#the situation is that he doesn’t know it’s a situationship

[genericwhisk]

My christmas wish is to banish my welsh situationship

[awrkive]

summary: where you and jungkook are in a situationship and you kind of hate each other but the sex is great

wc: 2.8k

warnings/misc: idol!jk x producer!(fem)reader, they are mean to each other 😬, just.. weird dynamics tbh. explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x, multiple positions, cre*mpie, brief c*nnilingus

note: this is entitled "something" in my docs. i genuinely dk what this is but i read this and i was like. oh! okay! i think i had a vision so i want to share!! ik im not the #1 fan of mean jk or idol aus for that matter but the oc is equally just as mean so i kind of fw this tbh aishdixh. not proofread. sorry!

The surface of the leather couch is cold against your back when Jungkook pushes you to it – quite roughly, as if he has something to prove. 

And it definitely feels like it when he shoves your panties to the side once he’s situated on top of you – two of his fingers inserting themselves in your pussy without any warning. 

“Fuck, what’s gotten you so wet?” Jungkook hisses on the side of your head, pushing his slender fingers in your heat until he’s knuckles deep, buried to the hilt.

“I– oh fuuck,” your words get cut off with a moan when Jungkook starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, fast and erratic. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, a little mocking, squeezing your waist with his free hand, noting the way your heavy breathing fills the space of your studio. It’s dimly lit, just like you like it, and Jungkook knows there could be someone anytime that could walk by – the staff, his juniors, seniors, whoever – but it’s not your first time fooling around in your studio and it sure as hell isn’t going to be the last. 

“J-jeon—” 

“I’m just Jeon now?” Jungkook picks up his pace in your pussy, sliding his fingers in and out until you’re a panting mess under him, moans influencing his blood to travel to his dick that’s considerably getting bigger every second that passes by. “Come on, not even Jungkook? Kook? And there you were a while ago back at practice studio calling Mingyu oppa when he’s fucking barely older than you.” 

“Oh my god, shit— J-jung– it’s–” 

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what comes over him, but he begins fingering you so fast he felt your wrist wrap around his own, and he could see a hint of tear drop from the side of your eye before Jungkook notices the way your thighs shake, a telltale sign of your orgasm. 

And he’s usually a giver. Always is, to be frank. Especially when it comes to you. Because as much as you infuriate him, you also look really fucking pretty when you cum – but this time, Jungkook feels a little petty. 

So when you say you’re about to cum just like Jungkook predicted, he abruptly slides his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty. 

“What the fuck—” he doesn’t let you finish, just uses his strength to flip you over the couch with his hands on your waist, and in swift motion gets you in all fours. 

“You don’t deserve to come before I put my dick in you.” 

Jungkook kneels behind you, takes his engorged cock out of his sweats, and enters your sweet, wet hole suddenly in an almost abrupt motion, hearing the way your breath hitch when the first inch comes into contact. 

“Oh god…” you moan at the delicious stretch, burying your face deeper in the couch as Jungkook begins entering you slowly.

It certainly isn’t the first time you’ve fucked without much prep. Jungkook always insists on an orgasm first before he pushes his cock deep into you while you say otherwise – but perhaps he’s most especially pissed at you tonight that he’s even breaking his own rules. 

You don’t really care, though. The burn feels delicious. It’s slow and it’s steady and you can just feel Jungkook holding out from slamming into you right away, his dick getting even bigger in you, every ridge crossing your inner walls.

His deep grunts and heavy breathing paired with your whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, and you’re beginning to think it’s one of the benefits of getting a studio soundproofed so you can fuck someone in peace in it. 

“S-so fucking tight—” Jungkook groans, sliding out slowly. The loss doesn’t last long when he enters you again, grabbing your hips tighter as he goes. “Is me fucking you almost everyday not enough, huh?” 

“You don’t fuck me everyday– ah,”

A hard thrust, one that feels a little punishing. It makes your legs shake, almost making you give out on your position. 

“Whose fault is that?” Jungkook hisses. Then, he speeds up again, and soon the sounds of skin slapping against skin filtrates the room. Jungkook jackhammers into you, and this time you’re more than sure he’s trying to prove something. 

“I’m not the– the– busier one–oh— between us.” You reaching out for something behind you – nothing in particular, but Jungkook takes your hand anyway, placing it on the small of your back and keeping it there is he slams into you again, repeating the motion over and over again until you’re near tears. 

It’s so good, and you’re so wet and you want to cum so bad.

You’re just about to whine for it when Jungkook suddenly changes your position again, splaying his hand around your stomach until all you know is that he’s manhandling you over the couch and he’s seated on the leather while you end up on his lap. 

Jungkook slides your top upwards until they’re halfway on your chest, expertly creeping up your back to unhook your bra, the flimsy garment falling down your lap. He doesn’t waste more time and maneuvers you a little to suck on your nipples, hands coming to your waist to start bounching you on his cock. 

You whimper at the simulation, hands grabbing his hair at the shock. There’s a mirror across from you that lets you see everything that’s happening, and you can’t help but let out a loud moan when you see the way his engorged head disappears in your pussy every time he pushes you down his lap, with his messy hair buried deep on your chest. 

You look a mess, with your skirt on the floor and portions of your ponytail breaking away from your elastic tie. But you help Jungkook anyway, holding onto his arm as you bounce up and down on him, pushing your shirt way up your chest until your breasts are free from the constraint of the fabric.

“You’re always so pliant when you’re on my cock like this,” Jungkook says as he bites your nipple. And it felt petty, together with his words. 

“Shut up. M-make me cum.” You hiss, grabbing his hair a little tight to make him look up at you. 

He does, but there's a smug smirk on his face. “You think you deserve it?” 

You arch a brow, despite feeling the tight coil in your stomach. “When do I not?” 

“Wrong answer.” Jungkook tsks, shaking his head. Your eyebrows meet, but you find it incredibly hot when he does that thing with his tongue in his cheek. “Wrong answers mean I get to come before you. So sit back and be a good girl for me, hm?” 

“Fuck off—” You’re interrupted by Jungkook giving a forceful thrust from down under, so powerful that it almsot knocks you off his lap. 

“Look at you, such a fucking slut. A gorgeous slut,” Jungkook says, cupping the side of your head and directing you to look in the mirror you were looking at just a second ago. Your breathing is heavy, and your boobs bounce the same time you go up and down on Jungkook’s cock at a quick, abnormal pace you’re literally running out of breath. “Pussy so fucking tight and tiny but you can always take my dick, huh? No matter how big it gets for you? Right, princess?” 

You whimper. “Don’t call me that.” 

Jungkook only smirks. “Oh, but you are a princess. Always whines when you don’t get what you want.” 

“I d-don’t– fuuckkk – I don’t whine.” you hiss directly to his face, glaring at him. 

He chuckles, dark and deep. His fingers begin to creep over your pussy, and soon he’s rubbing fast circles over it, and you want to bite back with an answer to get the last word – but the words die on your tongue when Jungkook changes the position again, roughly placing you on the couch, turning you to your side.

Jungkook grabs your leg and hook it on his shoulder, finds leverage on one of your ass cheeks and enters you from that position, jackhammering thrusts making you almost scream. 

It felt so deep, so close, and the stretch is almost godly. Delicious. The way Jungkook’s dick fills you up so good makes the tears form in your eyes, and you keep your eye on him as he pumps in and out of you, sweat already forming on his brows, abs clenching, veins popping out of his arms.

“S-shit–” Jungkook hisses, breathing heavily, a telltale sign of his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna cum. Shit, can I– can I cum inside?” 

You nod your head vehemently, grabbing your own chest at the sight of him to give yourself some form of relief. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans before he slams into you in and out, repeating the motion over and over again until his thighs shake. Pauses. Then, he takes his cock out slowly from you, and you look down to see the way Jungkook’s abdomen clench when he starts pumping his cock to shoot his seed into your hole. 

It’s warm on your pussy, a little cold when it begins trickling down. 

“J-jungkook, I want to—” 

“Shh, princess. You’ll come. Just wait a little.” he squeezes his cock for more, spurts of cum shooting into and onto you, and you feel like you could cry at this point. 

“Jungkook—” 

“Easy.”

He puts your leg down and you thought he was going to enter you again but he adjusts you on the couch, kneels down on the floor, and pokes his tongue out to taste you. 

“Oh god!” you gasp when Jungkook suddenly dives in, hungry and impatient, tongue eager to get everywhere all at once.

It happened so fast you don’t exactly know when you released. But when you do, you’re lax on the couch afterwards with Jungkook sitting beside you, massaging your breasts. 

“Kook… that’s enough.” you say, holding his wrist. 

Jungkook arches a brow. But he lets go. 

The post-coital momentum hits you the same. 

It’s always like this when you’re doing fucking. You pick up your clothes, and Jungkook starts dressing himself properly too. 

You comb your hair through your fingers, putting it back into a decent ponytail in the mirror. You see the reflection of Jungkook behind you seating himself on the couch. 

“You’re working tonight?” He takes out something in his pocket, a familiar small, pink electronic device. 

Your expression sours immediately. “Keep that shit away from my studio, Jeon.” Jungkook halts, arching his brow your way. You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna smoke, do it with a real cigarette. Don’t be a pussy.” 

Jungkook snorts a scoff, but he tucks away the vape in his pocket back again, anyway. 

“You’re getting real creative with being hateful about my smoking. Careful, princess. I’m starting to think you wanna be my girlfriend.” 

You walk towards your swivel chair in front of the keyboard. On the screen is a song you’ve been working on for the past month, unfinished, with way too many versions of the melody. You can’t seem to figure out what fits best. 

You look back at Jungkook with a disgusted face. “You keep on mentioning that word. I think you want me to be your girlfriend.” 

He laughs, relaxed against the sofa, watching you from across the room. 

“I would’ve already asked you way before if I wanted that.” 

You pause. 

Huh. 

What a fucking asshole. 

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But you’re the one getting all worked up just ‘cause I called your bestfriend oppa when he's barely fucking older than me.” You quote him as a retort, throwing his words back at him, going back to your computer. 

“Did it flatter you?” 

You tried some notes on the keyboard, and again, it doesn’t feel right. Something's missing. Something's too much.

“No. Why would it? You’re a good fuck, I’ll give you that. But you’re not more than that to me.”

A few keys again. It felt way too… bright. The lyrics don't fit. Yoongi would know what to do with this track. But you can’t come to him again, especially after what happened a week ago. A drunk confession and a sober rejection, with the confession coming from you and the rejecting coming from Yoongi.

Now you have to act as if that didn't faze you. Hell is going to freeze over way before you show everyone you give a fuck about anything.

You don’t even notice that Jungkook hadn’t said anything to the last thing you said because it was just that quick for you to get holed in at work. 

Until you hear footsteps coming your way. 

“What are you working on?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the whole equipment before you. 

“Songs.” you say, not really interested in getting into more conversation with him tonight. 

The sex was good, and you won't tell Jungkook this – it's unspoken anyway – but sex with him has always lessened your stress. Made you feel free, even just for a moment. Jungkook likes sex, and he makes sure to prove it to you everytime you do it.

“Wasn’t really obvious.” Jungkook sarcastically says.

You sigh at that, eyes focused on your screen. Clicking away at the software, trying out some keys again. The sound of the keyboard almost rings to your ears at this point.

“Jungkook, I’m working.” 

“I know. What? I can’t watch you? Yoongi always tells me it’s better if I watch how you guys work so I can learn a thing or two.” He shrugs, sitting in the available chair next to you. 

The mention of Yoongi makes you jump a little, something you hope Jungkook doesn't notice. When he doesn't say anything, you arch your brow at him.

“Why? Thinking of producing your own shit from now on?” 

You didn't really think that through. Just wanted to... say something. Retort. But you see that flicker of something unknown flash his face, and you know to yourself instantly that was a… low blow.

Jungkook had always felt… you don’t know, really. He’s just close off when it comes to his… own works. He almost doesn’t really mention them to you, even though that could be something you can talk about when you’re not trying to get in each other's pants.

“None of your business.” Jungkok says after awhile. 

You bite your lip. “Okay.” 

The room feels quiet until Jungkook breaks it.

“He’s planning to ask you out, by the way.” 

Without looking away from your computer, you ask, “Who?” 

“Mingyu.” 

“Oh.” 

“What are you going to say?” 

Your brows furrow. “Not sure. You’re his friend right? Is he a nice guy?” 

“You like nice guys now?” 

“Who doesn't?” you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll say yes.” 

Jungkook suddenly stands up, the chair scraping against the floorboards.

“Okay, well. Just tell me when you two start fucking, just so I know my health isn’t at risk here.” 

You look up at him incredulously.

“You know you’re such a fucking asshole sometimes, right?” He doesn’t say anything. You scoff. “As if you haven’t fucked anybody else since we started doing this.” 

“Who the hell else have I fucked, quickly?” Jungkoon furrows his brows. 

Shit. You’re confused now. The software is dancing in your eyes. Maybe it was wrong to get right into it after having sex; your brain's mush. And Jungkook's picking up a fight with you as fucking usual. You genuinely don't want to get into it right now.

“I don’t fucking know, Jeon. A random idol at some music show backstage? Maybe one of your fans? I really don’t care. As long as you tell me. ‘Cause I’m as concerned about my health as you are yours.” You say the words with a particular bite to it, making sure to look at him when you use your words against him.

“I haven’t been in any pussy other than your own uptight one since I fucked it, so good luck on that beef you have with an imaginary woman.” Jungkook spits out before he takes his keys out. “I’ll have dinner delivered to you ‘cause I know you haven’t eaten shit. Until then, I’m heading off. Just text me if you’re staying over at my place or not. I don't care. You have a keycard.” 

One you never used. Jungkook's aware of that.

You avoid looking at him. “I'm not.” 

“... Okay.” 

He leaves just like that.

You slump in your seat and shut your eyes close.

[singmyaubade]

OKAY OKAY idk if you still do Eddie Munson if not it's fine but I just ended a situationship/fwb with a rude white boy, I lowk wanna see a fanfic. where Eddie has this relationship with reader, then he flirts with someone else and takes them to bed, and reader is just heartbroken,and gets revenge

toxic!eddie munson x female!reader

summary: you think I’d let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? no fucking way. he doesn’t get to win.

warnings: smut! 18+, cursing, very much angst, arguing, mature content, etc..

a/n: wow, you actually got me out of hibernation with this one. i haven't wrote eddie in a long time so bear with me but since fuckboys very much PISS ME OFF, i had to do you a solid and i hope you enjoy! as always, apologize if you hate this.

Your relationship with Eddie was not something that you could explain in a few short words. Of course, it was complex, complicated, difficult, angering, loving, warm.... But again, not something you could name with a few short words.

It had been about three months ago when you caught Eddie staring at your ass while you were playing dodgeball and he was sitting at the bleachers.

He had that sly smile on and his back leaning on one of the levels on the bleachers, staring at you intently. Not only was it enough to catch your attention but enough for you to keep looking.

All it took was a wink and a few whispers in the locker room for you to be hooked. But after, Eddie had made it clear with you that he wasn't ready to be in a relationship.

Eddie kissed your neck while his grip on your neck was harsh, "Listen baby, I want this so fucking bad but I'm not ready for somethin' serious," He whispered but the trance you were in only had you saying,

"Uh-huh,"

And since then, you had been stuck in a friends with benefits situation with Eddie Munson.

It wasn't the worse thing in the world but sometimes, it never felt the best. I mean, it wasn't like Eddie was an asshole who didn't care about you after you fucked or did anything. He would always cuddle you or clean you up when you felt tired.

He would always let you vent to him, give you kisses, and make you laugh. Those were the times when you felt like you could be more with him.

And then there would be times where he talked about Stacey Callahan's ass with a sly smile and glint in his eye, almost making you want to stab him.

You would shoot daggers into him but he would never notice because he considered you a friend.

And you could never tell him your real feelings because then you guys would be nothing and that seemed like a worse fate.

But at least, he never made an actual pass at girls in front of you and from what he had told you, he hasn't fucked anyone since you and him had started.

And that made you feel like you could be more.

But you were afraid you spoke too soon when you were trying to find Eddie and saw him and Caroline Blaren making out under the bleachers.

His hand groping her ass and her moans echoing throughout the gym. If it wasn't for the fact that it was after school, almost half the school population would've been cursed with this sight.

His mouth leaving hot kisses on her neck as he did with you a multitude of times, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she giggled.

For the first time in your life, you had felt as if your heart had shattered.

A part of you wanted to make a scene, maybe go batshit crazy and curse Eddie to the brink of eternity and then the other part of you wanted to walk away, realize that you were worth more than someone who you thought cared for your feelings or for you at all.

Before you could leave the gym and maybe cry in a corner, Eddie locks eyes with you and smiles before he excuses himself and tells Caroline to wait under the bleachers.

She scoffs a little bit but twirls her hair as she stands there, mugging you.

You still have a shocked expression as Eddie approaches you, grinning ear to ear,

"I know I said we were gonna meet today but," He shyly cheers, "I've been trying to bag this for months and I really need this, Y/N, we can meet tomorrow though," He says as if this was casual.

You blinked at him as he awkwardly laughed at your expression, "Earth to Y/N?" He waved his hand in your face as you closed your mouth and swallowed.

You did your best to form a smile, "Uh- yeah sure,"

He cheered, kissing you on the cheek, "You're the best, I owe you one," He winked at you before going back to Caroline.

He put his arm around her shoulder before exiting the other way of the gym.

You couldn't believe that you let Eddie Munson break your heart.

There were multiple thoughts entering your head the sight of this.

One was that you were a complete idiot and let Eddie Munson play you like a fiddle. The second was that he had never taken you seriously. The third was that you needed to make him feel as you did.

And maybe it was petty for you to feel like you needed revenge but you couldn't let Eddie get away with making multiple girls feel this way,

Harmless to him but cruel to you.

And now you had to make him pay which you knew wasn't going to be easy.

Making Eddie Munson jealous was one of those things that was damn near impossible. He always prided himself in being as 'chill as a cucumber, when it came to his love life.

You had never seen him get jealous once and you didn't even think it was a feeling to him.

But you did know Eddie hated being ignored.

You remembered when he jokingly called your ass flat and you ignored him for an hour before he looked like he was on the brink of tears.

That was the one sore sport of his that you knew of and it certainly wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage.

So when Eddie had called you that very night, you answered but not with the same eagerness you always had,

"Hello?" You answered, holding the telephone up to your ear.

"Hey Y/N," You heard Eddie's voice on the other side of line, voice excited.

You swallowed before answering back flatly, "Hi,"

He sounded surprised at your tone but didn't mention it, "Jus' wondering if you wanted to come over, Caroline just left,"

Your blood felt like it was boiling. It was as if he wanted a snack to go with his meal which only pissed you off more and it had been six hours, he had been fucking Caroline for six hours.

"I can't," You said, concealing your anger.

He sounded astonished, "Uh, why not?"

"Busy," You replied, annoyed.

You could feel your vagueness starting to worry him, "Busy with what?" He said snarkily.

"Stuff," You scoffed.

When did Eddie care so much about what you were doing? Maybe once he realized you wouldn't be at his beck and call any longer.

He took a breath, "What about tomorrow?" He asked, hoping your answer would be different.

"I'm busy, Eddie," You snapped.

There was silence on the other line for a few seconds that felt like decades before he replied again, "Is something wrong?" He asked, the worry present in his voice.

"No, I really can't talk right now, I'll see you later," You said quickly, putting the phone back on the link before he could answer.

You sighed, trying your best to feel as if this was the best decision. Of course, you knew ignoring Eddie wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world but you didn't expect it to be the hardest either.

Once Eddie gets fixated, there's not really a way to get him off the case.

And that turned out to be a fact when you saw him at school the next morning,

"Y/N," Someone grabbed your arm, pulling you in the custodian closet.

You made a surprised sound before realizing it was Eddie, "Jesus, I thought you were a murderer," You said, releasing your arm from his grip.

He ignored your joke, locking his eyes into your eyes, "What's up with you?" He asked.

You gulped, "I don't know what you're talking about,"

He scoffed, "You fucking dodged me on the phone,"

You rolled your eyes, "I told you I was busy,"

"You've literally let me eat you out before you had an huge exam in the next hour so that's a load of crap," He replied as you gawked, "So tell me what's actually up,"

You moved your jaw to the side, looking away as Eddie fumed in front of you.

You were lost for words but this didn't stop Eddie from waiting for answer so you gave one,

"I'm done fucking you,"

Eddie looked shocked, lost for words, he almost seemed as if he was having a stroke. He snapped out of his trance by laughing, "Are you serious?"

Your demeanor didn't change, "Deadly."

He bit his lip, almost wanting to laugh because this had to be a joke, "Baby, thats a big decision," His chest was against yours at this point, "Are you sure about this?" He asked, his breath whispering against your ear.

You could feel yourself breathing harder and a bit turned on but you knew this cycle wouldn't end if you didn't stop it. You pushed against his chest as he stepped backwards, "I'm done Eddie." You stated, walking out of the closet and leaving him in there.

You took a deep breath before walking to your class, it was hard to believe that you had just rejected Eddie and that he didn't utterly make you regret it.

You sat in class as you watched Eddie come on minutes after, always arriving after the bell. You could feel the tension radiating off you both but he didn't care to take a glimpse of you, his hard expression already telling enough.

You eyed him as he sat down next to you, a shocked expression on your face. Eddie had never sat down next to you in classes or let alone even show up.

You could already tell he was about to start fucking with you.

As Ms. Rodriguez started her lesson, you started to feel a fingertip tracing your knee as you swallowed. You looked at Eddie but he kept his hard expression, not even a smirk forming.

You watched him as his finger rose higher, almost at the hem of your skirt.

There was something in you that wanted to let him, maybe get your last taste Eddie before it was over forever but if you did this, it would never be over.

You knew this was Eddie trying to win and you couldn't let him.

In a flash, you grabbed his hand which caused him to finally look at you and you slammed it into his own lap. He looked furious and you felt a small victory as he pushed out his chair and stormed out while Ms. Rodriguez yelled for him to come back.

—————

The bell rang as you went towards the cafeteria, going to sit with the mutual friends you shared with Eddie.

Ever since you and Eddie had started hooking up, he had introduced you to his friends and you didn't actually mind sitting with them. They would always banter in front of you which always made you giggle and it was never superficial with them.

Usually, you would've sat next to Eddie but since shit hit the fan, you took a seat next to Gareth.

You saw Eddie shooting daggers into your soul but you kept your composure and ignored him.

You could hear them arguing over something about D&D which only made you laugh before Gareth noticed you, "Hey Y/N!" He beamed as you smiled.

"Hey Gareth, what are you guys talking about?" You asked, looking at him.

Gareth grinned, ready to start his tangent, "Oh so basically, we were talking about if Paladin or the Monk had more of a power bu-"

Eddie cut him off, "What are you doing?" He asked, looking at you as the table went silent.

You steamed, "What are you talking about?"

He began his theatrics, "I mean did I say you could sit here?" The whole table looked between you and him, there had never been one argument between you and Eddie, let alone one in front of them.

You sneered, "Why would I not be allowed to sit here?" You asked, wanting to kill Eddie for doing this in front of everyone.

"Well because, you don't belong here," He said, nonchalantly.

You laughed, "I don't belong here?" Your eyes were locked onto his, anger present in them.

"Yeah," He smirked which only made your blood boil.

"So since I'm sucking your dick anymore, I can't sit here?" You questioned, causing the entire table to gasp.

You weren't planning to reveal that you and Eddie had fucked several times but since he was really trying to get under you, there was no other choice.

"You can't sit here because nobody wants you here, Princess," He said, hatefully.

You looked at everyone around the table but they kept their gazes low, not wanting to go against Eddie.

Eddie was expecting pure anger to come out of you or maybe you would have to reconcile with him and you guys could go back to how you were but instead, you had gotten up and a smile was present on your face.

"I think I'm actually gonna sit with Jason," You slyly said as Eddie felt enraged, "I think that's a dick I actually would like to suck," You grabbed your tray heading over to jock table.

It wasn't exactly the best plan considering you hated Jason but Jason had been trying to get under you for years and this was the only way to get under Eddie's skin.

Your skirt rose up as you blinked dumbly at Jason sitting next to him, "Hi Jason," You sweetly said as he grinned from ear to ear.

"Y/N, what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, him eyeing your body.

"I was wondering if you could teach me a few things about basketball at yours, I've got a research project," You said, fingers grazing his thigh.

It was not your best effort at being seductive but it was enough to get Jason Carver.

"I think I could help with that, mine at seven?" He said as you nodded.

You turned your back to see Eddie staring at you, more mad than you had ever seen him.

He was jealous.

And this was only the beginning.

[sutorus]

✰ HC: BEING IN A SITUATIONSHIP WITH THE JJK F*CKBOYS

DESCRIPTION: my hcs on what it’d be like to be in a situationship/fwb situation with the jjk men hehe

FEATURED: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem + afab reader, this is fully self indulgent i'm just taking my own shiddy experiences and coping via hot anime men, suggestive content/smut, pretty standard manwhore behavior, slightly toxic, not wholesome, kinda crack tbh, some mentions of degradation as a kink, objectifying women, just like the real thing lol!

A/N: LONG BUT READ! this will Not have an ending where you get together at least not rn these are just my hcs all in good fun ur just having fun ok ur not heartbroken everything is okay. they are not good boys here they are normal regular boys

GOJO SATORU

has way too many hoes. way too many

so much so that he gave up on remembering their names and just saves their numbers like “osaka w the hand kink”, “big tits shibari”, “slut from trig”, “hostess best bjs”

has someone’s boobs with his name written on them in sharpie as his wallpaper

says i love you when he cums inside and you never know if you should believe it

throws you off when he agrees to meet your friends only for him to flirt with them in front of you

takes you to the best clubs with bottle service, lets the girls sit on his lap and laughs when you get mad

pays for your ubers everywhere every time

into the weirdest shit like wearing your underwear laughing like a lunatic the whole time he’s fucking you then after he cums gets sulky and embarrassed

lays it on thick with the pet names, gives zero fucks if that confuses you even further

very public with you and it makes you wonder how many other girls put themselves through this humiliation just for the d

gets jealous about you being with other people and needs to prove himself by eating it from the back or something

fwb with gojo is just a huge mindfuck honestly he doesn’t take anything seriously and this is no different sorry! it’s fun tho!

GETO SUGURU

keeps it extremely platonic because he likes to tell himself he has a conscience

too busy for regular chit chat ignores your texts all day then hits you up when he wants to fuck

even more of a whore than gojo is which is why he makes sure not to lead anyone on he just does not need the trouble

answers all your personal questions about him with one word answers

he lets you choose the movie for netflix and chill at least! but will never remember it or the fact that it’s your favorite :(

cleans you up after sex and brings you water

has female hygiene products in his bathroom which is both a red and a green flag

lets you stay after sex and you just lay there on his bed watching him do stuff on his computer but he will not be talking to you

never calls you baby or anything when he’s fucking you just goes oh fuck yeah right there fuuuuck your pussy

genuinely respects you and has nice decent sex with you unless you tell him that you’re kinky

in which case he fucks you just how you want it and gets off on how turned on you are

not one of those guys who gets jealous of sex toys and holds the wand on your clit for you

likes to make you cum over and over and over again

fwb with geto makes your heart clench because he’s just such a gentleman but you got way too much competition to even think about it

NANAMI KENTO

a professional in every sense of the word

uses sex as stress relief

thinks he's too old for this shit but you make him feel alive so he fucks you like he can empty all of his frustrations into you

invites you to his apartment serves you expensive liquor and lets you initiate things most times unless he’s too pent up

can actually have very nice conversations with you

never has the “what are we talk” because he makes it clear he’s too busy for a relationship

lets you spend the night if it’s too late but solely for your safety/logistics

does your taxes for you but will not call you anything beyond an “acquaintance”

texts you happy holidays but does not know when your birthday is

gets tested consistently even though he’s not fucking anyone else and always uses a condom unless you beg him not to

eats you out because he thinks it’s relaxing and spends hours prepping you

the sexual tension is soooo thick when you two fuck all you can hear is grunts and growls and moans and wet slapping sounds and it’s so hot

has some random turn ons like gets bricked up when you’re wearing lipstick or stockings

fwb with nanami is very enjoyable and easy it’ll get complicated if you develop feelings because he does not want to date but who cares yolo am i right

FUSHIGURO TOJI

broke ass deadbeat dad why are you into him

absolutely nasty sex

you know if he had a girlfriend he’d respect her too much to do the things he does to you

dick game so bomb that you’re scared he’s gonna give you a child even when he’s wearing a condom

wants to fuck you every way he possibly can on every fuckable surface with zero regard for your physical integrity

eats his cum right out of you

ego is so big, grins so wide and fucks you so hard when you stroke his muscles

loves to eat pussy but only after he’s fucked you because he likes it tight and hot with minimal prep

doesn’t follow you on any social media but jerks off to your instagram pics

has like 3 different phone numbers and you don’t know why

has only let you come over once, didn’t let you shower after

no pet names but calls you a dirty whore and other degrading shit

loves it if you cry on his dick

doesn’t give a fuck about your safety sorry you’re on your own

has never told you his last name

one time you asked to see a picture of his son and he didn’t speak for 3 whole minutes

fwb with toji is the nastiest sex you’ve ever had truly it’s just sinful and everyone’s dark hidden fantasy half of it you couldn’t tell your closest friends because it’s just too much

a/n sorry

[airybcby]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[syluslnd]

Hello! Thank you for your service omg ur single handedly carrying Sylus nation‼️🙏🏼

Can I request a scenario where reader (who isn’t MC) has been a long term situationship of Sylus, like they’re very much in love but refuse to commit because of the dangerous nature of their work in the N109 zone, but reader really hopes they’ll end up together, only for all her hopes to come crashing down when suddenly MC shows up and Sylus becomes really neglectful towards reader, only prioritising MC until one day he doesn’t accompany reader to one onichynus’s deals and it goes horribly wrong with the reader getting hurt/abducted. Angst to fluff pls a happy ending with Sylus coming to his senses 😮‍💨

when you become his second priority

tags-angst with eventual fluff,mentions of violence

The night sky over Onychinus’s sprawling cityscape was studded with stars, casting a subtle glow through the towering high-rises.

Sylus had suggested the two of you head out for a mission, a deal with some Onychinus contacts. As usual, you couldn’t resist tagging along, always thrilled to be close to him in his world.

Sylus, tall and intimidating as ever, glanced down at you with a glimmer of amusement in his red eyes. You could tell he was ready to take control of the situation like he always did, exuding confidence and calm in a way that made you feel safe, even in the darkest parts of his world. He looked over at you, his eyes softening slightly as he murmured, “You ready, kitten?”

“Of course, I’m with you” you replied with a grin, bouncing a little as you slid into the passenger seat of one of his luxurious cars. Your bubbly energy was contagious; he always acted as if he wasn’t affected by it but you’d caught him smirking more than once.

Tonight, he rolled his eyes in mock exasperation but his hand settled on yours, holding it a little too long to be casual.

As he drove through the city, you admired the skyline, sharing random stories about your day and small, happy details about your favorite things.

Sylus listened, nodding occasionally, a slight smirk on his face, though his eyes stayed mostly on the road. At a red light, he finally turned, letting his gaze linger on you. “You know, sweetie, you’d be a lot safer if you didn’t join me on these things” he said, but there was a softness in his voice, a hint of protectiveness beneath his usual hard edge.

You gave a playful pout. “Then who’d keep you company and make you laugh?” you teased, reaching over to ruffle his hair lightly. Sylus gave an exaggerated sigh, though you could see his lips twitch, fighting off a smile.

When you arrived at the Onychinus base, the atmosphere shifted. The bustling headquarters buzzed with energy and you could feel the tension as the meeting began.

Sylus’s demeanor turned serious, his attention sharp and unwavering as he led the deal. You watched him, entranced by his confidence and poise. His eyes, intense and calculating, scanned the room, noting every movement and gesture of those around him. It was moments like these that reminded you why he was so respected—and feared.

The deal itself moved forward without any issues but you stayed close, offering your support however you could. Sylus kept one arm loosely draped around you, like a silent reminder that you were his, his “kitten” in this dangerous world. Every now and then, he’d murmur a soft “Stay close, sweetie” his voice laced with the quiet authority you’d come to adore.

At one point, the meeting wrapped up and you were alone again with Sylus in the hallway leading back to the car. As you walked side-by-side, you took his hand, squeezing it gently and looked up at him with a playful grin. “See? We make a great team.”

Sylus chuckled lowly, his fingers tightening around yours. “Careful, kitten” he murmured, his voice dropping to a tone that sent a shiver down your spine. “I might just start believing that.”

He leaned closer, brushing his lips against your forehead with a rare tenderness that he’d only ever shown to you. Moments like these made you wonder if there was something deeper between you both. But for now, you were happy in this undefined space, enjoying his closeness, his rare softness and the way he let his guard down just enough to show you how much you meant to him.

For tonight, you were his and he was yours in the only way he knew how to be and as you laughed and chatted on the drive back, you couldn’t have known how precious that laughter would soon become.

the next morning the café was small and tucked into a quiet corner of the city, with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in soft morning light and gave the place a warm, cozy glow.

You felt an excited shiver as Sylus guided you in, his hand on your lower back, a gentle but firm presence that never failed to make you feel special. The café wasn’t his usual scene but he seemed relaxed, perhaps indulging your love for quieter, more intimate places.

He glanced around, then met your eyes, his mouth quirking into a smirk. “This place…suits you” he murmured, pulling out a chair for you. “Sweet, but a little chaotic.”

You laughed, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’d say the same about you” you teased, settling into the chair. He rolled his eyes but took the seat opposite you, resting his elbows on the table, leaning in close. His gaze, as usual, felt intense, even as his expression softened.

“You’re in a bratty mood today, aren’t you?” he remarked, voice low and slightly teasing.

“Only because you make it so easy” you replied with a smile, reaching across the table to gently tap his hand. “So, what’s the plan? You’re the one who dragged me out here.”

His smirk grew, and without saying a word, he raised a finger to get the barista’s attention. When she arrived, he placed the most absurd order, one that left you wide-eyed: every single flavor of coffee they had on the menu. You tried to protest, laughing as you looked from him to the poor barista, but he only shrugged, looking unbothered.

“You said you always wanted to try them all” he said, leaning back in his seat, arms folded. “So go ahead. Indulge.”

“Oh my god, Sylus!” You felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement. “You know I was joking about that, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t joke about things you want, kitten. Not with me.”

The coffees started arriving, filling up your small table with an assortment of steaming mugs, each one a different shade and aroma. Sylus watched as you eagerly tried each, laughing when you made a face at the overly bitter or strangely flavored ones and taking note of the ones that made you hum with satisfaction. Occasionally, he’d reach out, taking a sip of one of the cups himself, then giving you his quiet, amused approval if he liked it.

After a while, you found yourself leaning across the table, sharing sips from the same cup, your laughter mingling in the cozy warmth of the café. You watched him, noticing the rare moments where his features softened, and his usual guarded expression gave way to something gentler.

“Did you always know you’d be leading Onychinus?” you asked, a little more curious now that you’d settled into the warmth of the moment.

He leaned back, tracing the edge of his cup with one finger, his gaze drifting. “I didn’t know. But it wasn’t like I had a choice.” His eyes found yours again, something dark but honest in them. ���The things you don’t choose often become the things you’re best at.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t have a choice” you replied softly. “Otherwise, who’d be here buying me twenty coffees?”

He chuckled, a genuine laugh that you rarely heard. “You’d find some other poor fool, I’m sure” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But his hand moved to cover yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Just as you were about to respond, his phone buzzed, and his gaze darkened. He glanced at the screen, and for a split second, his expression changed—hardened into something unreadable. He sat up, pulling his hand away from yours and the warmth that had been between you seemed to evaporate in an instant.

You tried to catch his eye, feeling a flicker of unease. “Everything okay?”

“It’s just an…old friend” he muttered, voice suddenly cool and distant. He stood up, turning his back to you as he answered the call, his voice low and strained in a way you’d never heard before.

You couldn’t make out much of what he was saying, but you heard the shift in his tone—calculated, restrained, almost careful. It was a stark contrast to the teasing, soft-spoken Sylus you’d been with just moments before. He kept glancing out the window, one hand shoved deep in his pocket, the other clutching his phone tightly. His words became hushed, tense, as if he was guarding some important secret.

Your mind raced with questions but you pushed them down, trying to respect his privacy. Still, a pang of worry settled in your chest as he finally ended the call, his posture stiff as he turned back to you. The usual warmth in his eyes was absent, replaced by a distant, almost guarded look.

“Sorry about that” he said, his tone flat, almost dismissive, as he pocketed his phone.

You forced a smile, hoping to ease the sudden tension. “No problem. Everything okay?”

“Nothing to worry about.” He gave a faint smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. He seemed distracted and as much as you wanted to believe him, there was a nagging feeling that something had shifted.

It had been days since you’d last seen Sylus. The texts you’d sent were sparse on replies—short, curt answers that only seemed to grow colder each time. You told yourself he was busy, wrapped up in some new mission for Onychinus but an uneasy feeling had settled deep in your chest. You remembered the way he’d brushed you off in the café after that mysterious phone call, the way he’d shut down, closing himself off as if you were suddenly a stranger.

With the next Onychinus deal approaching, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Usually, Sylus would be the one preparing you, going over every little detail so that you’d be safe. But this time, there had been nothing—no message, no warning, no instructions. The silence weighed on you, suffocating, until finally, you couldn’t bear it anymore.

You found yourself standing outside his office door, hesitating. The hall was eerily quiet, an atmosphere that felt darker than it had ever been. You pushed the door open slowly, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread.

Inside, Sylus stood near his desk, leaning in close to a woman you’d never seen before. She had an aura of quiet confidence, her gaze sharp, as if she were sizing him up even as they talked. Their heads were close together, too close. She said something, her tone low and laced with a teasing edge and Sylus chuckled—a sound that sent a chill down your spine. It was the kind of laugh he used to share with you.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to step forward. “Sylus?” your voice cracked, the warmth you usually brought into his space muted by the weight of everything unsaid.

Sylus straightened, his expression darkening the moment he saw you. The easy humor that had filled his face just seconds before vanished, replaced by a cold, impassive mask. The woman beside him glanced at you, her eyes glinting with a kind of curiosity, as though she were sizing you up, wondering what your place in Sylus’s life could possibly be.

“You’re busy” you managed to say, fighting to keep your tone light. “I just thought—I thought we could talk about the next mission.”

He looked at you for a long, silent moment, his gaze empty of the warmth you’d come to expect, replaced by an iciness that felt almost cruel. “I didn’t ask you to come here” he said, his voice low and cutting.

You took a step back, stunned. “Sylus, I…I just wanted to help. You always said I could be useful—”

“You should learn to know your place” he interrupted, his words sharp enough to cut through your heart. He didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. His gaze was steely, indifferent, as though you were nothing more than an inconvenience, a shadow he hadn’t meant to let linger.

It felt like the floor had fallen out from under you. “My place?” you echoed, trying to keep your voice steady even as it threatened to break. “Sylus, what’s going on? You’ve been distant… I thought we—” You stopped yourself, swallowing back the words, but the damage was done.

Sylus’s gaze flicked to the woman beside him, who watched the exchange with an amused smirk, her arms crossed as if she were enjoying every moment of this. He turned back to you, his eyes devoid of any kindness, any of the softness he’d shown you only days ago. “You thought wrong.”

Your throat tightened and the warmth that had once filled your shared moments now felt like a distant memory, slipping through your fingers. You forced yourself to nod, to keep your head up even as your heart shattered with each second of his cold stare. Without another word, you turned and left, not wanting him to see the tears that threatened to spill over, the silent pain you’d carry alone as you walked away from the one person who’d ever made you feel whole.

The drive home felt like a blur, headlights and streetlights passing in a haze as you wiped away tears that wouldn’t stop. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, as your mind raced with everything that had just happened. It was like you couldn’t make sense of it; every memory of Sylus’s familiar warmth and teasing words felt out of reach, replaced by his cold, indifferent face and that harsh tone. His words, “Know your place” echoed in your head, hitting you harder each time you thought of them. You couldn’t understand. Had you pushed him too far? Had he been pretending all along?

The question lingered, gnawing at you as the car rolled down the empty roads leading home. By the time you reached your place, you were exhausted, the adrenaline replaced by a deep, hollow ache.

The next morning, after another sleepless night, you found yourself staring at his contact on your phone, debating whether to call him. The memory of his sharp tone still stung but the confusion was unbearable. You couldn’t just let things stay like this.

Finally, you pressed call, holding your breath as the phone rang. When he picked up, his voice was casual, almost dismissive, as if the tension from yesterday had never happened.

“Yeah?” he answered, sounding distracted. There was no warmth, but there was none of that anger, either.

“Hey” you managed, your voice wavering slightly. “I… I wanted to talk about yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” he repeated, his tone barely interested. “Is something wrong?”

Your heart sank. He was acting like it hadn’t happened at all, like you were the one imagining things. “I just thought—after what you said, I thought maybe we could… clear things up.”

He let out a long sigh, almost like he was bored. “Look, I have things to take care of. If that’s all, I have to go.”

Your grip tightened around the phone, and you felt a chill run through you as he continued talking, casual, unaffected, as if he hadn’t torn into you less than 24 hours ago. He ended the call with a brief “Take care” leaving you standing there with the silence of the empty line.

It was like a stranger had replaced him overnight and the warmth you’d felt was now a painful memory, drifting further out of reach.

The night of the Onychinus deal was bitterly cold and a dense mist clung to the riverbank, muting every sound but the rush of water. You had been hoping—secretly, quietly—that maybe Sylus would show up, that his absence would somehow break and you’d see him standing there with that familiar smirk, ready to tackle the mission together. But the minutes ticked by and the waiting grew heavier, settling like a weight in your chest until the deal began without him.

but in an instant things went horribly wrong, spiraling out of control faster than you could react. You held on as long as you could, fighting with everything you had, but there were too many of them and you were alone. A sharp, searing pain was the last thing you remembered before everything went black, the sound of rushing water filling your senses as you were tossed into the cold, merciless depths of the river.

When the news reached Sylus, it felt like a blow to the chest, robbing him of breath. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing—the thought of you alone, vulnerable, facing the dangers he’d promised to shield you from. His mind raced, replaying every interaction, every cold word he’d thrown at you and the realization clawed at him with an intensity he hadn’t expected. Guilt twisted in his stomach, a relentless ache, as he thought of the way he’d pushed you aside, how he’d let you walk away, hurt and confused and for what?

He moved quickly, barely registering the world around him as he reached the river, scanning the dark waters until he found you, still and pale, lying half-submerged on the riverbank. His heart pounded, a surge of panic piercing through his usual composure as he dropped to his knees, pulling you into his arms with a desperation he hadn’t felt in years.

“Kitten…” His voice cracked, the endearments he’d so easily tossed at you before now carrying a weight they’d never held before. He brushed damp hair from your face, his hands shaking as he checked for a pulse. Relief flooded him when he felt the faint, steady beat beneath his fingertips, but it did nothing to quell the terror that gnawed at him.

“Why the hell did you go alone?” he whispered, his voice trembling with guilt and grief. “You should have known better than to… God, this is all my fault.” He held you closer, pressing his forehead to yours as if his touch alone could bring you back from the brink. Regret crashed over him like a tidal wave, every moment he’d ignored you, every cold word he’d thrown at you haunting him as he realized just how deeply he’d driven you away.

“I’m so sorry, kitten” he murmured, the words spilling out, raw and unfiltered. “I was stupid. I was a fool. You didn’t deserve any of it.” His fingers brushed over your face, tracing the lines of your features as if committing them to memory and he swore to himself that he’d never let you go again.

[wheneverfeasible]

My friend is listening to a nostalgia playlist and the song “Only Wanna Be With You” by Hootie & the Blowfish came on and honestly suddenly all I could think about was a secret relationship/situationship between Steddie where Eddie was trying to keep it casual and refused to accept it was anything more than a non-exclusive FWB situation while Steve wanted more.

It blows up, because of course it does, and Steve decides he can’t do it anymore and tells Eddie it’s over and to respect him enough to give him space and not contact him for a while and is very firm it’s over because he respects himself enough to give himself that.

And Eddie. Eddie hates it. Hates to acknowledge that Steve was correct when he said that Eddie never met him halfway, that Eddie always expected Steve to listen to what Eddie wanted when they were together, to watch what Eddie wanted, to do what Eddie wanted. That Eddie never tried to be a part of Steve’s life like Steve tried to be a part of his. Hates that he took Steve for granted. Hates that he made Steve feel like Eddie was ashamed of him.

Realizes how much he only wants Steve. They weren’t exclusive, and Eddie flirted with others, but he never actually did anything with anyone else. Because all he wanted, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time, was Steve.

So he writes Steve a little pop rock song, confessing his feelings in such a cringe and embarrassing way for a metalhead, but he knows that’s that what he needs to do for even a chance at getting Steve back. So he writes a song in the style Steve would like, convinces Robin to take Steve out to the bar while CC is playing (it takes some doing but Robin lets Eddie know when Steve is ready for seeing Eddie again), and then Eddie stops their normal set in the middle of their show to play Steve his song.

He looks at Steve the entire time.

They finish the rest of their set as normal but him and Steve talk after and Eddie apologizes profusely and Steve doesn’t accept yet, but he agrees to give Eddie a second chance. But…Eddie has to woo him properly.

And Eddie?

That man fucking delivers. He’s buying flowers, chocolates, writing love songs and love poems, picking Steve up and dropping him off at work, hanging out with him to do the things that Steve likes to do, even if that means playing basketball with him, taking him on dates and pushing for nothing more than a chaste kiss at the end of the night—with he asks permission for each time. He is complimenting Steve in front of everyone and letting everyone know how fucking gone he is for Steve Harrington.

And Steve laps it up.

He eventually tells Eddie he forgives him, but warns Eddie that he better never pull that fucking shit again.

And Eddie doesn’t.

And they move on and finally allow themselves to be as in love as they have always been, even if it took a while to accept it.

And, years later, when they both become Mr. Munson-Harrington, Eddie and the rest of CC stand up and head to the instrument on the small raised platform and Eddie croons Steve’s song and looks his groom in the eye the entire time.

Because he only wants to be with Steve.

Hostage Hotties (open):

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife @everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes @hiei-harringtonmunson

[hoshifighting]

Hey pookie so I just wanted to ask seeing that you didn't see any of my asks in your inbox could you write me a ff where you're in seventeen and you used to have a friends with benefits situation with wonwoo but now that's over and you're with josh but he knows that so now he wants to have a threesome with you and won I you are comfortable and have the time😊💗

threesome with; actual situationship!joshua & past situationship!wonwoo WC: 3.3k WARNINGS: smut, threesome, reader misses wonwoo, mentions of ovulation/sensitiveness, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), body fluids (cum) penetrative sex, a teeth scratch during blowjob—no pain, joshua and wonwoo making eye contact as they fuck you—idk, but felt like a warning.

you’re not entirely sure how it started. maybe it’s the way joshua’s always had this easy charm, like he knows exactly how to say shit that gets under your skin. but it’s not the kind of annoyance that makes you want to push him away, it’s the kind that makes you want to shut him up by doing things that leave the both of you breathless.

and wonwoo… well, wonwoo’s always been a different story. it’s not like he’s cold, exactly. just detached, distant. except when he’s not. except when his hands were on your hips, and his mouth was on your neck, and when he pulled you so close that it’s like he wanted to remind you how much he can feel.

it wasn’t supposed to last as long as it did, but it did. until it didn’t.

now, though? now you’ve got joshua, and that’s its own thing. he’s smoother than wonwoo ever was, always knows how to keep things light and playful even when his touch is hot and heavy. you’re not sure what to call what you have with him—it’s not exactly a relationship, but it’s not casual either. and he knows about wonwoo. of course he does. you never accomplished about lying to joshus, he knows everything about you, and you simply cant lie looking inside his eyes.

“so,” joshua says, leaning back against the couch, his eyes fixed on you with that lazy smirk you’ve come to expect. “what if we changed things up?”

you raise a brow, not quite following. “changed things up how?”

his gaze flicks over you, dark in his eyes now, something you’ve only seen in flashes before, right when he’s about to get serious. “i know about you and wonwoo. i know it’s over, but…” he lets the words hang there, knowing exactly how to build suspense. “what if it didn’t have to be over?”

you feel your stomach flip, your mind racing to catch up with the suggestion that’s hanging in the air like a loaded gun. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look like he’s joking. “i’m talking about the three of us.”

you let out a laugh, more out of shock than anything. “a fucking threesome? with wonwoo?” it’s so ridiculous, but there’s something twisted in your chest that says it’s not entirely a bad idea.

joshua just shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you said he was good, right? no reason to keep that all to yourself. besides… i’m curious.”

“curious?” you echo, still not believing what you’re hearing. “about what exactly?”

his smile turns wicked, and he leans forward, his lips brushing your ear. “about what it’d be like to see you with him. to see how you’d react if it was both of us. together.”

the idea rolls through your mind like wildfire, igniting thoughts you didn’t even know were buried there. you picture it—wonwoo’s quiet dom that you remembered, joshua’s charming and sensual—and suddenly, the room feels too hot, your heart beating too fast.

you lean back, eyes narrowed. “and what makes you think wonwoo’s even into that?”

joshua grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing. “oh, he’s into it. trust me.”

you don’t need to ask how he knows, and that’s what gets to you. this whole situation, as absurd as it sounds, feels almost inevitable. the tension between you and joshua’s always been good enough, but throw wonwoo into the mix, and it’s like adding gasoline to a slow-burning fire.

“you really think this is a good idea?” you ask, not sure if you’re talking to joshua or yourself at this point.

“i think it’s an idea,” he says, shrugging again, that confidence never leaving his face. “whether or not it’s a good one is up to you.”

you bite your lip, torn between the pull of curiosity and the weight of everything that’s gone down with wonwoo. it wasn’t messy when it ended, but it wasn’t exactly clean either. things like that don’t just disappear. they linger.

“fuck, you’re serious about this.” it’s not a question, more like a realization. joshua’s leaning in, his hands tracing light patterns over your skin, and you feel yourself giving in to the inevitable, even though part of you is still screaming that this is insane.

“completely,” he says, his lips grazing your jaw. “so, what do you say? wanna see how far we can push this?”

there’s a moment, where you think about what this could mean. it’s not just about sex, not with joshua and wonwoo involved. the way joshua’s eyes burn into yours as if he’s daring you to cross a line you can never uncross.

but then, you think about the way wonwoo used to look at you, that hunger in his sharp eyes, and the way joshua’s always been able to coax you into doing things you never thought you’d be into. and, well… maybe crossing that line isn’t the worst idea after all.

“alright,” the weight behind it feels like a door being kicked wide open. “let’s do it.”

joshua’s grin stretches wider, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “that’s what i thought you’d say.”

you can feel wonwoo's presence, even though wonwoo’s not here yet. but you know—you know—that when he is, things are going to change in a way none of you can ever take back.

and the fucked up part is? you’re not sure you’d want to.

[...]

“a threesome?!”

wonwoo’s voice cuts through the room. he’s standing at the foot of joshua’s bed, his eyes wide in disbelief—those same eyes that are always narrow, focused, but right now they’re blown open like he just heard the most ridiculous thing in his life.

honestly, you can’t blame him.

you sit there, smaller than you’ve ever felt, wrapped in the sheets like they might shield you from the exhasperation of his reaction. you’d expected some kind of pushback from wonwoo—he’s not exactly the most spontaneous guy—but the shock in his voice still stings more than you’d thought it would. joshua’s quiet beside you, arms folded across his chest, watching wonwoo with this unreadable look, lips pressed into a thin line. like he’s assessing the situation. like he’s waiting to see how this plays out.

“i—” you start, but your throat feels dry, your words dying before they’ve even formed. you shift, uncomfortable, but it’s not just the awkwardness of the moment. there’s something more, something deeper that’s making your skin feel hot, your body overly sensitive to every movement. you know what it is. you can feel it. your body’s buzzing, the ache between your thighs making itself known with every subtle shift of the sheets. you’re ovulating, and it’s making this whole thing worse, making your body respond in ways that are frustratingly out of your control.

wonwoo’s still staring, he looks at you, then at joshua, then back at you again. you don’t meet his eyes, can’t bring yourself to.

“are you serious?” his voice is lower now, more measured, but there’s still a note of incredulity in it.

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to look up at him. “yeah,” you say, voice quiet, but it’s the truth. “we’re serious.”

wonwoo looks like he’s processing it, his mind running a mile a minute, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression that tells you he’s considering it. and that’s enough for joshua, who leans forward slightly, his voice smooth, persuasive.

“it’s not as weird as it sounds,” joshua says, his tone light, like he’s just suggesting something casual, like going out for drinks. “you’re both already close. you trust each other, I know you for years. we’ve all got chemistry, right?”

wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly at joshua, but the tension between them isn’t exactly hostile. it’s more like a challenge, like he’s weighing the pros and cons, trying to figure out if this is something he can actually wrap his head around.

finally, wonwoo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and when he speaks again, there’s a resigned sort of acceptance in his voice. “fuck it. okay.”

your heart jumps at the words. wonwoo’s gaze locks on yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no distance between you. no walls.

joshua doesn’t say anything, but you feel his presence, the way his eyes are on you, observing every little reaction. there’s something almost possessive in the way he watches, like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

you don’t wait long.

before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re reaching for wonwoo, pulling him down by the front of his shirt until his lips crash into yours. it’s messy, a little frantic, and you missed him. so, so much. like you missed him more than you were willing to admit. you can’t help the small sound that escapes your throat, the way your body responds immediately, almost embarrassingly fast.

wonwoo’s hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, torching the fire that’s already been burning low in your belly.

joshua’s still silent beside you, but you feel his eyes on you, feel the way his presence lingers, close but not touching. when you finally pull away from wonwoo, breathless and dazed, you glance at joshua. his lips are pressed together in a tight line, his expression carefully neutral, but there’s a tension in his jaw that tells you he’s not unaffected by what he just saw.

“fuck,” wonwoo mutters, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “you’re… fuck, you’re wet already.”

you let out a shaky breath, your body pulsing with a need that’s only getting worse. “yeah,” you admit, not even embarrassed by it. “it’s… it’s the timing.”

wonwoo raises a brow, confused for a second, before realization dawns on his face. “oh.”

wonwoo knew about “the timing” he used to be your relief for it, and he remembered how sensitive you were.

joshua finally speaks up “she’s sensitive right now. been like this all day.”

you want it. you need it.

wonwoo’s eyes darken, his fingers tightening on your waist. “is that right?”

joshua’s watching closely, his hand brushing over your thigh, and the contact is enough to make your breath hitch, your body already responding before you can even think about it. “she’s all yours for now,” joshua murmurs. “but don’t get too comfortable.”

wonwoo’s lips are on yours again, his hands exploring your body with a familiarity that makes the nostalgia wash over you like grandma's food, and you can’t help but respond, your body arching into him.

every touch, every kiss feels magnified, like your senses are on overdrive, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from losing control entirely. you’re wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, and you know they can both feel it, know exactly how badly you want this, how badly you need it.

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” wonwoo breathes against your skin, his fingers teasing along the waistband of your underwear, and you whimper at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily. “can’t believe how wet you are.”

joshua leans in, his lips brushing wonwoo's ear as he whispers, “told you she’s been like this all day. it’s driving her crazy.”

you let out a shaky breath, wonwoo’s fingers dip lower, brushing against your soaked core, and you moan, your head falling back against joshua’s shoulder. it’s too much, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you’ve been craving, what your body’s been screaming for all day.

joshua’s hand slips under your shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, twisting the hardened nipples, he’s letting wonwoo have you, letting you drown in it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before he takes over.

wonwoo’s fingers slide inside you, slow at first, and the instant he curls them, you feel your body react, hips stuttering forward like you’re trying to chase the sensation, but can’t quite control it. it’s like your entire body remembers him, remembers the way he used to touch you, how he knows exactly what makes you fall apart.

you gasp, your forehead pressing against his chest, his free hand coming up to hold the back of your neck, keeping you close. “fuck,” you whisper, your breath ragged, your skin burning, fever. “wonwoo…”

he doesn’t respond with words, just lets out a low hum, his fingers working inside you with an infuriating pace, slow but so damn effective. you clench around him, feeling the wetness start to drip onto the sheets beneath you, and your mind’s a blur.

then, they share a look—wonwoo and joshua, their eyes meeting over your trembling form like they’re communicating something quietly between them. it makes your stomach tighten. wonwoo’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as you crumble against him, barely able to hold yourself up.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” wonwoo mutters, his fingers start moving faster, curling with every thrust, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “didn’t think you’d be this sensitive.”

“wonwoo—” you choke out, your head falling back, and your hand reaches out blindly for joshua. he’s pulling away, but you need him, need both of them. “joshua—”

you hear him groan softly, and when you turn your head, you see him standing there, his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, watching you like he’s savoring the sight of you falling apart on wonwoo’s fingers. “fuck, you look so good like that,” he says, his voice thick with lust. “so fucking needy.”

you bite your lip, moaning as wonwoo’s fingers slide deeper, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as your body betrays you. your thighs tremble, your hands clawing at the sheets, the sensation of being split between them making your head spin. “joshua,” you moan again, voice breaking. “please… come back.”

he doesn’t need much more convincing. you watch as he steps forward, his cock hard and slick in his fist. “you want me that bad, huh?” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice cutting through the haze clouding your mind. “can’t handle just wonwoo?”

wonwoo chuckles softly, his fingers still working inside you. “she’s falling apart already,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “not sure she can handle both of us.”

“she can,” joshua says confidently, his thumb swiping over the tip of his cock as he steps closer, looming over you. “she just needs a little encouragement.”

you’re already panting, your body on edge, teetering dangerously close to losing control completely. you can feel the wetness coating his hand now, dripping onto the sheets, and it only makes the whole thing worse. every little movement makes you more sensitive, your body almost too responsive, and the frustration builds in your chest.

joshua kneels down on the bed, his cock brushing your lips, and you open your mouth automatically, desperate to have him inside you. but the second you try to take him in, wonwoo’s fingers curl again, and you gasp, your body jerking uncontrollably.

“shit—” you whimper, struggling to breathe, “i can’t—”

joshua presses the tip of his cock against your lips, his eyes burning into yours. “oh, you’re just gonna have to try a little harder, baby.”

you moan against him, your hips rolling instinctively into wonwoo’s hand, your body caught in this maddening push and pull between the two of them. joshua slides his cock past your lips, and the feeling of him, heavy and warm on your tongue, only intensifies the sensation of wonwoo’s fingers inside you. you choke a little, struggling to focus on either one of them, but it’s impossible.

wonwoo’s pace picks up, his fingers thrusting deeper, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pulls them out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. you whine at the loss, your head spinning, but before you can even process it, he’s shifting lower, pressing your thighs apart with a firm grip.

“wonwoo—” you gasp, your words muffled around joshua’s cock.

“shh,” wonwoo murmurs, his breath hot against your inner thigh. “just relax.”

and then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a broad, slow stripe up your center, and your entire body seizes up, a broken moan ripping from your throat. your hips buck against his mouth, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your thighs as he starts devouring you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

“fuck,” joshua mutters, his hand tightening in your hair as you struggle to take him, the combination of wonwoo’s tongue on your clit and joshua in your mouth pushing you past the point of reason. “you’re so fucking wet. wonwoo’s making a mess out of you.”

you can’t respond, can barely even think, your mind a swirling mess. wonwoo’s tongue is relentless, teasing and sucking at your clit, his fingers slipping back inside you as he eats you out like it’s his only mission in life. you can feel your legs shaking, your entire body trembling as you try to keep up, but it’s impossible. every touch, every thrust of his fingers makes you more sensitive, makes it harder to breathe.

“fuck, i can’t—” you gasp, pulling off joshua’s cock for a second, your voice a desperate, breathless whine.

joshua just chuckles darkly, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. “you’re doing so good, baby. just a little more.”

wonwoo hums in agreement, the vibration against your clit making your entire body jolt, and you feel yourself spiraling, the tension building faster than you can handle. his tongue flicks over you again, and this time, he focuses on that one spot—the needy, throbbing clit—sucking just hard enough to send you over the edge.

you cry out, your back arching off the bed, your entire body shuddering as the orgasm rips through you, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, trembling and gasping for breath as wonwoo keeps going, his mouth never letting up.

“fuck, look at you,” joshua mutters, his voice full of awe as he watches you fall apart. “so fucking beautiful when you come. i love it.”

wonwoo finally pulls back, his lips shiny and slick with your cum, his eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you. “she’s not done yet,”

and you know he’s right.

“fuck, look at you,” wonwoo mutters, pulling back from between your legs, his lips still glistening with you. “i’ve got you ready for him, haven’t i?” the heat in your cheeks burning deeper as you realize what he means.

you don’t have time to respond before joshua's hands are on your hips, pulling you up to your knees. the shift makes you gasp, you glance back at him.

“yeah, you’ve got her real nice and wet for me,” joshua says, the blunt head of his cock teasing at your entrance. “good job, wonwoo.”

you feel a kick of embarrassment making your legs shake. wonwoo’s hand comes up to brush against your cheek, turning your face toward him as he looks down at you with that familiar gaze. “c’mere,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing over your lips. “i missed your pretty mouth.”

your lips part automatically, like you’re drawn to him, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him toward your lips. he groans softly as you take him in, his hand resting on your jaw, fingers curling slightly as you suck him in deeper.

“god, i missed this,” he breathes out, his voice catching as you swirl your tongue around him, taking him deeper into your throat. “missed how fucking good you are at this.”

your cheeks flush at the praise, your body humming as joshua teases you from behind, the tip of his cock just narrowly entering you. wonwoo’s hand tightens on your jaw, guiding your movements as you bob your head up and down, your lips stretched around him. the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of him—everything is overwhelming in the best way.

but just as you start to take him in throat, joshua suddenly thrusts into you from behind, hard. the sharp intrusion makes you gasp around wonwoo’s cock, your teeth scraping lightly against him as the sudden cock fills you all at once.

“shit—!” wonwoo curses, his hips jerking as your teeth graze him, not enough to hurt, but enough to make him jolt. his eyes widen in shock, but then a shaky laugh escapes his lips, his free hand tightening in your hair as he steadies you. “motherfucker.”

joshua lets out a loud laugh behind you, clearly amused by wonwoo’s reaction. “sorry about that,” he says, but there’s no real apology in his tone, only satisfaction as he starts moving inside you again, his hips snapping forward with sharp, controlled thrusts that have you whimpering around wonwoo’s cock.

“you’re such a fucking asshole hyung,” wonwoo mutters, but the words are strained, his voice catching as he watches your lips stretch around him. his hand rests on the back of your neck now, guiding your head in time with his shallow thrusts as he slowly fucks your mouth. “fuck, just like that. good girl.”

joshua’s pace is relentless, his hips slamming into you from behind, both filling you—wonwoo in your mouth, joshua inside you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” joshua groans, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pushes deeper, the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking you filling the room. “woo, you’ve got her all loosened up, but she’s still so fucking tight around me.”

wonwoo chuckles, but it’s strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watches you struggle to take both of them. “yeah?” he mutters, his voice rough. “she’s so fucking wet, isn’t she? dripping all over you.”

joshua’s pace falters for just a second as he glances up at wonwoo, and for a moment, they lock eyes. it’s strange at first, like neither of them expected to find themselves in this situation—watching each other while they both take you apart. its strange, strange because...

they start to enjoy it.

they enjoy the way their faces contort, the way their moans mix together, the sight of you caught between them—cocks twitching.

joshua whimpers as looking wonwoo's eyes, a smirk playing at his lips as he gives you another sharp thrust, just to watch you choke around wonwoo’s cock.

the sound of both of them moaning, cursing, panting—it only makes you wetter, makes you crave more.

“shit,” joshua breathes out, his voice strained as he keeps up the brutal pace, his hand sliding up your back, fingers digging into your skin. “fuck, you’re taking us so well.”

wonwoo’s face contorts, his hand tightening in your hair as his cock twitches in your mouth. “you’re gonna make me come if you keep going like this,” he groans, his eyes rolling back slightly as he fights to stay in control.

you whimper around him, your body shaking as the pleasure builds higher and higher, and you can feel yourself getting closer, every movement, every touch is pushing you nigher, and the sounds of their moans, the way they’re both so fucking into it—it’s enough to send you over.

“cum for us,” joshua growls, as his hips slam into you again, harder this time.

wonwoo’s grip tightens, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he watches you, his fingers flexing slightly on the back of your neck. “show us how fucking good you are.”

your body finally gives in. you come hard, your entire body shaking with the power of it, your lips trembling around wonwoo’s cock as you gasp for air.

“fuck,” wonwoo groans, his hand tightening on your neck as his hips stutter forward, his cock twitching in your mouth as he follows you over the edge.

joshua isn’t far behind, his hips slamming into you one last time before he lets out a sly, throaty moan, his body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you up.

wonwoo pulls out of your mouth slowly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he looks down at you. you look at him shaking your head, taking his cock inside your wet mouth again.

the man melts on the headboard, joshua sat, looking how you look eager to make wonwoo cum, like you just cant leave him hanging. your knees give out, but your neck keep working to bob your head.

there's a line of spit dripping from your chin, as you suck him moaning, as the simply action of sucking him, was stimulating you. wonwoo eyes are glued with joshua's, the hyung biting his own bottom lip as he watches every single detail.

wonwoo feels the cock twitching, the gaze of his hyung plus the warmth of your mouth, making him cum on spot. he looks back at you again, the cum filling your tongue, leaving traces of it on your chin and neck, as you moan dumbly before laying on his thigh.

the boys make eye contact again, a smile spreading across their lips.

[hvnlygrl]

Can I request headcanons about jj sneaking around and messing around with reader who is John b's lil sis and eventually getting caught

stealth mode.

pairing — jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader

notes — i love this, i also made the reader adopted to make it a little more inclusive for everyone hope that’s okay!! tysm for the ask 💌

join my follower celebration — until feb. 3rd!

as john b’s younger (by a year) adopted sister, you were constantly around the pogues, not even bothering to find your own friend group.

john b never minded, but he made sure to let pope and jj know that you were off limits, “no exceptions”

jj, of course, was always tempted by that rule, especially breaking it once the two of you shared a drunken kiss under the stars one night.

after that night, the two of you began sneaking around and going behind everyone’s back

you didn’t even tell kie or sarah about your secret relationship (honestly situationship might be better)

hiding behind the chicken coop to steal kisses here and there and slipping into each other’s rooms at night.

you both knew it was only a matter of time before someone pieced together the lingering touches and stares and the coincidental disappearances together.

he’s got a hand cupping your jaw roughly behind the door in the bathroom, kissing you desperately as you begin unbuttoning his jeans.

the two of you are so enthralled in each other that neither of you hear the steps down the hallway.

john b opens the unlocked door mindlessly, scrolling on his phone as he steps into the bathroom

he’s confused when the door doesn’t open all the way, “what the-“ he peeks behind it, eyes going wide at the sight

you gasp in shock, pushing jj away from you instinctively trying to cover up the scene

jj quickly zips his jeans, face going cherry red as he fails to meet eyecontact with his best friend

“jj, what the fuck?” john b screams at the blonde, “y/n, seriously??”

“i-i don’t,” you begin sputtering, heart in your throat as you stare at your big brother

“look man, it’s not her fault,” jj immediately begins covering for you, standing in between you and john b

“how long?” john b ignores the comment, completely furious at the two of you. “how long have yall been doing this shit behind everyone’s backs?”

jj starts thinking, unsure of the real answer, he tries to come up with a better (much shorter) lie

“almost a year,” you blurt out, too scared to lie to john b any further.

after big john died, he basically became your father figure. and even before that, he was always doing everything in his power to protect you.

“a year? what the fuck guys?”

after an hour or so of awkward arguing with john b, he ends up accepting the situation. “fine. just don’t do anything in front of me, i don’t wanna see my best friend all over my sister, it’s bad enough i have to know about it”

realizing that was the best response you were gonna get, you jump up and run at john b, immediately hugging him. “thank you,” you whisper into the crook of his neck.

“don’t mention it,” he mutters back, “like seriously. please don’t”

you giggle at that, hugging him for a moment longer before letting go.

“now get out, i wanna talk to jj for a minute.”

“ruh roh,” you half-joke, “be gentle on him please, JB”

you touch jj’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before heading out, “good luck!”

-> back to my masterlist.

[slaygentford]

what kills me the absolute most is that he doesn’t even particularly like armand I cannot stop thinking about it. during every interaction 90% of him is like Jesus Christ this is tedious. and then he actually heeds Claudia for once and reflects on Armand’s sensitivity cuz he doesn’t trust it (manipulative little gremlin) and is like alright I have to take control of this situation because he mentioned the secret to me and to Claudia twice in like. Two days. and the worst thing is by 2022 they’re not even locked together in hatred they’re just kind of sleeping in the same bed sorry I’m just repeating the events of the episode now but he really said no in front of. The entire coven. he really can’t stand Armand quoting love poems. I can’t get over it. He didn’t commit to being Armand’s dom bc he particularly wanted to he did it because he’s in danger and needs to stop this from getting out of hand like it did last time (vintage lioncourt). like he knows that is a megalodon. situationship of the century. I lOvE yOu. I thought I would miss you fanonized mutual obsession but I was wrong. I wouldn’t change louis’ calculations and endurances and protection of Claudia for the world. ROMEO!

[skachacharealsmooth]

coming on main to say this just bcs i talk more abt sth over here but my ideal sonadow dynamic is soooo situationship coded. sonic will knock on shadow’s door at like 3 am sopping wet scrapes all over his body taco bell in hand stupid smile and shadow will just be like ughhhh fine whatever invite yourself in. they spend a few weeks together in domestic bliss or whatever until shadow notices that sonic’s leg is extra bouncy and his eyes are darting today at breakfast which means he’s gonna leave in the middle of the night off to chaos knows where.

shadow’s version of crashing and leaving is stepping in on sonic’s heroic endeavors but only when the situation is extreme enough to use his Top Secret Government Job as a reason. shadow isn’t using his occupation as an excuse, more so a valid reason to warrant rubbing elbows w sonic and co….and what follows is the most awkward bizarre palpable tension that you can cut through with a knife. like condolences to anyone that is within a 10 mile blast radius of them. when they’re parting ways sonic always says something so out of pocket in love goo goo eyes and shadow will think about it for the next five months nonstop. sonic then shows up on his doorstep and the cycle continues. actually let me expand on why this happens down below

shadow will not tell sonic that he genuinely has feelings for him for a multitude of reasons but the main sparksnotes overarching reason why changes over time. when they’re younger shadow is under the impression that sonic simply can’t be in a long term romantic relationship because he’s incapable. this type of engagement is just his speed and suits his lifestyle perfectly. as they get older, shadow’s opinion slightly shifts in favor of the idea that sonic would never settle down because his appetite to experience everything the world has to offer is greater than his desire to have and maintain in a romantic sense. getting serious is something he doesn’t want turns into getting serious is something he genuinely can’t bring himself to do.

on the other hand, sonic will not tell shadow that he has feelings for him and his reasoning stays the same. and it’s arguably more stupid. sonic is convinced that shadow just isn’t that serious about him. like every time he creeps out of the door in the middle of the night he secretly wishes that shadow will catch him and beg him to stay in this giant confession of love but that would never happen because coming and going is sonic’s thing and who shadow sees in between their meetings is none of his business. if he was that serious then he would confess. when they’re younger sonic fantasizes the doorway scene ending as let me come with you. as they get older, it turns into stay.

[brattyspence]

white noise | s.r

a/n: don't look at me i'm nervous for this

summary: spencer x reader -- a situationship defined by white noise; a metaphor for how we pacify ourselves and make stupid decisions to experience comfort, even when it hurts

word count: 1.2k (shut up okay)

masterlist

As you roll over in his bed, the soft white noise of feathers settling in down pillows and sheets crumpling up under your body echoes through your head. This white noise, his white noise, the sound of jersey sheets and an old ceiling fan and his heartbeat under your ear and him, which you've learned to fall asleep to more often than not.

It's cold in his room, but the still bed radiates warmth. There's a domestic quality to the way his fingertips trail up and down your arm, tracing lines over your shoulder absentmindedly. It's possessive somehow, in a way that says I’ve been here before, I’ll be here again. 

There's a trait to Spencer that you can't quite put your finger on. It's familiar. It's falling asleep with your back against his stomach, his breathing pattern long engraved in your physiology. Its the thrum of the engine in his shitty old Volvo when he picks you up from work when you're too tired to walk. It's forehead kisses and whispered things that replay in your mind when you're struggling to put together all of the pieces.

Spencer is white noise. 

You could be upset about it. You should, in fact. Spencer’s commitment to non-commitment haunts you more often than not. The domesticity of your situation sneaks up on you sometimes, in the form of remembered coffee orders, the lingering touch of his hand on your hip when you go out together. He’s perfected all the things to make you feel like you belong to him, but he just can’t find the words to make it true. Still, you’ve become so used to him that you’re not sure you can quit despite your feelings.

Sunlight just barely makes its way through his blinds by the time he’s awake. It's morning, earlier than you'd like it to be, but you always wake up with him when you're here. 

Your eyes flutter open and closed a few times before they focus, the room filled with the warm light emanating from the sconces. Light that hardens edges and raises new questions and drives a wedge between you, literally. This time of day has long become the bane of your existence. 

“Morning,” he murmurs. He brushes the hair out of your eyes with the softest touch you've ever felt. You instinctively scrunch your face, too close to sleep to process, and you don't realize what he's doing until he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your only response is an inaudible mumble. He doesn't need words to know what you're saying. It's come back to bed, it's I'm so tired, and it's too early,

“Coffee’s on,” he says. 

“Hm,” you hum. 

And so it goes as it does every day. A mug–your mug–, filled with coffee made to your liking left on the kitchen counter for you. A toothbrush left in the holder in your favorite color. You both get ready in silence, a practiced ritual, making space for each other with lingering touches where needed. 

“Lock the door when you leave?” He asks. You can hear the sound of his bag being shucked over his shoulder, and in an instant he’s behind you, warm hands on your hips and a soft kiss to your shoulder. 

You spend the day waiting, as you always do, for him to invite you back in. You know its pathetic, that you should be better than this. You think of all the advice you’ve ever received about love and relationships and what not to do. How not to be desperate. The second his message crosses your screen, any semblance of logic fades. it doesn’t matter. 

When you finally stumble through the entryway to his apartment, the day drops to your feet like shattered glass, shoes and bags and jackets left on the floor, discarded, forgotten, because you’re here. You can go back to pretending for just a little bit longer. 

Its 11pm when you find yourself right back where you started. In his bed, wearing clothes that live in his drawers, the ceiling fan set to your preferred speed. You’re half asleep on the side of the bed that you’ve claimed as your own, at least for 5 nights a week, your cheek pressed into his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart continuing to etch itself into your memory. 

The day weighs heavy on you as it always does. Almost as heavy as the weight of all the things left unspoken, which you’ve been carrying around as long as you’ve known him.

“Spencer?” You murmur, fingertips idlying toying at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Hm?”

You pause to listen to the sound of your fingers running over the fabric of his shirt. Theres the gentle hum of the heater, the flickering of a TV left on somewhere. There’s comfort to how things are. Asking the question in your mind could disrupt that. 

“Do you think,” you swallow, adjusting your head against him to look up at him. “That you’ll change your mind?”

“About us?”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, and your head bobs with the rise and fall of his chest. “I don’t know. Maybe one day.”

Silence lingers between you for a moment. It swells within every corner of your being.

“One day.”

“Maybe,” he corrects. It’s not biting or mean, but it's a deflection. “I don’t know, baby.”

It takes a lot to avoid the temptation to press him. He’s a hypocrite, at minimum. You could tell him all sorts of things about how he’s wrong, and how he doesn’t get it. That it’s not fair that he gets you in every form; asleep, awake, happy, sad, in bed, at work, and you get nothing to show for it. You could give him shit for being exactly how he is, but you don’t. Instead you choose to hold on to maybe. Maybe – an empty promise, but one you’ll accept in exchange for whatever time he will give you.

Instead you sigh, scooting closer. He tucks your head right into position, the same way you sleep every night, with practiced ease. His hands find their home against your skin, leaving warm spots on your back that lull you halfway to sleep before you try again. 

“I’m waiting for you,” you mumble. The words slip out before you can think about the weight of them. It’s an admission, a request, a plea. It’s stupid. It makes you feel sick in more ways than one, but it’s the truth.

“Go to sleep,” he replies.

It’s an open ended question. Its a chance to pick a fight, to force him to make up his mind. Its an opportunity to tell him off. Tonight, though, you don’t bother thinking about how his words lack substance. How he dances around every question. You don’t have time to notice just how upset you really are before he presses another kiss to your forehead. 

Tonight, you choose this. White noise; the illusion of belonging, his heartbeat under your cheek, hands running across bare skin, the quiet comfort of him –  his home, his space. Him. 

You choose white noise, static, empty promises, the comfort of being here as compared to anywhere else. Maybe tomorrow it will all matter. But not tonight.

[holy-puckslibrary]

─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~ 

I. it’s getting so much clearer… 

Matthew regrets making you a key. 

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble. 

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring. 

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage. 

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home. 

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane. 

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare. 

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is. 

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?” 

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood. 

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven. 

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange. 

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load. 

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone. 

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it. 

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand. 

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course. 

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line. 

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist." 

And he does. 

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head. 

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list. 

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one. 

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate. 

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly. 

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.” 

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard. 

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future. 

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor. 

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently. 

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did. 

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.” 

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection. 

“—looks so fucking stupid.” 

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey. 

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind. 

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day. 

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?” 

“Of course, it fucking do—” 

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting. 

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…” 

“It looks, what?” 

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you. 

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.” 

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup. 

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you. 

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat. 

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you. 

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep. 

What’s gotten into him? 

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.) 

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself. 

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge. 

Not with you looking like that.  

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.” 

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes. 

You snort. “Funny." 

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you. 

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge. 

Matthew turns you to face him without warning. 

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later. 

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest. 

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates. 

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible. 

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.  

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way. 

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey. 

“W-We need to be quick—” 

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good? 

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.  

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse. 

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.” 

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.” 

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds. 

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is. 

A robbery, if you ask him. 

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites. 

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles. 

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused. 

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes. 

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”  

“I'm not.” 

“You've never been a good liar.” 

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect. 

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams. 

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you. 

“Don't change the subject.” 

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither. 

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.” 

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you. 

“So?” 

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive. 

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.” 

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony. 

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard. 

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance. 

And you do.  

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser. 

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time. 

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade. 

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.  

Mathew smiles. 

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough. 

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.” 

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now. 

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic. 

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed. 

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life. 

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.” 

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice. 

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”  

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?” 

“They aren’t!” 

They absolutely are. 

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles. 

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple. 

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears. 

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay. 

And he doesn’t hate it. 

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

patrons gained access to this piece on MAY 15, 2024 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

[f1amour]

˖ ࣪ 𖥔 NO ONE NOTICED — CARLOS SAINZ

[social media au + some real life]

pairing | carlos sainz x mexican!reader

face claim ★ danna paola

content warnings | age gap (reader is 22) angst, suggestive content

authors note | not spell checked. based off no one noticed by the marías. if anyone would like a part two with a happy ending let me know <3 posting this to start off some manifestation that carlos wins the vegas gp please just one more win with ferrari 🤞🏼

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liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt, landonorris, bellahadid, dulcemaria, and 842,496 others

yourusername monza gp was amazing as always. now off to my home for a little break 🇲🇽🤍

➥ view comments below

user1 she ATE every single outfit at monza

user2 girl might as well post carlos in the second slide we all know that’s him😭

alexandrastmleaux pretty girl 💓💓💓

yourusername please that’s all you 🤍

carmenmmundt hermosa! can’t wait to see you

yourusername reuniting so soon i love you😭

user3 kind of new to the fandom but how does she know so many wags??

user4 she’s a singer and occasional youtuber who was invited to sing the national anthem of mexico at the mexico city gp in 2021. it’s been rumored she has a fwb situation with carlos but never been confirmed even though she’s been spotted in his garage at multiple races

user5 carlos needs to make it official atp she’s his biggest supporter despite him constantly saying he’s not in a relationship and doesn’t want to be in one

user6 our girl deserves better if he wont appreciate her then let her find someone who will

♥️ yourusername liked this comment

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SEPTEMBER, 2023

You walk close behind Carlo as he makes his way back inside the house after having a relaxing day at the beach he’d saw the dms from random people about you liking a certain comment “It was an accident. I thought I was liking Carmen’s comment and I don’t know my thumb slipped or—.”

“An accident? You responded to Carmen way earlier that comment was made hours later. Just stop lying for once in your life, yn!”

“No that’s now fair, Carlos. You say I lie all the time? I lie for you! I don’t want this anymore. I want something real…that’s the truth.” Your eyes well up with tears overcome with emotions you sit on the bed feeling deflated.

Carlos sighs and sits beside you, “Y/n…we said from the beginning this would be—.”

“No feelings attached only sex because with both our careers being busy a relationship would not be healthy for us. I have that memorized, Carlos. I know we agreed to that and it was going well,” You quote what he had said to you the night after the México City Gp in 2021 where you two had spent the night together.

“I thought I could have sex with you and have no feelings for you but how can I not? You…you always know what will cheer me up. You are the first person I call or text in the morning even if I’ve had a busy week. You know exactly how I take my tea or coffee, you kiss me with a passion that makes me believe you love me too, you hold me like you never wanna let go…how can I not fall in love with you?”

And there it was. The three words Carlos had been trying to avoid from you not because he didn’t feel the same way but he knew his life and your would ever be stable for a relationship. Among other things he just knew this may not end right if you got into a relationship but now looking at it, this situationship was ending now.

“Y/n…I don’t feel the same way.”

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SEPTEMBER, 2023

liked by yourusername, user1, user2, user3, and others

smoothoperator_updates carlos has won the singapore gp!!! this is a huge accomplishment after redbull dominating season so far. congrats carlos! 🏎️

➥ view comments below

user1 anyone else see yn like this post? why was she not there😭

user2 yn in the likes because she unfollowed carlos…my heart is breaking

user3 they definitely ended their relationship or whatever it was after the monza gp just a few days later she unfollowed him even though he still follows her

user4 y’all go check f1gossiponthepaddock recent post…carlos is horrible for that

f1gossiponthepaddock spotted! carlos sainz cozying up and kissing mystery brunette at a club celebrating his singapore gp win. sources at the part said he never left her sights and was very hands on. quite a fast rebound after being spotted with y/n y/l/n just a few weeks ago.

comments are disabled.

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NOVEMBER, 2023 • PODCAST INTERVIEW

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yourusername posted a story !

slide 1 tan lejos de mi, te sigo pensando. me canso llorando.

carlossainz55 posted a story

slide 1 i wanted to stay, i wanted to be there. i wanted to hold you, but i was afraid. i should've told you.

[noobsoconfusing]

‘twin fantasy’_hamzahthefantastic

summary: just when hamzah thought he finally had a solid situation with you, the overwhelming feelings of being loved for the first time catch you, drown you.

angst, internet situationship au, hamzah being himself, kinda codependency, awkward, avoidant attachment issues.

>_<

if hamzah could describe the feeling of loneliness mixed with whatever the fuck being in love meant in only one word, it would reduce simply to: you.

it was the way your eyes glitched when you blinked in front of your low quality web cam, or maybe how you typed when you were in a hurry, always reminding yourself to maybe, just maybe, type something nicer so he didn’t feel like he was the problem.

so, as he stares directly at his phone screen, his eyes itchy and irritated from waiting to see you online, he decides to quickly type something to catch your attention.

hamzahthefantastic: the other night i cried while thinking of having sex with you

and so he waits. and waits, and waits.

the green dot next to your contact name appears and he cringes at himself for letting out an audible shriek of excitement.

y/n: hamzah!!!!

y/n: fr?

he smiles, shaking his head because yeah, it was for real, but also because he had gotten what he wanted. your attention.

hamzahthefantastic: lol. maybe. yeah. i dunno

hamzahthefantastic: wanna facetime?

y/n: hold on i’ll call you :)

>_<

silence. comforting moments between hazy stares and timid laughter. hamzah enjoyed this.

“your room is messy again, y/n” he mentions, peeking as much as he can from the position your webcam is in.

“yeah, i haven’t really got time to clean up… but yours is messy too!” you point, the camera glitches at your sudden loud voice.

“living alone kinda sucks, you know? at least i had my room clean when i lived with my parents, a warm plate of food too, and even allowance money!” he rolled his eyes, and you nodded.

hamzah and you had been friends ever since he lived with his parents, so you got to see the whole process of him moving to a different city, and you were there for him when he got his first place, and then his first job, and his first pets, and so on..

your heart wrenched when you realised you had lived a whole damn life by his side, however, behind a screen.

“wish i could live with you, hamzah..” you quietly say, hoping he doesn’t catch on, but he does, used to your quiet demeanour.

“me too, y/n.” a glitchy smile appears from his side of the screen, and you copy it.

and god, you love his smile. it’s so weird, so odd how the smile and physical happiness of someone that lives yet so far away from you can infect you with such joy. disgusting feelings arise from your stomach.

stupid fucking love and stupid fucking damned distance!

“for real? like, for ‘for real?” your voice shakes.

he nods with seriousness invading his face. “hell yeah, for real. i’d love to live with you, in fact, i do feel like i live with you even now, you know? we talk ever day, i see your face every- well, not every day, but enough to keep me going for the week!” he smiled, referring to those times you didn’t feel good enough to facetime, so he settled for texting, which made him equally happy.

“oh man…” you mutter. feelings enough, so damn enough. you don’t know what to do with your mind, and you don’t know why it’s racing so fast, imagining billions of scenarios.

he notices your manners. hamzah suddenly becomes self aware. scared he has said something wrong.

“are you-?”

“i love you.” you quickly cut him off, its not your intention though, just the lag delaying your confession.

confession that has already been confessed plenty of times.

“hey! i love you too!” as his soul finds its way back into his body, hamzah admits. joy suddenly running through his body like gasoline and fire consuming a wreck.

silence. you look up to stare at his pixelated frame. and he’s so beautiful. and you think this is all a damn dream.

“but do you like me?” the undertone of your sore voice makes its way throughout your sentence, betraying you.

he tilts his head like a confused puppy. you bite back a tiny smile.

“what do you mean? why are you asking that? do you not think i like you?” hey asks, confused and aching for a quick response.

you think a bit, not even knowing what you meant by that stupid question.

“nevermind, hah! it’s nonsense, really…” you try to sound convincing.

for your misfortune, hamzah knows you way better than you think.

“not nonsense, something is bugging you and i can tell.” he adjusts his headphones as he says that, trying to get a better listen at your reply.

“you.”

hamzah furrows his eyebrows at your quick answer.

“huh?”

“it bugs me that i am always thinking of you, that’s my issue, yeah?” you say, a bit more loose, “i always think about how amazing and how wonderful it wouldve been being your neighbour or your friend from school, but no, i am stuck here a thousand and a million more miles away from you and i can’t do anything to cut the distance short.” you sigh.

hamzah bites his lower lip, and he thinks, oh, how a thought you must have been saving for a long time also affects him in severe ways. he thinks the same.

“you know, y/n? i don’t think it was, you know, the amazing casualties of life that made us end up talking to each other until four in the fucking morning. you know what i think? that you were actually made for me.” he shrugs his shoulders and tries to put on a smile for you, even though he wishes he could just cry…or something.

“right.” you sigh. “hamzah, i just… i feel like my whole life revolves around you, is that weird? like, i wake up and see if you texted me while i was asleep. then i go about my day and still think about you, and then when you text me i just.. drop everything else to spend time with you.” you try to avoid the camera, or his gaze. “do you think that’s weird? am i weird?”

your face drops as he bursts out laughing.

“no! not weird at all, y/n! you see, i- okay, i do the same… you’re so pretty, inside and outside and you’re so thoughtful and so kind and beautiful and just… yourself, that i find myself thinking about you and your antics for hours, if not the whole day!” he lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction, shaking his head with a smile because letting all of his emotions out felt so fucking great.

“you’re so weird, so dumb…” you smile, even if you feel like your eyes are about to shed waterfalls of tears.

“we can be weird.” he adds. “it’s only cool if we’re both weird.” his voice is soft and low just like always. so genuine.

“right, yeah.” you smile too.

hamzah can’t help but secretly take a picture of your face, the dim lighting of your room accentuates your features perfectly and he finds himself more and more invested in you.

“yeah, right..”

>_<

hamzah’s voice fills your ears in a soothing manner.

while you carefully listen, you can’t help but dissociate from reality. your mind occupied in something you can’t really comprehend.

“…a video, like in a youtube channel, do you think that’s a good idea?” his voice slowly becomes more present, and you snap your head to his direction. “are you there…?”

“yeah, sorry, just mind fog, hah!” you reply forcing a smile.

“alright, are you okay? have you eaten today? do you wanna end the call so you can sleep?” hamzah asks and you feel a little bit dizzy from all the questions that come out of his mouth.

“yeah- no! i am fine, what were you saying about a video on youtube?” you quickly try to bring the focus to him again.

hamzah frowns so quickly that you think it’s a glitch. but he smiles right away.

“i was saying, i was thinking about posting something on youtube.” he repeats. “you think that’s a good idea?” you come to realise how hamzah always asks for your opinion, always seeking your approval.

you nod. “yeah, i think it’d be really cool, maybe you’ll get famous one day!”

his laugh fills your heart, and makes you flash a smile too.

“nah, i don’t think so, it’ll be just for fun, just to kill time, i kinda need a distraction from thinking ‘bout you all day, right?” he says.

and what he said, keeps playing in your mind for a while.

distraction. from you.

“yeah, cool!”

and you try your best to keep track of the conversation, but you’ve been so tired.

so tired.

not sleepy, somehow. just so, so fucking tired.

>_<

your surprised face comes up to the screen as this time he is wearing a grey hoodie, different from the black one he always uses.

“cute. you look like… well, something cute!” he says making the screen bigger so he can see you better.

“why?” you laugh, “something?”

“yeah, something. you know, you’re so unique i can’t even describe you or compare you to anything. i love you a lot, y/n…”

stop. please. stop.

you think. the feeling of need inside your chest hurts and burns after every word he says. after every sentence. everything reminds you that he’s so far away, that you are probably never going to touch him. never feel him.

and the screen is so cold and so hard and so lifeless, and you wonder, how can something inanimate hold your biggest desire inside? how can hamzah live inside your device? how can it hold so much meaning inside its metallic shell?

“i love you.” you bluntly say. “i love you so much it hurts and i wish you could make it stop hurting so fucking bad.” a desperate laugh erupts from your throat, one that screams for help.

“oh, baby, i wish i could hold you so close. never gonna let you go once i have you here with me, alright? im gonna glue your body to mine and we will just have to live like that…” an exaggerated version of his deep fantasy came out, but still, he was very much serious.

“sounds good.” you reply.

“fuck yeah it does” he sighs, but not defeated, just full of hope. one of you had to be hopeful, right?

“fuck yeah…” you repeated, mind fog attacking you once again.

>_<

his grey hoodie on again, and you start to think he hasn’t washed it in the full week that has passed.

it’s alright though, you love him that way.

“i keep having these… dreams about you” he says. “odd dreams, not nightmares though, just weird dreams”

“me too.” you say. the guilt of the neediness inside your tummy makes its way to your brain. eating you up.

“what about?” hamzah asks, more invested now that he knows you dream about him too.

“you first.” you deadpan.

“fantasies. really fucking good fantasies, though.”

“about?” you ask again.

“sex and… whatnot.” oh. he’s so serious and so direct and so honest.

you can’t hide your surprise, nor the blush that creeps up to your cheeks.

“oh, i guess… me too.” and your voice shakes because it’s so odd to say this out loud.

“i don’t know. im so used to you, i just imagine whats like to… well, be with you. and touch you and just feel your body against mine.”

“sometimes i feel like i crave a touch i’ve never felt before. how can i yearn for something i have never tasted?” you ask, and he opens his eyes, already wide.

“yeah, i feel the same.”

“need you, though. very badly.” a deep feeling of emptiness swallows you up. how can your bed be so empty yet you’re laying on it? how can hamzah be your twin fantasy yet he’s so far away?

“i wanna be inside you, just feel you and melt over your body and maybe then, i’ll feel complete.” hamzah has a hard time expressing his emotions with coherent thoughts, but this time you understand him completely.

>_<

it’s been minutes. and you are about to freaking win the contest. again. like the last four times.

hamzah’s eyes are red even over the bad quality camera he’s using. “y/n! please just let me win this time!” he begs, his eyes squinting. he struggles to keep them open.

and you’re perfectly fine, nonchalant even. but as you see his struggle, you give in.

“fine!”

you blink. tears fall down your cheeks from how dry your poor eyes were. you laugh.

“finally!” he celebrates. “oh god, thought i was going blind…”

“well, we’ve been on call for like five hours, the screen is gonna make us blind sooner than later” you laugh, and he does too.

“i just like talking to you.” he admits and you swear you can see a slight red tint adorning his face. he’s so adorable.

stupidly adorable. your heart aches.

“i like it too.”

you loved it, actually.

did you?

>_<

that damned grey hoodie again. and you think, it’s the third consecutive time that week.

you, however, just despised the way he looked absolutely fucking stunning in it. as if he knew it did things to you.

“what are we?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence that surrounded you both.

you tended to do assignments together on call, sometimes he knew things you didn’t and he helped you, and viceversa.

“i am hamzah, you’re y/n and you’re my everything.” he replied, still focusing on his excel sheet.

“but what are we?” a situationship. that was it. hamzah would constantly call you pet names and tell you how much he loves you, and then drop the most horny messages about you.

“we are everything, i just said”

“that’s not an answer, hamzah, what are we? like, are we best friends, friends, lovers, or just people who talk to each other about their deepest secrets and feelings?” you closed your powerpoint and stared at the webcam.

“you’re everything to me, right? all of the above, every option, you are.” he said, still focusing on his work but at the same time on you.

silence again.

you nodded. a smile forming on your face.

“everything, then.”

>_<

your cheeks flushed at his words, you were a second away from turning your camera off from how embarrassed you were.

“you want- hamzah! you wanna what!?” you put a hand over your mouth in a surprised expression.

he laughs.

“i said i wanna fuck you, i just said!” he repeated himself, a smirk plastered on his face.

“why would you say that?” you laughed.

“because you were sad and i wanted to cheer you up!” he held his hands up in defence, his screen lagged at the sudden movement. “i’d rather have you happy than sad!”

“now im sad and flustered…” your hands went up to your cheeks, just to feel the warmth that spread across.

“hey, that’s better than sad alone.”

“you’re so dumb!”

>_<

handling your emotions was something you never knew about. and hamzah seemed to be so down to earth about what he wanted, about what he felt, that you couldn’t help but feel left behind in the emotional management area.

“gonna call it a night, im really tired, hamzah.” you said, a yawn escaping your mouth.

“oww, but- but it’s only been three hours..” his big puppy eyes stare at you, and you beat yourself up when you look at his sad face.

stop. stop!

“sorry…” you apologise. “we’ve been talking all week and i’ve been staying up till late the whole week too, we can chat during the day, though.”

he frowns but nods at the same time.

“fair, love you, have a good night!” he waves, waiting for you to say you love him back.

“good night, hamzah!” you smile, ready to end the call, but before you do so, he quickly yells;

“i said i love you…” his hopeful eyes dance across the screen, darting from your own to the smaller square with his face in it.

you pause for a moment. swallow and blink.

“oh, yeah, me too!” and there it was. your stupid feelings ruining everything.

his face drops, but somehow manages to keep a small smile. “alright, love you more, see you tomorrow?”

“yeah.”

and as if it was a race, you rush to press the ‘end call’ button.

your head spinning had you dizzy, so you throw the phone away and lay on your bed. hamzah is all you can think about.

it was like a self defence thing that was, at the same time, self destructive. you had to run away from him, you had to stop your heart from being broken. though, you didn’t think hamzah could hurt you. it was all so confusing! so dumb!

>_<

early hours of the morning, and you are not even fully awake when your phone starts buzzing from the other side of the room.

you rub your sore eyes and groan. every time you woke up it felt like an accomplishment. it was such a struggle, you just wanted your bed to swallow you.

hamzahthefantastic: good morning :D

hamzahthefantastic: kinda went to sleep with a tiny little concern last night…..

hamzahthefantastic: are you mad at me?

the last thing you wanted was to make him upset, however, there was a certain part of his whole attention and sort of devotion –to you– that made you upset.

y/n: gm!

y/n: im not mad at you

hamzahthefantastic: for real?

hamzahthefantastic: you seemed upset last night, kinda zoned out idk

y/n: just tired ngl

hamzahthefantastic: alr it’s fine dw

hamzahthefantastic: i love you a lot y/n

hamzahthefantastic: have a good day today yeah? get some rest, make sure to eat PROPER food, and also don’t forget that i love you :)

you stared at his texts for a little too long, then locked your phone. then unlocked it again. stared some more and then bit your lip, thinking of a reply.

hamzah. yeah. you loved him! how could you not? you had been fixated on him since you two met. why, then, the feelings of overwhelming love now creeped into your brain like flesh eating amoeba?

y/n: ily too!

you frowned. the text was so dry.

y/n: <3

better.

and the reason?, simple. hamzah’s love felt like it was tearing you apart. suffocating you. nobody had ever loved you, or showed remote interest in you like hamzah did.

was he too much? no. you shook your head, thinking then, maybe, you were not enough.

your phone buzzed, and you knew it was him. but you couldn’t get to check.

>_<

per usual, at the end of the day, your routine of facetiming had to be completed. hamzah took his phone and typed a message for you.

hamzahthefantastic: hey! wanna facetime?

hamzahthefantastic: could use to hear your voice :) been thinking ‘bout u all day

11 minutes passed. no response from you.

hamzahthefantastic: helloooooooo

hamzahthefantastic: :( are you there?

hamzahthefantastic: is it ok if i call you?

hamzahthefantastic: miss you y/n

hamzahthefantastic: did i do anything wrong? please call when u see this alr?

hamzah waited. and waited. and waited some more. almost how he waited for you to reply after sending a weird message. this time though, something inside his gut felt different.

it felt like he had fucked something up. ruined whatever the fuck he had going on with you. a something that meant so much, only so much to him.

he was confused.

>_<

waiting felt like skinning himself alive.

like trying to dissect his own heart while it was still beating. beating hard. beating for you.

he opened his chat with you, the only chat he had pinned. hamzah scrolled through all the unread messages he had sent to you, and they seemed uncountable.

no reply. it’s been days.

he sighed. twin fantasy feeling like a fantasy he was only living by himself all along. were you even real?

hamzah couldn’t get himself to doubt you.

>_<

hamzah’s heart clenched. he stared at his messy room, at how the plates piled up on his night table, at how he had your chat open on his laptop to see if you got online any time soon.

he felt like a loser.

>_<

days became weeks. and weeks became a month. and a month was something so long in hamzah-time.

and he still held on.

however, he decided to type out something for you again. just as he did daily.

hamzahthefantastic: hey y/n, hi. how’s everything going? you know, i miss you a lot. more than i can take. and i miss your voice and your face. and most importantly i miss your company. it’s okay, though. i am hoping one day we can reunite, i secretly know this is one of your plans to make me want you even more -_- …but baby, please just come back, yeah? i feel so weird and out of place if you’re not here. i wonder if you’re lonely and i wish i could touch you so i just touch my screen. does that make me a loser? i love you so much, i hope you know that. hurts when you don’t reply, and hurts more realising you probably never will again. please be okay. i love you a lot. and i am sort of tearing up right now, does that make me a loser too? ily

ps. thank you for being my best friend and my best everything (you’re literally my life though) i’ll wait as long as you need!

ps2. i’ll try tomorrow, maybe you’ll be online by then

ps3. i still fantasise about you!

silly, he thought. a loser, a hopeless romantic living so far away from his muse. just a twin flame dancing on his own, by now.

a twin fantasy lived through the eyes of one, only.

>_<

sorry i took so long and sorry this is proper shit. i wanted an excuse to write something other than fluff or smut. i hope you ppl like dis one! (my shitty take at angst) raise ur hand if this ever happened to u totally not based on a true story

[kestisvrse]

headcanon collection: meeting & dating hockey player!frat!luke castellan

♫ - espresso by sabrina carpenter

· definitely had a meet-cute type situation

· at a frat party that silena had ditched you at, he wasn’t watching as he walked and your drink went flying all over yourself.

· he apologized profusely which you furrowed your brows at, expecting a frat boy to be an asshole.

“holy shit! i am so sorry, oh my god that is such a nice shirt too.”

· led you to his room as he turned around and you threw on one of his shirts

· you hung out in different groups so you never really saw him, to return his shirt

· one day though, out of pure luck he decided to try studying at the library, running into you as you were about to leave.

· which led to him admiring your room as you dug around in your clean clothes basket for his shirt.

“you cleaned it?” “well… yeah i just threw it in i didn’t… really think about it… sorry.” you mumble, “it’s okay.” he says, smiling.

· ever since then, you noticed him studying in public more often.

· airpods in as he hunches over a table, gaze flickering between his laptop and his paper, squinting every so often.

“what’s with the sudden public appearances?” “oh! i- uh, wanted to try something new?”

· it led to you both seeking each other out at the library, all you knew about each other were your names and the classes you studied for, you had no contact or attachments but you always sat together

· eventually he finally asked for your number and you started seeing each other outside of the library and actually getting to know each other

“hey do you maybe want to come to my game on friday?” a text from him reads out, to which you quickly reply “of course :)”

· it became regular, if one of you needed to study you both found yourselves at the library, and if he had a game you were sat front row wearing his colours

· your friends noticed your feelings before you did, you were always bringing up a story about him, or asking someone to accompany you to his game

· it was sickening

“i’m out with luke right now, i’m so sorry.” “that’s okay!”

· luke wasn’t much better

· except his friends didn’t know who you were

· at first they thought he was hooking up with someone, to which he quickly shut down (he didn’t want you to think that’s what he was telling people, because he wasn’t)

· but hearing them say this made it click in his head that even if you were hooking up, he’d want more with you.

“can i come over?” “always, why?” “i really need to talk to you.”

“he’s going to tell you he likes you!” silena predicted, jumping around your dorm, “no he won’t!”

· he did

· he was a mess at your doorstep, he wasn’t used to relationships, usually sticking to situationships but with you, he felt something entirely different

· he was breathing heavily as he spoke, taking his sweet time to say “i like you” and instead just blabbering out compliments and how he doesn’t want to ruin things.

· but when he stops for a breath to watch your confusion, he shuts up and spits it out.

“i really like you, i want to be able to bring you flowers, and kiss you when you get a good grade on something you thought you’d fail, i want to fall asleep with you in my arms watching movies.”

· silena who hid in the bathroom squealed, causing luke’s cheeks to turn pink.

“ignore her! i, um, i really like you too.”

· and his confession was right

· as soon as he finally asked you out for real (after he took you out to dinner.) he was all over you

· hands had to be brushing each other if he couldn’t hold it, or didn’t have his arm around your waist

· he sported a grin of awe when he watched you get excited over things

· picking you up and spinning you around when you said you aced a test

· you still studied together all the time, sometimes if its in your dorm you get a bit sidetracked (ykwim.)

· he couldn’t help but take every chance to kiss you, your lips slotted together so perfectly he cursed all the time he spent hanging out with you and admiring your lips instead of actually acting on his thoughts

“is that my cherry chapstick?” you ask after pecking his lips, “ummmm no?” he scoffs (it is)

· you still went to every game, wearing his jersey now instead of just the teams colours

· kissing him passionately everytime he ran off the ice, didn’t matter if he won or not, he was an incredible player and that’s basically what your kisses said to him, how proud you were.

“I LOVE YOU!”

it was your four months as you watched him run around his room frantically.

“oh my god i swear it’s here somewhere!”

“luke it’s fine, just come lie down with me again.” you ask in a soothing tone, it was like your voice had a spell in it that made it work, forgetting his worries and his legs dragging himself to the bed.

“aha!” he suddenly yelled, causing you to jump. he ran to one of his shelves and pulled out a small box hiding behind his books, “see! i told you i had a gift.”

“you’re ridiculous.” you giggled, sitting up as he handed you the box, urging you to open it.

the cover snapped off as your jaw dropped in awe. a necklace with the initial “L” laid in the box, “oh it’s beautiful luke.”

“hey and look.” you look up at his eyes, looking down at his neck as he pulls something out from under his sweater. a matching necklace with your initial.

“oh my god you’re so cute.” you giggled, taking the necklace out of the box, “put it on for me?”

you quickly shimmed so your back faced his chest, holding your hair out the way as he snapped it around your neck, he admired you in the mirror, his hands coming to rest on your waist and the back of you head rested on his shoulder.

he said your name softly to which you hummed in response, making eye contact with him through the mirror, fiddling with the new necklace.

“i love you.” your eyebrows raised in a soft shocked expression at the unfamiliar words, turning to look back at him.

“i love you too.”