when he finally comes one last time, satiated both your needs for now, and you the last thing you feel before succumbing to slumber is a gentle kiss pressing on your twitching, overstimulated clit as his seeds flood out of your swollen pussy.

The relationship between you and him deepens since that night,and he doesn’t stop you or protest when you wear the low-cut top and cute skirt, semi-transparent thigh high stockings keeps attracting his attention to stare at the bare skin of your thighs between them and the skirt, and wave goodbye at him with an apologetic expression before heading off to a party with your college friends. He knows the importance of these social activities between youngsters, so he didn’t get mad or upset, just kiss your temple, reminded you to stay safe and call him whenever you need, then he’d be there in no time.

You sure will turn heads wherever you go tonight, and though there might be some troublesome wankers trying their luck on you, but he knows you won’t even spare them anything beside a polite nod of rejection. You’re all his, you won’t feel the same bliss and love from those young blokes of your age. No one can make you feel as good as he does, they can’t make you squirt all over the floor when he eats you out at the countertop, no one knows how to lower and disperse all your concerns and thoughts like him, with his tongue lapping your perked buds and that long cock massaging your cervix, coaxing countless orgasms out of you before you fall asleep in his embrace contently.

So when you ring him just about 2 hours later, asking if he can come pick you up at the club, he immediately hops in to his truck, pulls up at the location you texted him. He doubts how your breasts haven’t spilled out your low cut tops, but he’s definitely enjoying the view, your cheeks burning from the alcohol, pawing at his shirt and whining about how you missed him, how boring the party was and you just wanted to go home and bounce on his dick through your tipsy state.

Good that Simon parked his truck at a secluded spot, so you don’t need to wait any longer, let him bend you over the hood and kneel down behind you, tongue shoving deep inside, occasionally pulls out and prodding at your pussy to calm you down from keep pleading him to just fuck you already and rubbing his bulge when he just wants to drive you home first. “Will give you the cock you’ve been thinking all night when we’re home, sweetheart.” He speaks against your slick pussy lips before diving back to lick every drop of your sugary juices again.

[luvyeni]

🧸… ( drabble ) i like it ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 한지성 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ you really love jisungs mustache ヾ

boyfriend!hanji・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・oral ( M ), unprotected sex, soft sex wc ・ ‎0.7k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. just saw han jisung's photo... a photo where he is unshaven and his mustache and beard are visible , and i wanted to request when he doesnt shave and the reader sees it for the first time, it unexpectedly makes her turn on. I wonder what jisung's reaction will be when he notices this.

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 im a huge fan of that genre of han jisung 🥴

you and han had been dating for about a year; so you two were comfortable with each other having keys and walking into each others apartments unannounced — so when you walked into your boyfriend's room where he was sitting at his desk recording, you didn’t think anything of it until he jumped in shock. “baby.”

he stumbled over his words, you raised your eyebrow. ”what are you doing here?” you dropped your bag on the floor. “it’s been a week since i’ve seen you and that’s the first thing you say?” he stood up, rushing over to you. “no baby i'm happy you’re here.” he wrapped his arms around you. “but you should’ve told me, i would’ve cleaned up a bit.” he looked around his room embarrassed. “and shaved, i look so disheveled.”

you pulled away looking at his bare face; you’d never seen him not shaved, his light stubble on his chin and upper lip — he looked good. “damn.” you said bringing your hand to his face. “you look good baby.” he blushed, smiling. “stop it.” he said shyly. “you don’t have to lie.”

“but i'm not hannie, you look so fucking good right now.” you ran your hands down his chest, chewing on your bottom lip. you loved your man no matter what and he never failed to turn you on… but this look on him, it was doing something for you. “do-don’t tell me you're getting turned on just by my mustache.” he stuttered out, flustered at the quick change in moods, not that he was upset about it. “how about i show you?” you brushed your lips against his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

jisung gripped the sheets, his head resting against the headboard. “fuck!” he moaned out for the third time that night — your mouth working on his cock, head bobbing up and down, hands wrapped around his length stroking whatever he couldn’t fit. “fu-fuck baby , keep doing that.” he’d never seen you act like this before, of course you sucked him off countless of times before, but not like this. with so much passion — like you were trying to suck the soul out of him. “fuck baby im gonna cum again.” sweat beading down his face as you pulled off of him, making a ‘pop’ sound with your mouth, still stroking him off. “cum for me, cum.”

he grunted , hips bucking up; his cock twitching. “fuck.” he sighed as he came, his thick cum shooting from his cock for the third time, leaking down onto your hand. “damn baby.” he chuckled breathlessly, his eyelids half closed. “hannie.” you climbed into his lap, his eyes opening as he felt the warmth of your cunt. “again?” you nodding, stroking his length. “you’re so hot.” you moaned out as you sunk down on him. “fuck baby you-you’ve already made me cum three times, let me at least eat you out.” you shook your head, fully sitting down on him. “n-no need you -fuck- need you inside me.”

rocking your hips slowly against him. “fuck you’re so wet.” he groaned, hands resting on your hips. “sh-shit keep riding my cock , just like that.” he moaned out loud as you bounced on his cock. “fu-fuck if you like my stubble like that , i’ll keep it if you it gets to fuck.” you both moaned out. “fuck if it gets you to fuck me like this.”

he could feel himself about to cum, bringing his hands to your clit , rubbing soft circles on your bud. “wa-wanna make you cum.” he moaned. “pl-please, pl-please make me cum.” bucking his hips up to match your movements. “fuck hannie im gonna cum.” you screamed, he wrapped his arms around your waist, planting his feet on the bed fucking up into you, you shrieked out. “fuuuck!” he groaned. “fuck baby im gonna cum.”

“fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed out, legs shaking as you came, tightening around him. “shit.” he howled out, cumming. “shit.” his legs fell flat against the bed, twitching as his thick load spilling inside you. “shit.” both of you sighed coming down from your high. “jesus love.” he finally got the words out, you laughed. “what.” your foreheads pressed against each others. “did the beard really make you like this?” you nodded, heat rising in your face. “i never knew beards turned me on like that.” you slowly stood up, letting his cock slipping out of you. “shit.”

sitting down on him, rubbing his bare chest. “fuck it’s so attractive.” you said, heat pooling in your abdomen once again. “you’re insatiable baby.”

“but fuck it’s hot seeing you like this, guess i gotta keep the beard for a while, if it gets you to fuck me like this.”

©️LUVYENI

[orangeblossomsintheair]

HONEY YOU’RE FAMILIAR | MV33

summary : For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

wc : 5k

an : writing this to distract myself from my other wips? ..i would never.. 😦 also i wrote this at 12 am so let this not be a place of judgement :))

Max sometimes forgets how small Monaco is.

It’s easy to do when most of his memories of the place are a blur of fast cars and glittering parties. He spends most of his time racing through the streets during the Grand Prix or holed up in a hotel room overlooking the harbor.

When you’re constantly traveling the world, hopping between paddocks and podiums, the compactness of Monaco barely registers. It’s a speck on the map, a gilded bubble he never really bothers to think about until it’s right in his face.

But sometimes, like tonight, he’s reminded.

Monaco isn’t a city, not really.

It’s a playground. A handful of streets strung together like a necklace, choked with Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and yachts so big they could be small countries. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone.

Or, at the very least, they know of everyone.

The millionaires gossip about the billionaires. The bartenders know who tips in cash and who never tips at all. Even the stray cats probably have dirt on the local royals.

It’s not just small in size. It’s tight.

Wealth wraps around this place like a noose, strangling it into exclusivity.

There are no dark corners to disappear into, no sprawling suburbs to lose yourself in.

Just a few restaurants, a few clubs, and a few streets where the same people circle each other like they’re on a carousel. If you’re here long enough, you’ll eventually run into everyone you’ve ever met.

Even the ones you’ve been trying to avoid.

Max doesn’t think about that when he walks into the bar.

He’s not in the mood for deep reflection or existential dread. He’s here because Daniel said he needed a drink, and when Daniel Ricciardo says you need a drink, you listen.

That’s how Max ends up at some overpriced lounge that smells like vodka and ambition, standing under soft, warm lighting that’s trying too hard to make the place feel classy instead of claustrophobic.

He’s nursing a beer, half-listening to Daniel tell some convoluted story about a failed date and a stolen Vespa, when he hears it.

A voice.

Your voice.

It’s the kind of thing that cuts through the noise without him even realizing why. It’s not loud or particularly distinct; it’s not like you’re screaming or making a scene. But it’s you. The way you talk, your cadence, the rise and fall of your words. It’s all so achingly familiar that it grabs him by the throat and yanks.

Max freezes. His drink doesn’t make it to his lips.

The years fall away in a blink, and suddenly, it’s like no time has passed.

He’s twenty-two again, still figuring out how to smile for cameras, while you’re draped over the back of his couch, talking absolute nonsense about whether or not the cars in Cars have insurance or not.

He doesn’t even realize he’s turned to look until he spots you.

You’re standing at the bar, laughing as you say something to the bartender. It’s loud, and Max can’t hear you properly, but he can feel you.

The way you lean casually on the counter, the tilt of your head, the way you wave your hand to punctuate whatever you’re saying. It’s so painfully, annoyingly you.

And God, you look good.

For a second, all he can do is stare. You haven’t seen him yet, thank God, because Max Verstappen does not know what the hell to do with himself right now.

You look different.

Not in a drastic way, just… grown.

Your edges are sharper, your presence more refined, like a photo that’s come into focus after years of being a little blurry. But the core of you is still the same. It’s in the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like the world isn’t slowly crumbling under the weight of climate change, billionaires, and whatever Kardashian family drama is brewing this week.

And suddenly, Max is thrown back years.

To a time when you were his person. The one he called when things went sideways, or when he won, or when he was just bored and needed someone to hear him rant about understeer.

You were his best friend.

No. The friend. The one. The only one who ever really got him. And then…Well, then he was an asshole.

He tries to tell himself that you two drifted apart.

People do that, right? It’s life. Except that’s a lie, and Max knows it. You didn’t drift; you held on like a freaking tow hook. You tried—texted him, called him, showed up to races, tried to remind him there was a world outside of 300 km/h and tire degradation.

Max doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. He’s not used to seeing ghosts in real life, and you might as well be one now.

Max debates his next move. He could just… not. Pretend he didn’t notice you. Slip out quietly, finish his drink somewhere else, and avoid whatever emotional grenade this is about to be. That would be the smart thing. The logical thing.

But Max has never been great at logic.

For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

But then you glance over your shoulder.

And your eyes lock.

He doesn’t have time to decide whether to stay or bolt

You see him.

And Max realizes he’s fucked.

For a split second, he thinks you might look away, maybe pretend you didn’t see him either.

He’s not sure if he’s hoping for that or dreading it. But then your face lights up, and the look you give him isn’t what he expects.

It’s warm. Familiar. Like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

His chest tightens. Max isn’t sure what he thought he’d see. Resentment, awkwardness, indifference, maybe.

But this? This disarms him completely.

You wave, and before he knows it, his feet are moving.

“Maxy,” you say as he approaches, your voice carrying that teasing lilt that could only ever be you. It knocks the breath out of him, so familiar and effortless it almost hurts. “Long time no see.”

Max freezes for the briefest of moments, the nickname hitting him like a slap and a hug all at once. Maxy. No one’s called him that in years. Not his family. Not his team. Not anyone.

No one except you.

“Yeah, uh, long time,” he manages, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture so awkwardly familiar it almost makes you laugh. He looks like he’s 17 again, shy and unsure.

Before either of you can say more, Daniel sidles up next to him, a beer in hand and an amused eyebrow raised as he glances between the two of you. “Know her?” Daniel asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.

“He does,” you reply smoothly before Max can fumble an answer. Your smirk is playful, but there’s no bite to it, just that same easy warmth Max hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. “I used to keep this one in line. Back when he was all awkward interviews and tragic haircuts.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, glancing at Max’s meticulously styled hair. “Tragic haircuts? Wait, this-” he gestures wildly at Max’s head, like it’s some architectural masterpiece “-is the improved version?”

You’re already laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in years.

He groans, dragging a hand over his face, though the corners of his mouth are betraying him with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters to Daniel, but his tone is far too soft to have any weight.

It’s stupid how easy this feels. How natural. Max isn’t used to easy anymore.

Daniel, bless him, is soaking it all in.

“So?” he says, giving Max a teasing nudge. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?”

“I was getting there,” Max grumbles, shooting him a half-hearted glare before looking at you. For a moment, he falters. He doesn’t know what to call you. Acquaintance feels too cold. Stranger would be a lie. And friend? That feels like stepping too far into a past he’s not sure he’s ready to face.

“An old friend,” you offer, saving him effortlessly, like you always did. “And you must be the famous Daniel Ricciardo.”

Daniel grins, full of boyish charm. “Guilty as charged,” he says, tipping his beer in a mock toast. “And let me just say, I already like you. Great taste in insults.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ricciardo,” you say, though your smirk says otherwise.

The three of you fall into an almost absurdly natural rhythm, as though you’ve all been doing this for years. Daniel’s effortless charisma bounces off your sharp wit, and Max finds himself smiling more in five minutes than he has in weeks.

Maybe months.

It’s like the weight on his shoulders has lifted, just for a moment, and he can breathe again.

You’re mid-story when he realizes he hasn’t felt this light in ages.

“So there I was,” you’re saying to Daniel, gesturing dramatically, “dragging Max out of his hotel room because he was refusing to face the world after a bad race.”

“I wasn’t refusing to face the world,” Max interjects, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You give him a look that could level a building. “You were lying on the floor eating Haribo like it was your last meal,” you say, deadpan. “It was tragic. Genuinely tragic.”

Daniel’s cackling now, nearly spilling his beer. “Please tell me there are photos of this.”

“Sadly, no,” you reply with mock disappointment. “But the image is burned into my brain forever. It was that bad.”

Max groans, shaking his head, though the grin tugging at his lips is impossible to hide. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”

“Because no one else could handle you,” you fire back, and it’s so quick, so natural, it makes his chest ache.

Daniel takes a step back, still laughing. “You two are too much,” he says, pointing at the two of you like you’ve just performed a comedy sketch. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t get too emotional without me, okay? I’m going to find another beer. Or maybe a Vespa to steal. Who knows?”

You watch him disappear into the crowd, still grinning. For a moment, the two of you are left standing there, and the noise of the party seems to fade just slightly.

“Daniel’s fun,” you say, breaking the silence.

“He is,” Max agrees.

When the music starts bumping up again, the two of you are faced with a whole other problem entirely.

“So, you’ve been busy!” you yell, leaning across the sticky bar top, your voice barely cutting through the bass thumping around you.

“What?” Max shouts back, leaning closer.

“I SAID, YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I’M SHOUTING!”

“WHAT?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, but he just smirks, clearly enjoying this.

So you double down.

“DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” you bellow, miming holding a glass.

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT DRINKS?” he shouts back, baffled.

“BECAUSE IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”

“WHAT?”

This back-and-forth nonsense goes on for an impressively ridiculous three minutes, the two of you getting progressively louder, until Max finally groans, shaking his head like he’s reached his limit.

He steps closer, leans in like he’s about to shout something else, then just presses a warm, steady hand to the small of your back. “Come on,” he says, not even bothering to raise his voice this time.

“What?” you yell, still committed to the bit.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts gently steering you toward the stairs, and you stumble a little, caught off guard by the unexpected physical contact.

“Where are we going?” you shout, craning your neck to look at him as you climb.

“UPSTAIRS!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I VALUE MY HEARING!” he fires back, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“OH, NOW YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HEARING?” you tease, but he ignores you, his hand still firm and insistent on your back as he guides you upstairs.

The VIP section is quieter, tucked away from the pulsating bass and the sweaty chaos of the main club floor. Max had slipped a word to a bouncer—who nodded in a way that made you roll your eyes—and now you’re here, sinking into the plush leather of a semi-circular booth with a ridiculous view of the dance floor below.

The relative silence hits you like a warm blanket. You blink, adjusting to the sudden absence of aggressive EDM, and turn to Max, who looks much too smug for your liking.

“Smuggled into VIP like I’m some sort of black-market item,” you tease. “Careful, Verstappen. This is how egos start.”

“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.

“For what?” you shoot back. “The privilege of not getting tinnitus at 27?”

“Yes,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a nearby booth like he owns the place. “You’re lucky to know me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “My life has improved immeasurably since you dragged me up here. I’ll write a thank-you card.”

“Make sure it’s handwritten,” he quips, signaling a waiter for drinks. “And don’t skimp on the stationery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes but you’re smiling, and he knows it.

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, if you’re going to criticize, at least admit this is better than shouting at each other over terrible music.”

You glance around the room, all dark wood and dim lighting, where a few scattered people are having hushed conversations or staring down at the dance floor with an air of superiority. “Alright,” you admit, “it’s not terrible. But the crowd up here…”

You nod toward a guy at the next table wearing sunglasses, inside, and sipping champagne like it’s water. “Is this your scene now? Bottle service bros and indoor eyewear enthusiasts?”

Max glances at the guy, smirking. “Not my scene. But I figured you deserved something better than sticky floors and overpriced tequila shots.”

You laugh. “Wow. I feel so special. Nothing says friendship like a quiet room and a drink I can’t pronounce.”

“Admit it,” he says, leaning back again. “You love it.”

“I love judging it,” you correct, grinning. “Big difference.”

Max watches you for a moment, shaking his head with an almost fond expression. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you’ve changed too much,” you shoot back, gesturing at his ridiculously put-together outfit. “Look at you, Verstappen. Fancy haircut, custom clothes, actual social skills. Who are you?”

“First of all, the haircut is functional,” he retorts, mock offended. “Aerodynamics.”

“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want your hair slowing you down at 300 kph,” you say, pretending to be serious.

“It’s a real thing!” he insists, laughing now. “If you knew anything about racing-”

“If I knew anything about racing?” you interrupt, your voice rising in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I was there when you had to Google how to talk to the media without sounding like a robot. You think I don’t know the intricacies of racing, Maxy?”

“Don’t call me Maxy,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, I’m definitely calling you Maxy,” you say, delighted. “I might even get a custom T-shirt. ‘Maxy’s Biggest Fan.’ I’ll wear it to a race.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you do that, I’ll steal your phone and delete every embarrassing photo you’ve ever taken of me.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have backups,” you say smugly, sipping your drink.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment, the two of you fall into an easy silence, the noise of the club below fading into the background. You glance at Max, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle—a habit he’s had for as long as you can remember.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve bought since you became all… you know.”

“All what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say, waving a hand vaguely. “World Champion. Multi-millionaire. Guy who smuggles old friends into VIP sections.”

He chuckles. “Ridiculous? I don’t know… probably the private jet.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “The private jet is the least ridiculous thing about you, Verstappen. Try again.”

“Fine,” he says, thinking for a moment. “I bought a sauna for my house. Didn’t use it for six months.”

You burst out laughing. “A sauna? For what? Post-race existential crises?”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “It was a bad idea, okay? I thought it would be relaxing.”

“Did it come with, like, a tiny man who throws water on the rocks for you?” you ask, grinning.

“No, but now I kind of want one,” he admits, laughing.

“God, you’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head, but your tone is full of affection.

“And you’re jealous,” he fires back.

“Of your unused sauna?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m absolutely consumed with envy.”

The two of you dissolve into laughter and the conversation continues.

Next thing you know it’s 3 am and you and Max are stumbling out of the club, too giggly for both of your sakes.

Daniel had hopped on to another place hours ago so it’s just you and him.

The cool night air hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering up, it just makes you giggle harder.

Max freezes mid-stumble, his head lolling back like he’s auditioning for Les Mis on the world’s worst stage. “Why’s the air so aggressive?” he slurs. “Feels like it’s… pushing me. Rude.”

“Why’s the ground so spinny?” you counter, stumbling sideways into him.

“'Cause you’re bad at walking,” he accuses, latching onto your arm like a barnacle while swaying dramatically.

“You’re bad at walking,” you fire back, immediately tripping over a shadow and nearly eating pavement.

“You can’t even walk straight!” Max protests, laughing as he catches you before you faceplant.

His arm slides around your waist, steadying you in the most unsteady way possible.

“You’re the one spinning,” you argue, slurring every other word. “Maaaybe you should ju- just stay still for once in your life.”

“Oh, because you’re the expert,” he fires back, wheezing as you nearly trip again. “Where- where are you even staying at?”

You squint at him, trying to focus. “Uh… good question.”

Max stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean good question? How do you not know?”

“I don’t rememb- ber,” you admit, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Max groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just- what? Homeless now?”

“Homeless for the night,” you correct, wagging a finger at him like that somehow makes it better.

Max laughs so hard he has to pause, doubling over slightly. “How- how do you forget where you’re staying?”

“’S not my fault!” you defend yourself, leaning heavily against him. “The hotel has, like… a name! A boring one! And too many floors!”

Max groans so loudly it echoes off the buildings. “Oh my God. You’re homeless now. You’re a wandering drunk with no home.”

“I'm trying a new lifestyle,” you say, grinning. “Like… nomadic, y’know? Spiritual.”

“Yeah, okay, Buddha, let’s find you a real place to sleep before you start befriending rats,” he mutters, dragging you down the street.

“I like rats,” you say cheerfully. “They’re just misunderstood.”

“You’re misunderstood,” Max shoots back. “Come on. You’re crashing at my hotel. I can’t leave you out here to, like, adopt a possum or something.”

“I don’t wanna!” you whine, digging your heels into the ground.

“Tough!” Max barks, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you moving. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you’re not spooning a garbage can.”

You groan dramatically, slumping into him. “Maxxyyy, I’m tired. Can’t I just sleep on a bench or something?”

“Nooo. No benches. Benches are gross. You’ll get, like… pigeons on you.”

“Pigeons are my friends,” you declare solemnly, as if this is a hill you’re prepared to die on.

Max shakes his head, clearly trying to stay serious but failing miserably. “Okay, Dr. Dolittle, you’re not sleeping outside.”

You groan again, dragging your feet even as he starts pulling you along.

“Stop whining,” he slurs, swaying as he tries to walk in a straight line. “It’ll be like- like a sleepover! Like when we were five.”

“Sleepovers at five were better,” you mutter. “Less… you.”

“Excuse me?” Max stops, glaring at you like you’ve mortally offended him. “I’m the best sleepover buddy. I let you steal my Haribo once.”

“You hid the Haribo under your pillow!” you counter, poking him in the chest.

“’Cause you’re a thief!” he says, grinning as he pulls you toward the street corner.

“Am not,” you huff, pouting.

“Are too,” he replies, but his tone is teasing as he hails a cab.

When the cab pulls up, it feels like the world is tilted just enough that the ground might collapse under your feet at any moment. You both tumble into the backseat in a fit of giggles, your laughter echoing off the darkened streets.

It’s the kind of laughter that’s born of a little bit too much alcohol and a whole lot of absurdity. You could’ve sworn you heard a streetlight flicker in disbelief at the sound of your shared joy.

Max flops dramatically against you as if the very act of sitting upright requires more effort than it’s worth.

His head lands squarely on your shoulder, and for a split second, you’re both tangled in the shared warmth of a really questionable decision.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, and grins like a kid who just got away with stealing candy.

“You smell like tequila and poor decisions,” he mutters with a lazy drawl, his words slow but somehow still cutting through the haze of the night.

You’re already shaking your head before you even speak, the words spilling out one over the other. “You smell like someone who wore Axe in high school.”

Max’s eyes widen in mock outrage. “I did not!” He shoots up from your shoulder like you just insulted his very existence, but the motion sends him veering dangerously toward the cab door.

He catches himself at the last second, gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline.

By the time the cab pulls up to Max’s hotel, you're both deep into a discussion about whether Axe body spray could be classified as a biohazard in certain quantities.

It’s a ridiculous debate, fueled by far too much tequila and a complete disregard for logic, but it’s the most fun either of you have had in ages.

Max is practically in tears from laughing, his snort-laugh echoing off the walls of the cab as he tries to argue that Axe is, in fact, a perfectly fine product, just poorly misunderstood by society.

The cab screeches to a halt, and Max stumbles out first, holding the door open for you with the kind of exaggerated flair you’d expect from someone who probably practices his dramatic entrances in front of a mirror.

As he pays the driver, his wallet slips from his hands not once, but twice, and he’s already apologizing profusely, his face flushed from the alcohol and his own clumsiness.

Finally, he gets the wallet sorted, tucks it back in his pocket, and reaches down to drag you out of the cab like you’re a piece of luggage.

You’re both barely standing, teetering back and forth on your feet as if gravity itself is conspiring to make the night even more ridiculous.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Max says, throwing his arm out grandly to gesture toward the hotel lobby like he’s unveiling the Louvre.

The marble floors, polished to a shine, the sleek, understated furniture… none of it compares to the visual assault that is the ugly carpet underfoot.

“Your palace has really ugly carpet,” you mutter, laughing as you trip over the offending fabric, your feet not quite able to keep up with your brain’s idea of where they should go.

Max snorts, his hand steadying you as you almost face-plant into a particularly gaudy potted plant. “You’re banned from the palace,” he retorts, giving you a playful shove.

You recover, and together, you stagger toward the elevator, which, for some reason, feels like an obstacle course in itself.

The elevator doors open with a dramatic ding, and Max promptly starts jabbing the wrong floor button in a series of random, very confident moves.

Each one is a miss, but he keeps at it, as if this were somehow part of the plan.

You lean against the wall, your body shaking with laughter as you struggle to breathe through the giggles.

“This is why they don’t let you operate machinery,” you manage to gasp, watching him fumble with the buttons in disbelief.

Max grumbles under his breath but finally, miraculously, hits the correct floor button. He turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “See? I told you. Genius.”

You raise an eyebrow, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Sure you are, buddy. A true mastermind.”

The elevator ride is a blur of jokes and half-baked insults as you both fight to keep your composure.

Max leans against the wall with a smug look, clearly reveling in his victory over the elevator button.

When the doors finally open, you both stumble out, holding on to each other uselessly.

At the door to his room, Max proceeds to fumble with his key card in a way that can only be described as tragically incompetent.

The key card slips from his fingers twice, and each time, he lets out a string of expletives in a garble of Dutch and English.

“Jesus. You okay there, Einstein?” you tease, leaning casually against the wall and watching him drop the card once more. You can’t help but laugh.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice already tinged with frustration. “Technology’s hard.”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and Max stumbles inside with the grace of a rhino on roller skates.

He turns to face you with a theatrical sigh. “There. I did it. Happy now?”

You’re already halfway to the bed, your shoes flying off in opposite directions, one ending up by the dresser and the other getting lodged under a chair.

With a dramatic thud, you collapse onto the bed, your body sinking into the soft, luxurious comfort like it was the only thing holding you together.

“This bed is softer than my hopes and dreams,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the comforter as you stretch out like a starfish.

Max, predictably, flops down beside you with the subtlety of a sack of bricks, his arms and legs sprawling out in every direction.

“Move over,” he grumbles, his face smooshed into the pillow.

“Nope,” you reply, barely lifting a finger to indicate where his side is. “Your side’s over there,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the edge of the bed, but it’s clear from the way your eyes are barely staying open that you’re not in any shape to play the “bedroom politics” game.

“Too bad,” Max grunts, grabbing your pillow from beneath your head and smushing it over his face. “This is a dictatorship, and I’m the dictator.”

“Goodnight, Haribo hoarder,” you slur, your words trailing off into nothing as sleep drags you under.

The last thing you hear before you fully fade into unconsciousness is Max’s muffled laugh, and you can’t help but smile.

For a brief moment, it feels like nothing’s changed at all.

—-

Max’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything is blurry.

He blinks a few times, the weight of his eyelids making it feel like he’s wading through molasses.

A dull ache sits in the back of his skull, a reminder of the questionable choices he made the night before.

He groans, dry, scratchy, the kind of noise that only belongs to mornings where you regret both your life decisions and your snack choices.

He’s still in his room. So far, so good.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary... except for that persistent feeling in the air that something is off.

Max stretches, or at least tries to. His arms flail in an uncoordinated spasm, which results in a series of awkward grunts and a pop from his back that sounds like a joint trying to jump ship.

For a second, he considers staying perfectly still, hoping his body will remember how to function like a normal human.

But then—

There’s something warm beside him. Something... alive.

Max freezes, eyes snapping wide open. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to process what’s happening. The warmth next to him isn’t the soft comfort of a pillow.

It’s... a person.

A person in his bed.

What the actual hell?

His brain goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind races through a thousand thoughts in a second, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Did he... did he end up getting a stranger drunk last night? Did someone break into his room to cuddle with him?

Max’s eyes dart to his left, and it hits him like a freight train.

The person is you.

You, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, your hair tousled and your face peaceful, completely unaware of his mounting panic.

For a moment, Max just stares, brain failing to catch up.

How did this happen? His head starts swimming. His mouth goes dry. His first thought is that he’s dreaming..except, no.

This is far too real. He’s not that lucky.

“I need to call Daniel..”

[drefear]

i saw u needed some idea and lemme just say: ex's dad!miguel o'hara

…oh fuck yes.

Tw: cheating, p in v, age gap,

He cheated. He fucking cheated with your roommate. And now here you were, standing in a long dress at his cousin’s wedding two months later. His cousin invited you because you two became close friends, but seeing him bring your old roommate, laughing with her in front of everyone while you didn’t even bring a plus one sucked.

You look up in the mirror as you tap some cold water on the back of your neck, nervous again after seeing him kiss her cheek and then make eye contact with you.

Most of the ceremony is a blur as you can barely focus on anything but keeping your breathing even. Once it’s over, you bee-line for the open bar and quickly down a shot of vodka before hissing at the burn and reaching for a lemon or lime, anything to help with the taste.

Your arm hits something hard and you feel the front of your dress become soaked as you glance to the side to see your ex boyfriend’s father looking down at where his Old Fashioned spilled on your torso. The syrup-sticky-feeling starts to sink in as you feel gross, groaning and imagining how you must look.

“Dios, I’m so sorry.” He apologized and sighs, “this is not the way I wanted to say hello.”

“It’s ok.” You nod and sigh. “I think the bridal suite has a shower in the bathroom.”

“Let me try to clean the dress while you rinse off, yeah?” He asks and you agree, walking together in silence to the bridal suite. As he opens the door for you, he speaks. “I’m sorry about what happened with my son. He’s young, can’t hold onto the good things in his life right now.”

“Sounds like you want to get us back together.” You chuckle, though it feels dry in your throat. “Mr. O’Hara, it’s ok. It wasn’t meant to be.” You deadpan and he gives you an apologetic look, almost pity.

You head into the bathroom and as you begin to shut the door, a hand catches the knob and pushes it open once more. “Do you need help with the zipper?” His voice gets lower as he asks and you turn to see him coming closer, not even fully answering before he forces you around to look in the mirror and starts unzipping the dress. His breath is hot in your ear as he whispers, “my son doesn’t know how to keep a sexy, smart woman.” His words make you shiver as his fingers trance symbols on your back and down to your thong. “Tell me when to stop.”

“Don’t stop.” You reply and he smirks in the mirror at you, watching your eyes flutter closed as he dips his hands into the front of your underwear and rub small circles around your clit.

“Let me taste this pussy, cariño. Wanted to since the first day he brought you home.” He mumbles into your hair and lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the sink, spreading your legs and putting your knees on his shoulders as he groans at the sight of your already wet pussy. “God damn, you even smell good.”

With that, his tongue licks a stripe over your pussy, pushing your thong to the side and flicking his tongue between your folds. Your moan and lean backwards against the mirror as he grinds his nose into your clit, your legs jolting from the sudden feeling. “Good girl, let out those sounds… let me hear you moan, so sweet for me…” his comments make you thrust into his face and make him laugh deeply, then beginning to push his tongue in and out of you at a faster pace.

“Cum on my face.” He instructs you and you oblige, shaking and almost screaming from pleasure. “Good girl.”

It wasn’t your wedding night, but you still celebrated.

[delilahsturniolo]

bejeweled - m.s

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

summary: y/n just can’t resist matt when he wears rings, and she immediately gets turned on while she’s streaming with the triplets.

this story contains: smut, fingering, unprotected sex and more.

written by: @delilahsturniolo

“best believe i’m still bejeweled, when i walk in the room.”

“i can still make the whole place shimmer.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“What’s the fuck is up chat!” Matt yelled as he started the twitch stream. I sat on Matt’s lap, his arms resting around my waist, my blanket draped over the both of us comfortably.

Nick was sprawled out on Matt’s bed while Chris sat in a chair next to us, gulping down lemonade from the bottle.

“Chat, say hi to Y/n.” Chris smiled warmly. I waved to the camera, the chat was flooded with excitement and people spamming my name. “Hi guys.”

Matt looked up at me, smiling. One of his hands moved from my waist to my thigh, rubbing it soothingly. His fingers had silver rings placed on them, his veiny hands complimenting them.

I couldn’t look away from his hands, something about his rings were so attractive. Matt’s hand moved to type something on the keyboard, the way his fingers moved made me feel a certain way, my heart was racing.

Nick was ranting about something, but I wasn’t listening. I took Matt’s hand and gently fiddled with his rings. Matt looked at me, noticing how quiet I was.

“You okay sweetheart?” Matt asked me, whispering so only I could hear. I was snapped out of my thoughts.

“Y-yeah..” I responded, my voice cracking as I continued sliding Matt’s rings on and off his fingers.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about? Hm?” Matt taunted, he knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what I was thinking about.

I felt a familiar heat between my legs, my underwear immediately dampening from his words. “I like your rings.” I whispered, the stream couldn’t hear what we were saying because of Nick’s yelling. Thank god.

“Yeah?” Matt slid his hand under the blanket, resting his hand on the waistline of my pajama shorts. My breath hitched as I felt the cold metal of his rings against my skin.

He slipped his hand into my underwear, his middle finger grazing my soaked folds, I flinched slightly.

“Alright chat…” Matt spoke, acting as if he wasn’t torturing me right now. “How was everyone’s weekend?” Matt spoke, he suddenly curled his finger, I squeezed his wrist under the blanket tightly, holding back a moan. I felt the metal of his rings inside of me.

“Bleh, boring.” Chris responded, Nick rolled his eyes. “Yeah because you never leave the house.”

“Not true.” Chris teased Nick.

“Y/n? Wanna tell chat about your weekend?” Matt asked me, his thumb stroked my clit in circles.

“Mm—I’d r—rather not..” I stuttered, my voice wavering. “Why? What’s wrong hm?” Matt teased, his ringed fingers beginning to run against my slick folds.

“I think I—I’m just not feeling good.” I said, struggling to keep it together.

“Yeah..you don’t look so good.” Nick replied.

“Okay, we’ll be right back chat. I’m gonna get her some medicine.” Matt quickly pulled his fingers out of my underwear. He grabbed my hand and stood me up, practically dragging me away.

He pulled me through the hallway, and into the bathroom. Matt quickly shut the door, locking it behind him.

He grabbed my waist, lifting me up and making me sit on the bathroom counter.

“Matt..need you so badly..” I desperately spoke, Matt hushed me, gently pulling my shorts and underwear down.

“Shh, if we’re gonna do this you need to be quiet mkay?” Matt insisted, I nodded.

I let out a soft moan as Matt slid a finger into my core, pumping in and out slowly. My back arched against his touch, longing for more.

“Oh—oh my god..” I moaned, Matt’s rings repeatedly hit my clit. The pleasure was overwhelming.

“Yeah? Feel good?” Matt taunted, his fingers slipping out of me. His hand smacked my pussy, I screamed louder than I should’ve as I felt the cold air between my thighs.

Matt shoved his fingers into my mouth, soaked with my own wetness. “Didn’t I say be quiet?” He whispered. His rings rested against my tongue.

Matt used his free hand to fiddle with his belt and jeans, letting his cock spring out. Without warning he immediately slammed into me, my moans muffled.

He popped his fingers out my mouth, his veiny hand moving to hold my chin, forcing me to look at him. His thrusts didn’t bother slowing down. My legs shut, Matt pushed them back open. “Keep em’ open f’me..” Matt whispered into my ear.

“Mmm, matt—so close..” I spoke, my voice hoarse as I felt a knot in my stomach building up.

“Go ahead.” Matt demanded.

I didn’t hesitate to release, immediately feeling relief as Matt pulled out.

His face was sweaty, he ran his ringed fingers over my cheek bone, gently leaning in to give me a quick kiss on the lips.

“You were so amazing baby.” Matt said breathlessly, he ripped off a piece of paper towel from the roll that sat on the counter.

He slowly opened my legs again, cleaning me up lovingly.

My phone was on the floor next to my clothes, it buzzed. Curiously, Matt picked up my phone. He was about to give it to me to look at the text, until he saw who it was from.

2 new messages from: Nick ⭐️

“We’re fucked.” Matt looked up at me nervously, handing me the phone.

“What do you mean?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows as I opened my texts.

shit.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

join the taglist here!! ✨

author’s note 💌 : not sure why but i feel like i’ve read stuff like this before on here so huge credits to anyone who wrote something like this concept!

© delilahsturniolo

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I don't know if this would be classed as a -one-hot, drabble or Imagine but can you pls write a little something about: Adam and his 3rd wide (bless him) getting jt on I'm his office and Lute walking in and how they'd all react? I love your writing sm!

A/n: Adam finally finding someone that loves him and puts up with his bullshit.

You looked good, so, so good.

"Fucking beautiful." Adam groaned against your neck, his large hand running down your back as he hovered behind you. Your body pressed against his desk. "Be as loud or quiet as you want babe..."You were perfect in his eyes."I won’t stop fucking and putting a baby inside of you.”

He firmly yet gently pressed you down to against the desk, his hips met your ass, making him grinding sensuously against you.

“You're make me a Daddy, Princess? Let me take care of you. All you need to do is stay still and let me do all the work and stay pretty like the Princess that you are.” Adam's lips grazed the nape of your neck.

"Adam...please." You were so quiet, so cute. Your nails dug into the wood of the table as you rubbed yourself against his hips.

Adam smirked, his eyes narrowing with a predatory glint as he watched you squirm against him. He loved how eager you were. His hans tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh possessively as they slipped under the skirt you wore until they dipped past your panties and into your warmth.

"Such a good girl," he purred, his voice laced with dark desire. "You're so wet for me, baby. You can't get enough of my cock, can you?" Nuzzling his nose into your neck he could feel your slick folds clenching around his fingers as he teased your entrance, circling his digit around your clit, relishing in the way you moaned and bucked against his touch.

Adam's breath hot against your ear, teeth grazing the skin "I'm going to fuck you until you can't even remember your own name, Princess. You'll be screaming my name, begging for more." Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that sweet spot deep within. His pace was relentless, his thrusts fast and hard.

As his fingers worked their magic, Adam other hand slipped underneath your shirt, his fingers finding your hardened nipple. He pinched and twisted it, adding an extra layer of pleasure to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. With every thrust of his fingers, he could feel your walls clenching around him, your moans growing louder.

"Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice dripping with dominance. "I want to feel you trembling around my fingers. Show me how badly you want me."

You did your best to keep your voice low but it felt so good. Biting your tongue, his name slipped past your lips as your climax hit you, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers. "Adam...please." You sucked in a breath. "I need...I need you."

Wetting his lips, Adam couldn't help but smirk as he felt your walls clenching around his fingers, your plea for him only fueling his desire. He withdrew his fingers from your throbbing core, leaving you panting and desperate for more. Your body slumped over his desk, legs trembling.

"Oh, my pretty girl," he cooed, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "You're so needy for me, aren't you? Begging for my cock like a good little slut." He unbuckled his pants, freeing his hardened length, and positioned himself at your entrance.

With a swift motion, he plunged deep inside you, filling you completely. He relished in the way you gasped and arched your back, your body accommodating his size. Adam began to move, his thrusts powerful and unrelenting as he claimed you as his own.

The desk creaking under you both as his hand grabbed your hips tightly as his wings unfurled.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?My cock deep inside you, pounding you relentlessly? You're mine. Only mine." His pace quickened, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he fucked you with a possessive intensity.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're going to take my seed, Princess. You're going to be filled with my cum, over and over again." His words were a mix of dominance and desire, his voice low and primal. "You're going to be the mother of my children, and no one will ever take you away from me."

Resting your head on his desk, you could feel your legs trembling with each of his thrusts.Adam's grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming more frenzied. He was on the edge, ready to release himself inside you. "Come for me again, baby," he commanded, his voice filled with lust. "I want to feel you clenching around me as I fill you up. Give in to me beautiful."

Your eyes slid closed as you pushed back on his cock as your walls clenched around his shaft as your orgasm hit you hard, your juices coating him.

Adam groaned as he felt your walls clenching around him, your orgasm rippling through your body. The sensation of your juices coating his cock only heightened his pleasure, driving him closer to his own release. He continued to thrust into you, riding out the waves of your orgasm, relishing in the way you tightened around him.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he growled, his voice laced with raw desire. He quickened his pace, the sound of his hips slapping against yours filling the room. With each thrust, he felt his own climax building, the pleasure coiling tightly in his core.

He could feel the heat building in his loins, the familiar pressure building to its breaking point. "I'm going to fill you up, beautiful," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "You're going to take every last drop of my cum."

With one final, powerful thrust, Adam reached his peak. He released himself inside you, his hot seed filling your depths. His body shook with the force of his orgasm, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He remained buried inside you, relishing in the intimate connection between you.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Adam pulled out of you, his spent length glistening with a mixture of your juices and his cum. He leaned down, pressing a possessive kiss to your lips. "You're mine." he whispered, his voice filled with a possessive intensity. "And I'll make sure everyone knows it." Giving you anther kiss, Adam let his cock glide across your slick entrance again.

Panting, a weak laugh escaped your lips though you didn't get a chance to speak as the door flung open.

"Adam...I have those files...what the fuck!"Lute's eyes went wide as she turned her face away.

Tensing, Adam rolled his eyes as his wings covered your body. "What?! Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Can't you lock your damn door?" Lute growled out then stormed off as she slammed the door shut.

Groaning, you shifted your body so your face was buried in his chest. "I will never be able to look her in the face again."

"You're so cute babe, all embarrassed and shit. It's making me hard again."

Shaking your head, you scowled up at him as you grasped his robe tightly. "At least lock your damn door so no one can walk in on us again."

"You're no fun."

"Adam!"

"Fine!"

[totalswag]

hi i love your writings!!!

may i request something angst with y/n and drew pls? like maybe they broke up but still love each other and they haven't told their families about it. so one day they have to meet again at Liliana's birthday party and they have to pretends? but it's getting angst when the party ended and they have to separate again

i still love you ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note firstly, thank you lovie! you don’t know how much that means to me. i’ve written angst before but not a lot. this one is gonna hurt so grab tissues if needed.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary attending a birthday party with your ex as a couple after you broken up without telling anyone in your circle.

warning(s) breakups, angst, crying, and feelings for each other.

Drew and you ended your relationship four weeks ago. Never thought your relationship with him would end so suddenly. You have been an absolute reck since. Both of you still love each other deeply.

Family and friends don’t know about the break up���they’d be devastated hearing the news. Just thinking about it gets you overwhelmed with emotion. Drew and you have had small conversations about it but can't pull through yet.

Tonight is Liliana’s second birthday, everyone in Drew’s family will be there celebrating at his younger sisters home. Drew and you were invited prior to the breakup—you’ll be attending as a "couple."

This is gonna hurt you both.

“Okay we act like a couple then we part our separate ways, yeah?” Drew says with a hint of sadness in his voice, enough for only you to hear.

Pulling the front string of your hair behind your ear, looking up at his tall frame, “ye-eah that’s fine.” Your voice started cracking.

The two of you walk up the driveway of the house walking hand in hand like you typically would when you were together. Suddenly, Drew’s hand gently placed itself on your lower back—thumb rubbing gentle circles.

The sensation of his touch on your skin sends millions of goosebumps down your spine; you feel comfortable in his embrace—you are home. When you enter through the back gate, your face lights up as you see his family.

"Oh my gosh, it's so glad to see you both here" Brooke, Drew's younger sister, smiles running over in your direction with a drink in her hand.

After your brief reunion, you moved to see Drew's other family members. Seeing them made you joyful and sad at the same time because you knew you wouldn't see them as much after this. 

Liliana raced over to Drew, arms raised, hoping to be hoisted up. She giggled as he kissed her face. "Stop it, Uncle Drewy," she says, tilting her head back.

Watching the two interact is the cutest thing ever. Liliana looks over her shoulder, gasping, and reaching out to you—taking her in your arms, hugging her, and spinning her around.

"You look so beautiful today," you tell the two-year-old in your arms. She glances up at you, reaching for your necklace before wrapping her arms around your neck.

"You too auntie!"

Drew and you stood near to each other during the party—kissing your cheeks, hugging you close, resting his hand on your thigh—all the things you used to do. You could feel each other's distress.

Your entire body was screaming. You and Drew were dating for over four years. This split is still fresh for both of you. You just wanted to stay close to him the entire time, and he felt the same way.

People asked you how your relationship was going and when Drew was gonna get down on one knee. Just typical questions that've been asked before. No one suspected anything off between you two.

The drive back to your house didn't take long. Drew and you were making small talk about the party and seeing Liliana's face when she opened her gifts.

Drew parked the car and switched off the engine, but neither of you made a move to exit. The streetlights provided a soothing light inside the car, highlighting the stress on his face. He finally ended the silence.

"I hate this, you know," he continued, his voice tight. "Pretending like everything's fine when it's not."

You gulped hard, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "Me, too. But what options do we have?"

He turned to face you, looking into your eyes. "We can try again. Maybe we just needed some time apart to think things through."

"I still love you," he said softly, his voice breaking.

Your heart tightened at his words, and you clutched his palm tightly. "I still love you, too. But love isn't always sufficient."

By this point, your voice had begun to crack. You just wanted to jump into his arms one final time and have him tell you everything would be fine.

The hush that ensued was deafening. You both understood the reality, even if it was difficult to accept. You slowly and reluctantly drew your hand away and sought for the door handle.

"Goodbye, Drew," you replied softly, exiting the car.

You headed towards your apartment, your vision hazy with tears. Just as you approached the door, you heard him yell your name. Turning around, you noticed the pain imprinted on his face, which mirrored your own.

"Goodbye," he murmured quietly.

He stared at you as you walked to your front door. He wanted he could walk in the house with you, but you never asked. Turning around and waved your final goodbye as he slowly drove away. 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you close the door. You couldn't hold back the tears. You hoped everything had never happened in the first place and that everything would have been okay. However, not everything goes as planned.

All those memories you made together are flooding through your mind as you walk yourself to your bedroom.

One day you'll find your way back. One day.

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[servicpop]

CAN SOMEONE BE MY ADRIEN RN 😭 !! Anyways, what if Adrien asked Y/N to their prom?! isn't that the cutest thing?! is up to you if you gonna make it nsfw! I REALLY NEED HIM !! 🥲 AHHHH (love your page! so glad I found it 🫶🏻)

had so little time cus of work so let me write up something quick !

NSFW ; fingering & overstim

"Who are you taking out to prom, Adrien?" It was a question Adrien never really thought about. The obvious answer was... you, so he had completely forgotten the fact that you two weren't exclusive, or public yet. "Dunno, might just skip it," Adrien shrugged, pushing himself off the cobble pavement and brushed off the dirt from his clothes. The guys just laughed, nudging him with their elbows and patting him on the back, typical Adrien, they all remarked. Now came the complicated part, actually asking you out and playing it off so you won't get found out.

He decided a few weeks before prom day to ask you out. It was a Saturday evening, you were in your room filling out some paperwork for the school. It was crazy how much of a burden the school dumped onto you just because you were the student president. Your phone buzzed on your table, causing you to flinch from the unexpected notification from Adrien.

Look outside ur window I got a surprise for u

It has become normal for Adrien to sneak in through your window. You didn't know how your parents would react to seeing someone like Adrien, and you sure didn't want to risk it so you never actually asked them if Adrien could come in. The chair creaked as it rolled, allowing you to get up and walk to your window. You peered through the glass to look down at your yard, seeing Adrien standing on the grass with flowers in his hand and a large cardboard cut out with poorly drawn glittery words that were practically ineligible from his handwriting. You could tell he used glue and threw glitter on it from the way the letters drooped and melted.

You turned away from the window and went back to work.

You had barely gotten back on your chair until you heard your window slam open and Adrien jump in. How did he get into your room on the 2nd floor? Who knows. A few petals scattered onto your floor and Adrien dropped the cardboard cutout onto the floor, striding to where you were standing. "I'm not leaving until I hear a yes," Adrien grinned, placing the bruised flowers onto your desk and wrapping his arms around your waist, hoisting you up into the air and placing you back down onto your bed.

You don't know how long he's been at it. He has you laying ontop of him, back to his chest and three fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. There was already white all over your abdomen from your previous orgasms. His left hand is working on your spent cock, rubbing the tip over and over again. His fingers are sodden with your pre-cum that continued to leak out your slit despite how many times you've cum. "Adrien— please I can't take anymore," Your whole body screams with pleasure but your mind is so blank you can't even think a full sentence.

"Not stopping till you say yes," Adrien cooed, rubbing circles along your cockhead that sent shivers down your spine. He knew exactly all the spots you're weak in and all the spots that would drive you insane. Your pride wouldn't let you say yes, how could he even attend prom with you without it being a huge give away to their relationship? But now, all you could think of was his calloused hands rubbing so sweetly at all your spots. His fingers squelched as they pushed deeper, pressing against your prostate once more.

"C'mon just tell me you'll go to prom will me, I'll work double shift to buy you a suit if you want—" "I'll go to prom with you." "I'll even rent a car— huh?" Adrien paused, instantly sitting up to look at your face. It took a moment of pause before a toothy smile spread across Adrien's face, "Really?" You barely nod, your body as so spent from Adrien's torture. Adrien slides his fingers out of you, and wraps his arms around your shoulders in a bear hug. He basically tackles you on your own bed, rolling you around with a hearty laugh, "Fuck I really thought you'd reject me," he smiled against your shoulder, pulling you to lay ontop of him again but now both your chests were brushing against eachother.

"Does this mean we're dating—" "No."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Reader being anxious about JJ getting on the bike since the accident in season 3. Maybe it’s during the bike competition? He promise her he won’t do anything stupid that would get him hurt, but he’s JJ so things always turn to shit

Request: being John b's sister and dating JJ when he's doing that motocross competition. He does it to earn some money back

I have not seen season 4 yet, so I have no idea of the context of the race, so don't come yelling at me because it's not what happened in the show. I also decided to not make it go to shit, because that one accident was enough trauma

Warnings: slight ptsd, JJ making stupid jokes, mention of motocross accident (season 3),

—

‘’I don’t like this...’’ 

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you stood by JJ and his bike, getting flashes of the accident and the utter distress you felt when you couldn’t find him after he fell over the overpass. You never wanted to relive that type of emotion again. 

At your reaction, JJ grabbed your arms, his voice dropping to a soothing tone. ‘’I know you're worried for me, but I need to do this. If I win, I’ll get a lot of money…and make up for spending most of the gold money on my old house,’’ he explained, trying to calm your worries. His eyes shifted to Pope and the others. ‘’No one’s gonna be mad at me anymore.’’

You understood his reason for signing up for the competition, but you couldn’t support it. There had to be something else he could do. Not a fucking motocross competition. Anything but that.

‘’I’m gonna be fine,’’ he added, lifting your chin and looking into your eyes. ‘’This is just a race in the sand, not a police chase.’’ 

That earned him a glare. 

‘’JJ, the last time I saw you on a bike—’’  Your voice faltered, the knot in your stomach tightening painfully.

Realizing his joke fell flat, JJ pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, trying to calm you down. Sometimes he wanted to smack himself for saying stupid things…

The crash haunted him too, no question about it. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a surge of panic when he lost control of the bike and tumbled down the overpass. But it was different for you — you had watched it happen from Topper’s truck, helpless as he fell. You and Sarah screamed for him, only to receive no answers. You thought he had died from the crash. 

Too soon to your liking, a loud noise echoed over the speakers, calling all racers to the starting line. You reluctantly pulled away from JJ and walked off with Kiara, linking her arms with yours in silent support.

You went up the stands to find seats, taking the spot beside your brother. You gripped the edge of the seat as you glanced at the racetrack, then the starting line where JJ sat on his bike, revving up with the others. You’ve been trying to prepare yourself mentally for weeks, but you don’t think you’ll ever be ready to see the boy you loved getting back on a bike that almost took his life.

‘’Don’t worry, he’s got this,’’ John B. said, wrapping an arm around you. He smiled, but you could see the flicker of concern in his eyes too. You all knew what happened last time, even if no one was saying it out loud. ‘’And he’s got protective gear this time.’’

Injuries can still happen with protective gear. You’ve read about it online. 

You could barely breathe as the starter raised the flag, and the crowd fell into an anticipatory hush. JJ pulled down the visor of his helmet, a familiar cocky smile tugging at his lips, then the flag dropped.

The race exploded into motion. The bikes shot off, kicking up a massive cloud of dust. The roar of engines filled your ears, drowning out everything else. Your heart raced faster than the bikes on the track as you gripped the bench beneath you, your knuckles going white.

Kiara followed JJ with her eyes, her voice loud enough to cut through the noise. "He's in third already!" she shouted, trying to add some enthusiasm.

''Come on, JJ,'' Pope added, looking almost just as nervous as you. 

Your eyes stayed glued to JJ, weaving between riders as the pack hurtled toward the first turn. Every bump, every jump had you holding your breath, afraid that any second things could go wrong.

It was impossible not to relive the accident in your mind — the way he flew over the edge, the bike spinning out of control. But this time, you tried to push those images aside, focusing on the present, on him. You needed to believe he could make it through.

The first turn came up fast, the riders leaning hard into it, and your heart lurched as JJ took the inside path, overtaking the guy in second place. The crowd roared, and for a moment, the adrenaline made you forget your worry, just watching him race.

Although this bike brought back bad memories, it held good ones too. All the times you’ve sat behind JJ and held onto his waist as he sped through the streets of Kildare…and the muddy shortcuts. When he tried to teach you how to drive it, but you ended up making out while you were sitting on the bike instead. John B. would kill him if he knew. 

By the third lap, JJ was neck-and-neck with the leader. The crowd around you was on their feet, yelling and cheering, but all you could focus on was JJ, pushing his bike harder, faster, determined to take first place. 

‘’Oh my god, he’s in first!’’ Sarah shouted as he took a turn for the final lap, getting caught up in the excitement. ‘’Come on, JJ! One more lap!’’ 

Your pulse hammered in your ears as he flew toward the line. The guy on the blue bike was trying to go past JJ, the bikes barely separated by inches, but JJ was still leading. 

And then, in a flash, it was over.

JJ crossed the line, just a split second ahead.

Around you, everyone was jumping and cheering while you stood there. A mix of excitement, relief and joy washed through you, together a strange and confusing cocktail. Kiara wrapped her arms around you, a wide grin on his face, and everyone else joined, celebrating JJ’s big win. All the anxiety and fear suddenly melted away, replaced by pure excitement. Your hands were shaking but your heart was pounding with adrenaline and happiness. 

As soon as you could, you all made your way down the stand, wanting to congratulate JJ. You pushed your way through the throngs of people until you finally caught sight of him. He was still in his racing gear, including the helmet, but he had taken the visor off, and you could see his face glistened with sweat. 

You ran toward him, a wide grin on your face, but before you could say anything, he saw you and pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground. 

''I told you I would win,'' he said, mirroring your grin. 

You squealed in surprise as your feet left the ground, holding onto him tightly. The familiar scent of sweat, adrenaline, and just a hint of motor oil filled your nostrils, evoking a mix of feelings. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx   @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife   @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue   @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker   @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage   @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc   @pedrosprincess   @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb   @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom   @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey   @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld   @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble   @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius   @buckyswhxre @emerald-09   @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey  @ynmunson @riddle18  @love4ldr @withfireandbl00d @wonderland2425 @blublock404 @eddieslut69

[boypied]

THE COCKPIT

pairings: stefan salvatore x male reader x klaus mikaelson

summary: stefan and klaus go to a highly exclusive strip club where they catch the male reader on one of his working days, they pay upfront for his 'special treatment'

requested by: anonymous

word count: 1,597

warnings: smut, hair pulling, ass eating, cum swallowing.

Stefan's blindfold begins to slip off his face, revealing the street lights as Klaus speeds up. "Where are we actually going?" Stefan says cautiously as he doesn't like to be in the dark about something, Klaus just chuckles slightly, very obviously excited. "A stripclub," he says bluntly with a very serious tone so that Stefan doesn't think he's joking, he turns his head to face Stefan with a smirk on his face whereas Stefan's eyes widen as he realises he's not joking then he rolls his eyes, "why?" Stefan asks bluntly as he waits for Klaus stupid answer "because...I'm horny and you're just SUPER uptight, " he says with a smirk on his face before Stefan can even defend himself Klaus shouts out excitedly "WE ARE HERE!" He jumps out his car and drags Stefan out the other side.

"Do we have to?" Stefan pleads with Klaus as he practically drags him from the car towards the club, as they get closer and their eyes adjust to the bright neon lights, Stefan's eyes dart up to the sign. "The Cockpit," he says, dumbfounded, whereas Klaus bites his lip at the name basically bricked up just from the title. Once they manage to get past security and the metal detectors, they finally make it inside to where the music is blasting from, "Did they really need all that security?" Stefan says, turning to face Klaus, whose eyes are locked onto the male strippers who are dotted around the club.

The Cockpit's boys are always treated with respect by the customers unless a customer has paid to degrade one of the boys, which he would've fully consented to. A twink in a bunny costume walks over to the two men, "you guys must be new, I haven't seen you around here" he says with a smile on his face, Klaus smirks at him slightly as he checks him out "yeah we're new, heard about this place from one of my friends. They said its the best." He says, his huge smile not dropping off his face once. The bunny-twink chuckles as he adjusts the tray in his hand "well you heard right, you might wanna go get a seat. The new show is about to begin, and he's the club favourite. The music dies down as the male stripper on stage struts off as the dj begins to announce the new on-stage dancer.

"Give a round of applause to the club favourite..." The dj shouts out, getting all the men in the crowd excited. Once all the clapping quieted down, the dj continued; "Sweet Cheeks." The spotlight circles the curtains as you tease your leg through the curtains, making all the men hollar out excited you pull open the curtains to reveal yourself completely. "WOOO!" One group of men yell out, causing you to smirk as you get down on your knees and crawl down the stage as your cute bikini-cut briefs hug your ass perfectly. You have suspenders connected to your briefs as one falls down your shoulder as you crawl to the centre of the stage while your bunny ears wobble.

Klaus and Stefan's eyes widen as you crawl across the stage practically towards them, Stefan digs his nails into the clubs chairs as he stares at you with hungry eyes. Not hungry eyes as in he wants to eat you but hungry eyes because he wants to beat the shit out of your hole, Klaus bites his lip as he grips the imprint of his cock. You lean back on your knees and fall on your back having your cock imprint on display causing all the men to scream and throw dollar bills to you.

You throw your body forward onto the money and arch your back, showing off your bubble butt, I grip onto all the money, pulling it up against your body. Causing all the men hollering out to you saying lewd comments about what they would all do to you. Once you finally finish your performance, you scoop up some money and strut off stage and put all the money into a box for later, since you had finished your performance you had to strut around to see if any of the men wanted a lap dance or something more... sexual.

The moment you step out of that side curtain and onto the main floor, Klaus and Stefan are right in your face, asking you so many questions, practically drooling over you. You eat up every moment of it, you do a little spin for them showing off your full body, and you notice their dick prints twitch with excitement. Klaus hands you a wad of cash, and you flick through it, letting your eyes naturally dart up to meet their eager eyes. "Follow me boys" you say in a seductive tone as you walk into the private suits. The lights change from purple to deep red, leading them into one of the curtain rooms.

They take a seat on the black couch as you stand in front of them, "get naked for me boys. Don't take your eyes off of me" you say in a sultry tone as they stand up and eagerly strip off naked in front of you, while they're undressing you slowly pull down your boxer briefs revealing your black thong that perfectly hugs your ass and hips. Stefan and Klaus slowly sit down with their raging boners on display, you get down on your hands and knees and slowly crawl over to them. You get down on your knees inbetween Klaus and Stefan and take both of their cocks in each hand and you begin jerking them.

You've become a pro at this because of how often you do it, at first it was hard doing it was your less dominant hand but now it's like it was meant to be. Both their moans echo throughout the soundproof "love room" as some people call it. You quicken the pace making them feel the utmost pleasure, you pull away "who gets to be inside me first?" You say seductively. You get into doggy position having your hole on display as Stefan comes up behind you and places a condom on and uses that lube to slide in. "AH!" You gasp out in shock at his size, you've never had one that size before.

Klaus watches from the couch the way your eyes flutter back and your body bounces back and forth, He slowly wraps his hand around his cock and begins jerking it off to you. It's like a live porno, he thinks to himself. Stefan pounds away at your hole getting every penny he put into that wad, he grips onto your hips watching the way your ass jiggles with each thrust. His eyes look up at the way your cheap Halloween store bunny ears wobble with each thrust of his cock.

"H-Harder" you whimper out in pleasure as his cock hits your g-spot. Normally the boys at The Cockpit don't jerk off while being fucked but something about this felt necessary to jerk off to. "So tight!" Stefan groans out with each thrust of his cock edging closer and closer to meeting the end of his pleasure, you jerk off your cock while he pounds out, they become sloppier and sloppier until he shoots his load filling up the condom he put on, he thrusts a couple more times before pulling out and tying up the condom. He gently slaps your ass as he sits back down on the couch watching as Klaus gets up and walks over.

Klaus rips open a condom and rolls it onto his cock, the size condom is large so you know your in for a treat. He grips onto your hips and pushes himself into your gaping asshole, Klaus groans out as inch by inch your hole clings onto his cock. You bite your lip hearing his moans, Stefan pulls out his phone and begins recording this encounter "don't worry this is for his private collection" he says to you as Klaus grips onto your hair pulling it back as he pounds away into you. Your eyes roll back as his cock twitches with each thrust.

Klaus has been edging all day at the thought of fucking one of The Cockpit boys and he got the best one in the house, Klaus' grip in your hair tightens as he pounds faster and faster you jerk off your cock quicker and quicker matching the rhythm of the way he fucks you, Klaus gets closer and closer fucking you roughly like a slut until he comes undone and nuts inside the condom as he continues to pound his way through it, he pulls away and pulls off the condom throwing it onto the floor. You breath heavily as you smile at them "hot" is the only word you can get out as Stefan and Klaus chuckle while they get changed.

Stefan and Klaus both look at eachother until Klaus speaks up "we'll be coming here again that's for sure" you blush as you've just earned yourself a new customer. Stefan agrees with Klaus' remark watching the way your bunny ears wobble as they both say their goodbyes and they leave The Cockpit. You clean up the used condoms, put your bunny costume back on and you leave the love rooms, walking into the break room packing all your stuff up and leaving for the night.

"best fucking night ever" you mumble to yourself wondering if any guy will ever top what they done to you.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronaaaaaaa @irlsamcarpenter

[7seas-of-ryy]

Crestfallen - Part 2

Author’s Note: I hope everyone has a great New Years!!

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 2 Summary: Gaslighting and harming patients is not what a healer is supposed to do!

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

Waking up, your entire body felt like it was on fire. You couldn't remember what happened so you did what Az and Cass had trained you to do. Taking a deep breath, you assessed your surroundings. You were laying in someone's room, Azriel's room. That's a relief. One other thing you notice was you were naked and wrapped in ice cold, wet rags.

Hearing footsteps approaching, you closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep still.

"Azzy, you don't have to have her sleep in your bed. I can keep her down in the recovery room of my shop." Clara's sickly sweet voice broke the silence.

Azzy?? She has a nickname for him? She's barely known him. All these thoughts kept running through your head while you waited for his response.

"No, she's staying here. It's the least I can do for her. I should've checked on her sooner, I was just so caught up in my work that I didn't realize no one had seen or heard from her for two days." Azriel responded.

"Stop beating yourself up. She's a big girl and can handle herself. Plus, you're such an important piece in the Night Court, you don't need to be worrying so much about her." She told him.

Before she could keep going, you made it known you were awake by softly clearing your throat.

Az ran to your side and kneeled down next to you, grabbing your hand.

"You're awake! I was so worried. You've had a terrible fever so Clara wrapped you in these rags to cool you down. That cut on your back looked really bad too, why didn't you let Clara help you the other night?" Azriel spoke softly to you, and by the looks of it he hadn't been sleeping much.

"What? Clara told me-" You choked out but your throat felt so dry it was hard to talk.

"Don't you remember? I offered you the salve and wrap for your cut, told you it looked infected? You told me you just wanted to sleep it off. I didn't think that would be good but I can't force anyone to get better especially if they don't want to." She talked down to you like you were a child.

You felt like you were going crazy. Maybe Clara was right, maybe in your exhaustion you refused help and ended up getting worse. But you could've sworn she told you everything was fine.

"Water." it was all you could choke out.

"I'll get it for you." Clara offered but you didn't trust her. Especially with your mind as foggy as it was right now.

"No!" You shouted, well tried to shout.

"Ok, ok, calm down. I can get it for you, would that be ok?" Azriel asked as he gently pushed the hair out of your face.

You nodded your head and he got up to get it for you. Once he was gone, Clara started fumbling around in her bag and pulled out a powder.

She walked over to you, opening the substance and put a little bit of it in the cap.

"Wha-?" You started to say as she blew the capful of powder straight into your face.

The most intense pain took over your body. It was like your flesh was being torn from your bones. Your body writhed in agony and you were screaming out in pain. The shadowsinger came running in the room straight to you.

"What happened? Help her!" His voice was booming.

"I don't know, she was fine then all of the sudden this happened. I think I have something that can fix her!" She sounded panicked and worried for you.

Pulled a liquid out of her bag, she looked pained towards Az like she didn't want to give it to you.

"What're you doing? Hurry!!" He shouted.

"This is going to hurt her a lot, I need you to hold her down." Clara told Az.

He quickly grabbed his belt off and slipped it in your mouth so you could bite down on it and held your arms down.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered to you, "She's gonna help you, it'll be over soon."

Clara grabbed a dagger and cut down your side. She grabbed the liquid and dropped it into the cut. However bad you thought the pain was, was nothing compared to this. You thought you were going to die, the last thing you saw was Azriel' hazel eyes before passing out once again.

"She needs some time for that to kick in. Her cut must've been worse than I thought. I needed to treat the infection, the liquid I poured into the cut will do that and it will work faster the way I did it." Clara told the spymaster, walking over to him and rubbing his shoulders.

----

The next time you woke up, Az was sitting on the ground with his back against the bed. You didn't see Clara anywhere so relief instantly flooded your mind.

Sensing the change in your breathing, Azriel's head shot up and he stood up to see you.

"Hey, how are you doing?" He whispered.

"Where's Clara?" You asked, partly out of fear.

"Why? Do you need her? I can call for her-" He started

"NO" You immediately shut him down, "Please keep her away from me. I'm sick because of her!"

Azriel looked at you as if you grew a second head.

"You have to listen to me. She has been horrible to me since the second she met me..." You were pleading with him.

"Stop." He whispered but you kept going, speaking over him.

"She didn't even assess me the other night, which is why my cut is infected and then she blew some powder in my face which caused everything earlier. She is purposefully making me sick." You were rambling, trying to get him to understand.

"Enough." Azriel spoke in a stern voice, "Listen, I don't know if it's because of everything you're going through but Clara is the only reason you aren't in agony right now. You cannot pin something like this on her. She has been very essential these past 2 weeks and she is extremely kind. There is no way she could possibly do something like that."

Those words were like a punch to your gut. How could he not believe you? You've been best friends for over 75 years, known each other for a century. This is the male that you were in love with, siding with Clara.

"You don't believe me." You whispered, feeling a tear slide down your cheek.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying you had a long, tough first solo mission and I think it's taking it's toll on you. Your mind might be playing tricks." He tried to make it better but the look he gave you was full of pity.

"Please leave now." You mumbled and turned your head away from him.

Without saying another word, you felt his shadows settle over you and as quick as they were there, they left along with their master.

------

A few days have past now with you showing no signs of improvement. You haven't gotten worse but you definitely haven't gotten better.

Mor and Nesta visited you quite a bit, Nesta even read to you every night. You asked Rhys to have Azriel stay away and even though he thought that would be counterproductive, he respected your wishes.

For 75 years, you have been in love with the Spymaster. Of course, you never told him out of fear of rejection but also because you knew he would never feel the same and it would ruin your friendship. You knew the feelings were unrequited when he didn't believe you about Clara.

It felt deeper than him not believing you, in a way it felt as if he chose her over you and that hurt far worse than any of the physical pain you went through.

As you were deep in thought, Nesta and Mor both came into your room. Well, Azriel's room. You were still too weak to move anywhere else.

"Hey, you're awake!" Mor greeted you with a smile.

"I brought a new book for us to start, if you are up for it." Nesta added.

She was always kind to you because you were there for her with everything she went through. Nesta was grateful for your unrelenting friendship and you were happy to have her as a friend.

Right as you were about to respond to Nesta, you felt the cut on your back heating up. Searing pain started shooting through your body and you thought you saw tendrils of light swirling around you. Confused and in agony, you threw your head back.

"Get Clara." Mor told Nesta as she tried to help you.

You were too weak to tell her no, the light seemed to be getting brighter. A high pitched squeal was getting louder. Suddenly, your body was being lifted in the air by the beams of light but it was as if you were paralyzed.

Clara winnowed into the room, her eyes going wide as she witnessed what was happening to you.

The noise was so loud that Nesta, Mor, and Clara were all covering their ears. Your body was convulsing, the light becoming so bright you thought you were going to explode.

"DO SOMETHING!" Mor screamed over all of the noise.

The fear in Clara's eyes was evident and she stood there not moving.

"..uh...I...I didn't do this one! I don't know how to fix it! I'll see if Madja is close by." She stated and winnowed away.

Nesta's head snapped to Clara but she was already gone. Mor ran to you but there was nothing she could do. Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian all ran into the room to see what was happening but there was nothing they could do either.

"What happened?!" Az shouted but no one responded.

A few moments passed before Clara winnowed back into the room, this time with Madja, who calmly made her way to you and hovered her hands over your form. She started mumbling some words and your body slowly laid back down on the bed.

The beams of light slowly went away and you weren't screaming in pain anymore.

"All of you. Out now. I need space to work. You need to go too, Clara." Madja spoke without looking up, "Except you, High Lord, I might need you."

Cassian, Mor, Clara, and Nesta started to get out and Azriel stayed, he couldn't leave you. Cassian grabbed him and forced him out as they all made their way down to the living area.

They all stood worrying about you, the Spymaster's shadows swirling like mad when Nesta broke the silence.

"Hey Clara...what did you mean when you said "You didn't do this one" earlier?" She spoke, her eyes narrowing on the female.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho

[oceantornadoo]

lavender haze (price x f!reader, explicit use of weed/smoking mention)

it was the happiest day of your life. john was on one knee, smiling and holding a ring box up to you. your smile was too big for your face. as you reached forward for him, the ground shook, causing you to look up. that wasn’t right - you were in a hellscape. the air clogged your lungs, buildings were burning and screams rang out. the cries of innocents permeated the air. john was still on his knee, smiling. a popping sound surrounded you, then he wasn’t smiling anymore. the ring lay in a pool of blood as your captain’s eyes glazed over…

“wake up, lieutenant.”

you couldn’t stop looking into john’s eyes. and where was his hat? he never went to battle without it.

“c’mon, you need to wake up.”

you could hear them coming for you. the same footsteps that killed john. they were right behind you and-

“baby please, wake up.”

you woke up with a gasp, the room pitch black around you. a lamp flicked on, casting the motel room in an eerie glow, illuminating the man next to you. your captain, decidedly and platonically just that, was a bit flustered, his hand on your back to track your breathing. “y’ were having’ a nightmare.” you nodded, sucking in greedy amounts of air into your lungs as you calmed down your body. it was routine now, waking up in the middle of the night and walking yourself off the ledge of a panic attack. unfortunately, this time had to be when you shared a bed with your captain. platonically. for the mission.

“i find a smoke helps when i can’t sleep.” he’s still here, rubbing your back in small circles. your heart jumps and you kill it with a reminder of how he fist bumps and shoulder taps the men on your team. it means nothing, he’s just being a good captain. “don’t have anything on me.” your voice is gravel, hoarse from the phantom screams in your dreams. “‘s ok. i could use a smoke too.” he drops his hand, moving to get out of the rickety mattress this establishment calls a bed. you avert your eyes at the sight of him in a casual t-shirt and boxers, willing your overactive imagination to go away. the imagination that thinks about how he’d look after a one-night stand or a casual lie-in with his lover. the one that inserts you into the fantasy.

“c’mere.” the room has a small balcony, barely enough room for two, but he gestures to you anyways as he unlocks the door. there is something in his hand, but your sleepy brain tells you it’s too small to be a cigar. odd. when you walk outside, you’re immediately met with the edge of the balcony. it’s truly standing room only. a glance to your left reveals your captain looking for threats in the night sky, finally satisfied when his shoulders drop an inch. he takes out a lighter, something with the image of a santa claus that you can imagine gaz gave him as part of his old man jokes. john raises something to his mouth. the smell is odd, not that of his regular cigars, and it takes you a second to process as you wrack your brain. “is that…weed?” he exhales in a partial laugh, restraining a cough since you ruined his proper exhale. “surprised, lieutenant?” you scoff, reaching for the joint. his fingers brush yours, the joint really too long for that to be necessary, calluses on calluses setting your body aflame. you take a hit, trying to remember how to inhale correctly as it’s been a while since you’ve smoked weed on a balcony with someone. not to mention, your captain. “big inhale, lieutenant. not just a mouth breath.” you hum as you exhale, satisfied you’re able to follow his instructions. “good girl.” he is too, apparently. you shake off any underlying message.

“can’t believe my captain smokes weed.” he takes the joint back wordlessly, fingers brushing yours again. “rarely. jus’ for nightmare occasions. never on a mission.” funny, since you're both waiting for exfil the next morning. a bit closer to a mission than you imagined he usually did. “technically, we’re still on a mission.” you were on your third hit now, time going fast when it was just you and john on this lonely balcony. “necessary exception. can’t have my best lieutenant runnin’ on an empty tank.”

you bit back a smile at his compliment. “i won’t tell ghost if you won’t.” john rewarded you with a chuckle, a deep belly laugh you’d only heard once or twice. so this is what he was like high - a man who allowed himself to have fun. you could work with that. “won’t matter. y’ve got him wrapped ‘round your finger.” a jilted gasp escaped you as you refrained from stomping your feet. “no way! if anything it’s soap since ghost calls him johnny. i couldn't get away with half of the things soap does.” the joint was almost finished and you hadn’t even realized. he offered you one last hit before putting it out on the railing. disappointment sank heavy in your stomach, a feeling that the moment was almost gone.

your captain turned to you, a string pulling you closer until you were standing under him. his eyes were red, smile lines fresh. “you look good. sorry, relaxed. i see why you smoke now.” you murmured. his hand reached out into the space between you, then dropped back down. weird for him of all people to make an uncertain move. “think soap is to ghost what you are t’ me.” this had to be a cruel trick the universe was playing on you. “you mean you’re wrapped around my finger?” he nodded slow, the weed sinking its claws into him. “you’re just high, captain.” he frowned unexpectedly. “‘s john.” oh. oh. you nodded silently. the next steps were fuzzy, a dance you’d never learned.

“what was your nightmare about?” that was not what you thought he would ask. “um. the usual. the battlefield and dying and…yeah.” this time, his hand had a direction. it raised to your hairline, tracing the skin gently as his thumb led the way down to the curve of your ear. he felt that too, seemingly enamored with the softness of your earlobe before dropping his hand completely, like it never happened.

“you said my name, before you woke up. screamed it, practically gave me a heart attack.” his eyes were questioning, burning into yours like an interrogation. “oh. yeah, it was, um. youwereinmydreamandyoudied.” you practically spit the last part out, turning your head to study the skyline instead of finding whatever was on his face. unexpectedly, the weed made you both talkative and shy, a combination you didn’t expect. maybe it was sativa. “what happened before i died?” it was like he knew what happened, even though there was no way. right? you couldn’t resist a sideways glance, tracking the open earnestness of his face. “you were…proposing.” the last word was a whisper. “which is crazy, obviously. just a stupid dream.” you cut in before he could open his mouth. there was that frown again, one he rarely directed towards you. before tonight, that was.

“like this?” there was a yearning in his voice and when you blinked, he was on one knee. somber, not smiling like in your dream. he was realer, a wrinkle here and a gray hair there. your feet took you closer until his view was your thighs. that’s when you remembered you’d gone to bed in only a t-shirt and underwear, not having packed for an extra night in a motel. the triangle of your panties peeked out from your shirt and embarrassment creeped up your skin.

“i’m sorry, this is inappropriate. i shouldn’t be dressed like this, i'm sorry, captain.” his gaze hadn’t moved. “john.” a low exhale escaped him, like you saying his name had lifted a weight from him. unlikely, but a nice visual.

“‘ve never heard you say my name.” he was still on his knees, but he moved his head until he made eye contact. “guess i never had a reason.” he tilted his head to the side. “what’s your reason now?” you were scrambling off the edge of something you couldn’t see. you didn’t know this game you were playing. “you- you told me to.” he nodded, raising back to his full height off his knee. for some reason, you were disappointed. “you’d do anything i ask you?” it was the weed, surely, that made you nod vigorously. “get on the bed, then.”

you got on the bed. could feel him vibrating behind you as you walked towards it. turning, you sat on the very edge, legs tightly pressed together. “you’re high.” he shook his head. “barely. bein’ high doesn’t make me lie, sweetheart. quite the opposite, in fact.” you had no mental energy to get into the word sweetheart. it had already warmed your belly and turned you inside out.

“i’m high.” he said nothing. “barely.” you added with a whisper. “out of excuses yet?” you spread your legs instead of answering, letting him step in between them. he bent down slowly, turning your chin to him like you were something precious, something to take his time with. the kiss was slow, both of you tasting bitter because of the weed, and it was magical. you wrapped your legs behind him until he got the message, pushing you down. he grinded into you, hard and wanting.

“i’d propose to you now, y’know. jus’ don’t carry the ring with me on missions.” it took a second for the message to get through, especially since his lips moved to your neck, biting and sucking. “there’s a, fuck john, there’s a ring?” he was leaving hickies, surely. the weed had turned him into a teenager, and you giggled at the thought. he misinterpreted your laugh, pulling back until his eyes met yours.

“you got a problem with a ring?” you whined at the loss of him on you. “no. no. c’mere.” he leaned down for a kiss and you flipped the both of you over, straddling him with ease. his hands landed on your ass, pushing you closer until you could feel his hardness. he was such a possessive kisser, biting you when you drew back for a millisecond. his scruff scratched you pleasantly and you hummed like a cat in the sun. his neck felt so delicious under your fingers and you decided to explore it, small kisses and kitten licks until he was growling.

“you wet f’ me, baby?” his tone unlocked a memory. “you called me baby earlier. when i was sleeping.” john didn’t give you an answer, staring at you expressionless. “and?” it sent you sputtering. “you can’t call women baby when they’re asleep.” there was that frown again. “‘m not callin’ women baby. ‘m callin’ you baby. because you’re mine. got a problem with that?” you shut him up with a kiss. he was infuriating.

the wetness between your thighs was concerning. your hips were grinding of their own accord, the feeling of his clothed cock between your folds addicting. the weed supplied you with confidence, fingers reaching down to move your panties to the side. he let out a groan at the feel of your bare cunt against his boxers, soaking them through.

“not fuckin’ you like this, baby. not here.” you nodded against his skin, tongue darting out to lick at the beads of sweat that hard formed. “still want to come, though.” if weed made him laugh like this, you were determined to get him high every day. his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you harder and faster against him. the angle was perfect, the contours of his body catching your clit with every grind. his eyes were open, tracking your every movement.

“john,” and he understood you completely, catching your mouth with his lips again. he tasted like yours. pressure coiled in your stomach at the thought. john was yours. “captain,” you groaned against his lips, reveling in the strained sound he let out. “gonna make me come before you do, sweetheart.” his mouth left yours, instead biting your breast over your shirt. it was too much: the sweat, the grinding, the bites he delivered with vigor. he pushed you down harder, the motion brushing your clit and sending you over the edge.

“fuck, baby.” it sounded like you both said it at the feeling of his cock leaking cum beneath his boxers, the fabric soaked both ways. time stopped as you both looked down, taking a second to take in the sight. it was absolutely carnal, the grinding without fucking. a claiming.

“‘m tired.” you whispered. neither of you had a change of clothes so you both stripped them off, reveling in the sight of your naked bodies together. he pulled you into him, tucking you under his chin as you wrapped yourself in his body heat. so strong, so capable. your hands traced his chest, tangling in his body hair, until sleep overtook you. finally, a nightmare-free sleep.

--

i have no idea what made me write this since i haven't smoked in like over a year. if my depictions of being high are inaccurate, welp. also yes i headcanon price as a smoker but very occasionally just when he's stressed

[biteyoubiteme]

congrats on 1k !! 🫶

thoughts on sub!beomgyu ?? 😈😌

or… sub!gyu ONLY in the bedroom… cocky everywhere else……….

AH!!

after the show

beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings: 🔞!!! sub!gyu, dom!reader, hand job, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.8k

an: thank you so much! 🤍 i’m so happy you requested :)) here is something short about sub gyu <333

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

It was so fun to watch the way your boyfriend fell apart before you. It was a little secret between the two of you. Every night he would go on stage, strumming his guitar for the people screaming in the crowds, sing a song about having all the girls fall for him, how he would fuck them and leave. And yet he would wrap up the show and come right back to your hotel room. His cocky grin on display as he walked down the hall to greet those who came to the show, sweat dripping down the back of his neck making the hair stick to his skin as he rolled his eyes over the accusation that he was just a player. “How does your partner not worry about you stealing away the hearts of millions?” 

“Comes with the territory,” he'd chuckle, shrugging his shoulders, holding the neck of his guitar in hand before nodding back over to where you stood waiting for him. “But I actually have to go,” 

He would climb into the blacked-out car after you and the second the door was closed he would be a whining mess. His pout pulled on the crease of his brow as he leaned in for a kiss, “Comes with the territory?” you would ask, hand over his mouth. “I wonder what they would say if they could see the way you beg me for my pussy,” 

That soft whimper makes his adam's apple bob, his hands twisting into his jeans because he knows if he reaches out for you, touches you without permission he will be punished. “Are you going to beg me for the privilege?” his nod was all you needed to let his mouth go. “Kiss me,” 

And he'd jump on the opportunity, lips peppering over your skin, leading up to your mouth before you took over to devour his sweet noises. 

It was incredible to watch the switch up the second the car pulled up at your hotel. How he would adjust himself in his pants and wrap an arm around your shoulder guiding you to the front door. The paparazzi clicked away at the sight, that sinful grin caught on the gossip pages the next morning. He would even be good on the elevator, waiting so well by the door when you dipped your hands into his front pocket looking for the key. Your fingers brushing over his erection just enough so that you could watch the way he fought the moan back. 

You would have him strip for the shower, the water hot enough to fill the room with steam and It would curl around the glass door as you two stepped in. He would moan as you pushed him against the tiled wall, cool against his skin enough to make him jerk from the shock. He would melt into your touch, greedy for your kiss, hips thrusting against yours trying to find any form of release. 

The second you reached your hand down to touch him he was burying his face into your shoulder, pressing his moans against your skin looking for a way to keep his noises down. But he could never stay too silent when you had your hand wrapped around his veiny shaft, slow strokes teasing him to death. “Oh god please- please,” his arms wrapped around your shoulders as you chuckled at his reaction. 

Your fingers circled his tip, thumb pressed to his leaking slit as he whimpered. His hair stuck to his neck as you ran your fingers through the strands to wrap around and pull his head back to look at you. “I don't know if you've been good enough for me to let you cum,” 

“I'm sorry,” eyes squeezing shut trying desperately not to think about the way you swirl your fingers. “I-I didn't mean it-” 

“You didn't? You specifically picked out the one song you know gets you punished. Always singing about all the girls you could get,” you jerk your wrist, working down the length of him, “apologize,” 

The increase in pace leaves him breathless, mouth opening and closing trying to work the words up his throat. “I'm sorry- im-” you drop your hand for his hair, wrapping them around his balls, giving just enough pressure to make his knees buckle. He leaned his weight on you, the water hitting your back and soaking his head on your shoulder, droplets clinging to the tip of his nose as he trembled. 

Your stomach and thighs are a mess of white, droplets of his cum slipping down and washing down the drain as he lets out a stream of incoherent whines, your name mixed in with every little sound. You let him ride out his high, weak strokes slowing down until he's getting soft in your hands. “Now look at that, I wonder what all those girls would think after seeing you like this,”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[ifangirlalot]

could you write a fingering smutfic w reader x mike or richie?? I love your fics 😭‼️

˗ˏˋ 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐒 ˎˊ˗ | starring mike wheeler & richie tozier

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*~smut!~* [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘]: fingering, lewd language, no p in v this time

You guys do know it's okay to request for more than one character, right? I'm more than happy to do more than one :p

Also, sorry to disappoint, but requests are off until further notice, I have like 20 something in my inbox that I need to get...... :')

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┊ ˚➶ ｡Mike Wheeler ˚ ☁️

Mike Wheeler was most certainly not a "ladies' man". Mike Wheeler was a nerd. He spent most of his time playing nerdy fantasy RPG games in his basement with his friends. He didn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman.

Or at least, he didn't think he did.

But from the way [Name] was currently writhing underneath the tips of his fingers, the way her plump pink lips were opened into an 'o' shape, the lewd, pornographic moans slipping through as she screamed at him for more, he was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he was better at it than he gave himself credit for.

[Name]'s fingers closed around his wrist as his two digits continued to piston in and out of her wet, gummy opening. "Oh god- oh god, Michael, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop!" she begged, panting heavily for a few moments before elicting another loud moan.

Mike's teeth sank into his lower lip as he slowly circled her clit with his thumb. He watched with fascination as she parted her legs even further apart, chewing on her own lip as she looked between her legs, watching his fingers appear and disappear from her pussy opening.

"Cumming soon." [Name] announced, tilting her head back against the pillow.

With new motivation, Mike pulled his fingers out slightly and jammed them back in at a new speed. He could hear the wet pap sound his fingers made every time they thrusted into her sweet, wet hole. She was so wet he could see the moisture glistening beneath the dim lighting in his basement.

And then she came. With a series of throaty moans, high pitched gasping, and loud whimpers, [Name] spilled her orgasmic liquids all over his fingers. He could feel the bulge in his pants throbbing as he watched the thick, cream colored liquid drip down his wrist.

┊ ˚➶ ｡Richie Tozier ˚ ☁️

Richie pretended to be into the movie playing at the Derry theater. He really did. But he just couldn't. The damn thing was so fucking boring. So about twenty minutes in, he walked his fingers between he and [Name]'s seats and to her thighs. She was wearing a sundress tonight. Lucky for him, right?

Keeping his gaze straight ahead so as not to draw attention to himself, he pushed the hem of the dress skirt up slowly with his index finger. He could feel the soft, smooth skin of her thigh beneath his fingertip.

[Name] gasped, quickly pushing his hand away. "Richie, are you crazy?!" she hissed, her face flaming red with embarrassment. "Not here, we're in pub-"

Richie cut her off. "Shhh… Just relax, doll. Lemme work my magic."

Evidentally, she wasn't too objected to him, as she didn't protest again. On the contrary, she cracked her legs open slightly. Richie smirked to himself and slowly pushed his hand up her skirt again.

His fingers reached what he wanted and he let out a low, satisfied hum. "Hm… all wet, doll? Damn girl.. already?" Richie smirked and pushed the girl's panties aside.

As his fingers began working her over slowly, [Name] let out a soft moan and reached between her legs, placing her hand over Richie's above her clothes. Richie inserted two digits into her sweet, juicy cunt and slowly thrusted them, his thumb brushing her clit in quick stroking motions. He wanted so badly to finger fuck the shit out of her, but he didn't want the noise of her sopping cunt to draw attention over, so he kept his thrusts slow and even.

[Name] could barely contain herself as is anyway. She squirmed and whimpered through her clamped shut lips, her hand pushing against Richie's and trying to get his fingers to go in deeper, deeper.

Her sounds were starting to get to him. He could feel his cock stirring to life in his jeans and he groaned quietly, wanting nothing more than to bury inside her pussy to relieve the both of them. But instead, he pummeled his fingers deeper into her cunt and ticked off the minutes until this damn movie was over.