#the song having that feeling of 'im so close yet so far

[floorpancakes]

tired asf but im this close to snapping and finally drawing watanuki as this

[nbclover]

hehehe

[agaypanic]

His Good Girl (Carlisle Cullen X Vampire!Wife!Reader Smut)

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Request Something! | AO3

Kinktober Day 3: Praise Kink

Summary: For your one hundredth wedding anniversary, Carlisle takes you to a cabin in the mountains away from your children and the prying eyes of Forks citizens. The days are beautiful, but the nights are far more pleasurable.

A/N: ignore that im posting day 3 on the 23rd…. Im so behind omfg ANYWAYS i know vampires technically cant get hard or probably cum or wtv bc they don’t have bloodflow but this is a kinktober fic so idgaf. i know a thousand years is in twilight soundtrack, but i like the song and think it fits so pretend it/christina perri exists in this universe. Tbh this feels more like a real fic than a kinktober fic (not saying kinktober fics aren’t real fics. I just feel like kinktober stuff really focuses on the sex/kink and i feel like this is more of a fluff that ends in smut)

C/W: oral (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex (they're vampires so they cant get pregnant or diseases but wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, body worship, rough sex

***

“Carlisle, dear, I can pack my own suitcase.” But you did nothing to stop him from meticulously folding your clothes and putting them in your bag. Instead, you sat on the edge of the bed and watched him work. 

Your husband looked up, a smile appearing on his lips. “And yet, you sit and watch me pack it for you.”

“What can I say?” You said with a shrug. “I like watching your skilled hands be put to work.”

“Oh really?” Carlisle seemed to suddenly forget the task he was previously so focused on. He walked over to you, letting the cold hands you loved so much cup your face gently. “Just wait for this weekend. Then you’ll really see how skillful they are.”

You giggle, pulling at his waist and leaning up to kiss him. “I can’t wait.”

It wasn’t long before you were finished loading up the car and ready to leave. Carlisle had to practically drag you away when your goodbyes with the kids went on a little too long. But you couldn’t help it. Not only did you love your children dearly, but you needed to give them all (mainly Emmett and Edward) to behave while you and Carlisle were gone. Although they were tremendously older than their young adult bodies, they sometimes acted just as recklessly as teenagers. 

The drive to the cabin was long and peaceful. Carlisle let you handle the music, and although he kept his eyes on the road, he smiled at the sight of you passionately singing along with every song out of the corner of his eyes. 

You arrived in the afternoon, and your husband insisted on carrying your bags inside for you, allowing you to wander around the cabin you came to for special occasions. It followed a less modern aesthetic, mainly because getting a good internet connection so far from civilization was a little difficult. It reminded you of when you were first married to Carlisle.

“Why don’t you pick out a record?” Carlisle said from the bedroom, raising his voice a little so you could hear him down the hall, despite your enhanced hearing. 

You walked over to the small shelf that was filled to the brim with different genres and eras of music. You opted for something more modern, so you pulled out a Christina Perri vinyl and put it on the player.

The first track was one that you knew all too well, and it seemed Carlisle remembered it just as well when it hit his ears. Deciding that unpacking could wait, he left the bedroom and approached you. When he got close enough to grab you, he started leading you in a slow dance around the living room. And when Christina sang about loving someone for a thousand years, Carlisle kissed you deeply before making a comment about how he couldn’t wait for the thousand-year mark.

***

When your anniversary came the next day, you and Carlisle didn’t do much. Besides being slightly more affectionate than usual and exchanging presents, it seemed like a normal day for you two. But you cherished it like any other day you spent with your husband. 

The only time Carlisle strayed from you today was to go outside and hunt for dinner. He came back in record time with two wine glasses filled with red liquid and a few smudges around his mouth that he let you kiss off. Ushering you to the couch in front of the lit fireplace, he handed you a glass and used his now free hand to hold you close to him.

“To you, my dear.” Carlisle toasted, holding his glass up to you.

“And to you, darling.” You added, clinking his cup with your own. “To a hundred years.”

“And a hundred more.”

Hours had passed without you knowing. You were too wrapped up in Carlisle’s presence, the way he stroked your arm while he listened to you talk about whatever came to your mind. 

Eventually, your glasses were empty, and Carlisle set them on the small table in front of you before cuddling you again. You leaned into his touch, breathing his scent in. “I love your hands.” You muttered against his neck. The hands in question were either holding yours or gently massaging you.

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, and you nodded. “You wanna see what else they can do?”

It felt like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, you were straddling your husband and kissing him like you’d been starved for a hundred years. He kissed back with the same sentiment, hands roaming and groping your body.

Carlisle broke away the slightest bit to speak. “As much as I’d love to take you right here, why don’t we move to the bedroom?” Without waiting for a response, he stood up, carrying you down the hall like it was nothing. You clung to him, kissing and lightly nipping at his neck.

When he reached the bedroom, Carlisle softly set you on the bed and started kissing you again. He towered over you, caging you in with his limbs.

But kissing, although very enjoyable, wasn’t enough for him. His hands started to roam again, and he began to play with the hem of your shirt. “May I?” He asked against your lips, and you nodded furiously. Carlisle peeled the shirt off of your body, and your bra was off soon after.

Without warning, he broke away from you. You were about to protest when his mouth latched onto your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. You moaned at the sensation, running a hand through his once pristine hair. He made sure to give the same treatment to the other.

“So beautiful.” He muttered, squeezing your tits with his hands and running his cold thumbs over your now stiff nipples. You mewled and arched your back. God, the things this man did to you. “So perfect.”

“Carlisle.” You whined. You couldn’t take anymore waiting, you needed him now. In desperation, you started moving your hips to try and rut against his thigh. He allowed it, giving attention to your breasts a little while longer while you used him to ease your need. But his thigh wasn’t enough. “Carlisle, come on.”

He looked up at you with a caring but mischievous look. “What’s the magic word?”

“Carlisle!”

“Nope.” The man smirked, slowly trailing kisses down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your pants. “Come on, dear. Where are your manners?”

“Please!” You cried out.

Carlisle swiftly started to unbutton your pants, tugging them down your legs. “There’s my good girl.” The little nickname just made you even wetter. Carlisle took off your panties, leaving you entirely bare for him. He stared down at you, taking in the image. He sighed, seemingly lost in thought. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Ready to ravage you, Carlisle started to crawl on the bed towards you. But before he could get to the place he wanted most, you put your foot on his chest to stop him. A hand shot up to caress your ankle, and Carlisle started to worry that he was moving too fast for you without realizing it.

“Maybe you should take your clothes off too?” You suggested, giggling at his sigh of relief. Carlisle dropped your foot and stood up again, stripping in front of you. He did so as fast as possible without using superspeed, knowing you were desperate for him but would still enjoy the show.

“Better?”

“Better.”

You sat up, his stiff cock now at your eyeline. You reached out, wanting to grasp it, suck it, whatever he would let you do.

But Carlisle grabbed your wrist. “Now, what do you think you’re doing?” He asked, tone light enough to indicate that he wasn’t upset or serious.

“I want you to enjoy yourself.” You answer with a shrug. “It’s your anniversary too, you know.”

“You want me to enjoy myself?” He asked, gently pushing you until you were lying on your back. You nodded. “Then be a good girl and spread your legs.”

A tingle went down your spine at the command, and you immediately did as told. Carlisle grasped your ankles to keep your legs separated. He stared at your pussy, mouth watering at the thought of tasting you. He inched closer to you, hands running up your legs.

He didn’t waste another second. Carlisle pushed at your thighs to bring them to your chest and dove into your pussy, licking a broad strip through your slit before latching onto your clit. He groaned at the taste of you, sending chilling vibrations through your body. One of his hands splayed out at the back of your knees to keep your legs up, and he used his now free hand to prod at your entrance.

“You’re so wet, honey.” He cooed as he slipped a finger in, soon adding another. Carlisle began fucking you slowly, hooking his fingers on your g-spot and flicking at your clit with his tongue.

“More.” You moaned, squeezing his fingers. “Want your cock, Carlisle.”

Your husband tsked, taking his mouth off of you but continuing his ministrations. “Not til you come on my fingers, Y/n. You know the rules. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whined, wanting nothing more than to be stretched and filled to the brim by your husband’s cock. But it warmed your cold heart that he was still cautious with you. 

“Then make me come.” You begged.

Carlisle took it as a personal challenge to make you finish as quickly as possible. He usually liked to take his time with you, but you were desperate. So Carlisle quickened his pace, added a third finger, flicked and sucked at your clit, and soon enough you were falling apart. You stiffened and let out a choked moan as Carlisle helped you ride out your high.

While catching your breath, Carlisle withdrew his fingers from you and cleaned your juices off with his tongue. The sound that came from him was almost animalistic. He looked at you as if you were his prey. “You’re so delicious.” He said, licking the remnants of your cum off of his hand. The way he was looking down on you made you even wetter.

Usually, Carlisle liked to start nice and slow, giving you time to adjust to his size before he began ramming into you. But tonight, he couldn’t control himself. He grabbed himself, swiping the tip of his penis through your slick folds to collect more of your juices before prodding your entrance and bottoming out in one swift motion. 

Then he started fucking you.

You were beyond grateful that you were staying in a cabin in the middle of the mountains because if someone were around, they would’ve thought you were being murdered. The headboard banged against the wall with the force Carlisle was using to fuck you. He held onto the backs of your knees, keeping your legs pinned to your chest and giving you shocks of pleasure with every hard thrust.

It was all too much, but in the best way. Carlisle fucking you roughly at an angle that you knew would make it difficult to walk for a while, despite you usually being able to recover from rough sex quickly. With the way Carlisle was acting right now, his panting and almost growling sounds, and his nails digging into your skin, you knew he wouldn’t be satisfied after one round.

“So good.” Carlisle groaned, leaning down to kiss at your neck. You pulled at Carlisle’s hair to try and ground yourself, but you were too far gone with the overwhelming pleasure. “Are you gonna come?”

“Uh-huh.” It came out as a high-pitched squeal, and Carlisle smiled.

“You can do it, honey.” While speaking, he snaked a hand down to rub at your clit, pace as rough and furious as his thrusts. “Want you to come. Be a good girl for me; go ahead.” 

It was like Carlisle had some kind of control over your body. As soon as the words left his mouth, you found your release. It was one of the most intense orgasms you had ever had. You were a bit surprised that you didn’t accidentally pull out Carlisle’s hair from how hard you were gripping the strands.

Carlisle continued fucking you at his rough pace, making you shake and cry out in pleasure. He didn’t stop, seemingly very focused on now reaching his own peak. The way your cunt gripped his cock certainly helped, and not long after you, he was shooting ropes of cum inside you, keeping up his thrusts to fuck it into you.

When he came down from his high, his movements slowed to a stop. He delicately moved your legs off your chest to lay on the bed, massaging any possible sore spots he may have given you.

“Was I too rough?” He asked, seemingly in a clearer headspace now.

You shook your head, reaching up to caress his face. “I liked it.” Carlisle sighed in relief, leaning down to kiss you. “Maybe we can do it again? Like, now?”

He laughed at your eagerness. “How about in five minutes?” He wrapped you up in his arms before flipping you over so you were lying on his chest. His cock was still hard inside you, filling you nicely. “I want to lay with my wife for a while.”

“I won’t argue with that.” You said, snuggling into Carlisle’s bare chest. “Happy anniversary, Carlisle.”

“Happy anniversary, Y/n.”

***

Twilight Taglist: @wedfan2 @natashamaximoff-69 @pink-hufflepuff

[starsinthesky5]

Okay people always talk about private time *wink wink* after Joe wins a game, but what about after a concert?? Like she’s high on adrenaline from performing, he’s high off of watching her do her thing on stage for hours. You know they’d be feral. In her dressing room after, in the car on the way home/to the hotel, in the shower that she desperately needs after performing. I’m unwell.

description: ask sums it up! the post concert/preformance adrenaline rush has you both all over each other ;)

a/n: this is the hottest thing i have ever written. i need water.

word count: 2.7k

series: you are in love

warnings: smut!!!, language, MDNI

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh YES. im so unwell too, it's okay.

for this, we’re going to have a little snapshot into the future since the fics aren’t at this point yet ;)

--

oh, you just know they're absolutely feral after a concert. the second she steps off that stage, still breathless, still riding the high of the crowd screaming her lyrics back to her, seeing all their smiles and excitement, joe is already waiting backstage. and god, the look in his eyes? it is sooo over for her. he's been in the tent, watching her for hours, completely mesmerized, taking in every move, every lyric, every sly little smirk she tossed his way from the stage. he's either a little drunk and delirious or a bit groggy after all the dancing and shouting, but that doesn't stop him from getting his girl.

--

and yes, he danced along with her from the tent, even matched her choreography in some portions which he memorized from a few of the rehearsals he sat in on. he even interacted with her fans who noticed him, he had the biggest smile on his face too. he'd never been one to talk to strangers outside of when he had to due to his anxiety and closed-off personality, but for her? for her he'd do anything.

even though she was far away, locked up backstage as he was waiting outside in the crowd, he still somehow felt at ease as if she was right next to him. you know why? because he was physically in her world right now. her touch, her presence lingered in everything from the light-up bracelets on everyone's wrists, to the stage in front of him, to the feeling of mystique in the air. he was in the bubble she had so carefully crafted with her bare hands over the past few years, so he had no reason to be nervous, anxious, or quiet. he was happily out there in the crowd, chatting up a storm with her guests, team, fans, friends, family, and anyone who wanted to hear him sing her praises. he was surrounded by people who loved her almost as much as he loved her. joe really had nothing to complain about. this was a physical representation of her hard work, a testament to the countless hours in the studio he had witnessed, a reward for all those nights when he laid next to her and wiped the tears from her cheek.

this was her legacy.

oh, and how could we forget him singing along to every song on the setlist like it was all engraved into his brain (lowkey, with how often he listens to her music, it was).

moral of the story, yes. joe is that boyfriend. he is her biggest fan.

anyway, back to the point.

--

she barely has time to catch her breath before his hands are on her, fingers pressing into her waist, pulling her into him. "you have no idea what you do to me up there," he mutters, his voice raspy, his breath warm against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. she smirks, tilting her chin up at him, her own pulse racing. "oh, i think i do, quarterback," she said with a smirk, matching his confidence with some of her own.

they barely make it to the dressing room before he’s pressing her up against the door, hands gripping her hips, mouth trailing along the side of her neck. she’s still in her stage outfit, sparkly, barely-there, and it’s driving him insane. her chest is rising and falling rapidly, breathless from more than just performing, as she tugs him impossibly closer.

his hands roam lower, gripping her soft thighs, pressing her even harder against the door like he wanted to glue her to it. his mouth is everywhere--her jaw, the corner of her ear, her throat, the delicate curve of her collarbone--teeth scraping just enough to make her gasp. he loves that sound. loves the way her fingers fist the fabric of his shirt, desperate, like she needs him as badly as he needs her.

"god, you’re so fucking sexy up there," he groans against her skin, dragging his teeth over the shell of her ear again before dipping lower. his hands slide down, down, fingers teasing at the hem of her tiny outfit, tracing over the soft skin of her thighs once again.

"joe," she breathes, already dizzy, already melting. but he just hums, slipping a hand between her legs, pressing his fingers right where he knows she needs him most. she lets out a sharp gasp, her head falling back against the door with a soft thud.

he smirks, eyes dark and hooded as he watches her, watches the way her lips part, the way her chest rises and falls.

she’s so fucking responsive. that adrenaline is doing her wonders.

"this for me?" he murmurs, dragging his fingers over her, feeling just how warm, how wet she is for him. her breath hitches, and she nods, biting down on her lip.

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "nah, i wanna hear you say it,".

she barely managed to get the words out before he slipped a finger through her bodysuit, then inside her, slow and teasing, watching the way she fell apart for him. she gripped his shoulders, nails digging into him, legs trembling as he curled his finger just right.

"joey...fuck...,".

he groans at the sound of his name like that, adding another finger, pumping them in and out at a torturously slow pace. his thumb circles her clit, pressing just enough to make her hips jerk. she’s clenching around his fingers, making these soft, breathy little whimpers that are driving him insane. he presses his lips against her ear, his voice all rough and full of need. "you looked so good up there, baby. knew you’d be dripping for me the second you came off that stage,".

she lets out another choked moan at his words, her body arching into him, chasing the pressure of his hand. he groans, loving how fucking gone she is for him.

"you like knowing i was hard the whole time watching you?" his voice teasing her in so many ways that she was losing count. "thinking about how i was gonna have you the second i got you alone?".

she whimpers, her nails digging into his arms. "joe...,".

"shh, i got you, baby," he rasps, curling his fingers again to touch that one spot inside her, thrusting them deep, and dragging his thumb over her clit in tight circles again. her breath catches, and she’s right there, so damn close, her thighs squeezing around his hand.

he presses his forehead against hers, watching her fall apart. "cum for me, baby," he murmurs, and that’s all it takes--her whole body tenses, her mouth falling open in a silent moan as she comes undone around his fingers.

he keeps working her through it, fucking her with his hand until she’s whimpering, until her legs shake, until she’s gasping and clutching onto him like he’s the only thing keeping her up. he smirks, pulling his fingers from her, watching the way she shivers when he brings them to his lips, sucking them clean. "mm, sweet as always,".

she barely has time to catch her breath before he’s lifting her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. "we’re not done," he mutters, carrying her to the vanity table. "not even close,".

but unfortunately, they were when a knock at the door interrupted them.

so achingly close to a little more...

but it was always about timing ;)

--

and then there’s the car ride. 

oh goddddd, the car ride. she’s still coming down from the high of performing...and the high from the dressing room, legs draped over his lap in the backseat as they went back to her hotel. joe is just looking at her--like she’s the most intoxicating thing he’s ever seen. his hand traces slow, lazy circles on her thigh, his grip tightening every time she shifts closer. he leans in, murmuring something about how incredible she was tonight (singing her praises as usual. he's so obsessed with her like joe, hello? just marry her already damn), how he couldn’t take his eyes off her, how she belongs up there. and maybe it’s the compliments, maybe it’s the way his voice sounds so raw with admiration, but suddenly she’s tugging him in by the collar of his shirt, kissing him like she needs to.

he groans into her mouth, his hand sliding up her thigh, fingertips slipping just under the hem of her sweats. she’s all over him, fingers tangling in his hair, pressing her body against his like she’s trying to crawl into his lap completely.

"baby," he mumbles between kisses, his voice all strained and breathless, "we gotta—fuck—driver’s right there,".

she doesn’t care. can’t care. not when he’s looking at her like that, not when she can still feel the way his hands had been on her just minutes ago in her dressing room.

she presses a kiss to his jaw, then lower, lips brushing over the sweet spot on his neck, feeling the way he swallows hard beneath her mouth. "then be quiet," she whispers, a smirk tugging at her lips.

he shakes his head with an amused chuckle, "you are insane," he whispers back.

but he’s already pulling her closer, his hand sliding higher, his grip firm as his lips find hers again, deeper this time. slower. like he’s savoring her, like he’s reminding her—he’s not done with her yet.

--

then comes the shower back at the hotel.

that’s the thing about the shower—it’s necessary, but neither of them is pretending like it’s going to be just that.

her body is still buzzing with adrenaline, muscles aching in the best way from performing, and she knows she needs to wash off the sweat, the lingering heat of the stage lights, but the second she steps under the warm stream, he’s there.

joe is behind her in an instant, his bare chest pressing against her damp skin, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her against him. the heat of the water is nothing compared to the heat of him, solid and burning, his body molding against hers like he belongs there.

he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck, "you’re unbelievable," he murmurs. his hands are already moving, trailing up her sides, palms rough against her soft skin, completely unable to keep themselves to himself.

she hums in response, letting her head fall back against his shoulder, sighing when his lips find the curve of her jaw. she tilts her head just enough to catch his lips with hers, but he barely lets her take control before he’s deepening the kiss, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, thumb rolling over her nipple. she gasps against his mouth, and he takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue against hers, swallowing every little sound she makes.

his other hand is moving lower now, fingers dragging down the slick expanse of her stomach, teasing the space between her thighs. "you’re still shaking," he mutters, smirking against her lips as his fingers brush over where she’s already aching for him, where he just was not too long ago. "performance high? or is this me again?".

she whimpers, hips rocking forward into his touch, but it’s not enough--he’s teasing her, fingers barely grazing, making her crave it, making her need it.

"joe...," she breathes, a little desperate, a little impatient, nails digging into his arms.

he hums, mouth dragging along the curve of her shoulder, one hand sliding lower, gripping the curve of her hip, pressing himself against her. "been waiting all night for this, baby," he rasps, his cock hard against the small of her back, twitching when she rolls her hips against him.

she turns in his arms, pressing her body against his, her hands sliding up his chest, her fingers tangling in his damp hair. his lips crash into hers, all a messy mix of tongue and teeth, desperate and hungry. the kiss is sloppy, wet, the steam curling around them as the water hits down against their tangled bodies.

"need you," she whispers, dragging her nails down his back, pulling him closer. "need you so bad, joey,".

his hands grip her thighs, lifting her like she weighs nothing, pressing her against the wall as the hot water continues to beat down on both of them. his cock is thick, hard, already pushing at her entrance, teasing her with shallow movements that make her squirm.

"so needy," he smirks, but there’s a softness to his tone, teasing her but filled with love. his lips brush over her cheek, then her temple, a contrast to the way he’s holding her captive against the tile. "you couldn't even wait till we got to the bed, huh?".

"joey....fuck, please. i can't," she pleads, the combination of the burning shower, the burning feeling in her stomach, and the sizzle of her skin under his gaze was all too much for her.

he grins, shaking his head because he just knows her too well, and then he slams into her in one deep thrust.

she cries out, head falling back, nails digging into his shoulders and leaving crescent moon marks. he groans from the feeling of how tight and wet she is around him, clenching like she was made for him. but even as he starts to move, rolling his hips in deep, punishing thrusts, his hands stay gentle on her--one gripping her thigh, the other splayed across her lower back, holding her close, keeping her steady.

"fuck, baby," he grits out, grinding his hips just right, making her feel every inch. "you were made for me,". his mouth finds hers, kissing her between gasps, swallowing the moans that slip past her lips. his movements are rough, desperate, but his kisses are soft, sweet, like he can’t help but adore her even while he’s wrecking her.

"you think i could sit there and watch you all night, looking so fucking hot on that stage, and not end up buried inside you the second we got alone?".

she whimpers, "ah, joe. p- please," as her her fingers tangle in his damp curls, pulling his mouth back to her. he moans into her mouth, his thrusts deep but unhurried now, savoring the way she feels around him.

"yeah?" he teases, voice thick, strained. "you like that? like how i fuck you after you get off stage all worked up, knowing i was watching, knowing i was losing my mind wanting you?".

she nods frantically, but it’s not enough. he needs words.

"say it," he breathes against her lips, slowing his pace, rolling his hips into hers with devastating accuracy--hitting every spot he knew she loved.

"love it," she gasps, nearly sobbing. "love when you fuck me like this--fuck, joe--,".

he groans, pressing his forehead against hers, his lips brushing over her cheek, her nose, anywhere he can reach.

"you gonna cum for me, baby?" he murmurs, feeling her walls flutter around him. "you gonna make a fucking mess all over me?".

"yes..yes, fuck--,".

he shifts his angle, tilting her hips, and that’s it--her whole body seizes, her walls clenching down hard, her moan high-pitched and desperate as she shatters, shaking in his arms.

"that’s it, baby," he groans, barely holding on, "so fucking perfect when you let go for me,".

her orgasm sends him over the edge--he thrusts once, twice, then buries himself deep, groaning as he spills inside her, filling her up, rocking his hips as he rides it out. he doesn’t pull out right away--just stays there, chest heaving, arms tight around her, pressing soft kisses to her jaw, her cheeks, her lips.

"mine," he breathes, forehead resting against hers. "always mine,".

he’s still inside her, but his grip turns tender, his touch light as he runs his hands over her slick skin, tracing every curve like he’s committing her to memory all over again.

"you okay, baby?" he murmurs, kissing her forehead, her nose, her swollen lips.

she nods, sighing contentedly as she melts against him. "yeah," she whispers, voice a little hoarse from well...everything. "i just love you so much,".

he smiles, tilting her chin up to kiss her again. "i love you more," he breathes against her lips. "always,".

--

when they finally make it to bed--bodies exhausted, skin flushed, sheets a tangled mess -- joe just holds her, pressing soft, lazy kisses to her temple, the same hands that had been gripping her with desperate need now were tracing light, soothing patterns along her spine. “i love watching you up there. you’re magic,” he murmurs, his tone just as soft as his touch. she smiles against his chest, completely at peace, completely his.

[delugyu]

i just finished c3 and im ovulating and i neeeDDDD more needy pathetic bsf ficsss!!! but uhmmm can u make one for taehyun 🥹🥹🥹 i need him bad after THAT vid he dropped WHEEW

YESSS i can!!! i got so carried away with this omg

(wc: 3.6k / warnings: taehyun is a teaseeee 😵‍💫, and very clingy, heavy petting, tyun has one hell of an oral fixation, unprotected sex and too much faith in the pull out method)

you truly do love hanging out with taehyun, but you would also appreciate it if he didn’t make trying to leave such a pain in the ass. you have homework to get to, shows to watch, food to eat…

“you can do all of that with me!” he argues. there is no winning against taehyun—you either give in, or you leave him to cry for hours on his own. you hope that’s an exaggeration, but at this point it really might be true.

“but i want to do it at my place,” you say. he grabs your wrist and drags you back into his bed beside him. half-reluctantly, you let him pull you against his body and cuddle into you.

“it’s so much better with me, though. you know it.” he seems to take offense at the way you laugh at his insinuation, because he pinches your waist in retaliation.

“ow!” you try moving away from him after his attack, but he doesn’t let you get far. if anything, he just pulls you in closer. he rests his head in the crook of your neck and inhales like some creep, and you tell yourself it’s probably just a weird joke. “don’t do that,” you scold, pushing his head away. he grins at you, bashful.

“can’t you just stay here tonight?” he asks, propping himself up on an elbow so he can look down at you. his fingers find the thin chain of your necklace, fiddling with the pendant on it mindlessly.

“i slept here two days ago.”

“and? you can sleep here one more night. your laptop still works in my dorm, you know.” he challenges the glare you send him, and with a sigh, you back down.

“you better not bother me while i do my work,” you say. he wears a triumphant grin, patting your head like he’s proud that you finally gave in.

all is quiet and peaceful for the next thirty minutes, and you get a decent outline done for your assignment. every time you glance back at taehyun, he’s just sprawled out on his bed, scrolling on his phone. you’re a little surprised that he hasn’t tried to annoy you yet; he normally breaks around minute ten.

you tap your nails against taehyun’s desk to the rhythm of a bunch of different songs, bored out of your mind while trying to figure out how to write this cohesively. you sigh heavily, slouching down until your head meets the desk. you’ll only close your eyes for a couple minutes, just to push away the headache that threatens to come over you…

it’s definitely been more than a couple minutes when you feel taehyun’s hand on your shoulder, jolting you awake. “what?” you ask quickly, fixing your posture and blinking the sleep from your eyes. you wiggle your finger on your laptop’s mousepad to turn the screen back on, eyes widening when you see you’ve just killed another twenty minutes, and you’re only an hour away from midnight now. every ounce of tiredness drains from your body in an instant.

“did you seriously fall asleep?” he asks, almost sounding amused.

you return all your focus to your assignment, not even looking at taehyun when you answer, “no.”

“liar,” he says, laughing. his hands tuck your hair out of your face, then hold it in a makeshift ponytail. you let him have his fun, it feels good when he plays with your hair anyway.

he stays standing near you long after his hands leave your hair, and you ignore his presence to the best of your ability. it’s a little hard to write down any sentences when you feel taehyun looming behind you and reading over your shoulder, though. you sigh out in mild frustration.

taehyun’s knee nudges the seat of your chair, and you turn your head to look at him. “can i sit?” he asks.

you scrunch your brows. “no, i’m sitting here. go to your bed.” you make a motion towards it and return to your work.

“you can just sit in my lap,” taehyun offers, hand landing on your shoulder.

“or you can just go to your bed.”

“but i wanna hoooold youuu.” he pouts and leans in close to wrap his arms around you.

“i thought you said you’d let me work in peace?” that seems to get him to listen. he finally trudges back into bed, muttering out something that you don’t bother to strain your ears for.

you finish your assignment forty minutes later; it’s half-assed, but at least it’s done. taehyun couldn’t look happier to see you walk over to him.

“finally. i thought i was gonna die,” he says.

you laugh and get into bed with taehyun. his smile doesn’t leave his face for a second as he wraps you in his blanket, making sure you’re nice and comfortable. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into him.

“what do you wanna do tomorrow?” he asks.

you hum in thought. “i got my 8am tomorrow, so i need to head out early.”

taehyun groans, “you’re kidding me.”

“i wish.”

“just skip.” you can hear the grin he’s wearing when he makes the suggestion. “you know you want to.”

“no, i only get two absences throughout for whole semester for that class,” you explain, to which he just groans again. he’s so childish. “you never skip for me either!” you defend.

“you never ask me to. i would if you wanted.” you turn around to face him, giving him an incredulous look.

“yeah right. you’re crazier about your grades than i am,” you say.

“i’m crazier about you than i am about my grades.” he’s biting back a teasing grin after he says that. you smack his chest, trying not to let your face heat up too much at his flirtation.

“don’t say that stuff,” you scold.

“why? it’s true.” he’s still got that amused glint in his eyes as his face moves a little closer to yours.

“stop,” you say with a nervous laugh, gently swatting his chest. it almost looks like his eyes fall to your lips for a second. that would be ridiculous, though, and you’re sure he’s smarter than that.

“can’t you skip this once?” his voice is lower when he asks that. he brushes some hair out of your face and lets his hand linger on your jaw. there’s something forming in the air between you, something that has your heart beating a little faster.

“what are you doing, taehyun?” you ask in a whisper. his lips curl up like he’s been caught red-handed, but he doesn’t respond. you flinch backward when he brings his face closer to yours. “oh my god, what are you doing?”

he grabs your hand like that will keep you from leaving. “i’m sorry.” his eyes hold genuine apology in them, and it makes you feel bad for reacting so strongly.

you can’t even believe the words you’re about to say. “did you just try to kiss me?”

he’s quiet for a moment like he doesn’t know how to respond. “would it be such a bad thing?”

he’s pulling at your heartstrings. you bring yourself closer to him again, pitying him so bad all of a sudden. “no, it’s just—we’re friends. just friends.” you don’t really know what’s happening right now. you never would have thought you’d have to have this conversation with taehyun.

your heart is half-bleeding when you see him pout. you almost want to grab his face and peck his lips just to comfort him. he does look awfully kissable right now.

“you don’t like me?” he asks in a small voice. you have to stop yourself from cooing at him.

“i do like you. you’re my best friend.”

“just your best friend?” you blink at him, not knowing what he wants you to say. he continues, “well, you’re the most important person in my life.”

your heart is beating rapidly, you’re a little scared that taehyun might feel it through the mattress. he can’t be serious. was he drinking earlier?

his face doesn’t falter. he holds no playfulness in his eyes; he’s completely serious. if you weren’t laying down, you might’ve passed out.

“thank you,” you say, because you don’t know what else to do.

“you’re the most important person, and i really want to kiss you.” his gaze is so intense. the only feeling you can discern within yourself is shock.

“why are you doing this so suddenly?” you ask, eyes darting between his.

“i don’t know. i couldn’t help it.” he squeezes your hand desperately, like a reminder that he’s still waiting for your answer.

you gulp. “y-you can kiss me,” you permiss.

“really?” his eyes are shining with hope now. you can’t say no to that.

you nod, and suddenly his hand is in your hair and his lips are on yours. he kisses you much sweeter than you expected, soft lips capturing yours in an easy, unrushed rhythm. your hand falls onto his arm, grounding you to reality and keeping you from slipping away.

you’ve thought about this before, but never did you think this would happen. every time you thought about kissing taehyun, you imagined the two of you drunk and stupid, foolish and impulsive. you never even considered it a possibility that you’d agree to this sober and sound of mind. maybe you like taehyun more than you thought.

he is hot, and you’ve always thought that, but you don’t think you ever wanted him before. so the feeling growing between your legs is frighteningly new—you realize with a great sense of horror that you’re getting wet, and it’s because of taehyun. what the fuck. what the fuck.

“what the fuck,” you say breathlessly, pulling away from the kiss as taehyun attaches his mouth to your neck. “fuck, taehyun. what are we doing?” you tangle your hand in his hair as he laves his tongue over a spot he just sucked. his hands go up your shirt, clinging onto your waist.

“i don’t know,” he answers, just as out of breath, just as needy. he hovers over you now, breathing hotly against your skin, looking up at you as his teeth catch the collar of your shirt. the sight sends a rush of arousal to your core.

he pushes your shirt up just enough to expose your stomach and nothing more. even that feels raunchy, especially when he dives down to lick a stripe up your skin. you tremble as he gets his tongue familiar with your flesh, and he eventually has to hold your hips down to stop you from moving.

you’re biting your tongue to hold back your whines, but you can’t handle the heat that keeps growing between your legs. you don’t know why you’re so soaked, you’ve never been so affected by such little things. why does it feel so much hotter when it’s taehyun doing it?

you gasp when he takes your shorts and panties between his teeth, pulling them back so they can snap against your skin. you can’t hold back your whine this time, and the noise seems to encourage taehyun, because he brings a finger to your waistband to replicate the action again.

“taehyun,” you moan, hands gripping the sheets. you don’t know why you’re so sensitive suddenly, it’s like you feel everything times a million with him. he hasn’t even touched you anywhere that would elicit this reaction.

his mouth is on your thighs now, nibbling and licking the skin, moving between the two like he can’t get enough. he keeps his hands busy, too, massaging the back of your thighs. you use all the control you have left in your body to not let your hips buck into him. it’s an incredibly hard task.

you don’t know how much time passes like this—enough to drive you insane, to have you spiraling and at risk of losing your mind. you might start crying if taehyun doesn’t just take care of you at this point. you don’t know how to ask for it. you don’t want to ask for it. you just want him to know, to read your mind, to fuck you mind-numbingly good and just get it over with.

your whines are pathetic at this point, and taehyun has still yet to take mercy on you. you must be so wet that he can smell it through your shorts, you might even be leaking through your shorts. there’s no way he doesn’t know that he’s torturing you.

“taehyun, please!” you cry out, hand tangling in his hair. he finally gives your thighs a break, pulling his head up so he can look at you. god, even he looks delirious. his eyes are blown out with lust, mouth hung open as he catches his breath.

“what do you need?” he asks, but he seems to have a pretty good idea because his hand cups your clothed cunt. the reaction that pulls from you is embarrassing—your whole body jolts as you moan out, and taehyun has to steady you with a hand on your hip as he grinds his hand against your center.

“i need you, please,” you beg, legs shaking and closing around his hand. that doesn’t stop him, though; he still keeps rubbing deep against your cunt, watching you in amazement.

“yeah? fuck, you’re gonna cum for me?” he asks.

you shake your head violently. “no, please, wanna cum on your cock, tear me open—ah, taehyun!” you don’t want to cum like this, but he seems more than determined to push you over the edge already.

“wanna see you ruin your panties, cutie.” he kisses your navel and holds your hip down with more force as you start trying to wiggle away. your back arches, and you want to run away from the feeling so bad, but taehyun won’t let you. your moans get high pitched and whiny, stomach tensing up as your orgasm nears.

“tyunnie, oh my god, please!” you don’t even know what you’re begging for, but your body can’t stop shaking and it’s all taehyun’s fault. he soothes you with some heated kisses to your waist.

“soak my hand, come on, drench me.” there’s a tone of command in his voice, and he moves more frantically against you now. you think a tear actually slips from your eye as you finally cum, letting your orgasm hit you after trying to run away from it for so long. taehyun’s spewing out praises that you only half pay attention to, but they’re all something along the lines of just like that, did so well, good job.

taehyun takes his hand off you and peels your legs open, staring proudly at the dark mark on your core. you’d shut your legs if you had the energy, but you’re far too mindless for that right now. you jump when he brushes a finger against your ruined shorts. your legs tremble, so weak under him.

“pretty baby looks so good cumming for me,” he says, stealing a quick kiss from you. you can barely reciprocate, still recovering from your orgasm. “can you give me one more? i’ll split you on my cock this time, fill you up so nice…” he runs his hand down your waist, then brings it to your face and pats your cheek lightly to bring your attention to him. “hm? will you?”

you’re too far gone to even consider the consequences. all you can think about is how bad you want to feel his cock stretching out your walls. you’re dripping with arousal, he could slip right in. you ache for it.

“need it, tyunnie,” you say, grabbing desperately onto his shoulders. he huffs out a laugh and gets his dick out of his pants, kissing you deeply as he does so. he strokes himself a few times, and you spread your legs wider, dying for him to just rip off your clothes and fuck you already.

he’s slow and teasing as he pulls your shorts and panties down your legs, smirking at how you squirm and try to kick the clothes off to get this over with faster. he bites his lip when he sees your juicy folds, bringing two fingers to your cunt to separate the lips, watching your pathetic hole flutter with need.

“isn’t that pretty?” he says, circling a finger against your entrance. you can’t control the way your hips start bucking against his finger, instinctively trying to bury him inside your warm walls. you’ll go fucking crazy if he doesn’t fill you up soon.

“fill me up, i’m dying, i can’t even think straight,” you babble, hips rolling up against the finger he keeps running down your slit. you can’t handle any more teasing. your eyes sting. “don’t make me cry for it,” you plead. you even sound pitiful to yourself.

“poor thing,” taehyun coos, finally taking mercy on you. you moan when you see him stroking his dick, getting himself ready to fuck you. “are you on birth control?”

“no,” you answer. “do you have a condom?”

“no, fuck. can i pull out?” he gathers your arousal on his dick as he waits for your answer, sliding his tip through your folds. “i promise i will. i promise, seriously. i just need to fuck you.”

your head’s spinning, and you know you shouldn’t let this happen, but fuck, you need it too. “yes, just fuck me already,” you cave, arching your back invitingly.

taehyun moans as he starts pushing the head of his cock into your hole. you can’t believe how sexy he looks, and how you’ve never thought to fuck him before. you’ll never be able to go back to normal after this—you don’t even know if you’ll be able to fuck another man after this. taehyun’s ruining you.

“so fucking tight, shit. i’m not your first, am i?” he grunts out as he pushes in another couple inches. you wince at the stretch.

“n-no. i slept with a couple other guys before,” you answer, gasping when he nearly bottoms out in one slow thrust.

“you don’t have to sleep with other men again. just come to me. baby, fuck, you’re squeezing me. relax.” you try to stop your walls from clamping down around him, but you’re so turned on you just can’t help it. he hisses and brings his forehead to your shoulder, pushing forward the last bit and holding your legs open so he can press his hips flush against yours. you both sigh out at the feeling, needing a minute to adjust.

taehyun growls when he feels your walls continue to clench around him. “i’m sorry,” you apologize, not knowing how to control it for him.

“i’ll fucking bust inside you if you keep doing that,” he warns, pulling out just a couple inches and ramming himself back in. you cry, feeling so deliciously full, it’s almost overwhelming.

he continues thrusting into you shallowly, never pulling out more than halfway, letting you take him deep inside your cunt. “oh my god, don’t stop,” you urge, nails digging into his neck and shoulders.

“fuck, i’m not,” he promises breathlessly, fucking you a little faster as he leans down to kiss you. this kiss is much more messy than it is sweet—more tongue and teeth than anything else. you let him claim your mouth, his tongue licking into you like it belongs there. his hand inch up until they’re at your hips, positioning them up a bit so he can hit a better spot inside you. it leaves you whimpering nonstop into his mouth, gasping pathetically when his pelvis grinds against your clit.

“i’m not gonna last,” you say, staring at him with big, watery eyes. he looks like he wants to eat you alive.

“then cum for me, cream my cock, show me how much you love my dick,” he grunts out, moving with reinvigoration. you can barely catch your breath, the pleasure surmounting and becoming too much, and your climax blinds you with bliss as sweet relief hits you again.

“nngh! so good! you’re so good!” you cry out, not even knowing if your words are comprehensible from how intertwined they are with your moans.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” he warns, pulling out of you just in time to spill his seed across your stomach and thighs. his noises are sinful, even through his bitten lip, and you try to memorize everything about this moment. you seriously think your life just changed.

his chest heaves as he regains his breath, staring at the mess he made on your skin. his eyes dart down to your soaked center, your thighs a mess of his cum and your juices. you hope reality never hits you. you want to live in this bliss forever.

“we have to do this again,” taehyun says, soothing his hands down your thighs. “i’m not letting you go after that.” he laughs when he says it, but you think he’s being serious.

“this was probably really stupid,” you say, looking down at the mess you made. taehyun still looks insanely hot. you don’t think you’re going to get over this.

“stupid? this was like, the best thing i’ve ever done,” taehyun counters with a sweet smile. “so what happens now?”

you sigh. you don’t really want to think about that part. “you go grab a towel and wipe your cum off of me,” you answer.

taehyun laughs, “yes ma’am.”

[voxslays]

Helloooo! If your requests are open, could I request Adam and Alastor fighting for a fem!reader’s love

٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Im obsessed with those two so much I need them to fight over me asap 😭‼️🎀✨

ty for the request annonie! these two are both so goofy in their own ways lol-

ADAM AND ALASTOR FIGHTING OVER READER

First things first; the only time the two of them would interact on a semi-regular basis is if Adam either fell to hell or didn’t die and was trapped. You and Charlie—being the good, peace-loving souls you are find him and take him back to the hotel.

At first, everyone hates him (for a good reason). However, overtime, everyone learns to accept him…everyone except Alastor.

Alastor and you go way back—having known each other way before the hotel was ever in the picture. You were one of the only souls he trusted down in this hell hole. So when he sees you getting close to Adam, who he knows is not only pesky and annoying—but extremely dangerous, he is extremely angry.

Back to Adam, you were one of the only kind souls when he first arrived at the hotel. You put up with his angry outbursts (which had gotten much better since you had been in the picture) and overall showed care for him. So he slowly starts to fall head over heels for you!

But uh-oh! Alastor also has feelings for you too! Not the traditional kind—because he is very confused about how he feels—yet, he feels a very strong connection and longing for you.

Alastor is the type of guy to exploit Adam’s anger issues. He would totally use one of his tentacles to pop out and trip Adam as he’s walking by and just in general make his life a living hell.

Alastor would go out of his way to make Adam seem like the undesirable option of the two of them by making Adam go into his angry rages about why sinners are terrible—even though he is one.

Adam would serenade you every night on his guitar, singing you rock songs about love as you drift off into dreamland.

Alastor would dedicate every single one of his broadcasts to you, saying how he never could’ve gotten to where he is without your love and support—even though that is NOT true. Alastor would do his absolute best to butter you up as much as possible. Even going as far to offer a soul deal, which you immediately (politely) decline.

Either way, no matter which one you choose—the one you pick WILL rub it in to the ‘losers’ face. These two could never be poly together, especially after their battle in episode eight.

[shdysders]

lacy

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which you’re taras lacy.

word count: im sorry if this is too repetitive, tbh I haven’t checked it out completely.

Tara wished more than anything that she had never noticed you.

She didn't even know when it started, only that she wanted it to stop.

Maybe it began the day you arrived—new to town, unfamiliar yet impossible to ignore. You weren't loud or attention-seeking, but there was something about you that unsettled her.

The way people turned their heads when you walked by, drawn in as if you belonged here more than she ever had. The way you spoke, soft but certain, like every word mattered. Tara hadn't meant to pay attention, but it was like trying to ignore a song stuck in her head.

At first, she told herself it was curiosity. A natural awareness of someone new, nothing more.

But curiosity didn't make her stomach twist when someone said your name. It didn't make her feel like she was always a step behind you, lingering in your shadow, caught between admiration and something far uglier.

And it definitely didn't make her hate herself for caring.

The first time Tara saw you, it was in the crowded hallway between classes. She hadn't even realized you were new at first, just another face in the sea of students.

But then, she noticed the way people reacted to you—how eyes lingered, how heads turned, how conversations paused just slightly as you passed, as if your presence demanded attention without you even trying.

She expected you to be shy. New people always were. She had been, once. But when you walked into class and the teacher asked you to introduce yourself, you did it like it was nothing.

Your voice was steady, carrying across the room with a quiet kind of confidence. You told them your name, where you'd moved from, a few surface-level facts. Nothing extraordinary. And yet, Tara felt a strange, unwelcome pull, like she had to listen, had to commit every word to memory.

She figured that would be the extent of it—that you'd settle in like everyone else, fade into the background once the novelty of being new wore off.

But then she saw you again. And again. And again.

You seemed to be everywhere. In the cafeteria, in the hallways, in the casual mentions of her friends.

It wasn't like you were trying. That was the worst part.

You weren't loud or overly outgoing, but people naturally gravitated toward you anyway. Teachers liked you, students wanted to befriend you, and you made it look so damn easy.

And then, just when Tara had thought she could get away with pretending not to notice you, you had noticed her first.

She had been at her locker, switching out her books, when she had caught movement from the corner of her eye. Then your voice—light, friendly, like this was something you did all the time.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. You're Tara, right?"

Tara had glanced up, and there you had been. Close enough that she had no choice but to acknowledge you.

You had smiled—not in a way that felt forced or overly eager. Just warm. Easy. Like it was second nature to introduce yourself to everyone you met. And Tara had hated how much that stuck with her—how natural you had made it seem, how different you were from her in all the ways she had wished she could ignore.

She had nodded, offering a small, awkward smile, unsure of how else to respond. "Yeah. That's me."

You had shifted your books in your arms, tilting your head slightly. "I think we have more than two classes together, so I figured I might as well introduce myself."

Tara hadn't known how to handle that—how effortlessly you had spoken, how you had said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. She had just nodded again, murmuring a quiet, "Oh. Cool."

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn't.

Because she had heard that same introduction in other classes—watched as you had walked up to different people with the same soft smile, the same easygoing tone. You hadn't hesitated when teachers had asked you to introduce yourself, hadn't stumbled over your words like she would have. You had spoken like you belonged here, like you weren't the least bit concerned about how people perceived you.

And maybe that was the worst part—because for you, it was easy. It wasn't something you had to think about, something that had sat heavy on your shoulders like it had for her. You hadn't hesitated, hadn't second-guessed yourself, hadn't fumbled over your words like she always seemed to.

Tara hadn't even remembered what she had said in response—something short, something dismissive. She had just wanted the conversation to end.

But it hadn't. Not really.

Because after that, she had started seeing you everywhere. And suddenly, you hadn't just been some new person anymore. You had been the person who had smiled at her like it was effortless. The person whose name had seemed to follow her, weaving itself into her life whether she had wanted it to or not.

It was like the universe was pushing you toward her, weaving you into the fabric of her life whether she wanted it or not. And maybe that was the worst part—because no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't ignore you.

Not when the whole world seemed to notice you, too.

Tara hadn't even noticed how you looked at first.

Not like anybody seemed to. Everyone was just caught up on the fact that you were new.

That wasn't what had made you stand out to her. It was everything else—the way people reacted to you, the way your name kept coming up in conversations, the way you just... existed so easily in places where she had always felt like she had to fight to be seen.

But once she noticed, she couldn't unnotice.

She didn't know when it started. Maybe it was the first time you passed her in the hallway, and she caught the faint trace of your perfume—something light and clean, barely there, but still lingering in the air after you were gone. Maybe it was the way people naturally leaned in when you spoke, like they wanted to hear more, like you had some unspoken gravitational pull that drew them closer.

It wasn't intentional. She hadn't meant to pay attention to any of it. But that was the thing about you—everything you did had a way of creeping in when she least expected it.

At first, it was easy to dismiss. Just a passing thought. Just something in the background, barely worth acknowledging.

But then she started noticing more.

How your skin always looked impossibly smooth, soft in a way that felt almost unnatural, like you had never known anything sharp or cruel. She wasn't looking—God, she wasn't looking—but sometimes the sun would hit just right, and she'd catch a glimpse of warmth on your cheekbones, a glow that made it impossible to ignore.

How you pressed your lips together when you were concentrating, as if you were holding back the urge to say something out loud. How you had a habit of breaking the tips of your pencils on purpose, just so your writing would look a certain way. How you always flipped your notebook to a fresh page even when there was still space left on the previous one, like the mess of unfinished thoughts bothered you more than wasted paper.

She wasn’t looking for these things. She wasn't sitting there, analyzing you like some kind of fascination. But they kept showing up anyway, slipping into her awareness before she could push them out.

And it annoyed her. More than it should have.

Because it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how effortless you made everything seem, how your confidence didn't feel forced the way hers always did. It wasn't fair how teachers seemed to already like you, how students naturally gravitated toward you, how your name had worked its way into her head without her permission.

And it really, really wasn't fair how you weren't even trying.

It wasn't like you were trying to be liked, trying to stand out. You were just... existing. Living. Doing things without overthinking them, without worrying about how they might come across. And maybe that was the worst part—because for Tara, none of that had ever been easy.

And now, she couldn't stop noticing.

Because everyone loved you. That much was obvious.

Tara saw it in the way people reacted to you, how they laughed a little too easily at your jokes—even the ones that weren't that funny. She saw it in the way conversations seemed to shift when you joined them, like people wanted to impress you without even realizing it.

And she hated it.

Not just because you had that effortless charm, that unshakable ease that made everything seem so damn simple—but because it was real.

You weren't fake. You weren't putting on an act or twisting your words to make people like you. You were just nice. Genuinely, painfully, unreasonably nice.

And it made her stomach twist.

Because no one was that sweet for no reason.

Tara had met people like that before—people who smiled too easily, who said all the right things, who made kindness feel like a performance. She knew how to spot it, how to pick apart the cracks in the mask until the real person underneath showed through.

But with you, there were no cracks.

You weren't pretending. You weren't forcing it. You were just...like that.

And that only made it worse.

Because if there was something ugly underneath—some hidden flaw, some selfish motive—Tara could have handled that. She could have told herself that you weren't as perfect as everyone thought, that you were just playing the same game as everyone else.

But you weren't.

You were real. And that was the most infuriating part.

There was something about you that didn't belong in the same world as the rest of them—something too soft, too delicate, too untouched. Like you had never seen the worst in people, never been hurt enough to carry the weight of it.

Tara wanted to find a reason to hate you. She wanted to pick you apart, to find the thing that made you less than what everyone thought you were.

But every time she tried, she came up empty.

Your eyes were the worst part.

Wide, bright, completely open—like you had never needed to guard yourself, like the world had never given you a reason to. Tara couldn't stand it.

It wasn't just the way they looked, soft and untroubled, but the way they felt. The way they held a kind of quiet innocence, an unshaken belief in the goodness of things. Like you had never learned to expect the worst from people. Like you had never been hurt badly enough to make you wary.

She didn't know what to do with that.

Because when you smiled—really smiled, the kind that crinkled the corners of your eyes and made your whole face light up—it made her feel off balance. And when she caught you staring out a window in class, lost in your own world, your expression so effortlessly peaceful, it made her angry.

It wasn't fair.

How could someone exist like that? How could you walk through life so untouched, so light, when she had spent years learning how to carry weight that never seemed to leave her shoulders?

Tara felt rough in comparison. Sharper edges, colder glances, a world of difference between the way she saw things and the way you did. And it made her hate looking at you for too long, because the longer she did, the more she felt like she wasn't supposed to be near you at all.

Like whatever you were made of—whatever softness, whatever lightness—it wasn't meant for her.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because the more she fixated on you, the more she realized it had nothing to do with you at all. It was her. The way she bristled at your kindness, the way she flinched at the warmth in your eyes, the way she resented how easy the world seemed for you. It wasn't because you were perfect—it was because she wasn't.

Because she had never been.

She had spent so long being haunted by things she couldn't change, by bloodstains she couldn't scrub away, by ghosts that never let her breathe. And then there you were, unburdened, living in a way she no longer knew how to.

You existed in a world that had never touched you the way it had touched her, never carved out pieces of you and left you scrambling to fill the gaps. And she hated that she could see it so clearly.

She didn't want to compare. She didn't want to feel like this. But she couldn't help it.

It made her stomach twist. Not because she hated you. But because she hated that she cared.

Because every time she looked at you, it wasn't just you she saw. It was herself. The jagged edges, the shadows under her eyes, the way she had learned to live with the weight of everything she had been through.

And the worst part? She wasn't sure if she envied you or resented you for it. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe she just hated that, for the first time in a long time, she was forced to acknowledge just how much she wasn't doing well at all.

And it wasn't something she could ignore.

Not when it followed her everywhere—this awful, gnawing awareness of you. She'd already come to terms with the fact that it wasn't just you that got under her skin. It was what you represented, what you made her see in herself, all the things she tried not to think about. But knowing that didn't help. If anything, it made it worse.

Because even when you weren't there, you were.

Like the scent of your perfume that lingered long after you'd walked away, like the faint trace of your voice in the back of her mind, like the ghost of something she didn't ask to be haunted by.

She could be sitting in class, half-listening to a lecture, and suddenly, she'd remember the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved.

She could be walking home, exhausted, barely thinking at all, and she'd catch a whiff of someone else's shampoo—not even yours—and somehow, you'd still come to mind.

It made her stomach twist. It made her furious.

Why couldn't she shake you? Why did her brain insist on keeping you there, tucked away in places she couldn't reach to rip you out? She had more important things to think about—more RRAL things, things that actually mattered.

And yet, you lingered.

She wasn't watching you. She wasn't.

And yet, you lingered.

No matter how much she tried to push you from her mind, you were always there. In the corner of her vision, in the spaces between her thoughts, in the background of her day like a song stuck on a loop. It wasn't intentional. She wasn't looking for you. But somehow, she always knew where you were.

It was stupid. Unfair. Irritating.

She told herself it was just awareness. Just familiarity. You were everywhere—laughing with your friends, answering questions in class, moving through the world like you belonged to it in a way she never quite had. It made sense that she would notice you. Anyone would.

But not like this.

Not enough for her gaze to land on you before she even realized what she was doing. Not enough for her to recognize your laugh from across a crowded hallway or pick up on the little shifts in your expression when you thought no one was looking. Not enough for her to feel the weight of you in her mind, refusing to leave.

She wasn't stalking you. She wasn't obsessed.

She was just aware of you. Too aware.

It wasn't the same thing.

Because Tara tried to ignore it. She really did. Tried to ignore you.

Because it wasn't a big deal. She wasn't obsessed.

She wasn't even paying attention. She just happened to notice when your name came up, that was all.

It wasn't like she was waiting for it or anything. But the second Mindy made an offhand comment about running into you earlier—something stupid, something that shouldn't have mattered—Tara felt herself tense.

Tara had rolled her eyes—acted like it was weird that Mindy even remembered it.

She didn't even think before responding, throwing in something to cut you down, something small enough to pass as harmless but sharp enough to stick. Maybe you were only nice because you wanted something. Maybe you were trying too hard. Maybe you weren't actually that great, and people just didn't see it yet. It wasn't like she was lying. She was just balancing things out, making sure no one got too carried away.

But it wasn't just Mindy. It was Chad, too. It was Anika. It was Ethan. It was anyone who spoke about you in a way that made it seem like you were drawing them in. Like they were starting to see you the way everyone else did. Like they were falling for it. And Tara couldn't stand that.

Because how was she supposed to ignore you when no one else did? When every conversation, every passing comment, every stupid mention of your name pulled her attention right back to you? It was exhausting. You were everywhere, even when you weren't. She could try to pretend you didn't exist, but the world wouldn't let her. It was like the universe was making sure she never forgot about you.

They were her friends. She'd been through hell with them. She had nearly died with them. And yet, somehow, you were slipping into their world like you belonged there. Like you could just show up and be part of something that wasn't yours. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And maybe it didn't make sense, but that didn't change the fact that every time she heard your name, she felt like she had to do something about it.

And maybe that was the worst part—because no matter how much she told herself it didn't matter, no matter how much she tried to act like she didn't care, she knew she was lying. It had already taken over her life.

Everywhere she went, you were there. Not in a way that was intentional—at least, she hoped it wasn't—but in a way that made it impossible to ignore. In the halls, in the cafeteria, in the classroom when she was supposed to be paying attention to something else. She could tell herself she wasn't looking for you, but somehow, she always knew exactly where you were.

And it was ridiculous. Tara felt ridiculous. Out of everything she had been through, THIS was what got to her?

She had survived Ghostface attacks, lost people she cared about, fought to keep herself together through things that actually mattered. And yet, here she was, completely unraveling over something as stupid as this.

Over you.

It wasn't even real torture. Not like the kind she knew. No one was chasing her with a knife. No one was trying to kill her. But in some ways, this was almost worse. At least with Ghostface, she knew what she was up against—knew how to fight back. But this? There was no strategy, no way to escape something that wasn't even real.

She had seen Ghostface before. In shadows, in reflections, in the dark corners of her mind where her worst memories lived.

But Ghostface wasn't everywhere. You were. She didn't see them in the cafeteria, in the halls, in the stupid little moments of her day that were supposed to be normal. Ghostface wasn't sitting at the next table, laughing with friends, tucking a strand of hair behind their ear without a second thought.

But you were. And somehow, that made it worse.

And maybe that was why she let it linger. Why she couldn't stop herself from noticing you, from letting you take up space in her mind. Because compared to everything else, this was the safest kind of suffering she had ever known.

And it wasn't fair.

Because she wanted to roll her eyes, to look away, to force herself not to care. But then you showed up, hair tied back, a ribbon perfectly in place, and there it was again—that stupid, twisting feeling in her stomach that made her feel sick.

You were everywhere—woven into conversations, slipping into places she wasn't expecting. If it wasn't someone mentioning something you said in class, it was a passing comment about how put-together you always seemed. Nothing dramatic, nothing over the top—just little things. Things that shouldn't have mattered.

But they did.

Tara ignored it for as long as she could, convincing herself it was nothing. That you were nothing.

And then, that one morning, when she saw you—hair pulled back, the ribbon keeping it in place, and suddenly, it was like something in her snapped.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't just that you looked nice. It was that it suited you. That it was effortless, like everything else you did. You didn't have to think about these things the way she did, didn't have to overanalyze every little detail about yourself. You just existed, and somehow, that was enough. Enough for people to notice, enough for them to admire you, enough for her to—

No.

Tara had clenched her jaw and forced herself to look away, but it didn't help. Because even when she wasn't looking, she still heard your voice. Still caught the way people spoke about you.

She had been through real things. Painful things. Things that should've left her numb to something as trivial as this. And yet, here she was—annoyed, unsettled, tangled up in thoughts about you like it was something that actually mattered.

It made her want to say something. To remind everyone that you weren't all that, that you weren't perfect, that you had to have some kind of flaw they weren't seeing.

But every time she tried, the words never came out right.

And she couldn't figure out why that bothered her so much.

She didn't want anything from you.

That was what she told herself, over and over, trying to make it true.

But it wasn't.

It was a cruel, twisted lie—one that sat in the pit of her stomach, coiling tight whenever she saw you, whenever she heard your name, whenever she caught herself paying too much attention.

Maybe it was the way people gravitated toward you. The way they leaned in when you spoke, the way their laughter felt lighter, easier, when you were around.

Maybe it was the effortless way you existed, never seeming to second-guess yourself, never needing to prove anything to anyone. Maybe it was the fact that, somehow, without even trying, you had become the person people noticed. The one they admired.

Or maybe—maybe it was worse than that.

Because deep down, she knew it wasn't just about what you had.

Maybe she wanted you.

The thought made her feel sick.

No. No, that wasn't true. It couldn't be true.

Tara clenched her fists, nails pressing into her palms, forcing herself to breathe through the tightness in her chest. She wouldn't let that be true.

She refused to.

And she tried. She tried so hard. She swears she does. She lists every reason why you shouldn't get under her skin.

You're just a person.

Just some girl.

You're not special.

You're not different.

But it doesn't work.

Because every time she tells herself you're nothing, something proves her wrong.

She remembers once, in class, when her pen slipped from her fingers and rolled off her desk. Before she could even react, you passed by, stooping down to grab it without hesitation. You barely looked at her, barely acknowledged it, just handed it back like it was nothing.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for some reason, that stuck with her.

She had stared at the pen in her hand for too long afterward, gripping it too tightly, something unfamiliar twisting in her stomach. Because it was proof, wasn't it? Proof that you weren't some perfect, untouchable figure. You were just... nice. Not because people were watching, not because you wanted something in return, but because that's just who you were.

And that made her furious.

Because it meant she had no reason to hate you. No excuse to dismiss you. No justification for the way you consumed her thoughts.

So she convinced herself of something else instead.

You did it because you wanted people to like you. That was it. That had to be it. You wanted to be seen as the good one, the kind one, the one no one could ever say a bad word about. That was your game. That was your angle.

Tara had clenched her jaw, forcing the memory away, pushing down the irritation bubbling up in her chest.

She hated it. Hated how irrational it was, how impossible it was to shut off.

She was angry—at you, at herself, at the fact that no matter what she did, she kept coming back to you.

So she tried to blame you. To twist everything in her head until it wasn't her fault.

That was easier. That was safer.

Because if she could convince herself that you were calculated, that your kindness was just another way to make people adore you, then none of this was real. None of it meant anything.

But then there were moments she couldn't twist, moments she couldn't justify no matter how hard she tried.

She remembered it too clearly—the way you had walked up to her locker, casual as ever, barely a second thought in your step. You weren't hesitant. You weren't nervous. Like talking to her was the most natural thing in the world.

She heard your voice before she even turned around.

"Hey, Tara."

She almost ignored you, almost pretended she hadn't heard, but then you were already beside her, standing just close enough that she had no choice but to acknowledge you.

You had smiled at her. Not a big, beaming one, not something fake or forced, just an easy, natural expression, like talking to her was as simple as breathing.

"I missed a few things in history today. Could I check your notes?"

Your tone was light, normal, like you had no idea what you were doing to her. Like this was just another conversation, nothing worth reading into.

And that should've been true.

But she didn't think before she spoke.

"Maybe you should've paid attention."

The words came out colder than she intended, sharp and clipped, designed to sting.

She saw it happen in real time—the way your lips parted slightly, like you weren't sure you heard her right, the way your brows furrowed just a little before you caught yourself.

For a second, you hesitated.

Then you nodded. "Oh. Right. I—yeah, never mind."

It wasn't dramatic. You didn't snap back, didn't get angry, didn't even try to argue. You just stepped back, confusion flickering across your face before you covered it up with something more neutral.

"Forget I asked."

And then you turned and walked away.

Tara watched you go, jaw tight, fingers curling around the strap of her bag like that would somehow ground her.

She should've felt victorious.

She should've felt relieved that, for once, you weren't perfect, that she had managed to knock you down just a little.

And for a split second, she almost did.

But later that night, when she was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the memory kept replaying in her head. The way you had looked at her—not angry, not annoyed, just... confused.

Hurt.

She swallowed hard, shifting under her blankets, trying to force herself to sleep.

It shouldn't matter.

It didn't matter.

But then why did she feel so awful?

She tried to remind herself that you weren't even real—not in the way other people were.

People made mistakes.

They stumbled, they faltered, they showed cracks.

But you? You didn't. Not once.

And it was driving her insane.

She noticed it during the class presentations. It wasn't a big deal—not at first. Everyone messed up in some way. Even she did, tripping over a few words, losing her train of thought for half a second before catching herself. It was nothing. The teacher didn't care. No one in the class cared. She didn't even care when she sat back down.

But then you went up there.

And you were perfect.

No notecards, no nervous pauses, no hesitations. Just confidence, effortless and unshaken, like you hadn't even considered the possibility of messing up.

Tara sat in her chair, arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching—waiting.

You had to mess up. You had to.

But you didn't.

You stood there, talking about the effects of climate change on marine life, explaining things so smoothly that even the people who hadn't been paying attention to the class all week were listening. You weren't just speaking—you were engaging. Like this was easy for you, like it wasn't something that needed to be practiced or worried over.

Like it came naturally.

Tara's fingers dug into her arm, her jaw clenching tighter with every second that passed.

She had spoken about the history of space exploration. She had done her research, put effort into making it good. And she had been fine—just fine. Not perfect, not effortless, not... whatever you were.

People weren't perfect. They slipped up, they stammered, they fumbled for words. They made mistakes.

So why didn't you?

Why did you always have to be so... untouchable?

She wanted to believe it was fake. That you just hid things better than others, that you practiced more than you let on. But there was nothing forced about the way you carried yourself, nothing fake about the way people listened to you without being asked to.

It wasn't fair.

Maybe she was waiting for you to fail. Maybe she needed you to slip up, to show that you weren't above everyone else, that you were just as flawed as the rest of them. Because if you weren't perfect, then maybe—just maybe—she could stop feeling like this.

But you didn't.

And that just made her hate you more.

But hate didn't feel like enough. Not when you had to be doing this on purpose.

You always seemed to show up at the worst times, right when she had finally convinced herself that she was over it. Right when she had let herself breathe. And then, like clockwork, you appeared—effortless, untouchable, ruining everything without even trying.

It was worse on days when she was already on edge, when she thought she had finally shaken this—whatever THIS was—only for you to walk in like you owned the world, like the universe had conspired against her just to put you in her path. It felt cruel, like a joke she wasn't in on, and it made her want to scream.

Tara told herself you knew exactly what you were doing. That you could see the way she bristled when you walked into a room, how her voice sharpened whenever she spoke to you. That you enjoyed it—the way she got worked up over you, the way you managed to worm your way into her head every single time.

You didn't even have to try, and yet you ruined everything.

It had to be intentional. Because if it wasn't, then what did that say about her?

If you weren't doing this on purpose, then it meant none of it mattered to you. Not her resentment, not her irritation, not the way she spent so much of her time thinking about you. It meant you weren't playing a game with her. You weren't even aware there was a game to play.

Tara tried to ignore the truth staring her in the face. She tried to hold onto the idea that you were calculating, that you knew exactly how perfect you were, how impossible you made things for her. But no matter how much she wanted to believe it, the lie never stuck.

Because you never hesitated when you spoke to her. You never held back a smirk, never threw a knowing glance, never showed any sign that you even noticed how she felt.

You weren't out to get her.

You weren't thinking about her at all.

And somehow, that was so much worse.

Nothing was simple anymore. Nothing was simple when it came to you. Not even the things that used to feel like hers.

She could be out with her friends, forcing herself to have fun, trying to lose herself in the conversation, in the noise—until someone says your name. Until someone mentions how nice you are, or asks if she thinks you're pretty. And just like that, the night is ruined.

Because it's always like this. No matter where she was, no matter what she's doing, you found a way to be there. She could be in class, staring blankly at the board, only to realize she's twirling her pen between her fingers—the way you do. She stops immediately, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turn white.

Or maybe she's shopping, minding her own business, when she would see a shirt on display and know you would wear it. It's your style exactly. The kind of thing you'd throw on without a second thought and somehow still manage to look perfect in. Her first instinct is to scoff—of course you would. You would love it.

But then, a split second later, an image flashes in her mind: you actually wearing it. And she hates how easily she can picture it, how good you'd probably look, how—no.

She shoves the thought away, as if she can physically push it out of her head, but it's too late. The damage is already done.

Even her own actions aren't safe from you. Sometimes she finds herself fixing her hair in the mirror, smoothing it down, tucking it behind her ear—before catching herself and realizing that you do that, too.

Or worse, she'll be doing something completely normal—pouring a drink, typing on her laptop, flipping through a book—and suddenly, she'll wonder how you would do it. Would you hold your cup the same way? Would you skim through pages faster? Would you—ugh.

It's infuriating. She feels like you've infected her, like your presence has seeped into every corner of her life, poisoning even the smallest, most meaningless moments

And she hates that.

She hates that you don't even have to try. That you exist, and that's enough to ruin everything.

She can't escape you.

And nothing is hers anymore.

She hated you.

Hated your voice, the way it carried through a room, light and effortless like you didn't even realize people hung onto every word you said. Hated your stupid little habits—how you always tapped your fingers against the edge of your desk when you were thinking, how you twisted the strap of your bag around your hand while you walked, how you laughed at things that weren’t even that funny but somehow made everyone else laugh, too.

She hated how people talked about you, like you hung the fucking stars, like you were this perfect, untouchable thing. And most of all, she hated that no one else saw it. No one else felt this like she did.

She avoided you. Walked the long way to class, skipped out on group projects, refused to meet your eyes when you talked. She kept her distance, convinced that if she didn't see you, didn't hear you, maybe—just maybe—this would stop.

It didn't.

Because the space you left behind wasn't empty. It was filled with you. With her own thoughts, her own frustration, her own pathetic, pitiful obsession.

And then it happened.

It was something small. Stupid. You bumped into her in the hallway—nothing dramatic, just the kind of passing accident that happened a hundred times a day. You barely reacted, just glanced up, gave a polite sorry, and kept walking.

But Tara burned with it.

The casualness of it. The audacity of it. Like you didn't even think about it. Like it was nothing to you.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she was scrubbing at the spot where your shoulder brushed against hers, like your presence was something she could wipe off.

It was irrational. She knew that. But she couldn’t stop.

Because this—this was proof.

She didn't just resent you. Didn't just dislike you.

She loathed you.

And she loathed herself even more.

Because the thing was.

Tara had always been like this.

Always wanted what she couldn't have.

She had jealousy in her bones.

She'd known it since she was a kid. She had been jealous of Sam, jealous of Mindy, jealous of Amber. She had envied people for things she couldn't name, couldn't help—the way they fit so easily into spaces that never seemed made for her, the way things always worked out for them, the way they had things she didn't, even if she wasn't sure what those things were.

Her parents used to comment on it, her jealousy. Not in a cruel way, just in that casual, offhanded way adults said things they didn't realize would stick.

You've always had jealous eyes, Tara.

She remembered her mom saying it once, maybe twice.

She remembered her dad laughing when she got upset over something small and saying, Tara, not everything is a competition.

She hadn't thought much of it back then. She had just assumed everyone was like this. That it was normal, natural, a part of being human.

But then there was you.

And now—now she understood.

Because this was different. This wasn't the kind of jealousy she had known before, the kind that burned quick and hot and then faded into something else. This wasn't petty, wasn't simple.

This stayed.

Her eyes always found you. It was like she had no say in the matter, no control over it. She could be sitting in class, staring at the board, not even thinking about you, and then—before she even realized it—her gaze would drift. It didn't matter how much she told herself not to look, didn't matter how much she swore she wouldn't.

She always did.

And every time, it pissed her off more than the last.

Because she was jealous. She knew that now. But of what?

The way people loved you? The way you moved through life so easily, like the universe had carved out a space just for you? Or maybe it was something deeper, something uglier—something that made her stomach twist and her throat burn.

Tara couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand that she wasn't strong enough to fight it.

But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, her eyes still followed you.

They always would.

And it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Tara had spent so much time convincing herself that this was simple—that it was just hate, just bitterness, just something sharp and cruel that would fade if she ignored it long enough. She thought if she pushed hard enough, fought hard enough, she could make it go away.

But no amount of distance, no amount of denial, no amount of desperate, clawing frustration could change the truth.

She wasn't just angry.

She wasn't just jealous.

She worshipped you.

Not in a way that was soft, or sweet, or kind. Not in the way people were supposed to love things. No, it was cruel. It was agonizing. It felt like punishment, like some sick, twisted joke the universe was playing on her.

She hated you, and she needed you.

She needed to see you, to know where you were, to hear your voice even when it made her blood boil. She needed to compare herself to you, to pick apart everything you did, to watch you shine and tell herself that one day—one day—she would glow just as brightly.

But she wouldn't.

Because that was the truth, wasn't it? The part she could no longer ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

It wasn't just about you.

It was about her.

Tara Carpenter was the problem.

Her rotten, rotten mind was the problem. The way it twisted things, the way it poisoned everything, the way it clung to you like an obsession she could never shake.

Because you weren't just someone to hate.

You were everything she wanted to be.

[greenxgloss]

Can we get a bts fanboy headcanon?

BTS as Fanboys

themes: Idol!Reader, Gn!Reader, Fluff, angst

Gonna be completely honest im not sure if you wanted bts as fanboys or how bts interacts with their fanboys so I'm gonna do them as fanboys bc I feel like that's the more interesting of the two (I'm so so sorry if that's wrong in which case you can totally request it again and be more clear I would totally re-write it if I'm wrong)

Kim Seokjin

Jin definitely roasts other fans and claims to be a day 1 supporter.

"I literally knew them when they just posted covers online.

Jin buys all your merch, official and unofficial.

Jin spends hours watching fan-made edits of you.

Jin plays the Sims4 just to create you as a sim and then spoil your sim but forces it to write new music when you're on break/hiatus.

"Close enough. Welcome back, Y/N. When's the next album?"

Jin makes his own video compilations of your funny moments and then laughs at them for hours.

Proud of his obsession and talks about you when he doesn't know what else to talk about with new people.

Attends fan meets

Jin makes memes of the fandom's inside jokes

Min Yoongi

Yoongi buys all your albums (cd form, vinyl form etc.) just to have and collect

He writes fanfiction of you (series, one shots etc) mostly fluff but there is the occasional smutty fic, hyper erotic and juicy asf but still respectful.

He's secretly hugely infatuated but still keeps it subtle/ to himself

"Yeah their music is always in my playlists." with his usual kitten smile.

"Collaborating on something with them would be a huge accomplishment." Hed calmly reply to comments about you on weverse live.

Yoongi paints portraits of you/ makes tons of fan art but its not obvious that its fanart because he makes it look like regular everyday art.

Yoongi not only watches your interviews, he reads them, enjoying the articles far more than video interviews.

"they seem much more comfortable and open in the written interviews" hed say to himself

He's so delulu he learned all your rumoured favourite foods and how to cook them "just in case"

zones out thinking about the meanings behind your songs

Youre his celebrity crush

Yoongi doesn't attend fan meets or concerts because he a more lowkye/ private fan

just interact with the fandom

Jung heosok

Hobi writing remixes of your songs constantly

Hobi being the only one of the boys to actually be friends with you in real life

"can I get on a remix of your recent single?"

Gossiping with him about other idols

"did you hear about the scandal that group was in? they haven't even debuted yet." while tapping your hand before leaning back.

him still being a mega fan despite being friends with you

Having a yoongi and halsey dynamic

begging you to stream on weverse all the time just because he knows other fans want it just as bad.

"come on!! please just an hour. ill get you those cookies you really love.

reposting all your Instagram posts with sweet captions.

"bestie is looking so good!!!" with a ton of emojis

recreating your tiktok dances

also starts dance trends to your music and encourages people to jump on the trend

"I'll repost your video if you do this dance." big heart shaped smile.

Kim Namjoon

namjoon studies your lyrics, finds the double meanings and the word play

"reviews" and reacts to your music in YouTube videos

watches the countdown to your music being released on whatever platform (youtube, weverse etc.)

"supposedly the camera rig malfunctioned on set, that's why the camera is so shaky but they didn't re-shoot because it added to the windy scene" he'd say all jumpy and giddy like a kid on a sugar rush

has your autograph framed from the one and only time he met you

namjoon was very flustered and shy when he met you

"oh uh yeah I love your music and the double meanings in your last song."

gushes about the cinematography in your music videos

Namjoon writes questions he'd ask you if he got to interview you

Watches movies and tags you as characters that remind him of you

Park Jimin

Loves to let your music play while he's doing something and then harmonizes with your vocals

buys Vip tickets to all your events

posts your lyrics on social media

"this part omg!!!"

One time you smiled at him in the crowd and he freaked out and bragged about it for months

"they totally smiled at me last night"

"do you think they remember me from the fan meet last month?"

he's constantly talking with other fans

jimin makes bracelets with letter beads that spell your name or album names

jimin copies your makeup just because he thinks you're the picture of beauty purely in a view of admiration

he views you like greek statues.

"wow- their cheekbones-" he'd say in awh, face right up to the screen while he held a mirror and makeup brush in hands.

Kim Taehyung

requests your songs at parties and other events

begs the guys to do a cover of your songs on stage

name drops you in interviews and is always talking about you in his own interviews

has a huge crush on you and will say so proudly

"they're so pretty. Y/n if you see this, call me." with a sly smirk on his face, completely disregarding the uproar it would cause with army

Taehyung gets super shy when you say his name

Being shy despite being so confident when he talks about you in interviews

"uh- oh- the new song- yeah." while giggling

apologizing profusely when you tease him about the interviews when he comes to fan meets

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook would write a song about you that's how down bad he is

Posts on social media in hopes you see it

Kook argues with taehyung about thinking he'd treat you better given the chance

argues with jin about being a bigger fan

picks out his outfits to coordinate with yours

kook hopes to run into you at award shows

stalks your fanpages

reads yoongis fanfiction about you

probably is the more devoted fan among the other members

sings your songs all the time, in the car, shower, while cooking, etc.

the only one of the boys that talks to you confidently

"Your style is amazing, I take inspiration all the time." while standing up straight and s soft confident smile on his lips, eye contact unwavering.

but he would never admit that he's written and released songs about you

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

sorry this took so long i was trying to get all the requests in order! i hope these were up to par hcs are usually very rushed. if you'd like something more detailed or even full drabbles id totally be down to do that. if you wanna be tagged in future works to be notified when I've posted a fic please fill out the taglist form linked below along with the masterposts

➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Taglist Form

[koiiiji]

the warmth beside

summary ; being from opposite gangs may be dangerous. especially if two have something more than just sex for each other.

author's note ; primarily this is for my babe @imtomiee and all sharkboy girlies!!! remember — sharing is caring 💌🕯️🧸🤍

the room was cloaked in the soft, muted light of early morning, the kind that barely crept through the cracks in the curtains. the air was cool against your skin, but the warmth beside you was irresistible, pulling you in like gravity. his chest rose and fell steadily, the faint rhythm a quiet reassurance in the stillness.

bed was a mess — twisted sheets half-hanging off the mattress, pillows scattered here and there, the faint scent of sweat, sex and cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the crisp chill air of dawn seeping through the window. yet the chaos around you felt distant, insignificant compared to the gentle haven you found against him.

you pulled the sheet higher over yourself, feeling vulnerable in ways you hadn’t expected. this wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest. his heartbeat thudded softly beneath your ear, steady and calming. his arm slid around you instinctively, pulling you tighter to him, as if he was afraid you might slip away. you felt his lips brush against the top of your head, so light it was almost imperceptible, but the gesture carried a tenderness that made your chest ache.

his hand moved slowly, tracing patterns along your spine. each motion was deliberate, soothing, as though he was trying to erase the tension that had settled in your body. your fingers splayed against his side, seeking him, grounding yourself in the solidity of his presence.

outside, busan was waking up — muffled sounds of distant traffic, a bird’s hesitant song. but in here, it was still, quiet. storm of your lives, the dangers that waited beyond this fragile cocoon, felt impossibly far away.

he let out a low, contented hum, his fingers brushing up to your shoulder and then down again in a lazy rhythm. “you’re quiet,,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice rough after long silence.

you shrugged. “so are you.”

sighing, you burrowed closer into his chest. weight of the unspoken hung between you, but neither of you dared to break it. not now, not when this moment felt so impossibly safe. his lips grazed your hair again, a silent promise he couldn’t put into words.

the sheets tangled further as you adjusted, your leg slipping over his. he didn’t complain, didn’t push you away. instead, his other hand came up to rest on your back, his touch light but firm. the faint pressure steadied you, reassured you, in ways words never could.

the light through the blinds grew softer, the sun just beginning to crest the horizon. you closed your eyes, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest lull you into a quiet calm. for now, the world beyond this room didn’t exist. for now, you could pretend.

and in his arms, you almost believed it was enough.

bonus ;

since this guy was shown with sharks on background im gonna call him sharkboy (def not because of his grilz)

[meracyn]

hi can you please write a one shot of kwon x fem! reader who has strict parents and one day kwon helps her escape her house to go with him? tysm if you do this!

TRAPPED || kwon jae-sung

a/n: ok guys by tomorrow im gonna be editing these posts and make them actually worth looking at, no lazing off this time 😭 but i like this idea actually. ive heard some songs that would relate to a scenario like this, whoever you are anon, ur a genius fr

The tension in your house was unbearable.

Your parents, being both professionals, always pushed you to meet their expectations. They barely gave you freedom, let alone make your own choices as you grew up.

It felt so suffocating, so tiring. You were so sure you would end up going crazy any day by now.

What kind of parents were so strict they always had to monitor every. single. thing of their child’s life?

Yours.

And that was why you couldn’t wait to escape.

The night was thick with silence, creating a heavy atmosphere. You laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling before turning your head to the side, where the window was.

The moon hung low in the sky— a soft, silvery glow adorning the rows of houses underneath. You got up slowly, careful not to wake your parents. The walls were pretty thin, which only made it more difficult for you to have privacy, as they could hear almost every little thing you would do.

As you got closer, you opened it. The cool, chilly air embracing your body as the breeze played with your hair.

Outside your window, the world was silent. The leaves swayed gently on the trees, the streetlights being dim and faint in the distance, barely cutting through the darkness.

You began to think. About your future, your parents, and your boyfriend,

Kwon Jae-Sung.

It seemed impossible to get into a relationship due to your overbearing parents, but you managed somehow, and haven’t gotten caught so far– which made it the perfect reason to leave.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the rush of adrenaline clashing with the quiet serenity of the night. Would it be worth the risk? Leave behind your future, your goals, everything just for some silly romance?

Every step you took felt like glass so fragile, that with one little mistake, would break.

You focused again on the scenery outside, just beyond the houses, staring at the open gate in front of you. So close, yet so far away at the same time.

The night seemed to be endless, full of possibilities—if you just took another step.

And you did.

Cautiously going back to your bed, you picked up your phone, just as you received a new message—it was him.

I’m outside. Can you get out on your own or need help?

Stay there. Your fingers quickly tapped the screen. I can manage

This was it. There was no turning back now.

Grabbing your bag and shoes on, you took a deep breath and began to climb out the window, heartbeat pounding in your ears with each movement you took. You held onto a nearby tree before stepping down, finally touching the ground.

Without bothering to look back, you ran away.

Kwon was standing outside of the car, a smile forming on his face as he noticed you.

“You made it,” He said softly, holding onto your hand as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. “I don’t know what the hell is going to happen now,” You blurted out, having mixed feelings between anxiety and excitement.

“I told you I’d get you out. ” He whispered, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. “And I will.”

As you both got in the car, Kwon started the engine, driving away. You looked back at your house one last time.

For the first time in years, you finally felt free.

[featguler]

we don't talk about it ────── you don't have the time — arda tries convincing you to come to his game.

♡ ────── pairing : arda güler x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. situationship!arda guler. reader speaks turkish n is speaking turkish with arda in this. angsty i guess??? i keep asking myself why i keep on giving him these stressful situationship scenarios omfg ♡ ────── wordcount : 715 ♡ ────── notes : more situationship arda i literally dc. also sorry for not posting in a while im tiiiired with work and my intern!! >:(( title is from august by flipturn!! ♡ masterlist.

“So you can’t come?”

Arda breathes into the mic, his eyes immediately fluttering close as he hears shrugging on your end, his phone trapped between his shoulders and his ears.

“Yeah.”

Arda tries imagining you right now. He tries imagining the expression on your face, he tries imagining what you are doing—swaying around, sitting down, biting your nails, rolling your eyes—and he lets his fantasies feed more into his imminent heartbreak.

He is in the changing room. Practice was rough that day, though he thinks that maybe it’s just him. Brahim seems to be having the time of his life, and Federico is somewhere talking to Antonio about the shenanigans that his kids, plural now that the youngest have turned one, have been up to lately.

And the room is far from quiet.

It’s alive—full of Eduardo chanting a Spanish song that Vinícius just taught him, full of Jude giggling as he texts his family group chat, and it’s full of Arda’s ailing heart beating against his ribs.

“Sorry,” you mumble to his speaker. Normally, Arda would find a way to voice his disappointment; he would click his tongue, he would thump his head against the wall, he would hang the call and scream into his mouth. But not right now.

“It’s in a week,” he tries negotiating, “not a week, even. 10 days. It’s in 10 days.”

The background noise increases—maybe he’s hallucinating—and Arda decides that he wouldn’t let anyone notice his distress.

No.

A part of him is embarrassed that he’s mulling so much over someone who he has been pining for for ages. He wonders if his older teammates, like Toni or Luka, know what a situationship is. His mother certainly does not. He asked her.

And sure there’s nuances and context in every relationship, but it somehow feels humiliating to explain to his teammates that he’s sad over someone who he is crushing on, but is technically going out with, but also not dating, yet is in a relationship with.

“I know, Arda,” he hears something shifting on your end. “It’s just that I promised my friend that we would go hang out.”

“You can hang out at the Bernabeu,” he encourages, still, his voice light despite the disappointment anchoring his chest. “I’ll get you the tickets.”

Arda opens one eye and watches the changing room, making sure that nobody is giving him their time of day.

“I asked you a few days ago,” he mutters quietly, rubbing the back of his neck rather harshly at the pent up frustration he’s developed every time he speaks to you. “I mean, I asked you first. It’s not fair.”

“Not fair?”

You echo him, and Arda lets out a rather long, extravagant sigh.

“Sorry.”

“We’re not—” you sigh. “Not fair? And whose fault do you think that is?”

Arda bites his lips, thinking over his words.

“Sorry.” He sighs again. “My fault. It’s my fault.”

“Right,” you huff into the speaker.

“Right,” he repeats, before uttering out a weak, “I miss you.”

You didn’t answer him for a moment, and Arda fears that he might have lost his hearing, but he eventually hears a breath.

“I miss you too.”

“I miss you more.”

A stupid smile etched on his lips—an idiotic, hopeful smile.

“Whatever.” He can basically see you roll your eyes. “I’m still not coming. I’m not coming to any of your games, you hear me?”

Until you make it official. He can basically hear you say.

He’s had this conversation a million times, and for some reason, it’s not enough push for him to commit to a relationship. He feels like if it were anyone else, he would not have much of an issue in putting a label on your relationship.

But it’s you.

And he has spent so long wanting you. What if you become his, and then you leave? You break up with him, leave him shattered? There is no breakup if there is no relationship in the first place—the senseless voice in his head keeps on whispering—there is no being left alone if he never decided to stay.

“Tell me if you change your mind.”

You huff to the phone again. “See you, Arda.”

He holds back an I love you, and laughs softly.

“I’ll see you around.”

[love-belle]

always, evermore, even after and still !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they get married and it's the happiest day for everyone.

or

for when you finally find your happily ever after. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - hope u like this!!! i love you so much, thank you for reading <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 2,826,998 others

vogue charles leclerc and y/n y/l/n tie the knot in a grand yet intimate ceremony held at their villa in monte carlo.

the bride wore a valentino couture gown complete with a sprawling train and platform heels while the groom sported a classic black tuxedo. y/n’s childhood best friend, lily muni he, served as the maid of honour, whereas her close friends, carmen mundt, kika gomes and heidi berger were bridesmaids. on the groom's side, lorenzo leclerc, his brother was the best man along while his younger brother, arthur and his friend circle, which included lando norris, pierre gasly, carlos sainz and alex albon were the groomsmen. the guest list included many notable presences such as sebastian vettel, toto wolff, taylor swift, zendaya, timothée chalamet, harry styles and many more.

the couple’s first dance was to the song "love letter from the sea to the shore" performed by delaney bailey followed by "it's nice to have a friend" by taylor swift and "sweet creature" by harry styles.

tap the link in our bio to get a look inside their wedding held at their stunning villa in monaco.

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

yourusername added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 796,528 others

landonorris my two best friends got married and i'm about to make it everybody's problem. congratulations, you horny motherfuckers. don't remember much of last night but as i'm sitting in a cafe in berlin, i know it ruled. here's to a lifetime of happiness, love and blessings and may this marriage not end in a divorce (y/n, lily still has that taxi driver on speed dial, say the word and we'll help you run away)

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

8,638 comments

username stfu im gonna cry

username i feel like a proud parent omg

username we've come so far 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username not lando violating charles on his own wedding post 💀💀💀

username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i love them so much my lord

lilymhe you can still escape just sayin yourusername

-> yourusername i'll keep that in mind, thank you 💋

-> charles_leclerc is it too late to get a divorce

-> yourusername shut up you literally (and legally) signed up for this

username are we gonna ignore that fact that the wedding was in monte carlo and lando's in berlin

-> username how the FUCK did that happen

-> username i just know that the party was WILD

username "may this marriage not end in a divorce" PLS 💀💀💀

username the photos ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username im living for the wedding content we're getting from like half the grid

maxverstappen1 berlin is nice

-> landonorris i know right?

-> username NOT MAX BEING IN BERLIN TOO WTF HAPPENED LAST NIGHT

username the event of the century 🔥🔥🔥

username THEY LOOK SO AMAZING WHATCTHRBUCJ

username in love with these

username god i need a life like this ://

charles_leclerc at least i had a gf and now i have a wife (thanks for the photos but i'm not paying you)

-> landonorris that's a fucked up thing to say to me (i literally hate you so much)

username fuck all the love stories except theirs

username my heart ://

username they SCREAM old money

-> username OMG THAT'S SO REAL

yourusername thank you for these pictures. we love you. take the train back to monte carlo rn or i am giving your gift to george. and thanks for the driver information, will keep that in mind definitely.

-> landonorris anytime. i love you both i guess. DON'T YOU DARE and of course, happy to help.

-> charles_leclerc DELETE THAT NUMBER RIGHT NOW

username charles has been married for one (singular) day and he's already fighting for his life 💀💀💀💀💀

username i love this friend group so much ❤️

username THEY BOTH ATE OMG

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 892,728 others

lilymhe in my head, we're still those teen girls who planned out their wedding days with so much enthusiasm and with so much detail that it would've put these planners and binders to shame. it's kinda hard to believe that my best friend is now married but honestly, y/n/n, i couldn't be more happy for you. you're my best friend and i love you so much. thank you for being just a call away, always. here's to charles (barf) and y/n (❤️)

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

7,926 comments

username SHUT UP IM CRYING

username platonic soulmates ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ

username she's so pretty what the fuck

username Y/N ATE

carmenmmundt the prettiest bride 💕

*liked by lilymhe*

username two pretty best friends 🔥🔥🔥

username y/n looks so pretty what thebfuck omg im gonna scream

username my favs ://

username nah cus lily and y/n literally have my heart like they're my fav pair of best friends

charles_leclerc i remember when you threatened me

-> lilymhe good. remember it for the rest of your life.

-> charles_leclerc y/n she's doing that thing again yourusername

-> yourusername lily

-> lilymhe sorry

-> username NAH NOT CHARLES SNITCHING ON LILY

username she slayed so hard

username the barf and the ❤️ spoke VOLUMES

username im gonna cry they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i wish i had a best friend like lily ://

alex_albon i never get captions like this

-> lilymhe this isn't about you

-> yourusername yeah alex this isn't about you

username y/n's childhood best friend being her maid of honour 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username in love with these two

username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ

yourusername i love you SO fucking much

-> lilymhe i love you so much more

yourusername i'll love you always thank you for everything ❤️‍🩹

-> lilymhe you're my best friend, always here for you and your loser ass boyfriend

-> charles_leclerc I'M HER HUSBAND

-> lilymhe okay and??? she can get another one

-> username PLEASE OH MY GOD

username i adore their friendship tf

username don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc

danielricciardo i had one (1) job and as you can see, i took it very seriously. mr and mrs. leclerc-y/l/n, everybody 💒🍧💐

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

7,682 comments

username LECLERC-Y/L/NS

username THEY'RE SO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i love them sm what the fuck

username my parents ❤️🫶🏼

username LOVING THE WEDDING CONTENT WE'RE BRING FED RN

username she looks so pretty omg ☹️☹️☹️

maxverstappen1 why are you acting like your ass isn't in berlin with us?

-> danielricciardo THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET YOU SNITCH

username WHAT THEBFUCJ HAPPENED LAST NIGJT 💀💀💀💀💀 why are they in berlin

-> username oh the night was wildin 🔥🔥🔥

username daniel.jpg but on main

username love them sm

username SO HAPPY FOR THEM AHSHDHSJDJBS

username living for this content

landonorris berlin kinda cool

*liked by danielricciardo*

username WHY are they in berlin

-> username no it's HOW are they in berlin

username no bc i feel like such a proud mom like i watched go from "hiii/hiiiiiii" to "hehehehe i do/shut up charles, i do"

-> username that's what i call GROWTH

username her dresses ate omg

username i know daniel's not getting paid for shit

username im so ://

charles_leclerc lovely photos mate

-> danielricciardo so will you pay me?

-> charles_leclerc no

username AHHHSHDHDHDHXHXJDJDF

username gonna sob some more

username honestly crying tears rn

yourusername we love you daniel 🫶🏼 (get your ass back to monaco i am NOT kidding)

-> danielricciardo love you guys (omg we're on our way stop you scare me sometimes)

username IM NOT NORMAL ABT THIS

username fav couple

username thank u to daniel for these

-> username doing god's word fr

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc and 2,826,418 others

yourusername words cannot express how much i love you. every single time i think that this is it, i cannot possibly love you more than i do, i'm surprised by myself because i do. i really do. i fall in love with you more and more every single day and i'm gonna spend the rest of my life showing you that. i loved you when you first told me that you really liked my smile and i loved you when you told me you hoped i lived nearer to you and then asked me to move in. i loved you when you took the time to get to know me and i loved you when you said that i was it for you and i will love you when our hair is turning gray and we're gonna look back and smile and fall in love even more. they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes i swear. i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it. here's to my forever love, my everything, my world. i love you ❤️

tagged charles_leclerc

17,527 comments

username GOODNIGHT

username WHAT THR FUCK

username im gonna sob this is so

username they're married 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username people say soulmates we say y/n and charles

username sliding down the door fr this is INSANE

charlotte2304 all my love to you both 💓

*liked by yourusername*

username HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL LIKE

username they're MY parents

username the caption took my heart out and squeezed it

username hahahahaha!!!!! i am NOT okay!!!!!!! what the fuck is up with that caption

sebastianvettel 💐💕

*liked by yourusername*

username he's so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username "i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it" WHEN WILL IT BE ME

username "they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes" me and who lol (i am screaming crying shaking)

username no bc i too deserve someone like this ://

username it's giving timeless by taylor swift

*liked by yourusername*

username they're so taylor swift coded

username GOD ME WHEN

username gonna take a toaster bath brb 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

username don't test me istg

carla.brocker my heart 😭🩷

*liked by yourusername*

arthur_leclerc sister-in-law 💒🩷

*liked by yourusername*

username IM GONNA SCREAM WHAT THE FUXK

username MY parents 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username he's so husband coded ❤️‍🩹

username microwaving a spoon brb

charles_leclerc i love you so much it's unbelievable just how much

-> yourusername i adore you and every part of you

charles_leclerc my forever love ❤️ cannot wait to grow old with you

-> yourusername forever has never sounded so good ❤️

username gonna be thinking abt this for the rest of my life just so u know

username they're setting the standards so high i can't do it anymore what the fuck

username im so 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,826,318 others

charles_leclerc i honestly don't know what to say. you're my biggest dream, my wife and now that i'm saying it, it sounds so surreal. i have waiting been an entire lifetime to say these words and the fact that it's you in this lifetime (and all the others), is just amazing. i wish i had known you sooner, so that i wouldn't have to spend all those years looking for love in places where it couldn't possibly be. my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad. i hope that one day, when we're old and aged and have seen a thousand sunsets, you ask me if i love you and my answer will forevermore will be always, evermore, even after and still.

tagged yourusername

16,628 comments

username I CANNOT DO THIS RN

username everyone stfu im gonna cry

username english lang is so weird bc u say true love and it translates to y/n and charles

username nah the bar is too high atp im giving up

username SHE'S SO PRETTY MA GAWD

username the fact that they're now the leclerc-y/l/ns 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

lewishamilton so happy for you both 💐💒

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username "my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad" why am i crying.

username they're the blueprint for all love stories from now on btw

username I LOBE THEM SO MUVH WHAT GHE FUCK THEY'RE MU PARENTS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 😭 😭 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

usernames no bc the way all the photos are of random moments and this leads me to believe that charles just whips out his camera whenever y/n is just There and now im crying again

-> username he's just like us fr

-> username i too would play paparazzi for y/n is given the chance he's not the only one ://

carla.brocker coolest sister in law (best friend) 🫶🏼

-> yourusername carla i love you 😭

username still in disbelief they r married tbh

username i feel like we watched them grow up im so emotional 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username she's so pretty i could sob

username why did u think that it was okay for u to post this.

username i am not okay

lorenzotl 🤍💐

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username SHE'S SO PRETTY

username charles won at life fr

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username caption called me single and lonely in 26836282727 languages 💔💔💔💔💔

username bro woke up and chose to destroy shakespeare with that caption 💀💀💀

landonorris loved the wedding 👍 i woke up in berlin

-> charles_leclerc the wedding was in monaco???

-> maxverstappen1 i know

-> danielricciardo we obviously had some ideas and now i have an ugly tattoo and there's a ring pop on my finger

-> landonorris max has one too

-> charles_leclerc YOU MARRIED MAX

-> danielricciardo NO

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-> yourusername this is hilarious

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yourusername i have already loved you for a thousand years ❤️

-> charles_leclerc here's to a thousand more ❤️

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-> charles_leclerc i love you so much more mon chéri

username they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username IM SO AHJHSJSHDHDJSKDJD

username im gonna cry brb

[ayeyolooo]

cinnamon rolls!

“CONNIEEEEE.” you shouted from downstairs. “gurl hush, cause if she wakes up you gone get her.” he said referring to your daughter with a little sass in his tone. “pffttt.” you laughed out loud. you heard soft thudding on the stairs, and creaking meaning that someone was coming down them. “now what happened?” he asked rolling his eyes. you held up a pinterest picture of cinnamon rolls. “do you want to make cinnamon rolls with me?” you asked cheesing. connie tried to keep a straight face while looking at you, but he just couldn’t when he seen your chubby cheeks. “of course my beautiful girl.” he walked over and placed his warm tatted hands on your face and lifting it up so that he could kiss your forehead. “yayyyy.” you did a little dance as connie just chuckled and shook his head. you turned on your speaker having the next song on your playlist play.

“okay no connie don’t touch that!” you shook your head moving connie’s hand from the hot oven. “whatttttt im just trying to see if it’s hot enough to place the cinnamon rolls in yet.” he smiled. “omg boy move.” you said laughing and placing the fresh dough, and cinnamon inside of the oven. you closed it and dusted your hands off. “nowwww what should we do to wait for the time?” connie smiled widely. “i have the perfect idea..” he said with a sinister smirk. “omg boy, no.” connie sighed real loud. “please y/n braaa i haven’t even tasted you since she was born man.” connie frowned. you just began to place all of the dishes in the sink you grabbed the yellow and green sponge but connie took it from your hand and lifted you up by your waist. he placed you on the kitchen island“nigga.. moveeee i’m trying to clean uppppp.” you said trying to push connie away. “come on mama, you know you miss the feeling of me being all in yo shit.” you let out a shaky breath and trapped your arms around his neck. he ran his thumb down your lip before pulling you closer and smashing his lips up against yours. he pulled you closer by your waist, as you wrapped your chubby thighs around his waist. smacking sounds and shuffling is the only thing you heard in the kitchen. connie took off your oversized shirt having your body be shown off to him. he looked at you with amazement, he loved every inch of you. from the hairs on your head to the arches in your foot. he began to kiss your neck as you shut your eyes. you had almost forgot what this felt like, and boy didn’t you miss it. connie took you off the island and walked over to the couch which wasn’t far away from the kitchen. he sat down having you ontop of his lap, your tongues clashed against eachothers having drool slide down the both of your chins. you pulled away and was met with green eyes. as you leaned in to kiss him again you heard cries from upstairs. connie sucked his teeth and sighed out loud. you blew your mouth up into a bubble to keep from laughing. “damnnnnnnn.” connie said throwing a little fit before walking upstairs to go and get your newborn baby.

DING! “oh the cinnamon rolls are readyyy!!”

[tokosparrow]

romantic b-127 headcanons

a/n: i haven’t written anything in i like to say a year? and i have a bunch of bee thoughts that need to be let out after getting into the transformers franchise!! (especially tfo but i’ll write for more transformers series soon) i also based this song off studio killers “i wanna ruin our friendship” in parts of it :3!! (it might be a TAD bit ooc at first and very much self indulgent so apologies before i start off!!)

𖦹 you were dropped into sublevel-50 due to maybe straying off from what you were supposed to which made you a tab bit nervous, especially finding out there was another mech down there along side you.

𖦹 you were a bit scared at first but you were quickly greeted by a introduction from the follow mech.

𖦹 “didn’t mean to scare you there, i’m b-127!! or b, or badassatron, either is fine, i’m just glad to finally have someone down here!!

𖦹 after some warming up and him catching you up on what’s needed to do, the two of you become almost instant buddies!!

𖦹 he’d introduce you to his other “buddies” but you really didn’t mind, he was alone after all.

𖦹 b even found himself letting you sleep where he slept before you came and creating you things as your friendship progressed through days and months.

𖦹 he even felt himself feel all giddy when he noticed you wear or use the things he made as you two worked, it even led him to work harder subconsciously.

𖦹 there were even some times where you two slept close to each other since he says it was more “convenient” but yet he felt as it was more than that when it gave him times where he could see you up close.

𖦹 especially with sometimes when you ask him to speak or tell a random story as you sleep since it helped you, it made him feel very helpful and close to you which probably didn’t help his growing romantic feelings for you…

𖦹 one day, far into your friendship with him, he seemed more anxious and a tad bit to himself more than you used to, after the shift of the day you decided to confront him.

𖦹 “i..im fine, nothing for you to worry my dear dear, very dear… bud!!” he tries to reassure you but you weren’t buying and he knew that.

𖦹 after many pleads and trying to have him open up on the sudden change of his upbeat nature, he finally burst his thoughts out all at once.

𖦹 “i don’t know how to say this since you’re really are my dearest friend but i just…i just want to love you more than that…” you were stunned at the sudden confession

𖦹 “i want to be lovers instead!!” he bursted out loud a last confession as there’s no nothing left but just you…

𖦹 he held onto your hands he looked into your optics as he nervously waiting through your silence which scared him more than ever before

𖦹 but before he knew it he felt quick kiss onto his faceplate before he was pulled into your embrace.

𖦹 “i’m so glad i noticed you weren’t acting yourself B…because i feel the exact same…”

𖦹 after that days confession, sleeping close together and sleeping to his voice never felt more intimate, because from that day on he became yours and you became his.

𖦹 maybe being put into sublevel-50 was some destiny turned into the better…

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #60] Obduracy

warnings: starlovers!!!! <33 i really luv jimin in this one hehehe, lots of callbacks to earlier chapters!! fingering, pretty tame by their standards!!! but kinda semi-public? i mean they're at home but like... kitchen?? i dunno up to you to decide!

a/n: this one doesnt have a little cover image :( had to make it fresh :( the first non wattpad chapter :( waaaa. im hoping to having something new ready for you tomorrow hehehehhe

wc: 8.3K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk wears his hangovers incredibly well. Like an oversized shirt draped over his broad shoulders, it billows down his body, leaving you to guess what's hidden underneath. 

It's hard to tell if he's suffering like you are, for his face gives nothing but contentment away.

Hair messy and dishevelled, it sits like an unruly crown on his head as he washes dishes left from the evening before. A soft smile lingers on his lips as he hums along to the song quietly playing through the kitchen speaker, his voice far prettier than the original singer. The king of his very own kitchen, there's an innate flick to his wrists as he shakes water off steel bowls and pops them on the drying rack. 

Chest bare, he pays it no mind when tiny flecks of warm water splash against his skin.

Vines of ink trail up his arm and onto his shoulder. His self-modification proves he wasn't born from gold but rather polished to resemble something like it. 

In a way, it makes him so much more valuable. Or at least it does to you.

As you watch on from a bar stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island, chatting with him about the events of the night before, you wonder how it's possible for a man with a smile like his to have a body like that. 

The maths just doesn't compute, but you've never been great with numbers. Have always been more drawn to art—and God, what a work Jeongguk is.

Quite the contrary, you wear your hangovers with far less grace. 

There's glitter all over your skin, and your hair looks more like a bird's nest than a crown.

In front of you sits a barely touched glass of water and two Tylenol tablets yet to be taken. The thud in your head has only intensified since you woke up with a dry throat and achy body, but you're trying to push through it. 

"You're only making it worse," Jeongguk softly scolds you when you whine and slump down to rest your head on the countertop. "Don't be so stubborn."

When he talks like that, all assertive and domineering, it only makes you wanna be even more stubborn. It's in part thanks to your defiant nature, but also in part due to your desperation to have him use that tone of voice with you again.

"I can defeat it," you whine against the cold stone, a pathetic moan humming in your throat. 

With your hair still damp from your shower, you find yourself irritated by how quickly Jeongguk's hair dries compared to yours. It's your own fault, for you're the one who insists on changing its colour with the seasons, but it annoys you nonetheless.

Then again, everything irritates you when you're this hungover.

Truth be told, you'd happily get your hair wet all over again, if it meant you got to indulge in another shower with Jeongguk. Want nothing more than to relieve the way it feels for him to shampoo your hair, rubbing the pads of his fingers in circular motions against your scalp. If the restaurant doesn't work out, he could always opt to be a hairdresser, you think, then mentally reprimand yourself for daring to even think of a scenario in which the restaurant doesn't work out. Would never forgive yourself if you jinxed it.

Jeongguk doesn't mind the grouchiness that comes with your hangovers, 'cause they always come with an added side of clinginess, too. You had wrapped around him like a koala bear for that entire shower. Had your cheek to his chest, arms tightly locked around his back, eyes firmly closed as he washed your hair.

Gorgeous girl, he thinks to himself, then resumes the stern telling off he was giving you. Just wants you to feel okay, that's all. Knows you're too determined for your own good, sometimes.

"Clearly," he almost scoffs, not mean but definitely a little curt. His head's killing him, too. He just hides it better. Swinging open the fridge, he grabs a bottle of water—2 litres—and cracks open the seal. "Take your pills, or I won't get you anything when I order breakfast."

"Gguk," you whine, slowly sitting up straight to look at him with the biggest pout. Head tipped back, he's chugging on his water straight from the bottle at such a rate you're surprised he doesn't choke.

By the time he's finished, he's practically at the halfway point of the bottle. Shaking his head, he swallows his last mouthful down. Pants, a little. Says, "Water, pills, now."

Narrowing your eyes, you finally do as you're told, but make sure to say, "You're mean."

Jeongguk just shakes his head. "I love you."

With your eyes on his, you try your hardest not to show any sign of weakness—but when he presses his lips into a thin, curved line and smiles in a way that makes it impossible to fight, you can't help yourself. 

"Fine," you strop regardless, tossing your pills back and swallowing them down with a chug of water.

"See," he softly says in a way that is both patronising yet ever so gentle. 

He walks around the counter to stand beside you, and welcomes the innate way your hand reaches up to hold his waist. He's just the same in how his hand cradles your cheek, keeping your face angled to look up towards him. 

"Wasn't so hard, was it, baby?" He gently toys.

"You're the worst," you assure him, 'cause he knows he's being a little git right now.

And so, just like the last incredibly soft insult thrown his way, he fends it off by saying, "I love you."

"If you really loved me, you would have let me stay in bed."

"We have shit to do today, B," he reminds you. "I forced you up because I love you. Now, don't be rude. Say it back."

Jeongguk's ability to demand you say such heavy, ardent words is nothing short of a miracle. 

When you first met Jeongguk, the idea of him being so straightforward and forthcoming with his own feelings felt like an impossible task. Yet here he is, unafraid to tell you how much he cares for you, and unashamed to ask for reciprocation.

Tugging him a little closer, you rest your pointed chin against his sternum, and get him looking down towards you. 

Quietly, you whisper, "You know I love you."

"Say it again," he demands once more, his heavy-lidded eyes trained on yours as he speaks.

"I love you."

He smiles, now. Nods. 

"Good," he says, then pulls away to grab his phone and open up a delivery app. Has his favourite cafe pinned to the top. Clicks through to the menu without a second thought, muscle memory prevailing. "French toast? Iced coffee?"

"You know me so well," you hum with a pleasant smile, hopping off the bar stool and meandering over to Jeongguk's sofa. 

He follows you without hesitation and tugs the blanket from the armchair as he does so. You're wearing one of his shirts, and he's just in a pair of sweats, so a blanket seems like a sensible choice for now. 

Jimin still hasn't risen from his pit, and Nabi's clothes are still in the living room—just in a neat pile now, thanks to Jeongguk's innate need for a clean space to ensure he can power through his hangover. 

"You reckon they're gonna wake up soon?" You ask Jeongguk as he snuggles in beside you, flicking on the television. 

"Not a chance," he laughs. "Nabi's probably gonna escape out his bedroom window or something like that. Spent years denying there was anything going on, and I don't think her pride will be able to take the hit of being wrong."

"You never know," you begin to playfully theorise. "Maybe they're just friends."

"Have you forgotten getting home last night?"

"Well, yeah, but I mean, I shagged you plenty of times, and we've always just been friends."

"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "We've never been just friends."

"No?"

"No," he says with a cocksure confidence that has been earned over many months of knowing you as intimately as he does. Smiling as you roll your eyes, you don't bother fighting back. It's a losing cause. "We're best friends. Duh."

If you could have it your way, the day would be spent exactly like this—cuddled up on Jeongguk's sofa without a care in the world—but you've got work to do.

The gallery needs to be cleaned up from the night before. It's not a huge amount of work, but still tedious labour that you'd rather not do with a raging headache. One of the reasons you're given such liberty with the gallery space is because you always make sure it's left without a trace, and so you know you need to get it sorted sooner rather than later.

Jeongguk's offered to help out, 'cause his day is empty. Other than discussing the business with Yoongi, his agenda is remarkably clear, and if he's being honest, the last thing he wants is to talk about the restaurant. 

See, Jeongguk worries. He's got everything in the palm of his hand—his girl, his dreams, his future. All it takes is one misstep, and he could lose everything.

Comfort is found in you. Solace.

"Smell good," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck, sinking into a more comfortable position snuggled up against you. Doesn't kiss you, but he does let his lips trail up your skin in a way that promises he eventually will.

"Smell like you," you sweetly reply, 'cause none of your things have made their way into his home yet. The shampoo you use is his. The shower gel, the moisturiser, the suncream. It's all him—and you love nothing more than going home with such innocent reminders of him on your skin.

"Mhm," he confirms. That's exactly why he likes it so much. The silage of you is the signpost of him. "Mine."

Any gap between you (which admittedly isn't much at all) is eliminated with the way Jeongguk drags you into his embrace. It's the kind of hug that can only be described as acceptance: there is no you, nor him. Just the pair of you, together. 

It's dangerous territory to embark upon, with such reliance on another person, but it's also a path that you just can't seem to resist.

Laced in berries, the hedgerows of this rambling walk you're strolling down together keep you going forward. Occasionally, you'll stop. Smell the roses. Pluck a berry here or there. Pause when you hear the noise of a wild beast in the forest that surrounds you, or the threatening echo of a farmer and his gun.

But then forwards, you'll go. Destination, unknown. Wherever you end up is exactly where you'll need to be.

The wait for food is wasted away together, dumb conversations about nothing and anything that comes to mind. Jeongguk toys with your fingers. Plays with your rings. Strokes the pad of his index finger over the small callous on your middle one.

"Used to be worse," you acknowledge, holding up your hand to study it. Back when you were in school, the amount of writing and doodling you did meant a callous was inevitable. Now that you're out of the habit of doodling, and far less likely to spend hours writing by hand, it's softened. Almost looks as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Part of your history that is slowly fading away.

One day, you won't be able to recall any part of your life that isn't inexplicitly saturated by him.

He holds up his own hands. Studies them against yours. It's like some juvenile flirt, comparing hand sizes, as if your legs aren't tangled with his, and his other hand isn't wedged between your thighs. 

You're not learning anything new. Are revising, for a lack of a better term. Just like you used to do with the birds, when you wanted any excuse you could use to be intimate with one another. 

It's different now, you suppose. Intimacy. How you view it. Just isn't what it once was. 

Things that used to be sacred to you are now second nature.

Glancing across to Jeongguk as he natters on about the deep line that runs along his palm, and how it signals he's destined for greatness, you realise there's an ache blooming in your chest. 

His pouty lips rabbit on, dark eyes occasionally fluttering across to you, then back to his hand. 

There's a vulnerability to him. It's his eyes, you think, and their need to check in on you. He's making sure you're listening. Interested. Aren't bored or waiting for him to shut up. It's a somewhat nervous habit of his, stemming from the fact he doesn't ever really talk this much with anyone else. 

In a way that no one else is lucky enough to experience, Jeongguk opens himself up to you. About the big and the bad, the emotional and the heavy, but also about the small, lovely, lightweight things, too. Weather talk, mindless chatter he'd never bother engaging in with other people. 

He talks of superstitions and legends, movies he watched as a kid, and dreams he had overnight—a stream of consciousness, all for you.

See, Jeongguk talks. 

Around you, he talks and talks and talks.

If his mother could see him like this, she'd be gobsmacked. He's always been the more quiet one of her sons. Reserved. Cautious to speak in fear of saying the wrong thing.

But he's childlike in his eagerness to share with you, Bambi eyes wide and sparkling, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip whenever he leaves enough room for you to respond. 

Time is lost in conversation until his doorbell chimes—a notice of food arriving. 

"Go get changed," you say, tapping on his knee as you get to your feet. "I'll sort out breakfast." 

Nodding, he does as he's told, lightly spanking your ass before heading to his room. Glancing over your shoulder, you feign a little hurt.

"I'll kiss it better," he promises, and you know he will. 

The curse of his devotion to you means he can never lie. 

He can, however, keep secrets. Small ones. Teeny tiny ones that will have no consequence other than to make you melt when he finally reveals them.

Checking his phone, Jeongguk smiles to himself when he notices a notification of confirmation—plans made now rolling into motion. You cope with surprises far better than he does. Appreciate the romanticism of it all. He's sure you'll like it.

When he comes back into the kitchen, you have to hold in a desperate groan. Who gave him the right to look like that? And how many cats did you save from trees in a previous life to deserve it?

Dressed for the gym, he's in a pair of dark shorts that sit on his hips as if they were made just for him. The contours of his upper body are on display for everyone to see, a tight black compression shirt outlining the ridges on his chest. 

The silver chain he always wears is tucked outside of the shirt, 'cause he doesn't like the pressure of the fabric on top of it, and his hair lays flat against his head. He's perfectly undone.

As he's putting on a pair of socks by the sofa, he clocks you staring. Simply hums, "Hm?"

Eyes wide and unassuming, he's oblivious to the fact you feel like you might faint just by looking at him, even if the socks he's putting on have individual spaces for each of his toes.

We can't all be perfect, after all—though Jeongguk would argue his socks encourage correct toe alignment, which could only be a good thing. 

"Anyone ever told you that you're a menace to society?" You painfully whine, the groan you were hiding making its presence known.

Almost bashful, Jeongguk tips his head to the side, eyes twinkling your reflection back at you. 

"Flattery won't convince me to let you go back to bed," he teases, playing off the compliment. Socks on, he makes his way over to you without hesitation, his tattooed arm draping over your shoulders, as he presses a kiss to the side of your head. 

"Was worth a try," you playfully tease him, even if you did mean it. Hooking your arm around his waist, you give him a squeeze and glance up towards him. A tender kiss is given and received, his lips softly curving into a smile against yours. "Eat up. Quicker we leave, the quicker you can get to the gym, and the quicker you can come back to mine afterwards."

The outline of your day is solid: go to the gallery and get it cleaned up, meander back to town with Jeongguk, send him on his way to the gym, pick up some groceries and then head home. 

Small errands that will eat up most of the day, but an empty evening that can be spent exactly as you'd like: with him.

"We at yours tonight?" He hums, still getting used to just how easy it is to coexist next to you. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a life like this. 

"Feel like Jimin might need the privacy," you note, very much aware that he hasn't made a single appearance, which is very unlike him. He's normally reciting lines from The Notebook by this point in the morning.

You know he's fine, 'cause you heard the synthetic ding of his speaker being turned on a little while earlier, presumably to drown out any 'conversations' he might be having. 

Jeongguk smirks, picking out a strawberry from the container next to the french toast, and says, "He never gave us privacy."

Tossing the strawberry to his back teeth, there's a smile on Jeongguk's lips that's impossible not to mirror. Turning slightly, you get yourself trapped between his body and the kitchen island. Wrap your arms around his neck. Encourage him down to nudge his nose against yours.

"Yeah, but he also never caught us having sex," you remind Jeongguk, lips brushing against his. Breakfast can wait. Or maybe the menu can just change. "We were incredibly well-behaved as far as he's concerned."

"We were?" Jeongguk quietly flirts, his hips pressing against your tummy, letting you know just how much he enjoys being with you. "I don't think you've ever been well behaved."

"Oh, but I am," you simper right back. Reaching down for his hands, you encourage them to roam your body. Squeeze them over your chest, then encourage them down to the tops of your thighs—or, more specifically, between them. "I'm such a good girl for you, aren't I?"

Pressing his fingers up against your thinly-covered cunt, Jeongguk smirks, the subtle markers of your arousal greeting him like they so often do.

"You are," he nods. "And you're gonna be good for me now aren't you?" His fingers hook the lace of your underwear to the side, and gently begin to tease your wet folds. "Gonna keep it nice and quiet for me, huh?"

Nodding, you let yourself succumb to your unbridled desire to have your lips on his as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. With a small whine, you totally disregard the promise you've only just made.

And so Jeongguk shakes his head, still kissing you. Barely parts from your lips when he says, "Shush, shush, shush, baby. Quiet for me."

When he pushes a second finger into you, your brows furrow, but the whine you're dying to sound out just vibrates into his mouth. 

"Attagirl," he praises as his fingers begin to pump inside of you. Deepening his kisses, Jeongguk strokes his tongue against yours, as if your body was just made for him to claim. Signed, sealed, delivered: his. Your hips roll into his movements, but it's not enough. 

As much as he wants to keep you plugged, Jeongguk wants easy access more. 

Pulling his fingers from your cunt, there's a satisfied grin on his pretty lips when you whine. 

"Shush," he says with such affection it could make even the coldest heart thaw. Dipping slightly, he hooks his forearms just beneath your ass and swiftly lifts you up. Gets you perched up on the counter. Spreads your legs, and is pleased when you lift the hem of the baggy shirt you're wearing to fully reveal your pussy to him. 

"Look at you, gorgeous," he husks. Genuinely thinks he might die just from looking at your cunt. Too perfect. Too fuckin' nice. Stroking his still-wet fingers up your folds, he wastes no time sinking two fingers into you once more. "Quiet, baby."

"Room," you breathlessly say, desperately trying not to make any sounds that could give yourselves away. "Don't wanna be quiet. Take me to your room."

Jeongguk just smirks. Looks in your pretty eyes and challenges you. "Say chess. I'm not going to my room, but you can say chess."

He knows there's absolutely no way in hell you're saying chess. 

Narrowing your eyes, you reach to the front of his shorts, and stroke his hard cock through the fabric. If he's gonna make this hard for you, then you're gonna do it right back.

"If you're gonna torture me then you may as well do it right," you feign a little boredom, tugging his shorts down just enough to play with him over his boxers. "Your fingers are nothing, baby." A lie, but that's neither here nor there. "Make things difficult for me. Make it impossible for me to keep quiet."

"You really want Jimin to find out, huh?" Jeongguk teases, still playing on the idea that you've ever managed to convince anyone that you are, in fact, just friends. "You want him to know that we fuck?"

But then Jeongguk glances over your shoulder to the doorway that leads into Jimin's room, as the click of his latch goes. Jeongguk barely has enough time to pull his fingers from you, and definitely not enough time to pull his shorts back up over his boxer-covered boner, so instead, he presses up against you to keep himself covered. Thank God he's behind the island and not anywhere else.

If you thought it was torture before, then now must be a whole new level, just a few layers of fabric keeping you apart.

"It lingers, y'know," the grouchy voice of Jimin echoes from behind you. 

Turning your head, thighs squeezing against Jeongguk's hips to keep his dignity protected, you try to hide your embarrassment. 

Jeongguk's hands rest on your thighs, and the one that's out of sight to Jimin is being wiped against your skin to rid his fingers of your arousal. This could have been so much worse than what it is.

"The smell of sex," he adds with a little disdain. "I always knew."

As if the God of Thunder personally gave birth to him, Jimin's face is stormy as can be. His scowl is so deeply ingrained into his expression that you're certain the wind must have changed in his direction as he was first pulling the face. Whatever you drank last night, he must have had it too.

Hair all haphazard, face a little dewey from a warm slumber, there's an unusual dishevelled nature to Jimin. He's not even bothered to put on clothes. Is quite literally in just a pair of boxers. 

It's quite unlike him. Then again, so are the hickies on his collarbones. 

"Well, that's weird, 'cause me and Jeongguk have never had sex," you reply without even thinking, the lies ingrained into your reflexes at this point. Even Jeongguk looks at you with confusion this time. 

"Firstly, we eat off that counter, sickos. And secondly, I heard," Jimin simply assures you both, walking to the counter and picking up a plastic fork. He sticks it into a chunk of the french toast, and doesn't ask permission. Just chows down on it. Speaks with his mouth full. "Like, so many times. In fact, I've heard you at it so many times I can almost predict what's happening when."

"Bullshit," Jeongguk laughs—and he'd be right. Jimin's never heard, not properly at least, unless you count the muffled groans in Pohang that put him off his food for an entire day. He just hates the embarrassment of being walked in upon by the pair of you. The one time he needed privacy the most and he didn't even think to bolt the door—or better yet, go to his own bloody bedroom. He wants you to know what his embarrassment feels like. Jeongguk is unphased, though. "Nabi still here?"

"Shut up," Jimin replies, pulling the rest of the french toast towards him, closing the lid. He narrows his eyes, then snatches the box right up. Holds it to his chest. Scowls at you both. Turns on his heel and returns to his room, grinning now that you can't see him, shutting the door behind himself. 

Neither of you stop him. 

"Is he…"

"Okay?" Jeongguk finishes off your query. "No idea."

But one thing for certain is that Nabi's possessions are still very much inside the apartment. She's still here, and you're willing to bet he shut the door with a smile, holding his stolen breakfast with all the triumph of a cat who got the cream. 

"On that note," you begin to tangent off, knowing you've already wasted too much of the day. "You okay to drive? Or would you rather take the subway?"

"Subway," Jeongguk immediately responds, reaching over to take a sip of his coffee. "Don't wanna risk it."

And he also wants any excuse he can find to spend time with you. Takes three times as long to get to The Ryu on public transport than it does in his car, especially with how he drives.

"Alright," you don't argue against him or bother suggesting a taxi instead. "And am I cool to leave my things here? I'll pick them up next time—"

"You know you don't need to ask," Jeongguk grins, the ring in the corner of his mouth flipping ever so slightly in that heavenly way it so often does. 

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Keep it here," he says. "Don't take your stuff home next time. Leave it. I'll clear a drawer. Some hangers."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nudges his nose up against yours. "You've been leaving glitter here for months. May as well move onto something more substantial."

As if your heart isn't enough.

"Plus," he considers. "At least that way you can stop stealing all my favourite shirts."

"You love it when I wear your shirts."

"B, I love it when you wear nothing at all," he smirks. "Clothes have nothing to do with it. But on that note, go put some clothes on so we can actually do something with our day."

Reluctantly, you agree.

And just as reluctantly, he lets you go.

The subway is always crowded at this time of day. Jeongguk insists you sit while he stands in front of you, holding on to the railing that runs overhead. It's a small kindness—the kind you never really thought about until you met him and learned how lovely it is to have someone actually care about your comfort and well-being. 

He doesn't spend the journey on his phone like so many of the other commuters. Instead, he focuses on the windows, and the small glimpses indicating where you are along the subway line. Occasionally he'll look down at you and smile. Though you're not sleeping, your eyes are closed, cutting out the harsh lights of the tin can you're situated inside. You've never been more desperate for your bed. 

Once you reach your stop, Jeongguk tightly scoots in behind you on the escalators.

"We can have a quiet night in," he softly promises. His hand rubs at your waist, and the elevated position of your body allows him to press a kiss to your shoulder.

Even despite the fabric of your shirt—one that belongs to him, of course—it still feels like a star is burning through your very being. 

Nodding, you place your hand over his and squeeze ever so gently. Reciprocate his warmth. 

You don't mean to be so grouchy and unexpressive, the hangover just really is killing you. If it wasn't for the video Jeongguk insisted on assessing after waking you up this morning, you might not have even recalled exactly just how raunchy you'd been with him at Dionysus. 

Fucking someone at work had always been one of his covert fantasies; the kind of thing he wanted to do just so he could say that he had. Wouldn't mind leaving the box next to it unchecked on his mental to-do list. Would happily do it all over again.

His notice has been handed in, though. Dionysus is no longer his place of work. His contract runs until the end of the month, but he saved up holiday time. Never has to go back, if he doesn't want to.

As his fingers squeeze a little tighter on your waist, he can't help but wonder if he's making the right choices. He's been comfortable at Dionysus. Wasn't making great money, but was making enough. 

But when you squeeze your hand over his, he knows it doesn't matter. He can make all the bad decisions in the world as long as he doesn't make any that'd result in him losing you.

The weather's slowly been getting warmer over the past few weeks. As you exit the subway station, the sun confronts you with such aggression that you almost stumble from the impact of her punch.

"I'm never drinking again," you whine, bringing the hand of yours that's holding his up to cover your eyes a little. He lets you dictate his movement freely.

"You say that every time," Jeongguk reminds you, playfully nudging into your side, before rounding the corner up towards the gallery. "C'mon. Fake it till you make it. Pretend you don't have one."

"Impossible."

The remainder of the morning is slow. Every time you glance at the clock, it seems only a few minutes have passed. 

Cataloguing and processing the sales of art from the night before is laborious. It takes a lot of mental energy that you can't seem to conjure up.

Jeongguk doesn't really know how to help, but he is far stronger than you. Does all the heavy lifting as you prepare various canvases for shipping.

Eventually, he's left twiddling his thumbs, so you insist he heads straight to the gym.

"I'll meet you after," you tell him, as you sit on the floor of the gallery, crossed-legged, a pencil behind your ear and a million documents scattered around you. Jeongguk has no idea how you can work in such chaos. Finds himself getting stressed out by it.

It takes a solid fifteen minutes of assuring him you'd be fine on your own, but eventually he leaves for the gym. The way you see it, the quicker you both get your tasks for the day done, the quicker you can go back to yours, make some dinner, and call it a night. 

"Call me when you're done, yeah?" He says, lingering by the door because he just can't bear to leave you. As the sunlight peers in through the windows, small speckles of glitter sparkle on his skin. "I'll come meet you halfway."

With an ever-sincere smile, you just laugh. "Go."

Finally doing as he's told, Jeongguk walks backwards until you're out of sight. Feels his heart physically ache in his chest. Doesn't understand why he's so damn pathetic all of the time when it comes to you, just knows he wouldn't change it for the world.

Despite the solitude of an empty gallery, you're perfectly content. The lingering scent of paint and paper isn't too far removed from your place of work. Makes it easy to imagine a life where this could be your work. 

Devoting yourself to this is easy. Passion has always yielded a higher reward for you than wages, so you don't mind burning the candle at both ends.

The situation is becoming strained at best, you know. Eventually, something will have to give.

For now, though, you finish off your jobs. Arrange couriers to pick up the artworks sold, and make sure the names and numbers match the deposits with a copy of Jeongguk's business account bank statement, of which you made him print out for you.

"I can just log into my bank on your phone," Jeongguk had shrugged when you'd first asked him for it, seemingly not realising just how insane he sounded. When he clocked your look of bewilderment, he laughed. "What? It's not like you're gonna run off with all the money."

While this is true, looking at the sheer amount of money in there could make you cry. It's all so attainable now; Jeongguk's dreams and a reality in which they come true. 

So engrossed in your own thoughts, you almost jump out of your skin when a knock sounds at the doorway into the office. 

"Sorry," Shinwon hums ever so pleasantly, a smile on his face, thoroughly bemused by how startled you look. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no," you shake your head, endearingly playing off your embarrassment. "I just didn't expect to see you here! Or see anyone here, for that matter."

Between exhibitions, the gallery will be closed for the next couple of weeks. It's partially to allow for the staff to reset, but mainly to allow for careful considerations of how the space will be used. 

As Jina's maternity leave cover, it's Shinwon's job, but you're yet to see any plans from him. You don't even know which artists are due to be showcased. She did say that a new vacancy would probably open up around this time, and if Shinwon doesn't start putting some tangible hard work in, you wouldn't be surprised if it's sooner rather than later.

There's been no mention of it, though. The big bosses don't seem to care about his underperformance, probably 'cause they know he's temporary.

"Just coming by to drop something off," he explains, holding up a small white envelope. Pressing it down on the desk, he looks uncertain, as if there are words dancing on the tip of his tongue. "It went well last night, didn't it?"

With a tight-lipped smile, you nod. Feel your cheeks swell. "Yeah. Went really well."

"Good," he nods. Is about to leave. Pauses when he reaches the door, and awkwardly turns to face you. Nods towards the letter on the desk. "There's gonna be a position opening up soon. You should apply. I'll put in a good word."

Furrowing your brows, you glance over the white envelope, then back to Shinwon. "But they're not hiring any—"

"Letter of resignation," he concedes with a tight-lipped smile. "I've got an overseas opportunity that I don't wanna pass on. I'll work my two weeks, but then there'll be a position to fill until Jina is back from maternity."

By overseas opportunity, he really means that some of his private school buddies are going travelling, and he wants in on the fun. This was always an opportunity of convenience for Shinwon. He was never passionate about it. Not like you are.

"Apply," he encourages. "You basically do my job as it is for free, anyway. May as well get paid for it if you can."

He doesn't stay to chitchat. Probably won't even remember your existence once he heads off on his trip. Was never in this for the right reasons.

You've resented him on plenty of occasions. Been annoyed at the fact he does fuck all and gets paid for it. Yet the idea of actually filling his (albeit incredibly small) shoes is fear-inducing.

A job at the gallery would be the first step to actually doing what you love for a living—being around art and artists. Sure, you could argue that the art cafe gives you that, but a highschooler nervously painting by numbers on a first date has nothing on the works that you see here.

There's joy to be found in your current job, though. Fun. Safety. Home.

But nothing remarkable ever happened to people who choose to remain comfortable.

Quickly finishing your to-do list, all you want to do is speak to Jeongguk about it. See what he thinks. You know it's a no-brainer. You have nothing to lose. You just want him to give you the green light that you're making the right choices.

The headache you've been battling is weak in comparison to your racing thoughts, now. You're thinking of the possibilities—of all of your hard work actually being for something. You've proven to the gallery that you can bring in punters, and that you can utilise their resources for profit. 

It's always been a case of who you know, not what you know, but you know the gallery, now. They know you. 

It could really happen. 

By the time you reach the gym, fantasies of a life with a staff ID card and access to the archives, you can't stop smiling. It'd change your life. Flip it upside down in the best of ways.

The gym is just the same as it always has been. There's a new girl behind the front desk. Not someone you recognise. Smiling as she greets you, she's keen to help, long dark hair tied into a ponytail, her branded shirt tight to her curves. You're reminded that the gym is a breeding ground for beauty, but it doesn't matter. You'll get your cardio in later beneath your sheets. 

She's also got the kind of smile that you just can't help but reciprocate. 

"I don't have a membership," you begin to explain, knowing just how troublesome it was on your first ever visit and not wanting a repeat of it. There's no way you're paying for a month, 'cause now you don't need it as an excuse just to see Jeongguk. You also can't help but overcompensate, and give far too many details in an awkward, endearing mess of an explanation. "Well, I mean, I used to have one so my details are probably on the system. Sorry, not important. I know you guys don't do day passes—"

Furrowing her brows, she kindly interrupts. "We do."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she says, nodding towards a sign in the corner of the countertop. Clear as day, daily and weekly memberships are listed. "We've done them for as long as I've been here. Don't think it's a new policy. Anyway, happy to help—just a day membership?"

Jiyeong might be a distant memory now, but thoughts of her will never fail to irritate you.

"Yeah please," you smile regardless, sliding your card out from your pocket—and then you're over explaining again. Probably habit from the Jiyeong era. Is also probably why you make a point to mention Jeongguk by a title only you have the privilege to use. "I'm just joining my boyfriend for a session. He's—"

"Oh, he's a member?" she chirps, not rude in her interruption but efficient.

"Yeah," you nod, and are about to mention him by name, but the girl speaks too quickly again.

"Oh, you should have said! Members get a monthly plus one. It's not a free session, but it's half price, so better than nothing," she smiles. "I'll just need his gym ID—or name, I can search the system—so I can put it through."

You know she really ought to ask Jeongguk's permission. You could be any random woman. 

But you're not, and so you tell her. "Jeon Jeongguk?"

"Ah," she nods, vaguely aware of his existence. Unlike Jiyeong, she hasn't spent a substantial amount of time fawning over Jeongguk. To her, he's just another dude who comes in and leaves her alone. She appreciates it, given how some guys can be, but she also doesn't care to reward bare minimum. 

She asks you to confirm his phone number, which you can do without issue, so at least there's some level of security in place. 

It's a perfectly pleasant exchange, and it thankfully rids you of woes you didn't even realise you had. The Jieyong debacle had left a mark on you, but it feels like it's been rubbed clean. Your mind tends to jump to thoughts of her whenever he goes to the gym, and so at least you can sleep well knowing that the new girl isn't interested in any way shape or form.

Buzzing you through, she tells you to enjoy yourself—but as you start heading up the stairs to the main gym section, you already feel your regret looming. A hangover is still a hangover.

You clock Jeon Jeongguk almost immediately. How anyone isn't immediately drawn to him, you'll never understand. Just finishing up with some weights, he's re-racking the ones he's used, skin glowing with sweat. 

There's a beauty to seeing him like this. Primal desires. 

Glancing up to the mirrored wall behind the rack, Jeongguk eyes are on yours just as quickly. It's like you're magnets, destined to meet.

A confused smile etches into his exhausted face, brows furrowing as he turns to face you.

"What are you doing here?" He mouths, head puppy-like in the way it tilts. 

Shrugging your shoulders, you walk towards him. Mouth, "I just love the gym."

"Liar," he simpers when you're within earshot, reaching his hand out for you to take so he can pull you closer, of which he immediately does.

One hand clasped in his, your other hand rests on his still-heaving torso. He's gone hard today, to make up for the night before. His compression shirt is silky beneath the palms of your hands, the strong ridges and contours of his body yours to hold. Other people can look all they like. None of them get to feel. Not like you do.

As he looks down at you, there's a softness to his gaze. A smile that he doesn't care to hide. A sparkle in his eyes that shines even out of direct light. Just a consequence of looking at a star.

"You shouldn't be here," he quietly hums. "We both know you hate it."

"I can go, if you like?"

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Smiles as he turns you both around and begins to walk backwards, pulling you with him.

"You're the one who hated being here," he reminds you. "I loved you being here."

"Obsessed," you grin, gingerly letting him drag you anywhere he likes. "And good, 'cause I used your monthly plus one."

"Yeah," he confirms, ignoring the curious glances of other people in the room as he leads you back to your old 'spot'. "Thought we'd established that already? And that's fine. Use it every month."

Funny, how you used to hypothesise over the lives of other people in this very room, and how you know others must be doing the same for you now. You hope they all think you're besotted with him.

When you look at him like that, all love drunk and starry-eyed, how could they not?

"Was just about to finish up, anyway," Jeongguk tells you, heading in the direction of the treadmills. Glances back to you, then nods in their direction. "For old times sake?"

"For old times sake," you beam, following his lead, stepping up onto the treadmill closest to you. They're all vacant, but Jeongguk steps up on the one beside yours, 'cause of course he does. He'd go on the same one as you, if it were possible. 

God, he loves you being here. Can't stop smiling.   

You don't mention the potential job opening. For old times sake.

Instead, you revel in what it used to be like whenever you came to the gym, 'cause it just makes you so much more grateful for what you've become. Like Dionysus, these four walls saw the groundwork of your relationship being laid. 

You've already lost access to one of the most important places to you both with Jeongguk leaving the club. 

If you change jobs, you'll lose the art cafe, too. The lease is coming up soon on your place, and if Danbi chooses to just move in with Tae, that'll be another safe haven gone. One by one, places of your past are closing their doors to usher you forward into new spaces. 

Life can't always stay the same. Change is needed. Necessary. 

You've changed. So has Jeongguk. You'll continue to change for years to come.

The difference now is that you'll change together. Adapt. Merge, in some ways, just like a pair of orbiting stars so often do.

On the way home, Jeongguk picks up a bunch of wildflowers from the market stall he once bought you apology flowers from. His fingers are intertwined with yours as he pays, hands lightly swinging. 

It dawns on you all rather quickly, as Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip and waits for the payment to go through, that maybe this is a change that you needn't fight. Perhaps it's okay to look forward to your future instead of being hung up on the past. 

"C'mon," he tugs on your hand as you leave the market stall, encouraging you to gain a little momentum. "I'm starving. If we don't get me food soon, I'll turn into you with a hangover."

"Cute?"

"Oh, so close," he grins, then shakes his head. "But no. Grouchy and unbearable."

"You were practically begging to shag me," you remind him. "Can't have minded that much."

Jeongguk can't argue against this one. "I didn't—but working out increases like… all the hormones that were working overtime this morning. If I don't eat soon I might die, but if I don't shag you soon, I also might die. Honestly it's a lose-lose situation, B. There's only one solution."

"Sixty-nine?" You offer, 'cause it's perfectly logical. He gets to eat while you get him off. A win-win, you'd argue.

"You're a disgusting pervert," he tells you with stern sharpness, paired with a smirk he just can't help, as if he totally wasn't angling for you to say it. "But now that you mention it, yes. That'd be ideal."

"I don't shag boys who call me disgusting," you reply, knowing that he absolutely didn't mean it like that. You just like winding him up.

"I'm pretty sure I've called you worse before," he reminds you, then holds the flowers out in front of you both. "These can double as apology flowers instead of just my-girlfriend-is-really-pretty-and-I-love-her flowers."

You narrow your eyes as you look across to him, but the smile on his face is just too hard to resist. Thin lipped, his dimples are present, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth. 

It's like his lip ring does the thing and you're reduced to jelly.

"Lucky you're cute," you grumble.

"You can thank my mum for that one," he offers, fully aware of how often people would coo over his cuteness as a child and then proceed to tell his mum how similar they are. "And for how pretty I am, too."

Though he's just joking, he's right. He really is the prettiest man you've ever known, inside and out.

You won't tell him this, though. Would give him far too much negotiation power.

"Who do I thank for how annoying you are?"

“Jimin,” Jeongguk says. "That's a learned behaviour. Nurture over nature."

"Figures," you accept, before tugging on Jeongguk's hand to lead him into a grocery store. "I've got nothing in. Need to pick up food or else you'll be going hungry."

"I thought we already agreed on six—"

"A little decorum please," you cut him off. "We're in a public space."

"You said it first!"

Playfully shrugging, you let go of his hand and grab a basket as you enter. "Watcha fancy?"

"You."

"For dinner, idiot."

"B," Jeongguk sighs as if he really is hard done by. "We've already discussed this. Literally, you."

"Shut up," you laugh, and let the shopping trip descend into chaos. 

Jeongguk just puts whatever catches his eyes into the basket. Gets a kinder egg and a hot wheels car. Will surely just run it over the curves of your body when you're in bed later that evening. Also gets an entire pineapple, and when you raise an eyebrow, he just shrugs. 

"If I don't have a snack before I shower I will die," he assures you. "I'm craving a burger, so you should really be thanking me for the noble sacrifice I'm making. It benefits us both."

"You're an idiot."

"Fine, I'll get a burger."

But when he goes to put the pineapple back, you stop him. Smile. Say, "Pineapple is good."

"That's what I thought," he stands tall and proud, chest puffed, head tilted back. He looks like an asshole but god damn, does he look good doing so. As he peers down at you, you know it'll be a miracle if you even make it to the shower by the time you get home. Want him too bad.

"Stop bickering," you tell him. "Quicker we get home, the quicker we can—"

"Say no more," he nods, taking the basket from you, then zooming off up the aisle. "C'mon, B! Places to be! People to see!"

As he darts off to the next aisle, all you can do is wonder how on earth this is your life.

But it is—and when you finally find him again, standing in line to pay, basket full to the brim from his supermarket sweep, you know that all these changes happening around you really don't matter as long as you have him.

"Alright," you quietly say as you stand beside him, flicking open your phone and heading for your taxi hailing app. "I'll order a taxi. Don't want you to die on the way home."

"Teamwork," Jeongguk smiles. 

"It makes the dream work, or so I heard," you hum with a somewhat smug smile, pleased to be getting exactly what you want: time spent with Jeongguk away from the prying eyes of the three fates.

"Yeah," he quietly says, leaning over to press a kiss against the side of your head. "It sure does."

[foreverromanticising]

Two Hands! - Lando Norris

F1 Song Prompt List

mdni! 1.9k words inspired by 2 hands by tate mcrae and im VERY open to a part two or even an extended version of this concept bc i looooove it, thank u @pontiacbandittju for the idea

He could do casual, he could be nonchalant, he didn’t have to give his all to a girl that only wanted him in the dark of the night. But god did he want to. It was your idea to remain casual, to keep a good thing instead of tainting it with the pressure of a relationship, and Lando was happy to oblige under your premises of no strings attached. In retrospect, that seemed easier said than done as he was far more than attached now.

It started off during summer break when he was visiting Max in London thus spending much more time with Max and all of his friends that Lando was yet to meet. You wouldn’t have said you were a friend of Max but more so Pietra’s friend but being with her so often obviously meant you spent more time Max, then more time with his friends, thus more time with Lando. 

The first night you had met Lando was originally meant to be a very relaxed night at the pub down the road from Max and Pietra’s flat, but there was absolutely nothing relaxed about the way you were drinking that night. You weren’t sure how it happened, none of you were, Lando had insisted on shots and then Max kept buying rounds and you couldn’t remember if you had eaten dinner in order to line your stomach. With what came of the night you were sure you hadn’t eaten.

With every drink, the proximity between yourself and Lando grew smaller. Thighs pushed together with his fingertips playing with the ends of your hair, faces far too close and noses almost bumping. It was all smiles and soft touches, the pub offering a warmth that a London night could never amount to. Maybe it wasn’t the warmth of the pub causing the blush to creep onto Lando’s face, rather the pretty girl clinging to his side as he conversed with Max - God, he hoped you couldn’t notice.

Why had Max kept you hidden from him for so long? 

Nonetheless, the time came for everyone to call it a night and taxi back home. However, the excessive amount of drinks you had consumed that night soon caught up with you, your legs giving way as you stood up from the booth although Lando was quick to grab your waist and keep you upright. Once you had made your way outside, Max and Pietra bid you farewell for their apartment was only a block or two away, but not before ensuring you and Lando had a taxi booked to get home safely.

“Yeah, two stops, we’re good.” Lando nodded profusely, the alcohol flowing through his system making his far more enthusiastic than he usually would be.

Soon enough, his friends were out of his eyeshot and he nosed at your cheek, lips beginning to trail along your jaw and down your neck.

“So, back to my hotel then?” He wasn’t keen on wasting time or opportunities, however he wasn’t sure his sober self would be so forward with you but he couldn’t help it after feeling you so closely the whole night.

“We could just go back to my place?” You suggested, tilting your head back to allow him more access to your neck, not even thinking twice about the marks he could be leaving. 

It didn’t take him much convincing before you both piled into a taxi headed in the direction of your apartment. His hand found its home on your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress up the slightest bit as his fingertips danced higher up your skin. 

Before you knew it, you were outside your front door digging through your bag for your keys whilst Lando’s hands made their way up and down your body, his chest pressed tight to your back. You turned your head to sneak a glance at him, “Found them.” You were glad you could unlock your door with muscle memory for Lando’s lips captured yous before you could even try and open the door in a logical manner.

“Where’s your bedroom, pretty?’ His voice is laced with something dark, shutting the front door behind him, and leading your further back into your apartment once you point in the direction of your bedroom.

He starts off slow, fingers with a ghosting touch making their way from your waist and up your arm until your hand is intertwined with his. His nose bumps against yours for what feels like the millionth time tonight without properly kissing you as his other hand starts to play with the hem of your dress, hiking it up and up until your lace panties and hip bone are on show.

“It’s a pity they’re red, I hate red,” He trails his fingers along the waistband of your lace, refusing to dip them further despite the way your arch into his touch. “Gonna have to get rid of these, y’alright with that?” His breath is hot against your neck as you feel his teeth scrape along your skin.

“Please, Lan, just stop talking and do something,” You near enough rolled your eyes at him, not appreciating how long he was taking. “I need your hands, please.” The words left your lips as though it was painful to be without his touch.

He takes his two hands to pull your panties down your legs, helping you step out of them before pocketing them in the back of his jeans, earning a quizzical look from you. “Safe keeping.” He flashed a grin at you before you pushing you back onto your bed, towering his body over yours. His lips meet yours again and you can quite literally feel the smile off of him. His hands slide up to your waist, pushing your dress up again in the process, and you gather what he’s trying to do and help him slip the dress over your head until your laying bare below him.

Although, you don’t let the imbalance last for long before your leaning up to pop open the buttons of his shirt, not daring to break the kiss in the meantime. But Lando does, pulling away from your lips so he can get a good look at you as take his shirt off, peering up at him through your lashes before throwing his shirt to the side of your bedroom. The sight of you below him is one Lando wants etched into his memory forever. Seconds after, his jeans are thrown aside too to leave him in an alarmingly tight pair of boxers.

Your hand trails down his chest slowly, nails dragging along his skin causing goosebumps to arise on his skin, until you reach the waistband of his boxers. Your fingers slip under his boxers, only brushing along him for a moment before he captures your wrist. “No, you first.” He says through nearly gritted teeth, knowing he wouldn’t last another minute if you went any further.

He leans down to press kisses along every inch of your skin that he can get to, spreading your legs open so he can capture the skin of your thighs between his teeth before he drags his tongue over you and eliciting a sharp gasp from you. Your hands fly to his hair, fingertips wrapping around his curls to keep him in place whilst his mouth utterly laps at you.

He pulls away for a moment, looking up at you across the planes of your body, bared for him. He takes in the arch of your back, your hair sprawled across your pillow- “C’mon, please.” You near enough whine for him and it’s just what he needs to hear before he opens you up with his fingers. “Sorry, baby.” He presses a quick kiss to your hip bone as you writhe under his touch.

Keeping his fingers at work, he moves up your body and presses kiss along your skin as he works his way up. “Taking it so well, pretty. Wish you could see how you look like this, so pretty.” He whispers the words in your ear, nibbling at the shell as he can feel you drawing closer until your panting out his name like a surge of shockwaves has been sent through you. 

“Lan.” You wrapped your arm around his body, pulling him close to you as he slipped his fingers out of you and you had to fight back a whine. 

“That was good, yeah?”

Good didn’t seem like the word to describe it you thought, stars covering your sight. You knew that couldn’t be your last time with Lando and you set out to ensure that. He found himself spending more nights in your apartment than his own hotel during his summer break. His two hands had found a home on your body, getting to know your every curve, freckle, and scar.

The thought of what could be constantly crossed his mind, although not daring to bring it up to you again for one night he had asked: ‘Let me take you out for dinner, get you all dressed up.’ He said as his lips trailed over your collarbone, arms wrapped around your waist as he was helping you comedown from your high. ‘Why don’t we just keep this unlabelled? Something fun instead?’ You had answered after pondering over his question for a moment.

“Dinner can be fun too.” He answered, trying to hide the embarassment he was battling over being rejected.

“Dinner leads to something more,” You hummed, knowing dinner with Lando wouldn’t be a bad thing. If anything, you knew you would enjoy it. The two of you got along like a house on fire, a perfect fit for each other it seemed, but you were happy with your current arrangement.

You knew that when Lando’s summer break ended he would go back to jetting across the world every other week, you knew that was unsustainable for a relationship and you just weren’t sure that you could open yourself up to inevitably get hurt in the end. A casual night together every now and then, when you both just happened to be in the same place at the same time, was more than enough for you even if your heart was telling you otherwise.

But, Lando accepted your answer for what it was, not daring to push you into something you didn’t want even if he could feel an ache in his chest because of it. 

So, every few weeks when he ended up in London or you in Monaco, one of you would send your address to the other without another word spoken. It was a silent and casual agreement but it worked, for both of you. Casual was good, he could be casual but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to allow himself to pine in silence.