#vodka answers stuff

[invodka-veritas]

u give off "small yet effective hatchet" vibes

THANK YOU

[nashdoesstuff]

JAA THE WAY I FUCKING AUDIBLY GASPED

aGGHHHHHHHHHHVDNJDJDJDHD KISSING HER ON THE FOREHEAD MUAH MUAH I LOVE THIS WHAT?????

YOU’RE THE BEST ILY /P /GEN

[mustangs-flames]

OH MY GOSH MUSTANG. HOW COULD YOU? THEY'VE BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH.

Also Idk how it took me so long to see the pattern of sons growing up to act like their father in the same way that made them traumatized. It makes me worried for Adam, who had 2 dads that were both terrible.

It's only going to get worse for them tbh :)

Quite a lot of the characters perpetuate cycles from their parents at some point in the story. Part 6 really focuses on Mark's anger issues and Cian's inability to handle grief in a healthy way and the substance abuse (alcohol) he ends up relying on to try and cope when smoking isn't enough anymore. They both have to break it in order to move forward but they do some shitty things whilst trapped in their spirals, which is supposed to link/parallel to m!Cesar's acceptance of humanity and becoming a better person. Something something, even after you've done bad things you can still do better, but you have to actively make the choice and work hard at it, you know?

Idk if any of that makes sense but it will as Part 6 comes out lmao

[piastappies]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 GORGEOUS! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. oscar piastri x leclerc!reader

summary. the youngest leclerc was known to be an outgoing, extroverted menace, but suddenly when she meets the new mclaren driver, she does something she never does — gets embarrassing.

notes. a fair warning for the google translated french.im sorry if it sucks 😭😭 its my first time doing something like this and i really hope u like it :3 ALSO??? OSCAR WIN IN BAKU WAS SO BEAUTIFUL THE OVERTAKE?? THE DEFENDING?? a great day for piastrination!!!!! (can you tell i totally dig x leclerc!reader??) send requests for more smaus pls :)

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc and 127 621 others.

yourusername spreading the rbr agenda on the streets of kyoto, because your girl finally graduated journalism and engineering with honours!

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arthur_leclerc charles just saw the jacket and had an aneurysm LMAO

user1 someone check on leclerc pls

charles_leclerc cant believe my OWN baby sister wears that in public

yourusername ill take it off once ferrari releases their own energy drink 👍

alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous as usual ❤️

yourusername please dump my brother and date me instead

yourusername please i beg you

yourusername JUST ONE CHANCE 😭😭😣😣😣😭😭

user2 yn is one of us

maxverstappen1 looking good in blue! 💙

loved by author!

yourbff girl land that job or you gon go broke soon with that red bull addiction 👎👎👎

user3 atp yn is sponsoring the team 😭

yourbff you bet she is, girl

user4 double major in such different things pop off queen

user5 need to see her in paddock cos i know the girl is bout to argue with ferrari engineers

yourusername bin*tto left ferrari cos he knew i would drag him down 😁😁😁

user6 love how we had to go thru the 2023 drought without the baby leclerc and now shes baaaack

user7 fr i missed the times when ferrari wasnt the only thing making charles miserable

user7 congratulations on graduating queen!!!! cant wait for the new vid or to see u at one of the races 🥺

user8 im sorry im really new to f1 stuff who is she and why are the drivers here? 😭

user9 this is charlies sister yn!! but she has her youtube channel where she used to post a lot of diff stuff! shes been living in japan for the past four years of her undergrad degrees but due to the workload she had a hiatus for a year 💔💔 u should check out her channel its so cool

arthur_leclerc

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 320 612 others.

arthur_leclerc good day in monaco today, changing professions to a photographer rn, what u think of that?

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user10 arthur you had one job to bring your sister to paddock…

user11 its just friday girl calm down

yourusername please restrain yourself from posting pictures of that ugly face you see in the mirror

yourusername …WHO IS IN THE SECOND SLIDE

yourusername ARTHUR ANSWER ME

yourusername my ovaries are quacking rn ARTHUR ANSWER ME

user12 not yn simping over oscar AND calling arthur ugly 😭😭😭

user13 shes so me tbh

charles_leclerc such a handsome man on the third slide 🔥🔥🔥

olliebearman why is yn tweaking like that 😭

yourusername cos he’s so pretty

oscarpiastri you were supposed to send me the picture not POST IT

user14 this is the guy yourusername 🔥‼️‼️

yourusername omg hes SO gorgeous

oscarpiastri thank you…?

arthur_leclerc yourusername please stop embarrassing the family name

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 101 892 others.

yourusername a quick pit stop in paris before the monaco course is broken!!!!!! (source: trust me bro 🙂‍↕️) drinking for my pookie dookiest brother to secure that pole and p1 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

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yourusername dont let the caption fool you, i am NOT stopping drinking vodka red bull to make sure rbr doesn’t lose their biggest sponsor (me)

maxverstappen1 ty for your service 🫡🫡

yourusername no prob pookie, lecfosi by association but a red bull girlie at heart 😌😌

yourusername big thanks to the autocorrect ❤️❤️❤️ youre the real one babe 🔥🔥🔥

user15 wait till she realises oscar is in the likes…

user16 ohh the girl is gonna be so messy 😭😭😭

user16 im all for it tho 🔥

lilymhe WHAT A GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL

alexandrasaintmleux face card is never denied!

user17 oscar in the likes 🥹🥹

yourusername WHO IS IN THE LIKES??????

yourusername NOO OH MY GOD HES HERE

yourusername HI YOURE SUPER CUTE oscarpiastri

user18 SHE TAGGED HIM LOL

user19 she really want that dick…

yourusername i just think hes cute that is NOT a crime

oscarpiastri i think you’re really cute too :)

yourusername HXJSKSJJDBDJSJS

yourusername sorry a red bull ran across my screen 😭

arthur_leclerc yourbff please tell her she’s not as slick as she thinks she is

twitter

user20 what do you expect 😭😭 she probably partied all night before getting to monaco

user21 LMAOO RIGHT??? but if you watched her vids you know that the girl LOVES an opportunity for a party

user22 yn stronger than me because i’d kiss him on the spot

user23 alr weirdo… they JUST met

user24 he is probably weirded out like imagine meeting a girl who SIMPS over you in the insta comments… she needs to chill

user25 he won’t pick you 👎👎

user26 gtfo if he was weirded out he wouldnt be in the likes of her post or sayin he thinks shes cute lol

user27 the real gentleman out there 🥹🥹

user28 i need them together asap

user29 super delulu but i totally dig the golden retriever gf x polite black cat bf

user30 OMGGG I TOTALLY SEE THE VISION

user31 pls they just met and he was just being polite 👎 stop trying to get into their lives

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 428 621 others.

yourusername HE DID IT!!!! I TOLD YALL THAT HE WOULD DO IT!!! MY BROTHER WINS IN MONACO. DONT HIT US UP FOR THE NEXT WEEK OR TWO!!! ITS CELEBRATION TIME!!!! aussi, charlie, il n'y a pas beaucoup de mots capables d'exprimer à quel point je suis fier de toi. vous l'avez fait et personne ne peut vous l'enlever.

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priniya translation! also, charlie — there isn’t an amount of words able to express how proud i am of you. you did it and no one can take it away from you.

user32 girlie might tell everyone she’s a red bull girl, but like the king sebastian once said, everyone is a ferrari fan even when they say they’re not or something like that 🔥🔥🔥

user33 CONGRATULATIONS CHARLES!!! FINALLY WON!!!

carlossainz55 ay cropped my ‘carlos p3’ out 😖😖

yourusername this is a celebration post for my pookiest brother you are IRRELEVANT rn

carlossainz55 that was harsh

yourusername win YOUR home race and i’ll post one 4 u 👍👍

charles_leclerc je t’aime mon lutin ❤️

yourusername je t’aime mon coco 🫶🫶🫶

oscarpiastri congratulations to the man of the day, such an honour to stand next to you on the podium xx

arthur_leclerc man you gotta stop commenting on her posts, she’s going insane rn

oscarpiastri i’m sorry…?

yourusername NO DONT BE SORRY DONT LISTEN TO HIM IM COMPLETELY SANE

yourusername oscarpiastri please keep interacting with me i’m gonna die if you listen to arthur

oscarpiastri i guess i gotta text you now and then to make sure you don’t die

yourusername please do that

user34 do they know we can see that??

user35 idc im eating this up

user36 oscaryn truthers rise and shine

user37 atp i cant tell if hes interested or if hes doing that for his own entertainment

user38 probably both

user39 i LOVE how a celebration post for charles turned into an opportunity to flirt with oscar 😭😭

user40 she is NOT stronger than me because if i had a chance i’d took it

user41 setting her priorities straight

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 792 721 others.

oscarpiastri a quick but very much needed pit stop before zandvoort

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user42 someone check on yn ASAP

user43 yn one of us once again because we couldn’t bag oscar either 😭

user44 can yall stop talking abt that girl FOR ONCE no one gaf

landonorris looking good mate

liked by the author!

yourusername pls tell me you found more of these beautiful seashells and brought some back for me

oscarpiastri we did actually! y immediately thought abt you and picked the pretty ones

yourusername GOD. i love her give her a big hug from me

oscarpiastri will do maam 🫡🫡

user45 so it’s not yn in the pics?? NOOOOO

user46 my life is ruined rn

user47 throwing oscaryn into a memory box because oscar and his gf looks really cute together

charles_leclerc hope you had a great summer mate

oscarpiastri the best 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

user48 what if they r just trolling us because this caption looks really similar to the one yn posted before monaco???

user49 OMGGG YOURE ONTO SOMETHING

user50 hopefully on the way to the psych ward because this is some delulu shit

user51 soft launch over the summer 🥹🥹 hes so cute

user52 whoever his girl is, i just hope they’re happy and yall should too!

yourusername also plsplspls can y send me the id to the top?? it looks so cute from the back

user53 girl he wont choose you stop trying so hard 😭😭

user54 they can be friends ? lol

user55 does someone knows who the girl is???? i need to know its not yn 😭😭

user56 georgerussell63 tell us what you know 🫵🫵

georgerussell63 🤐🤐🤐

alex_albon he’s actually crying and gritting his teeth because he’d LOVE to tell

gossipracegirl

liked by georgerussell63, user57 and 87 621 others.

gossipracegirl a rumour has it that a driver for formula one with a number eighty one was seen getting cozy with one of his on-track rival’s little sister, while in a relationship. was it a drunken mistake or was it all planned?

tagged oscarpiastri yourusername

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user58 something is really wrong with leclercs one is a homie hopper and second is a homewrecker LOL

user59 shouldve happened in monaco so the people could get detained for invading their priacy like wtf WHO CARES

user60 all she do is bring bad pr to oscar BOO👎👎👎

user61 nooo oscar pookie you were supposed to be free from drama 😭😭

user62 gr63 in the likes LMAOO

user63 not yn being a homewrecker girl i liked u sm 😭😭

user64 yall acting like she’s in the wrong ? it gotta be consensual if they looked that chill n happy

user65 no wonder why yn has been streaming olivia rodrigo RELIGIOUSLY

user66 isnt that some type of incest atp?

user67 LMAOO imagine making out with your brother’s adopted son

yourusername

liked by pascale_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 273 811 others.

yourusername YALL THOUGHT. it was me all along :P i was giggling n kicking my feet pretending i know osco’s gf while it was ME. summer break vlog with osco coming up sooner than u think so please stop calling me a homewrecker 😖😖😖

also, girls don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, being yourself is what gets you an amazing guy even if your brother thinks youre embarrassing <3

tagged oscarpiastri

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georgerussell63 ty for not SLACKING OFF anymore i barely could hold it inside 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

yourusername you told HALF the grid be for real brother you DID NOT hold it inside

fransisca.gomes no way oscar bagged you before i could 😭😭😭😭

yourusername i’m always gonna be yours kiks no one could take you away from me <3

francisca.gomes <3

pierregasly really thought getting u a bf would mean you leave MY girl alone

yourusername thinking is not your best thing, stick to racing

user68 shit user48 YOU WERE RIGHT

user48 NEVER DOUBT ME BITCHES

user69 this text?? oh he is down bad for you girl

user70 i need all of those bitches who called yn a homewrecker to APOLOGISE like rn

oscarpiastri thank you for letting me be a part of your life like this

user71 i know the girl is GIGGLING rn

yourusername thank YOU for making a part of YOUR life

user72 get yourself a man who THANKS you for being with you

user73 oscar piastri is the MAN

user74 osco 🥹🥹

user75 theyre the cutest your honour

arthur_leclerc cant believe you two are actually together

arthur_leclerc what is WRONG with you oscarpiastri

user76 SO OPPOSITES DOES ATTRACT

charles_leclerc i feel like i should tear those adoption papers apart no?

user77 nicole and pascale in the likes omg the moms r proud 🥹

hattiepiastri i miss youuuu come back to aus soon

yourusername I MISS YOU TOO 😭😭 i’ll be back soon!!

lorenzotl ❤️❤️❤️

liked by the author!

lilymhe double date when?

yourusername mark your calendar, we’ll be there 🫶

user78 does it mean we lose our favorite rbr girlie? 😭😭😭😖😖

user79 mclaren YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM US 🫵

yourusername i am NOT wearing that ugly orange for a MAN (even if hes super gorgeous and sweet)

mclaren ☹️☹️☹️

landonorris it’s papaya

yourusername “it’s papaya” ☝️🤓

landonorris oscarpiastri please break up with her or you’re gonna be paying for my therapy

oscarpiastri send the bill mate, i’m in for the longest ride possible here

[cringevalue]

steve is the principal of hawkins high, eddie is the art teacher, and the party are in their senior year. it's prom night.

steve: go see if the drinks are spiked

eddie: what

steve: go take sips of the drinks and tell me if any of them have alcohol in them

[eddie goes over and starts taking sips of the drinks]

max: what are you doing? aren't those for the students?

eddie: principal harrington is having me see if anyone put alcohol in them

max: oh. well. don't drink the lemonade, there's like, a /ton/ of vodka in it

eddie, eying max suspiciously: did you put vodka in it

max: no but i know who did

eddie: 🤨

max: twenty dollars and i'll tell you

[eddie sighs, digs his wallet out of his pocket, finds a twenty dollar bill, hands it to max. max stuffs it in the pocket of her dress]

max: it was mike

[eddie sighs again as max runs off. he fills a whole cup of lemonade and chugs it. there is no alcohol in it. he goes back over to steve]

eddie: no spiked drinks, but i'm down twenty dollars

steve: what

eddie: a student told me the lemonade was spiked and that they'd tell me who did it for cash. the lemonade was not spiked.

steve: was it max

eddie: do i have to answer

steve: you are so stupid, eddie munson

eddie: i thought principals weren't supposed to say stuff like that

steve: you are not a student, i am not obligated to treat you like one. therefore, you, edward james munson, are a big idiot.

eddie: that's not my middle name. you have my full government name on file and you're still getting it wrong

steve: edward pain in the ass munson 🙄

[felibrary]

wish you were sober

synopsis: in which you drunkenly confess to aventurine and he doesn’t believe you, rather believing that he’s not worthy, less even deserving of your love. despite that, his insecurity, you're under the belief that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. love - something that you want to introduce to him and show him “what it means to love you.”

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 2.3k (i’ve gone insane) | content & warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol; they're both drunk, insecure aventurine, unestablished relationship, they label themself as friends but reader barely knows anything abt him LMFAO, dual pov, DO YALL GET THE REFERENCE IN THE SYNOPSIS LMFAO??, rushed ending icl, half assed-ly proofread; oneshot

a/n: yesterday i listened to wish you were sober by conan gray and was like “damn.. this’d fit sunday” but then i asked azul what he thinks cause i couldn’t decide between su**day and <aventurine3. and they replied with that it’d be so much more angsty with aventurine (okay not quote on quote but you get the msg) and i dislike su**ay anyway!! so boom! (y’all are still getting another sunday fic..yay..ig.....)

tags: beloved @azullumi <3 and @cherieiu (stop punching me)

“i love you.” 

your confession doesn't come over as surprising for aventurine, he anticipated it. just like how the ebb awaits the flood, yearning for it but disappearing as soon as it arrives. missing out on each other for just a split second, as the other party sweeps and slips away from the grasp of the other. nevertheless aventurine is glued to his seat on the rich sofa. 

colorful poker chips are splattered around the rich mahogany floor tiles, bottles of vodka and wine, some already with their cork removed and empty, others who haven't even been opened yet. a chandelier adorning the ceiling of the big room, its lightbulbs glowing dimly in the caliginous room, illuminating it.

one of the lamps flickers while the others continue to shine brightly - too brightly aventurine thinks, if he were to watch them any longer he’d feel like melting. the closer he got to you the sun, the deeper he'd fall into the bottomless pit he managed to crawl out of.

the room reeks of alcohol. is the temperature rising? he feels like every time the last number on the digital clock changes the warmer it gets. his blond bangs stick to his forehead and beads of sweat are running down his flushed cheeks - that answers his question.

it’s hot - humid even. he's not sure if he's able to bear the heat in this narrow atmosphere any longer. he tries to blow the sweat away by waving at his face with his hand, trying to cool off his face - a futile attempt. god, what's this a/c even good for, if it can't do it's damn job.

he opens his mouth with the intent of wanting to say that you're lying, that you shouldn't say stuff like that when you're drunk and that you'll regret later. but he doesn't, he refrains from doing so. instead he gulps down the words immediately, letter for letter. they're a bitter pillow to swallow. flowing down his throat like the wavering water running down a stream - intoxicating, similar to the alcoholic liquid you've downed.

the blond looks at you through half lidded eyes. you lift yourself off the ground, he takes notice that you have a hard time doing so, legs slightly trembling as you remove them from the floor tiles. (you've always been a lightweight he thinks)

as you make your way over to him, standing up and wanting to sit yourself next to him on the large black leather sofa. you clumsily bump against one of the almost empty shot glasses that still lies on the floor. tripping over the small glass as your foot comes in contact with it. the glass that still contained some of the red wine you've poured in, not too long ago, tumbles as easily as a domino tile, falling upon the smallest touch. making the flimsy piece immediately meet the ground.

it breaks into a few sharp shards and the remaining alcohol starts seeping out of it, staining your once white socks with crimson colored alcohol. “ah m’sorry!” you mumble as you quickly bend down to gingerly pick up the fragments, placing them in the palm of your hand carefully, so that they won't cut you and leave slits.

aventurine takes another peek at you as you tidy up. your face is flushed, your cheeks tinted in a bright red and you let out incoherent sorrys, blabbering incomplete phrases. he wants to tell you that it's alright. that he feels the same and reciprocates yours feelings, that you don't have to apologize and he'll help you.

but he freezes.

the words that he wants to tell you, the ones he's been longing to say don't leave his mouth. neither does he move. instead he coughs, continuing to watch you while you clean up. a tissue has found its way into your right hand, helping you soak up the alcohol. (its his hand that should be intertwined with yours, not the tissue)

his throat hurts. 

(he's not in the right mindspace to acknowledge if it's because of you - the unsaid words that he didn't reveal to you yet or because of the alcohol.) 

it's dry and lacks any kind of refreshing liquid that'd quench the drought that occurs in his throat. he contemplates, thinking about the choices he has. swallowing down his own spit isn't worth it, it makes his throat burn even more.

he comes to the decision to pour himself another glass of alcohol. (debatably his worst decision until now.)

twirling the almost translucent liquid in his glass, before fully gulping it down in one go. a bit of the alcohol escapes the depths of his mouth, running down his chin and messily staining his porcelain-like skin. 

he doesn't like the bitter taste, he can't seem to befriend himself with it. (neither can he befriend him with himself) although it's not the worst, he's just not able to find a reason to like it. after all, after a single sip it starts to sting as it enters his mouth.

the scent isn't great either, it smells strong, too strong for his liking, a scent that reeks of cleaning detergent and not to mention, it prickles on his tongue and burns as it slides down his throat when it makes its way into his blood. but there's one thing aventurine can't deny: it's efficiency.

it fulfills its purpose well making him lightheaded and dizzy, to the point of forgetting everything.

all sounds are drowned out. even the lame pop songs playlist you turned on because you insisted that “it'll set the right mood” is barely audible for him now. his ears hurt hellish, he wants to put his hands over his ears to escape the white noise. the sound that plays in his ears is similar to the one of when an airplane starts boarding - an unpleasant noise.

the only sound that remains for aventurine’s slightly drunk state is your voice. it echoes through his ears. your drunk confession playing over and over in his mind like a broken record, anticipating the day it'll be fixed, so the misery it is in ceases. 

his sloppy and sluggish movements - the way his hands tremble as he pours himself another glass, the nervousness that forms inside his body and the blush that spreads as quickly as a wildfire on his cheeks - they're tormenting him, and he blames none other than the alcohol for it. 

“a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, drunk words are sober thoughts, when you're drunk you reveal your true desires” his ass. the both of you are just friends. friends that are acquainted through work, nothing more, nothing less. aventurine couldn't bear to lose his only friend, after all he's already lost everything.

(anything he'd never want to lose will eventually be lost. it is as if fate had decided that everything that is worth wanting, everything that he wants to have and keep, will be lost the moment he gets his fingers on it. to aventurine there’s nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life that is full of anguish.)

his father whom he never got to meet, his mother and sister whom he was forced to leave behind and kakavasha, his younger self. all will be lost - everything was lost. if he wasn't careful now, one slip up on the thin ice or feet accidentally trampling over the floor full of eggshells, he'd not only lose himself in the process, but you too. his one and only friend.

crossing this line he set for himself, as he drew it along the earthy ground with his calloused fingers, trembling as they traced over the mud.

walking past the border that was created to keep everything and everyone distant from him, as he stood on the other side turning his back from the world, walking away and waving, to bid his goodbye from them.

the wall he built around him to shield him from the world, protecting everyone from the ugly thing that was kept inside , protecting himself from the people that only want to torment him.

forgetting all of these things, leaving them behind for you would mean showing you who he really was. a frail human being that hides himself behind a mask. the theater curtains revealing the person who played the role of the man who had called himself aventurine for the past years. placing him in the spotlight and giving the audience a show they'll never forget, like the fool he is. 

aventurine doesn't think that he is loveable, that he's undeserving of love - your love.

you think that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. providing him with said love, embracing him and showing him how pure love can be. 

the blond caught your eye right away. he was charming, funny and handsome. aventurine turned into your little work crush, your motivation to convince yourself just to see him.

the road was rocky and full of obstacles, set up by none other than aventurine. it gave you a better perception of who he really was and it intrigued you even more. why does he hide himself away from the world? why does he convince himself to not get anyone close to him even though he longs for the touch of another person? who is aventurine, really?

you can't answer any of these questions and neither are you certain if aventurine really can but that doesn't stop you. you continue to climb up all the way to know who he is, who the person you fell in love with really is. 

love, is weird isn't it? it comes in all different shapes and forms.

if someone were to ask you why you like him, you wouldn't know how to answer, because neither do you know.

but nevertheless you still like him. why? how come you like someone that you don't even know, someone that is foreign to you, almost like a stranger. even though the both of you label yourself as “friends.”

you're not sure what the color is that infuses his irises, he keeps them hidden beneath his glasses. despite that, you long to stare into his eyes and let all the plain and dull parts of your life get painted in the same colors of his hues. a color that brings you comfort and cures your sorrow. it's the hues that you want to stare at as you tuck a golden strand of hair behind his ear, in return he grants you a small but genuine smile.

a smile that you want to see more often, one that you want to keep for yourself. 

as for his scent, every person has their own unique and special scent. you plead to the gods above that he’ll let you bury your head into the crook of his neck and absorb his smell so it becomes the only scent that lingers around your nose. 

there are so many more things that you want to know about him but you're unaware of. one might say that you're odd for liking - no, loving someone that you barely know.

a stranger, a foreign person whom you know little about to almost nothing about, is the person that you love. absurd isn't it? but love is weird, love can be pure and ridiculous, but it can also be painful and heart wrenching. love is a feeling that not only brings joy to oneself but also causes pain. but it's a feeling that you never want to get rid of - not until you introduced aventurine to it. showing him what love has to offer and has in store.

in the iridescent light aventurine remains to look as ethereal as ever. a scent of vodka lingers around aventurines figure, the smell is strong, but you couldn't care less. his hair is disheveled but nevertheless continues to shine in the dazzling light. he lets out a tiring yawn and you couldn't imagine aventurine any more beautiful than in this moment.

vulnerable and for your eyes only. making it unable for you to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. 

he's like a shooting star, if you don't continue to watch and follow it and blink, even if it's just for a single moment - it's all over and you'll never see it again. 

“stop looking at me like that.” aventurine mumbles quietly, almost whispering. upon hearing that, you make your way over to him, glass shards long forgotten as you place them on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

your arms reach out to aventurine, clutching your hands on his shoulders. your grip is sluggish but you don't falter and continue to hold him. “like what?” your lips are slightly parted and your gaze is drowsy as you counter aventurine's question with a question of your own.

“like that.” he placed the hand that just rested on his thigh, on your cheek, slightly caressing it. “you're just gonna hurt the both of us if you keep this up any longer.” he's not sure where the boldness came from, he blames it on the alcohol once again; it finally seemed to kick in.  

“‘m not lying” you hiccup. tomorrow i’ll tell you how much i love you, no matter if it's once” a cough exits your throat “or a hundred times.” the words that leave your mouth are slurred, they're incoherent and muddled up. your grip on his shoulder weakens, hands slipping off and head falling against his chest.

..did you seriously just black out?

aventurine can only sigh at that. a small smile finds its way onto his face. he snakes his arms around you waist, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck and hugging you with the remaining power he had left before falling asleep. guess there'll be a lot to unpack tomorrow but for now he allows himself to indulge in this shared moment between the two of you. 

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: hope yall enjoyed this as much as i hated writing this!! (i wanted to throw up) i acc hate how i wrote this. it's not as choppy as when i started writing it but it still feels so rushed and so idk.. anyway reblogs with comments are very much appreciated! >< ALSO that one paragraph written in brackets..guess whose speech it was inspired byyyyy (hint: bsd!!)

[lhseungs]

* ˚ ✰    — ‘ BOTTOMS UP ’  p.jongseong

. . . WARNINGS / TAGS: smut 18+, mdni, alcohol, fingering, masturbation, breeding sorta?, overstimulation. wc - 920+

. . . SYNOPSIS: it’s valentine’s day and jay has forgotten and left you at a party for the fourth time this week.

. . . A/N: last copy, paste, and rewritten from my old account i swear. but this is so ass oh my god i’m sorry. i just felt rushed to release something. new and better stuff coming soon!

fourth party this week, you counted. three parties your boyfriend, jay, dragged you to so you can keep him company. each party, he would ditch you to hang out with some other friends, leaving you to sit at the bar until he told you it was time to go home. this party hurt much more than the others, though. it was valentine’s day and he hasn’t even mentioned it to you.

needless to say, you were tired of this shit.

so for the fourth time this week, you sat at the bar with a cocktail in hand. no one dared speak to you, too scared of your overprotective boyfriend to even attempt to make conversation with you. you rolled your eyes as a man glanced in your direction then quickly averted his gaze, fear in his eyes.

it’s been two hours since jay left you. you spotted him across the room, a glass cup of clear liquid half empty in his hands. he laughed at something another friend said and it angered you. how can he just leave you on the side while he goes and has fun? enough was enough.

you stood up from your seat and marched up to your boyfriend. “jay, can you come here for a second?”

he glanced down at you with a smile. “of course, sweetheart,” he said, walking you to an empty corner of the room and putting his cup down. “what’s up?”

that’s when you noticed it. there was a certain glint in his eye that made you forget your words, your surroundings, and everything about this damn party. as you tried to form words, he looked down at your dress, how it exposed so much to him, yet still not enough, then he looked up and that glint didn’t disappear. his gaze alone sent shivers down your spine and instead of complaining about the party, you grabbed his collar and connected his lips to yours.

he tasted like vodka, no shocker. his soft lips melted into yours as he kissed you back, pushing you up against the wall to deepen it. his fingers trailed down your exposed arm, then back up. his lips left your and kissed up your jawline to your ears. “now, what’s the problem sweetheart?” he whispered.

“if you leave me alone at a stupid party again and forget about valentine’s day,” you said as he continued to trail kisses down your neck, “i’ll kill you.”

jay barked out a laugh. “will you now?” you didn’t answer as he bit your skin. “well then. care to escape this ‘stupid party’ with me then?”

you didn’t even need to answer. jay lifted you up and carried you bridal-style out the party, not even stopping to say goodbye to anyone. you giggled into his shoulder as he carried you through the streets and ran to your shared house. he set you down and quickly unlocked the door. after entering and locking, he carried you again to your bedroom and gently placed you down on the bed.

“so, my dear valentine,” he said while slowly kissing down you neck again and unzipping your dress. “how can i make it up for you?”

“please,” you whispered. “fuck me.”

your dress slipped off of your body and jay’s hand rubbed circles on your exposed thighs. “what was that, darling? say it a little louder.”

“fuck me.”

“again.”

“fuck me, jay.”

“i can’t hear you.”

you screamed, “please, please, fuck me, jay.”

he faced you with a smirk. his hands ceased caressing your thighs and instead pushed you down against the bed. “roll over, sweetheart. i’m gonna make you feel so good.”

you obliged and lifted your ass to jay’s face. he pressed a finger against your clothed cunt and laughed. “you’re already so wet and i haven’t even touched you.”

you whimpered at the feeling. “more, more.”

“don’t worry, darling,” he said as he pulled your panties down to your ankles, revealing your glistening cunt.

he inserted one finger in, pumping it slowly. then two fingers, increasing his pace. you moaned loudly on the bed at the feeling, and jay took out his cock from the restraints of his pants and started fisting it. for every thrust with his fingers he did the same to his cock, his precum leaking down. he curled his fingers and that’s when you let out a scream.

“who’s making you feel like this?” jay panted, increasing the pace on both his cock and your pussy. he inserted another finger that had your face falling on the pillow.

“FUCK, you jay,” you screamed. your moans echoed the four walls of the bedroom. tears fell down your face as you screamed for more.

with a grunt, jay came in his palm. he stopped fingering you and flipped you over. before you were able to even open your mouth, jay took his hand full of cum and shoved it in your hole. you screamed as he thrusted his fingers faster, faster, faster. he had you seeing stars, had your head spinning, had you forgetting everything except his name.

“jay, i’m gonna-”

“cum all over my fingers, baby,” and you did exactly that. your legs shook as your orgasm washed over you, but jay’s fingers didn’t cease. you tried to push away, getting overstimulated by just his fingers alone, but instead he pulled you closer to him and continued his actions.

he chuckled darkly. “if you think that you won’t get punished for making me leave that party, you’re dead wrong.”

— © lhseungs 2025: do not repost

. . . TAGLIST: @sangiewife @gukkiebug @byshens @sailoryuns @annovaz

[cherryheairt]

Law of Attraction

Chapter one: Shielded

Chishiya x reader fanfiction

Starts pre-Arisu entering Borderland, months before

Chapter Two

The Beach must have taken months to establish with all of the people that had been there far longer than Arisu and his friends. This is set right before the Beach's foundation.

warnings for all future chapters: harassment, threats, physical violence, death. typical AIB stuff

Your days were busier than ever since you started college. Studying to be a teacher, which many often pouted their lips and expressed their sympathies when you told them, was not actually as easy as people thought. You had to complete a few hundred hours of your externship on top of classes and your part-time job to pay for said classes.

The work would be fulfilling, eventually. When you finally finished shadowing Mr. Sato, the biggest pain in your ass, you could be free to begin your first official year of teaching and quit your miserable job as a bartender. Contrasting fields, yes, but the tips paid the bills well.

Each night, your shift ended at around two in the morning and you went straight from the bar and to your apartment, passing out and waking up bright and early at seven for your weekday classes. Luckily, most shifts at the bar were on Thursdays and weekends, while all classes and externship hours were during weekdays. After class, it was typically back to the bar to open.

You couldn't complain too much. Besides having a non-existent social life beyond a classroom of fourth-graders and classrooms of college students, you flew under the radar pretty well. No one had it out for you, nor you for them, but any off days you rarely had were not spent in the company of friends or even friendly coworkers, just by yourself in your little apartment waiting for time to pass. A boring and uneventful life. Sometimes you wondered what it was all for, and you had yet to find your answer. You told yourself that after graduation it would all turn out perfect, and you'd live normally while balancing your social life better, maybe even get married after a few years of healthy stability. But that itch was still on the back of your mind, asking, ‘for what?’

Today was booked with all three. After your unpaid shift with Mr. Hana's class and your ‘School and Classroom Culture’ class, you headed to work.

The club was crowded at the end of the week. Friday had brought in a chill every time the door opened, leaving the sweaty atmosphere to be momentarily paused as groups flitted in and stumbled out. You were working on your umpteenth round of the cheapest vodka shots the establishment offered, enjoying the chill despite the brash complaints around you about it. Sliding the shots onto a tray, you nodded for Hana to serve her table.

“Thanks, babe!” She chirped with a wink and shouldered the tray off to the table of cheering ladies.

Onto the next.

A man with jet black hair hovering just over his shoulders and a middle part framing his face sat right at the bar. He seemed jittery and slightly nervous, as if you might say ‘no’ to any request he may have. He was in work uniform, an office you guessed, looking beyond him to see a group of guys dressed the same and gawking at the girls dancing.

“Excuse me?” He began, glancing over his shoulder.

“What can I get you?” You perked up, putting on your best customer service place. Nervous guys were a million times better than the cocky ones who thought they were entitled to seeing more skin or even a dance from you, despite the readily available shows up front. The thrill of what they could not have, you supposed. Guys like this were a blessing, despite their eyes giving away their desires.

He licked his lips shortly, glancing down at your own chest on view through your black tank top before shooting his eyes quickly back up. “Three—no, nine, probably— sake shots.” He stumbled.

You raised a brow, counting him as the sixth. “Is that it?” You asked, moving to pull the bottle from its shelf and a multitude of glasses.

“I'm driving everyone home.” He explained with a slight flush. The men in the back chortled at one another's jokes while he seemed in no rush at all to join them again. After you poured the triple round tray, she handed it off to the guy.

You hadn't even made another full drink for the lady next to him before he was back, tray under his arm and the guys at a table downing their shots behind him. “Here,” he mumbled, politely placing the tray on the sticky counter.

You nodded appreciatively, topping the mojito off with some mint leaves on the rim. The lady smiled and thanked you before rejoining her group of friends, leaving the man standing in front of the bar awkwardly alone.

Seeing as he was the only one, you allowed yourself a brief break to wipe the counter. “Not going to join your coworkers?” You asked curiously.

He squeezed his hands together, shaking his head with pursed lips. “Co-workers.” He corrected.

You nodded understandingly, knowing he must have been coerced into being a DD for some coworkers who didn't want to spend their time sober. “How about a soda?” You offered with a small smile.

Hours passed quickly, customer's faces all bleeding together. The man eventually left with his intoxicated group after lingering around the bar and watching his co-workers and the girls both from a safe distance. You didn't think much about him after, focusing on cleaning your station and heading the hell home.

Hana brushed against you behind the bar, helping herself to a generous double shot of a lemon drop cocktail-her absolute favorite despite your sour face whenever she offers one to you-and leans against the counter to sip on it while you finish up.

"Doing anything tomorrow? I was thinking of getting dinner with some girlfriends and barhopping afterward." She suggested with a lift of her glass.

"I can't." You sighed. "Got a project to finish, then work again tomorrow night."

Hana leaned her head back as if she were wounded. "You alwaysss 'can't'. Come on, babes, live a little. You're only twenty-two, and you live like an old hermit."

You couldn't disagree. "Next time, Hana. I promise."

She sends you a sympathetic smile. "If you ever need anything, you got my number."

"I know. Thanks," you offer weakly.

Despite the chill on the walk to the train, you still felt the residue of the club on your skin and clothes. You smelled like beer and liquor over old perfume, something you'd unfortunately grown used to. Although your own insensitivity didn't stop others from giving you disgusted glances passerbys gave you as if you were stumbling around the streets of Tokyo begging for cash.

Relaxing into a seat, you felt the grogginess of the day wash over you. As much as you fought against it, you fell asleep in your empty train car.

Jerking awake at the dinging of the last stop call, you promptly collected your belongings. You jumped up and off the train, climbing the stairs and out onto the dark streets. Completely empty and nearly pitch black, you were stopped in your tracks. No people being outside at 3 a.m wasn't a crazy thing in this part of town, but the streetlights being down? You clutched your bag tight, wondering if you'd stepped into a horror movie shooting.

As you continued down the path towards your apartment, you brought up your phone to glimpse at the local news and electrical issues.

When the phone wouldn't even turn on, you began to panic. Shoving your things into your bag, you started to briskly walk home. The way was only lit up by the full moon, making reflective street signs possible to navigate around with.

When the first firework ‘popped!’ in the skies and whined all the way down, you jumped. “Fireworks?” You muttered aloud, stepping off the sidewalk to get a better view in the street. Abandoned cars littered it, but you forced yourself to ignore them in favor of this all being a high-budget movie scene. That hope could only last so long.

If the streets were really being rented out, then why wasn't the skyline of Tokyo at least still lit? It was virtually impossible to clear an entire city for a piece of media, no matter the budget.

Finally, you spotted a faint light coming from a distant building. You sprinted towards it, seeing it as your only chance for answers or other people. Let it be a prank, you silently pleaded.

When you reached the place, you read the lit sign, humming at the frank realization that this place was something like an office building. It was tall and skinny, with a logo you didn't recognize on it. Another building sat parallel to it with a bridge connecting it but it stayed unlit. Gingerly, you stepped into it and flinched as a robotic voice called out.

“One player registered. Waiting for others. Please take one phone per person.”

It was then she realized there was a silver table with a bunch of lines neatly lined up. When she grabbed one, it spoke again. “Reading facial I.D.” When you saw your name written across the white screen in bold black letters, your heart dropped to your stomach.

There was no time to dwell when another person wandered into the building. You turned to them, hoping that this person might be the one who revealed any answers, but were only met with a mirrored face. A woman, slightly taller than you with pajamas on but an alert expression. “What's going on?” She asked, voice small.

You looked behind her, seeing a foreign man enter with a disciplined calmness. “I don't know. You're the first people I've seen.” You told her, earning a frown. You both seemed to have the same idea by looking at the older man. He shrugged, glancing around.

“I was wonderin’ why all those fireworks was goin’ off.” He said tiredly.

More people entered, and a familiar face finally showed up. The man from the bar, who immediately also perked up upon seeing your face. You found each other quickly, standing side by side after everyone picked up a phone. Even if you didn't know each other, the slight comfort was like grasping at straws.

He whispered to you, suspiciously looking at all of the other strangers. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

With a hopeless shake of your head, the man sighed and melted into the wall. Cutting off the scared murmurs, the robotic female voice spoke again. “Registration closed. There are fifteen players.”

A white screen lit up at the top of the elevator.

Displayed on it as well as being read out loud: “Game: Fishbowl. Difficulty: Three of Diamonds.”

“Diamond?” You asked, getting no answer from anyone else.

“Objective: Find the exit to the mazes on each floor. There are 10 levels total. Clear conditions: Make it to the roof before the timer runs out.”

“That sounds easy enough.” A teenager's voice broke through the silence.

“Yet it doesn't explain why we're doing a game in the first place. I'm going home, fuck this.” Another guy grumbled, obviously too irritated to continue playing the random game. When he turned his back and went through the entranceway doors, the small red-lined lasers shot through him like knives.

The room erupted in panic and screams. No one was silent or still, and you stood next to the wall with warm splatters of blood on your face and clothes. With a trembling hand, you reached up to wipe a bit off, revealing the same red that touched everything else in the lobby.

“Game start. Time: Three hours.”

“Is that all we have?” You whispered, the taller man beside you eyeing the scene and the dead man silently. He seemed to straighten from his slouched and nervous posture, eyebrows knitting together like he just solved something. Without a word, he brushed past you and to the stairwell.

It let him open the door, and he disappeared up the stairs whilst everyone still flurried about.

You were quick to follow, not wanting to meet the same grizzly fate as the dead man. There would be time to figure out whats and hows and whos later—when you were safe at home.

Up the first floor of stairs, the second level's door opening and displaying a big ‘1’ on it.

The man opens it, and you are surprised to see office-like cubicle walls climbing to the top in wide rows. It was like the real office was gone and changed out with an entirely new structure. Along the white walls were some paintings still hung up and some plants somehow decorating the ugly carpet in a few corners.

He took the lead, stepping with a newfound confidence. “Wait!” You urged. “What if there's more lasers?”

He looked over his shoulder, shrugging. “Maybe, but we'll just have to find out.”

Slightly irked, you followed still. After about ten minutes, you were both utterly lost. Others had joined and started to play as little ducklings following their mother, but you supposed it would be hypocritical to judge when you had done the very same.

“We've been around the floor a hundred times!” He exaggerated, brushing his hands through his hair.

“Have some patience.” You bit. “You're freaking me out.”

Going back to the stairwell, you retraced your steps and started again.

Using the method of right-hand-to-wall as you typically followed in video games, you began to lead in front.

More minutes passed and more dead ends appeared. The windows where the main walls of the building showed the empty night sky and the next door building reflecting the moon light still. You checked your phone, seeing a flashing ‘2:32: left on your timer. Thirty minutes had passed and floor one wasn't even completed.

“Shit.” You started to run back to the start, practically having it memorized by now. You ran into the stairwell again, wincing when you half-expected the doorway to laser you down but continuing in your rush when it hadn't. The doorway to the third floor was locked, as expected, but different from the second floor, it had a small pin pad on its knob.

How obvious. All fourteen of you had spent over thirty minutes looking for a door when it was behind you all along. “We need digits!” You yelled into the doorway.

A few stragglers waited at the doorway, not having any use while most continued their search. “Look for any numbers!” The man shouted louder in your echo, leaving the room to burst into murmurs and leave plants and paintings tossed around.

The teenager came running to the door, panting but with a satisfied smile on her face. “Look! It has a ‘4’ on the back!”

The players all cheered, and you held the painting backwards to inspect. “How do we know what order to place them in?” You muttered to yourself. In a matter of minutes all of the paintings that carried numbers were laid in front of the doorway.

‘4’ ‘2’ ‘3’ ‘1’

“There's way too many options.” An old man with a hunched back spoke up darkly. “There's no time to do this for every floor.”

“Flip them.” Your club companion said.

On the fronts were simple but quite beautiful paintings of scenery. A pond, a park, a forest, and a beach.

An idea shot into your mind as you inspected the order of them. Kneeling in front of them, you arranged the paintings in the order of their backgrounds. Sunset, to noon, to afternoon, and finally to dusk. “Read them out to me in this order.” You told the man, who nodded as his eyes lit up in realization.

At the keypad, you fingered the digits he yelled out to you. “Three, two, four, one!”

It clicked open. You cheered and beckoned for the rest. After the first puzzle was solved, eight more went by smoothly. It was the same concept, only getting slightly harder as it went up. Stages of a frog, generations of a family, technological ages of humanity, and so forth until the 10th door was unlocked. Only one more door and you would be out.

When the door opened, you were stunned to see that all the walls were glass. The entire room was see-through, including the outer walls and the view from the height was nearly nauseating from all the clarity. “Everyone…” Someone called out in fear. They stood on one of the last steps behind the group. “Water is rising.” They lifted their feet up, revealing sopping wet shoes and ends of her pant legs. She scrambled to the upper steps, and everyone followed suit to get away from the water. This time, there was a clear red door on the other side of the room.

You swallowed harshly at the rapidly rising water, realizing that even closing the door behind you didn't make it any slower as it seemed to ooze out of the very walls themselves. Cubicles showed themselves, lighting up on the floor in a blinding white. “One player per room. All living players must solve their puzzles before the time runs out.”

The buzzer went off and doors opened to allow all fourteen of them into the rooms. The man and her were parallel, eyes meeting with you showing signs of nerve and him seemingly gaining confidence on his own.

A screen rose in front of you, sticking out of the water and coming to life with a riddle on its screen. “What does everyone's screen say?” You asked, hoping to collectively solve it.

“Something about two birds.” The teen replied with a desperate look to you.

“Mine is a math equation.” Another said.

The old man piped up, beginning to read off his own question though he was easily drowned out in all of the noise.

You looked to your own, which seemed daunting on its own. What happens when you get it wrong?

Your answer came in a nightmare. The old man had selected a random option in hopes of guessing correctly, and everyone could only watch on as his cube was immediately flooded to the brim with water. His lights turned bright red and you turned your gaze away and covered your ears to prevent the sight and sounds from implanting themselves in your head forever.

When it all got quiet, you checked your phone again.

‘0:08’

Eight more minutes. Your cube's water was already to your waistline and climbing still. You focused on your own question although the urge to answer other's pleas for assistance and confusion nagged at you insistently. The sound of more water and more screams and choked gargling was all that was left in the room as your water rose above your head, too.

‘What is the last number in the sequence?

895371’

You scanned over the sequence repeatedly, seeing flashes of white lights turning red around your peripherals and one turning green.

Entering a sloppy, ‘1’ in the keypad, you kicked up to the top of the cube to gasp in what little air was left at the top. Looking around you saw no one except for the club man. Your own cube's lights flashed green, and the click of the doors could vaguely be heard above the sound of rushing water. You both dived under, pushing at your doors.

His budged open immediately and he swam up and towards the exit door that lead up. You kept pushing at your own, heart racing and running out of air, but nothing made it open. Going topside again, you shouted out. “My door is jammed!”

He stopped in place, the few inches left of water between him and the ceiling showing his wet lashes looking down his nose at you. Clenching his jaw, he looked rapidly between the door and you. Finally, he clicked his tongue and pushed off the glass to your area.

In sync, you held your breaths for the last time and swam down to the door. You nodded, signaling for him to pull and you to push. After a few tries, the water-jammed door pried open and you swam together towards the red door.

You tried your hardest to ignore the lifeless floating bodies that were at the top of each cube.

It opened outwards, the two of you being flung against the wall by the water that rushed down the stairwell. A shout of pain left his lips below you and you scrambled up, panting out and apologizing for cornering him and possibly bruising his ribs.

The water didn't stop there, following you both as you ran up more stairs and onto the roof. Hands on your knees, you coughed up the remaining water from your throat and lungs and sat down, elbows shakily supporting your body. What had happened in the last three hours? You had just witnessed thirteen people die in one night when you hadn't seen a single death in your life prior.

Who put you here, and for what purpose were you playing these games?

Your phone chimed. “Game cleared. Visa days added: 3 days remaining.”

You and the man stood alone on the roof, not a single other survivor from the game alive. You weren't sure if there was any person in this world left alive, either, besides from you and him.

“You owe me.” He said with an ominous one. “Don't forget that.”

“I won't.” You promised. Then after a long pause, you added your name in a smaller tone.

“Niragi.” Was all he offered, and you briefly wondered how just over three hours ago, this man was meek and clearly a pushover in every aspect of his life. Now, everything about him seemed straighter and more intimidating.

Sticking by him, you were unsure if it meant being thrown to the wolves at the first sight of danger or defended in a play of arrogance. Though your common sense urged you to leave at the first sign of his distraction, you stayed firmly planted by his side.

Perhaps there was some benefit to this strange and peculiar world, no more work and no more rent. Safety was in numbers, after all, and having a guy like Niragi might save your ass again.

This is not a Niragi fic, although it may seem like it at first; more like a toxic and controlling relationship (think Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Grey). Changing his character slightly, Niragi has not attempted to SA anyone and will not in the future- his character had so much potential beyond that. His appearance change (piercings) doesn't start in his personal life like in canon and his job as a game designer was an office job instead of a WFH job

[pazzispizookies]

~~~~~Dangerous Question~~~~~

Chapter 5;I’m here.

So I know the story has been pretty light so far, but I want to say chapter 5 deals with some heavy stuff, I might rewrite it to be a little softer, but with the story I have right now, It’s not happy…like at all. It’s 18+ probably too. If you don’t like scary, men involving situations, don’t read it!! (No sexual things tho no worries on that)To those who do, I’m sorry in advance. A reminder- this is fictional and in no way this is me wishing anything on Azzi, Paige or any real people, these are basically characters just based off their stories, but this is fictional

Pairing, Paige x Azzi, slow burn friends to lovers

September 14th, 10:29 PM.

Azzis POV,

I’m shocked when I turn around and see Marcos, a little thrown off why he’s here.

“Hey Marcos, funny running into you here, what are you up too?” I ask, trying to be polite, even though I have no real interest in seeing him right now.

I can see that Paige is still ordering her drinks so she doesn’t notice me talking to Marcos, I don’t know why it would be a problem even if she did see me talking to him.

With that he answers,

“Just here with some buddies, they go to school around here.”

This catches my attention, “Oh really, do they go to UConn?”

Me and him haven’t texted all that much, we’ve really only exchanged our names and numbers, and set up plans for next weekend.

Looking at him now, It might be the dimmer lighting, but something’s off about him.

Call it a gut feeling, but maybe i’m wrong.

He’s still super cute, and he’s dressed pretty nice.

So I ignore the strange feeling I’m getting. It must just be nerves.

“Yeah they do, do you?” He says taking a step foward towards me and leaning on the counter.

“Yeah, I actually play basketball for them, i’m a freshman though.”

“Oh really? that’s awesome, I didn’t know they had girls basketball at such a big school, that’s cool that they’re doing that stuff for you guys.” Marcos quips back,

Uhh, rude much?

“Girls basketball?” I repeat, slightly thrown off.

“yeah, yeah, oh uh- sorry, Women’s basketball right,” he says back, while looking me up and down.

Huh.

He might be a dipshit.

But something about the way Paige is looking at me talking to this man has me not wanting to stop.

She’s …..jealous.

I know she is.

As soon as she turned around and saw us, I could see her face light up with the burning emotion.

Paige is jealous, of me talking to this guy.

The same Paige that stormed off while I was flirting with him,

The same Paige that was hurt that night, for a reason she couldn’t tell me,

The same Paige that’s been blushing at me a lot more than friends normally do, is now jealous.

And i’m okay with that?

I mean, Paige has always been attractive,

The way she walks, the way she carries confidence around, her physical appearance , and her overall caring for other has shown me that.

But… I’m not attracted to her, right?

I’m not gay, I’ve always been straight.

But,

Right now, I find myself caring a whole lot more about what she thinks than what he thinks.

But again, i’m not into her, I can’t be. She’s my best friend.

I wanna see if I’m right, if maybe, just maybe. Paige has been hiding something from me, so with that I focus back on Marcos.

I touch his arm and start making eye contact.

“So you gonna buy me a drink or what?” I say in my best seductive voice.

“Yeah, yeah, sure whatever you want…it’s on me.” He says back clearly gaining some confidence from my whole act.

Paige storms away, but I stop myself from chasing her, I have to see what this really means. Just how upset will she get?

Marcos waves down the bartenders and orders me 2 shots of vodka. And 2 for himself,

Hardly a drink, but who am I to complain,

Soon enough the bartender comes back, and Marcos takes the shots,

As he’s taking the shots, I’m looking at Paige,

all I can see is the back of her head, but by the way her shoulders are rising and falling, something’s off with her,

Nika’s quickly getting up from the table, and forces Paige with her, they disappear out the door.

Now my plans gonna be a little harder too follow with because Paige has just completely left the bar.

Turning my attention to Marcos again, he’s smiling at me, a little too wide.

“Here you go pretty lady,” He says while handing me 2 hots of vodka,

Ugh,

Those words sound disgusting coming out of his mouth but whatever,

I send him a smile and take the 2 shots out of his hands and into my grasp,

I prepare myself, and tilt my head back, sending the liquid down my throat.

It tastes, different?

still awful,

But it tastes strange,

Not like the shot I took back at KKs,

It’s slightly sweet, and bubbly, and doesn’t taste like Vodka,

But I’ve only had it once before, so maybe this is just a different brand.

I send the 2nd shot back.

It burns.

It doesn’t taste sweet, or bubbly,

It tastes like what I had back at KKs,

But that doesn’t make any sense,

Why would 2 shots of the same thing taste different?

“You okay Azzie?”

“Oh its not ‘As-ze’ its ‘A-zee’” I say correcting the man who just said my name wrong,

“Thats what I said, didn’t I?” Marcos says back, his confidence unfaltering,

“uh, no but that’s okay, a lot of people get it wrong, common mistake.” I say with slight smile.

“Well yknow same difference, im gonna head back to my table, you wanna-“

Half way through his sentence, his voice distorts.

I can’t hear him

Actually I can’t see him either.

Something’s wrong,

And its not drunken wrong,

No something’s wrong, something’s off.

My hearts pounding.

Something’s wrong.

Snap out of it Azzi.

I hear his distorted voice say something, but I can’t make it out.

I can’t see him.

I can’t hear him,

I can only slightly feel his touch on my wrist, then it gets stronger?

He’s dragging me away by my wrist.

Something wrong, I can barley walk,

I’m following his lead and I’m trying to say something, but I can’t .

I can’t do anything but let him pull me.

“What’s-where are we?” I mumble out, it comes out completely slurred.

“Cmon we’re just gonna go back to mine” I think he says…..I can’t really hear.

I look back where I think my table is, I’m pretty sure

I can see a figure standing up, shes…cheering?

No shes screaming.

No shes….. clapping?

I don’t know, but before I can make it out, I’m hit with the outside air blowing on my face.

“Cmon pretty lets get in my car,”

No……no.

I don’t want to.

I don’t wanna go anywhere near his car.

I wanna run, but my legs aren’t moving with my thoughts.

I wanna scream, but I can’t.

“Marc, stop let’s- just stop-“ I beg, I think the words come out.

“Stop it, just walk.” He says sternly.

Walk,

Walk where?

Why?

I can’t see where we’re going.

All I can see if another figure walking towards us,

It’s tall, and-

And has,

Brown hair?

I think?

“Caro?” I gasp out, but it barley comes out as a whisper,

But as the figure approaches more,

It’s just another girl with dark brown hair.

She walks past us.

Not even looking at us.

A voice breaks through, it’s clear, it’s close.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

Paige, my Paiges voice.

It has to be.

please, be her.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

Dustin looks squirrely, which is as weird as it is nerve wracking for Steve. When Dustin looks squirrely it’s usually shit like he’s keeping a baby fucking demo dog as a pet.

Which Steve just...doesn’t want to deal with it any more. He’s had enough. He needs Dustin to have normal kid shit problems, not apocalyptic ones.

So Steve is, silently, praying to whoever will listen that Dustin wants, like, the sex talk or something, and not that there’s an inter-dimensional creature with a taste for nougat in Hawkins.

“Eddie says he’s okay.”

Which, Steve just kind of shrugs, because it’s the same message Dustin’s been bringing back for months. Nancy and Robin have stopped to listen too. John and Argyle have gone on a snack run and the rest of the kids are outside; so this feels kind of worryingly tactical on Dustin’s part that he’s telling a very select group this information.

“I’m pretty sure he isn’t, though.”

“Okkkayyyy...tell us what’s going on,” Robin leans against the counter, and Steve is so glad Dustin chose to do this with the girls here.

“Well,” and Dustin looks squirrely again and Steve figures he...he thinks he must be betraying Eddie, or something, “I thought he was, at first, you know? He was planning campaigns and writing music and just seemed to be...you know. Normal.”

“But…”

“Well he...the last few times I’ve been there he...he hasn’t gotten out of bed and,” Dustin wrinkles his nose, ready for the big betrayal, “there’s always a lot of empty like, beer cans and stuff and...he smells kind of. Bad.”

The girls looks at each other before Nancy finally says, “we will go and see him, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Steve watches as Dustin relaxes, and realizes for the first time that this was, probably, way over Dustin’s pay grade, emotionally speaking. They are the adults, and dealing with someone who...well, it’s got to be depression, right? Eddie was never okay, he was faking to start with. Even Steve can figure that out from what Dustin’s just said. Just because they’ve dealt with alternate dimensions and world ending monsters, it doesn’t mean that Dustin is equipped to deal with shit like this – yeah, definitely heavy stuff for a kid. And Eddie, would Eddie have been able to fake it if say the girls, or Steve, had gone over? Would they have noticed a problem that Dustin just, didn’t? Because for all they’ve been through, they’re still just kids. Dustin might not have noticed that Eddie was dragging himself out of bed and cleaning up just for the one or two hours a week that Dustin was stopping by.

But Robin would have...and Nancy definitely would have.

And now Eddie doesn’t have the energy to just...fake it any more, simple as.

This is heavy shit, too heavy for Dustin to have to deal with.

And that’s how Steve ends up ferrying the girls to the brand new Munson trailer, right at the other end of the park from where the old one was. Nancy’s in full investigative reporter mode, Steve can sense it. Luckily, Robin goes first, " we shouldn't have left him this long."

Nancy hums in agreement.

The doors not locked and no one answers, so they all end up spilling unceremoniously into the bedroom.

Dustin was being kind; it reeks of stale cigarettes and sweat. He was being nice about the beer cans too; it’s not just beer cans, worryingly there’s also empty vodka bottles and even a couple of wine bottles in the mix.

This is not something that has happened recently; this has been going on for months.

The place is a mess. Like a can’t even see the floor kind of mess.

In the middle of his visibly dirty bedding, Eddie snores on, oblivious.

“Steve, you get him in the shower, Robin and I will clean this up.”

Steve’s dubious, but he shakes Eddie’s shoulder gently. Nothing.

He tries again, firmer this time, and Eddie comes awake with an undignified snort and hands flapping at Steve’s, trying to get the movement to stop.

Steve can hear the girls rummaging out in the kitchen, looking for trash bags and rubber gloves, maybe a box for the bottles.

Maybe two boxes.

Steve shakes him again, “Eddie come on.”

Eddie does blink up at him then, clearly groggy and confused, but he smiles. Smiles so big and happy, he grasps one of Steve’s hands now, rather than trying to push it away, still smiling, he pulls it up to his mouth and kisses Steve’s knuckles softly.

Steve doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Eddie’s frowning, something like realization dawns on Eddie’s face, and then throwing Steve’s hand away like it’s burning him. Eddie moves quick, scrambling to the edge of the bed and leaning over it, and Steve realizes what’s about to happen a second too late; Eddie starts to throw up just as Steve moves, so his sneakers do get splattered a little bit.

Which...Steve’s probably trudged through worse, realistically speaking. There’s not really anything Steve can do about it now, so he gingerly sidesteps the splatter of vomit and, briefly, feels really sorry for the girls, “come on Munson, up.”

Eddie grumbles nonsensically, but does allow Steve to heave him up, his head lolling, still clearly very drunk. Eddie doesn’t put up much of a fight when Steve strips him; made easy by the fact that he’s wearing a stained tee shirt and dirty boxers that Steve abandons in a smelly pile on the bathroom floor.

He’s too thin; far too thin. Barely any weight at all on Steve’s arm, ribs all knobbly and skin stretched strangely over his joints.

Eddie slides to the floor under the warm water and Steve, not wanting to get any damper, makes no effort to stop him. At least sitting on the floor he’s safe; he can’t fall any further. Steve vaguely recalls something about little kids being able to drown in an inch of water, and keeps half an eye on Eddie as he digs around for toiletries.

He finds a sad bar of soap and shudders, but it’ll do. Steve gives Eddie the most perfunctory scrub down ever, doing his best not to look at or be aware of any part of Eddie’s body as he flicks the cloth over it.

The towel that’s hanging up looks dubious, but better than nothing.

Eddie’s showing no sign of rousing; Steve has no idea if he’s just...really really drunk still, or if he’s hiding. Steve’s brain prods at what he saw; Eddie’s reaction to him.

There’s one logical conclusion that he’s trying his best to avoid. Unfortunately, no matter how he angles it...his conclusion remains the same. There’s one obvious answer. Eddie looks like a sad drowned rat under the water, and Steve shuts it off, covering him with the one sad towel.

Eddie shivers without the heat of the water, and Steve tries not to feel guilty. This isn’t his fault. He’s not...if Eddie had a Steve, he’s not him. He didn’t, die, or anything. It’s a bit of a headfuck, and thankfully Robin interrupts by shoving the door open far enough to press through a bundle of clothes; black sleep pants and a hoodie, but better than nothing, “there’s no clean clothes, it’s the best we could find,” she whispers.

Which, okay, they’re kind of musty, but at least not obviously dirty.

Eddie huffs through Steve pulling his clothes on, standing awkwardly as Steve pulls his pants up like you would with a little kid.

Steve dumps him on the couch; immediately feeling bad about the whole thing. Guilt, maybe, but he pushes that away harshly because this isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s no one’s fault.

Well, except for the labs and then One. But there’s no one here to blame and it’s...ridiculous that Steve would feel bad about it.

This isn’t the time. Eddie’s passed out again, so Steve gets a glass of water from the kitchen, leaving it on the table where Eddie will find it, before he goes to help the girls.

“We absolutely cannot leave him here.”

“No, agreed, being alone is not good for him.”

“He’s not alone,” Steve protests, “Wayne’s here.”

“And Wayne works twelve hour nights six days a week and has done nothing about this so far,” Nancy replies, brooking no argument, “we’ll take him to yours, he needs to dry out.”

“Mine?” Steve squeaks, “look, uhm, maybe not mine-”

“Why not yours?” Robin cuts him off, “you have the space, and no one else around. I can come and stay, help you keep an eye on him.”

And although all of that is true, Steve doesn’t know how to tell them what he’s just figured out, and having Eddie in his house feels...awkward as fuck.

Eddie’s like a zombie out of one of his games. He has to be encouraged out of bed, Robin putting herself to the task, and that takes a good hour on the really bad days. He picks at toast. He picks at eggs. He picks at whatever's put in front of him.

He doesn’t fight it when they take the spirits away, he doesn’t fight it when he’s allocated three beers a day; he never looks for more. He doesn’t fight anything. He’s broken. So broken Steve has no idea what to do about it. The kids come and go, maintaining conversation around Eddie that Eddie will vaguely engage with whenever one of the kids addresses him directly.

Otherwise he sits there, inert. The kids talk about school and their nerd games and all that normal stuff, and then they leave again.

Sometimes it’s just Eddie and Steve in the house, and that's enough to make Steve want to throw himself into the lake; Eddie’s presence is uncomfortable, and Steve immediately feels guilt every time he feels like that.

Eddie saved their lives. Eddie fought off actual mind control and took out One like it was nothing. Eddie saved the world, at great fucking sacrifice to himself, and Steve feels like a total dipshit every time he has to remind himself of it.

He has to do something for Eddie. He has to try and get through to him somehow.

He has an idea, and when he tells Robin he’s going out for a bit, she doesn’t question it.

Steve delivers Wayne an update when he picks up Eddie’s records. Wayne seems like a good guy, even though he’s completely out of his depth with Eddie, he seems to be able to roll with the punches. He believes the kids want what’s best for Eddie, and that seems to be enough for him for now.

Eddie’s lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

Steve picks one of his records at random, ‘Holy Diver. Dio,’ and puts it on the record player on low. He has Eddie’s guitar too, his notebooks, the rule books from his dumb game. Steve brings it all in in bits and pieces and leaves it on the coffee table. He leans Eddie’s guitar against the end of the couch.

By the time he’s finished, Eddie seems more alert; is actually watching Steve. Steve gives him a nod, and leaves him to it.

It changes something. Something undefinable. Eddie seems to be...making an effort. Robin says she thinks he’s coming around; remembering how to be a person. She thinks he’s making a good first step. He still drinks three beers a day, but they’re pretty much the weakest ones available and Steve thinks he’s doing it more out of habit than anything. There’s no other alcohol in the house.

What Steve thinks he knows has been gnawing at him too. Bothering his insides. He understands the girls logic; this is probably the best place for Eddie to be, but given what Steve thinks he’s figured out, this might also be the absolute worst place for Eddie to be.

He feels like he’s haunting him; the dead love of Eddie’s life, following him around every single day. Steve can’t even imagine what that’s like; Eddie even just having to look at him must hurt. Other questions always follow, like, why Steve? Was it random? Eddie must be gay, right?

Was Steve just the easiest one for Eddie’s brain to summon up in the moment? Or was there something else there, feelings that were easy to manipulate? Was there a reason it was Steve, or not?

He could spend hours chasing the thoughts if he let himself. Instead he makes himself and Eddie something to eat, a couple of sandwiches, and then takes them through. He sits, eating his own, and watching as Eddie nibbles on his. Things have moved; even as Steve watches, Eddie puts down the sandwich and scribbles in his notebook.

Steve’s just getting up to leave when he stops at the sound of Eddie clearing his throat, he still won’t look at Steve when he speaks, “thanks, uhm, for getting my stuff.”

It’s been a while since Eddie has spoken to Steve directly, and Steve hesitates a second, feeling like this is his chance to try and...he doesn’t know. Say something meaningful. Fix Eddie, somehow, say the exact right thing to make it better, eventually he just says, “no problem, man.”

Eddie nods, Steve waits in case there's more, but there doesn’t seem to be. He makes it to the kitchen door before Eddie speaks again, “you guys, you’ve probably saved my life.”

He is looking up as Steve now, chewing on the end of his pencil nervously, “you saved ours first,” Steve tells him.

Eddie huffs out the smallest, driest laugh, “didn’t realize it was a competition, Harrington.”

Steve leaves him to it, it’s not much, but it’s a start.

“You had a kid, right? Tell me about them?” It’s a push Steve knows. Their brief conversations turning into the occasional ten minutes on the deck when they both go out for a cigarette might have become regular, but they’re by no means secure. Steve might be about to bring the whole fragile thing down, but he needs to know. It’s eating him alive.

Eddie just shakes his head, ‘no.’ and sips at the beer he has. A beer Steve is pretty sure Eddie should not have, even if it is only a psychological thing, at this point, but Robin continues to be adamant that Eddie going completely cold turkey would be a really bad idea, so Eddie continues to have an allowance.

‘Well, fuck it,’ Steve thinks, ‘might as well try it,’ “come on, they were ours, right?”

Eddie snorts, “she was always more like you than-” he stops, cutting himself off. But it’s all the confirmation Steve needs.

Eddie looks at him then, horrified, before scrambling up.

“Eddie, stop, it’s okay-” Steve tries.

“Fuck you Harrington,” Eddie growls at him with more emotion than Steve's seen in Eddie since the whole thing happened, and then throws the beer bottle, not at Steve, exactly, but close enough that broken glass scatters around his shoe, beer smattering the patio slabs and the smell of it rising to fill Steve’s nose almost immediately.

Eddie stomps into the house, and Steve can hear Robin asking what happened, clearly concerned; she must have heard the bottle smash, “I cannot stay here with him,” Eddie spits, before the moment passes.

Robin comes out a moment later, “Nancy’s with him, what the fuck just happened?”

Steve’s a little stunned by the confirmation and then the close run in with the beer bottle, but regardless he wouldn’t hide this from Robin, “it was me, Robs. The...Eddie’s wife? I guess, not a wife, me.”

Part Five

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[nymphomatique]

Thinking about reader getting rejected by some guy and she gets drunk and loser nerd miguel is there to comfort her and she is like "miggy you are so much better than him!!" (She won't admit she said that when she is sober) and she is crying and saying embarrassing stuff she likes about miguel while he is trying his best to comfort her. Things like "i actually think the glasses are so cute" "i love how smart you are, always so helpful" and it escalates into things like "i love sitting on your face and seeing the glasses fog up" "your dick is big for a nerd, i love sucking you off" etc. And Miguel is like 😳

she is finally here!! had a blast writing this one 🤭

cw: drunk reader, reader gets rejected and gets shitfaced, miguel being a sweetie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, erm like pantie sniffing? 😭 idk, cunnilingus, creampie, squirting (because why wouldn’t there be it’s me whose writing this), slightly drunk sex (can be considered dubcon), switch miguel??, undercover feelings if u squint🕺🏽i think that’s it lmk if i miss smt. and as usual, not proofread ❤️ enjoy my luvvies

wc: 3.0k

your head was pounding. but that’s to be expected with the excessive amount of alcohol in your system paired with the booming bass of whatever song was playing at whatever club you were at.

you felt so disoriented. at the beginning of the night, you wouldn’t have shown up if you had known what was going to happen. you came out tonight with your sorority friends because you had your sights set on hobie brown. tall, lanky, and fucking gorgeous. all night, you had done your best to push your tits up in your skimpy dress and sway your hips to the song that had been playing at the club to no avail. he left you alone, feeling high and dry to hook up with one of your friends instead. seeing him make out with her in the shared booth you had all pitched in for bad made you feel slightly insecure. was there something wrong with you? you had chosen not to dignify that question with a verbal answer but rather with shots of tequila, and that had been 4 shots ago.

your head was spinning, and you felt so so warm in the club. in this moment you found yourself thinking of one thing only, miguel. you hated yourself for it. and when a mysterious double shot of vodka had appeared in front of you, the bartender saying some guy had payed for them with you, you downed them no question. the burn in your throat quieting the burn in your mind. but only temporarily. you can’t stop thinking about him. his curly brown hair, his plump lips, his cut nose, his eyes, and those glasses he wears. you find yourself missing him in this moment, yearning for him to make you feel better. you’re ready to go home.

you push yourself away from the bar counter, and the push sends you reeling backwards and onto your ass with an “oof!”. with the strobe lights, loud music, and moving bodies, you were nothing in the sea of movement and stimulation on the floor. you figure the floor is your best option at regaining some sense of orientation, so you pull your phone out and order yourself an uber home to the best of your ability. through your hazy vision, you open your messages, scrolling through your contacts until you find the one you’re looking for, under the name ‘four eyes’. without thinking, your thumbs start moving, and you’re pressing send periodically.

you figure you’re done, and you brace yourself to get up and navigate through the sea of bodies ahead of the exit.

in his dorm at his desk, miguel sat quietly studying for his upcoming molecular biology quiz, when his phone starts to buzz.

my love <3

1:22 am. — r y awsje

1:22 am. — awake

1:22 am. — my roon in 15

1:23 am. — pls

miguel looks at his phone, trying to decipher whatever gibberish you had been typing. he figures you mean to meet him at your dorm, a little escape between you two at this time of night wasn’t unusual, but never initiated like this. miguel bookmarks his page in his textbook before closing it, grabbing some water and ibuprofen with him before he makes his way to your dorm.

when he arrives, he sees you on the floor leaning against your door, barely awake. you perk up however at miguel’s footsteps, your eyes fluttering open and a small smile plastering across your face. “miguellll,” you exclaim, throwing your hands towards him. “dunno my room code. piggy back me!” you giggle, rather loudly at that. miguel smiles a bit, walking over briskly to shush you. “okay baby, but you gotta be quiet, yeah?” he smiles, taking you in so.. free. happy.

a smile graces your lips, eyes hazy and blinking, hair messy and unkept like the clothes you wore, but to miguel you were as beautiful as ever, even at your most unguarded. he watches you with a smile, knowing this will be the last time for a good while he’s going to see you like this. he kneels, placing an arm at your back, scooping under you arms, the other arm at the back of your knees. with a swiftness, he steps back up with you in his harms with no sweat, and as drunk as you are damn do you find it hot. your face burries itself in miguel’s pectoral, covered by his soft grey sweater.

you breathe him in quietly as your head the buttons to your room door beep and your handle twist somewhere distant. all you can think about is miguel. as drunk as you were, your eyes would always find the time to focus on him. the way butterflies erupted in your stomach as you saw him walk towards you in his plaid pyjama pants and his loose sweater, glasses atop his head. he looked tired as ever, probably busy studying quantum mechanics or something. yet, here you were in his string arms. miguel, miguel, miguel. you look up at him as he walks you to your bed, and you catch a look at his resting face. he naw tense and sharp, lips pursed, brows bushy and furrowed, his brown eyes sharp and attentive. you’ve never seen him like this. you like seeing him like this. your hand creeps up to his jaw, tracing the muscle and vein, in brief brushes as miguel finally sets you down on your bed.

you’re sat with your back parallel to the wall the length of your bed sits along, head leaning back and reeling in the coolness of the painted wall.

“you enjoy yourself back there?” he teases, smiling softly at you, beginning to undo your necklace clasp. you smile sheepishly, feeling warm and embarrassed you let yourself get caught staring and touching him like that. “s’okay. you know i love it when you touch me.”

and there it is. the sharpness and the bite in miguel that you’re not used to seeing, the miguel who makes your stomach burn with a look, makes your chest pound by saying things like ‘i love it when you touch me.’ he’s long gone from your neck, his nimble fingers at your wrists, unclamping your bracelets and slipping off your rings, placing an occasional kiss on your knuckles. and you sit in silence as he takes care of you, stripping you ever so slightly more bare than you were before, not just physically.

you watch and see the attentiveness in his moved, how he’s careful with you. he moves to take your shoes off next, kneeling as he does so. the begins to unbuckle one strap of your heel, focus built in his face as he does so. he pulls your shoe off, massages your foot, up to your ankle, up to your calf, stopping right as the burning you feel on your skin begins to pick up. you break the comfortable silence with the whisper of his name from your lips.

“yes, my love?” he hums, rubbing soft circles in your calves.

“you’re so good to me. make me really happy,” you murmur.

“yeah? you make me happy too.”

“not just that,” you begin, perking up a bit from your slumped posture. “you’re really smart. makes you really attractive.”

he keeps rubbing soft circles into your supple skin, but this time he’s looking up at you, a slight redness to his cheeks. adorable.

“you’re big n’strong too. carryin’ me like that to my bed,” you giggle. you lean forward, your face a few inches closer to miguel’s. “made my pussy fuckin’ wet,” you whisper at him, leaning back against the wall to watch him, a stunned look on his face. “my other shoes not gonna take itself off.”

miguel doesn’t let your comment phase him, at least beyond the physical sense, as he moves to take your other shoe off. and he repeats. unbuckle, massage, foot, ankle, calf, thigh- thigh? you watch miguel quietly, his hands rubbing and kneading into the meat of your lower thigh. higher and higher his hands creep, until they’re sitting right below the rolled-up hem of your dress. miguel looks up at you, waiting for a sign, an order. wordlessly, you let your legs spread apart.

miguel takes heed of your cue, and his hands gently trail up your thigh and split at its junction, each of his large hands latched onto your hips. he abruptly pulls you forward, and you let out a small squeak. miguel pays you no mind, his eyes on the prize present between your legs. he burries his strong nose into your clothed vagina, rubbing at your clit a bit and he inhales, moaning at the smell. your stomach tightens a bit and you feel both embarrassed and aroused at his display.

“smell as good as you taste.”

you bite your lip and snake your hand up to the thick head of hair in between your legs, pushing him closer to your panty covered wetness. “quit teasin’ me, you breathe out, miguel’s strong nose prodding at your clit. at your expression he moves to lick a stripe up your pussy, licking up the taste of you from your soaked underwear. you let out a soft exhale, feeling sated at the kitten licks miguel gives you. he trails up your clothed wetness once more, and moves the gusset of your panty to the side, exposing you to him.

ever anxious, you hold in a breath, ready and waiting for miguel. after a beat he finally places his mouth on you, delving between your folds and training up between them to reach your clit, which he sucks into his mouth hard. you can’t help but let out a moan, praising him for his work. “f-feels so good, migs. keep goin’ for me.”

and he does, licking and sucking and thrusting up into you until you’re writhing writhin his grasp and you find yourself on the cusp of your orgasm. that is until he pulls away. he’s sat on his haunches, mouth wet and face flushed, lust heavy in his eyes at he looks at you.

“please, mistress, can i make you feel good?”

you lean forward and grab him by his sweater collar, pulling him up to your bed, his face inches from yours. your lips ghost his as you whisper, “you always make me feel good.” you pull him in for a kiss, your lips hot and heavy against miguel’s, swirling your tongues between each others. when you feel void of breath, you break up the kiss, taking a moment to look at miguel until you push him back against the bed, throwing your leg over his hips so that you were straddling him.

“wanna know something else?” you begin, leaning your head down to kiss his cheek. “you always make me cum. with that big dick of yours.” you grind your hips against his, feeling him throb against your pussy even through his sweats. “you always make me cum, even make me wet the bed and squirt. no other man has done that to me.” you continue kissing and suckung his neck, being sure to leave the unmistakable mark of hickeys down his jugular.

miguel moans, his arms tensing and hips jerking up at the sensation and you giggle a bit. “want you to fuck me and make me cum with that dick of yours. hard.” you leave him with your words as you get off him, stumbling a bit, the remaining alcohol in your blood making itself present. you watch miguel, still laying against your bed and you strip for him. you pull your tight dress up and over your head, shimmying it off you until you’re only in your panties. you wore no bra.

at the sight, miguel gulps and raises off the bed, ridding himself of his pants and sweater in record time, until he’s naked in front of you. you peel your panties off of you, throwing them at miguel’s face as you walk over to him and push him back into the position the two of you were in once more. you’re sat on top of miguel’s hard length, laughing at his eyes peeking through the gusset of your lacy underwear. “bet you like havin’ my panties on your face,” you tease, running your hands up his chest, ghosting his hard nipples. he lets out a sharp inhale and you roll your eyes, grabbing your underwear off of miguel’s face. “open,” you command, and his jaw unhinges without a spare moment. you ball up the lace fabric in your hands and shove it in his mouth, biting your lip at seeing miguel like this.

“you’re so fucking sexy, especially now that you can’t talk.”

you decide you’re done teasing, ready to finally satisfy yourself, and you lift you hips up. “put it in yourself,” you tell miguel, and a muffled sigh comes out of his mouth as he grabs his cock, aligning it with your wetness. miguel’s eyes close and his hips jerk up, his fat tipping pushing through you. miguel grabs your hips, squeezing and his keeps going, pushing the entirety of his length within you. you moan, the stretch burning so good along with the slight rush of liquor running through you. you feel hot and lightheaded, and good. so good. when miguel is fully sheathed in you, you don’t give him a moments rest before you plant your hands on his soft pecks and push your hips up to slam them back down.

miguel let’s out muffled curses, and your breaths become to come out faster and shorter as your hips keeping going up and down. “fuckin’ love this cock. s’all mine. don’t ever wanna share you,” you moan out. miguel’s feet plant into your bed and he matches your thrusts, his hands pulling your hips down as he thrusts up into you, causing you to squeal. he’s hitting you deep and hard and you don’t know how long you can take it like this. in the midst of it all, one of miguel’s hands leave your hips to make its way to your clit, rubbing your swollen bud. your body tenses and shakes, and your feel your orgasm build itself up quickly.

“g-gonna cum,” you moan out, looking at miguel. you already find him looking at you, his face in utter ecstasy. your underwear in his mouth is darkened from his saliva, his forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat, his hair strewn across your sheets. he makes your stomach clench, and you feel yourself shake from your orgasm. miguel doesn’t let up, he’s still fucking you and prodding your clit. he’s determined to make you squirt, just like you told him to.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, i’m- ah!” you babble, your brain beginning to fog. your first orgasm doesn’t even let up when you feel a second one hit you, and a groan leave miguel at you tightening and leaking around him. “h-hurts to good, please don’t stop baby please please please.”

he has you begging, the pleasure feeling too much. he’s still not done yet, his determination to make you squirt keeping him going. he flips you both, so that you’re laying against the bed, with him kneeling above you. you’re in such a deep haze that you don’t even realize until you hear miguel speak. he took your panties out of his mouth.

“gonna soak me? i need it, baby. you can do it, huh?” you hear him in your ear. your legs are over his shoulders and he’s pistoning into you and you just can’t. your head falls to the side when you feel a pressure build in your abdomen and you think you did it. liquid spurts from you, soaking you sheets and miguel’s stomach, and he lets out the deepest groan at the feeling. he’s still fucking you, hard thrusts and skin slapping. you feel light and you don’t know how much more you can take until miguel comes, and your hand weakly pushes at his stomach.

“move your hand, baby.”

you moan, the overstimulation becoming too much, and miguel assures you he’s close, almost there baby, hold on for me, yeah? and you do, you hold on even though you feel like his dick is in your throat and you’re gonna pass out if he keeps fucking you like this. you swear your prayers are answered when his thrusts slow, his moaning becoming erratic and loud.

“fuck baby, m’cumming. so good for me, mommy, so fuckin’ good.”

his warm seed fills you up and his thrust still, your back arches at the feeling and a small stream of liquid gushes from you again with a heavy moan. “fuck baby, you still squirting f’me” miguel groans. he pulls out of you slowly, the feeling causing you to shake a bit. when he’s finally removed from yoh, you close your eyes, feeling a kiss to your forehead and sleep pulling a cover over you.

the next morning, you wake up with a blistering headache and a soreness to your body that just pisses you off, more than the sun peeking through your blinds. you groan as you get up, your sheets falling off of you and you see you’re in a grey sweater. huh.

you turn to your bedside table and see that it’s 10:37 am, with a glass of water and two white pills next to it. you reach for them when you hear your room door open, and none other than miguel o’hara enters your room. he greets you with a smile and you scowl at him, noticing the bag of fast food in his hands.

“brought breakfast for you. thought you would, um, be hungry.” he says. you look at him, the scowl leaving your face, and you feel the itchings of a smile poking at your face. if miguel notices, he doesn’t say anything, but he drops the fast food bag on your bed and kisses your forehead, before he disappears off into your bathroom somewhere.

you fucking can’t stand him.

[bbystark]

chimichanga tuesday

deadpool x stark!reader

summary: reader finds herself slightly jealous over Vanessa and Wade's previous relationship. based on this request

a/n: mdni. requests are open! i did not proofread whoops but enjoy! requests are open btw ;)

When Wade first brought up the idea of bringing you to his Chimichanga Tuesdays at Blind Al’s, you were over the moon. This was a big step for you guys and the relationship you had yet to put a title on. He had excitedly started listing the names of everyone that would be there, Colossus, Negasonic “whateverthefuck”, Blind Al, Vanessa- a wave of nausea went through you when he said her name. You weren’t the jealous type, you really weren’t, but the dude put himself through death-defying torture to live for this woman. It was hard not to feel threatened. Besides, who the fuck stays friends with an ex? It blew your mind. 

You knew about their entire history, Wade had told you a few months into hooking up. He didn’t seem to have any secrecy surrounding it, even going as far as to delve into their very active sex life (you had to tell him to shut up when he got to “a pegging christmas”). However, your own fear of his answers kept you from asking the most important one: did he still love her? Would he leave you if she decided she wanted him back? You felt so stupid. You were a Stark for God's sake, your ego should be untouchable. But alas, you actually strongly liked Wade. You were starting to head into that place where just thinking about him brought a stupid love-sick smile to your face. 

So yeah. You were a little jealous of Vannessa, and tonight was Chimichanga Tuesday. You were fucked. Both metaphorically and literally, being on your third Dirty Shirley within the hour. You were waiting for Wade to pick you up from your apartment, growing more and more nervous as time went on. You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear the front door rattle, Wade bursting in with a stapler in hand. “Hey hot stuff! Sorry about the blood. Was running late to see your tight little ass and had to staple the toupee on the bus. Bumpy ride.” He makes his way over to you, tossing the stapler to the side and pulling you into a hug. “Hi Wade.” You melt into him. “When are you going to let me buy you lace glue for that thing?” You poke at a staple and he winces, grabbing your wrist gently. 

“Hey, the staples are very economically friendly. Not everyone has a disgustingly handsome father to inherit billions from.” He smiles at you, glancing around your apartment and seeing the large bottle of vodka sitting in the middle of your kitchen island. “Woah thirsty girl! You getting the party started already?” 

You suddenly feel ashamed, like a teen who got caught with a beer. “I’ve only had one.” He gives you a look. “Okay three!” He turns to the side and rolls his eyes to his imaginary audience. “We’re lucky she didn’t bring out the tequila. She gets real mean.” You shove him a little bit. “That was one time! It’s not that hard to say excuse me.” “Oh, I’m not mad sugarcakes. Watching you threaten to disembowel someone twice your size really got little Deadpool going. I am slightly concerned though. Broody and depressed alcoholics run in your family. What’s going on in that brain?” 

You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find a response. You consider lying, but suddenly you feel a little light and stupid thanks to your last drink and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Do you still love Vannessa?” 

Wade freezes, a little shocked by the question. He’s silent for longer than he’s ever been and you’re scared you’ve gone too far. You’re about to apologize and take your words back  when he puts his finger over your lips and says “Give me two seconds for a dramatic flashback and careful introspection that will eventually lead to important character development.” You give him a strange look and he sighs. “Trust me, it’s very important to our plot.” 

Wade thinks really hard. He still loves Vannessa in his own fucked up way but he wasn’t in love with her anymore. He knew she still loved him too, but in the same way an owner can’t hate a pet that constantly bites them. Except Wade was a pet who got cancer and abandoned her, not to mention put her life on the line on multiple occasions (although to his credit, he did save her and the entire timeline). But to put it simply, somehow the two most fucked up people had the healthiest breakup ever. 

Even given the chance, Wade knows he wouldn’t go back to Vannessa because it could never be the same. Wade used to painfully long for his past before seeing a motivational poster that said “keep chugging along” with a creepy looking animated train. Then it really clicked for him. Vannessa wasn’t his happy ending, even though she had given him many in the past. If he had chosen to stay with her instead of being a lab rat for Francis St. Fuck, she would have been. But is dying of cancer and leaving the woman you love alone for the rest of her life a happy ending? He realized that if he kept looking to the past, he would forget that he had created his own weird little family, even if it wasn’t what he originally planned. He would also forget that he has a smoking hot girl in front of him that he’s quickly growing more attached to. 

Wade has been quiet and staring directly at a wall for a long time, and it’s starting to really freak you out. “Wade..?” You try gently. He snaps out of it, shaking his head and laughing a little. “Jeez these flashbacks just keep getting longer and longer, like hello that’s what sequels are for.” You stay silent, looking at him expectantly. “Oh right!” He moves closer to you, taking your hands in his.

“Yes. Yes I do still love Vannessa.” your heart drops, and you quickly pull your hands from his. 

“What the fuck Wade?” 

“No! Wait let me finish, I do still love her, but not like I did. She used to be my everything, the only reason I lived and then later, the reason I tried killing myself but that’s beside the point- what I’m trying to say is that she’s my past. And I get us still being friends is like, totally not the norm but I promise there’s nothing there anymore. I just, care about her I guess. But I don’t want to keep letting my past get in the way of things that are happening now.” He looks you in the eye for the last part, and you almost tear up at the sight of The Wade Wilson being serious for once, and to you of all people. You take a few seconds before replying. 

“I know she’s a huge part of your very unconventional life, and I don’t want to get all psycho and say that I don’t want you to see her because really, I truly don’t mind. Just kind of had a jealous monster take over for a second. I’m sorry.” You give him a shy smile. 

“Hey, I’m just surprised you still haven’t realized you’re fucking an avacado’s abortion. That’s a win in my book.” You both laugh and you take his face in your hands gently, smiling. You don’t really have much to say, you still feel silly, even more so that he’s essentially calmed all your insecurities. So you just stare at him, the drinks in your system letting your fingers dance across his face, just taking all of him in. Wade can’t handle it. 

“I think I like you.” He blurts out. He cringes, he can’t believe he just confessed like a middle schooler. “Bad Deadpool.” he whispers to himself. 

You laugh and then bring his face to yours for a clumsy kiss. “I think I like you too. Avocado abortion face and all.” You kiss him again, slower this time, trying to avoid the staples poking out of his scalp when you place your hand on his neck. He pulls away slowly, eyes still closed. “Good Deadpool.”

[flowery-mess]

the bet: part one

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / oral / protected sex / overstimulation kind of / public sex / a bet related to a sexual topic made by Noah's friends, but no actual harm to the reader - consider whether to continue if this topic is sensitive for you.

Words: 3,5k

Author's note: please read warnings for this one! I wouldn't want to upset anyone and as always let me know if there's anything else that should be tagged!

frat boy Noah masterlist

✨This two part fic takes place just a few weeks into Noah and Ella’s friendship with benefits, so it’s kind of a flashback story. In their storyline this would happen before the “uh oh” one shot.✨

“Man, how did you pull someone like her?” Folio said to Noah after finishing his shot of vodka.

Another fraternity party on Friday night, you and Noah both there. At this point you spent three Friday’s together, your friends with benefits thing just starting.

“What do you mean how he pulled someone like her? Look at him, tall, handsome, has tattoos and he’s smart. And he has his own place! What more do you need to pull someone like her?” Matt answered before Noah even had a chance to think about it.

At this point Noah didn’t know you that well, which means he didn’t care that much about you to cut this conversation off before it went downhill.

“Is she good in bed?” Folio couldn’t stop his curiosity.

“I don’t kiss and tell Folio.” Noah said with a smirk.

“Come on dude, is she good? Loud? Dominant?” Folio tried and tried some more.

“Judging by her looks, I think she’s shy and quiet outside, but she must be a freak in the sheets. Huh?” Matt wouldn’t admit it, but he kinda wanted to know some details too.

“You never had a problem telling us about girls you were with.”

“Because they were one time things.” Noah replied and had to admit the truth. He was never shy about telling his friends about girls screaming his name in his bed, but he knew you were not just a one time thing, so he didn’t need his friends knowing stuff like that about you if you’re going to stick around somehow.

“Is our fuck boy getting serious about someone?” Jolly started to tease Noah too.

“We just agreed on the friends with benefits shit, so I’m not gonna tell you anything.” Noah shut them up with his look he gave them, becoming tired from this stupid conversation.

They changed topic and Noah went to refill his drink. He stood in the doorway from where he could see you, dancing and laughing with your friends. He knew you were pretty, you had a body most of the guys wish they could touch, so it gave him a satisfaction that he was the one you let do it.

When he returned to the table where the rest of his friend group was sitting, Folio tried once more to get something out of Noah.

“Did you break the record with her, Noah?” that had Noah pause his movements, suddenly all eyes were back on him.

He thought this stupid thing was long forgotten. Their first year at college they agreed to challenge themselves who can make a girl have the most orgasms in one night.

“Didn’t we stop with this thing?” Noah asked all of them.

“We could bring it back.” Folio seemed like he chose to challenge Noah’s patience tonight.

“Fuck off.” Noah became offensive, he didn’t want this to come back, he already felt bad about the idea of you being part of that.

“You said it yourself that you’re gonna break Jolly’s record one day.”

Jolly was the “winner” with 5 orgasms from Jenny.

Noah rolled his eyes at that comment and looked away from all of his friends, already feeling the competitiveness slowly creep into his head.

“Come on Noah, I know you want to.” Matt added and wasn’t the only one, other boys started to tease him so he would give in.

“You’re just scared of losing, you know you’re not gonna win.” Jolly jumped in, knowing exactly how to get on Noah’s nerves.

“Okay. Now shut up.” Noah muttered under his breath.

“Oh it’s on!” Folio finally satisfied, he went to fist bump Nick next to him.

“Don’t forget we need proof, yeah?”

“Yeah whatever.” Noah stood up and walked away from his friends, already sick from agreeing. He knew it was stupid, stupid as fuck actually. He matured since the first year of college and he thought his friends did too.

He didn’t hate the idea of getting as many orgasms from you as possible, but he hated the idea of sharing it with his friends. The proof was always either a texts with the girl they spent the night with, something stupid like “Hey, how many orgasms did you have last night?” or the girls were too stupid and didn’t have any shame and told the rest of the guys the number at the next party.

Noah knew you were not going to do that, not even text him how many orgasms you had, because in fact, you’re much smarter than all of the girls he was with before you.

—

“Hey, are you ready to leave?” you felt a big hand sneak around your waist and hot breath on your skin when Noah leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Hey stranger.” you turned around to face him, still not used to his touch. You have never done this before, friends with benefits. But Noah made it easy for you so far. He didn’t push you into anything, didn’t have to with his looks.

He was attentive in bed, gentle and not so gentle when you didn’t want him to be. You were scared of getting feelings, but school and life kept you busy for that to happen, and Fridays with Noah are great way to let the steam out.

You’re still not used to his touch though, so when he whispered into your ear, you got goosebumps. “Yeah I don’t mind leaving.”

Noah took your hand in his and led you out of the kitchen, sadly for him you two had to cross his friends on your way out. Folio held his hand up, signalizing number 5, but to you it just seemed like a harmless wave, so you waved back. Noah rolled his eyes and quickened his pace.

“I drank tonight, we have to take a cab.” Noah told you that he doesn’t drink every week, but tonight was one of the days he had few beers.

“Oh, that’s okay Noah.” you smiled at him and started playing with your jacket while he called the cab. He still made you nervous, so you continued to play with your sleeves, because you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Come here.” he took your hand in his and pulled you closer to him. His hand made its way to your face, he cupped your cheeks and leaned down to kiss you. It was slow and gentle at first, but quickly changed into messy making out in a parking lot.

He walked you back until your back was met with a wall, parting your legs with his right knee, your dress making it easy for him to get reaction out of you just from that movement.

He chuckled at your sudden change of breathing and kept his knee between your legs, making it easy for you to get some kind of fraction that you obviously wanted.

“Noah-” you moaned out his name when his hand slipped under your dress, dangerously close to your panties.

He didn’t plan to make you cum in a parking lot, but you looked so good with your mouth open and big eyes looking up at him.

He touched you over the black lacy fabric, making you squirm under his touch. You were sure he could make you cum if the cab driver hadn't honked at you.

You pulled away from him, cheeks turning red from the embarrassment and Noah just laughed at it.

When your driver left the parking lot you felt Noah’s hand on your thigh, not thinking much of it, until he reached the hem of your dress that didn’t stop him from moving his hand under the soft fabric. You’ve never done anything like this before so you didn’t know if he’s serious or just teasing you.

With a confused look you turned your head to face him, but he was looking ahead of him, watching the traffic with a smirk on his face. Okay, two can play this game you thought and opened your legs more, looking out of the window so he couldn’t see your smirk.

He didn’t expect that from you, so as surprised as he was, he didn’t stop moving his hand up until he touched your clit over the fabric again that night. His gaze was on the driver, making sure he wouldn’t see anything and thankfully his radio was pretty loud, so he couldn’t hear you take a deep breath from Noah’s hand on you.

Noah started moving his two fingers in circles on your clit, adding just a bit more pressure once in a while. After a while he felt your wetness through your panties and your breathing quickening with his movements. You moved your hand to grab his thigh, needing something to ground yourself from the high that was coming closer and closer.

It took Noah a few more touches until your thighs squeezed his hand between them and you had to cover your moans with coughing.

Number one, Noah thought. His hand slid down so it was resting just above your knee for the rest of the ride and when he was sure your breathing is even again, he leaned down to whisper “Good girl.” in your ear.

---

“What the hell was that?” you whisper screamed at him when the elevator doors closed behind you.

“Didn’t look like you minded that, or did you?” he cornered you by the mirror, smiling at your facial expression. You were smiling, but also looked like you just saw a ghost.

“No I didn’t.” you took a deep breath, “I’ve just never done something like this before.” you whispered against his lips that turned into a smug smirk again.

He let you kiss him until the elevator stopped and then he took your hand in his once again, leading you to his door.

Your jacket hit the floor just next to Noah’s main door, his jacket was left somewhere in his living room and your dress was off your body before you reached his bedroom. Before you had a chance to take his t-shirt off he laid you down in the middle of his bed and started kissing you slowly, very slowly. He started with your lips, taking both of your hands and pinning them with one of his above your head.

You enjoyed this kind of kiss, sloppy, messy, slow and sensual. Suddenly he disconnected from your mouth and licked your neck, leaving a wet spot there and moving down your body.

Noah spread your legs, made space for him to lay down. He took his time kissing your thighs, gently biting at your sensitive skin before he used his fingers to tease you in the middle.

“Noahh.” you moaned and lifted your hips, giving him a hint that you want more.

“Patience baby, patience.” he replied.

When he had enough of teasing you he reached for your lacy underwear and painfully slowly took it off of you.

You saw his look, dark eyes and hunger on his face. You were never with a man this obsessed with your body before.

He positioned himself back between your legs and what he did next got you gasping for air. He let his saliva drop slowly from his mouth to your pussy and you felt it first on your clit, then sliding down all the way to your hole. You felt it everywhere.

“Fuck.” you heard Noah say to himself.

Before you could react, one of his fingers made contact with your clit and you were a goner. Your head fell back against his pillows and a deep moan left your lips.

Noah continued with playing with your clit for a while, his eyes on you, watching your body react to his touch. He didn’t give you warning before he used his mouth on you, which made you put one of your hands in his hair to keep him from leaving your lap.

His fingers opened your lips so he could have better access to your core and slowly started moving his tongue from your hole to your clit. You were a moaning mess, staying in place only thanks to his arm around your waist.

He let you guide him by his hair to where you wanted him the most, noticing how you pulled at his hair when it felt particularly good. When he felt your pussy clench around nothing he knew you were close so he completely surrounded himself to your hand in his hair and let you ride his tongue the way you wanted and needed to. The orgasm took over your body and you squeezed his head with your thighs, not quite ready to feel the cold that’s gonna replace him when you let him go. His mouth got you through your orgasm until you became too sensitive and pushed him away. Number two, he noted.

He climbed his way back to your face and was pretty satisfied with the state you were in. Eyes closed, mouth open, red cheeks and mascara already where it shouldn't be.

“Hi.” you said with a giggle when you opened your eyes and saw him looking down at you.

“Something funny?” he asked with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“Nop.” you said and reached for his neck to bring his lips to yours so you could taste yourself there. He brought his fingers to your lips and pushed them into your mouth, moaning at the sight of you licking them clean.

“You have too many clothes on for my liking.” you whispered and went for his t-shirt. He let you strip him down completely, but didn’t expect you to put his painfully hard dick into your mouth straight away. He fell on his back and let you do what you wanted to him, he was lost in the moment, finally enjoying his needs being taken care of. He was hard from the moment he pushed you against the wall in that parking lot.

You made a mess all over him, your saliva dripping down his shaft from your tries to take him as deep as you could. You teased the skin on his thighs with your nails, slowly dragging them up and down while sucking his cock.

“Ella, fuck, that’s good.” Noah reacted exactly how wanted him to, mimicking your actions from earlier and taking your hair in his hand. He desperately wanted to come in your mouth, but not tonight, tonight is not about him.

“Come here.” he grabbed your chin and led you up to straddle his lap. He got on his elbows to meet you halfway for a kiss before he reached to get a condom.

You slowly slid down on his dick and let out a loud moan. He felt good inside you. He gave you a minute to get used to him, but then started moving his hips a bit. You started moving too, using his chest as a support.

“Yeah, just like that.” he encouraged you, already aware of the effect his words had on you, “That’s it. Fuck me, Ella, just like that.”

You continued to ride him, reacting to every one of his words by clenching your walls around him. Noah knew he wouldn’t last for much longer so he put his fingers on your clit, making sure you’re going to finish with him. He pulled you down by your neck in an attempt to kiss you only to stay with your mouth open and moaning his name against his own. You came first, Noah shortly after you. Number three, he counted in his head while you were laying on his chest and catching your breath.

“Fuck Noah, I-” you tried to speak, but almost coudln’t finish the sentence, “I never met someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“I mean like in bed, I didn’t know sex could feel this good.” he only chuckled at that, but felt proud that he was your best experience.

“How about we make it even better, huh?” he laid you down on your side and laid on his side, tracing his fingers on the curves of your body. He leaned down to kiss you and his hand slid down between your legs again. You were still oversensitive, but it felt too good to tell him to stop.

“Noah.” you moaned into his mouth when kissing became impossible with his fingers touching you. You lifted your leg a bit to give him more access, which he used to slide one of his fingers inside you. “Fucking hell!”

He chuckled at your reaction, but didn’t stop. Your wetness allowed him to quicken the pace and you were coming again in less then a few minutes.

“That was quick.” even Noah was surprised, but who could blame you. Overstimulated, horny and in bed with this attractive guy. He let you lay down and catch your breath, gently caressing your hair and pushing it out of your face. Number four, just two more.

“Do you want some water?”

“Please.” you replied, not having energy in you to even open your eyes yer, but by the sounds that followed you guessed he put his underwear on and went to his kitchen to get you both something to drink.

“You’re really one of a kind you know.” Noah was laying on his back with you by his side. You let your fingers trace the lines of his tattoos.

“Huh?”

“You’re not a regular fuck boy from a fraternity, you’re actually kinda nice.”

“Kinda nice? Ouch.” he laughed.

“Sorry, I mean I wasn’t expecting this when we first slept together.”

“I’d think four orgasms is better than kinda nice.” he teased you.

“Shut up.” you were shy, you didn’t like to talk about stuff like that if it wasn’t in the heat of a moment.

“How about another one?” Noah said more seriously. His ego pushed him even though he knew he shouldn’t.

“What?” you didn’t expect anything more for tonight, so if it wouldn’t be for his serious face you’d think he was joking.

“Can you give me another one?” he asked, but already moved his body so he was now hovering over you.

“I don’t know, can you make me?” you teased him with a playful smile.

Noah didn’t waste any time and started kissing you.

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?” he pulled apart for a second, looking for confirmation in your eyes. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable just for his own stupidity.

“Yeah.” this time you pulled him down for a kiss and felt his dick getting hard again.

You slide one of your hands down his back, putting pressure on his skin with your nails which got Noah growling in your ear. His hips rolled slowly against yours, you felt his dick stroke your clit and that sent a wave of new pleasure through your body.

“Do that again.” you told him and left your hand on his lower back, scratching your nails there.

He did it again and again, his tip touching your clit over and over. This new way of intimacy made you both silent, only your breaths and occasional moans could be heard.

“Don’t stop, I’m close.” you told him when you felt the familiar feeling in your belly. You felt his lips on your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin.

You couldn’t hold it in any more after hearing Noah say “Good girl, cum for me.” in your ear. Number five, you counted how many orgasms Noah made you have that night and still couldn’t understand how a man could have this effect on you.

“That was hot.” you heard Noah whisper again, more sweet nothings followed while you put yourself together.

“Get another condom.” you told him. You felt completely exhausted, but longed for one more orgasm together.

Noah didn’t waste any time, throwing the package somewhere on the floor and pushing himself into you in the same position. This time there was no time for passionate kisses or touches, it was hard and fast.

It was the overstimulation you both were feeling that sent you both over the edge after minutes of Noah’s hard thrusts into you. Your body shaking from the sixth orgasm, Noah collapsing on your chest still inside you.

“Give me a minute.” he mumbled against your skin.

You laid chest to chest for more than a minute, both coming down and enjoying each other’s proximity. Your breaths stabilized and there was nothing you wanted more than a shower and 8 hour sleep.

“Come on, let’s take you to the bathroom.” Noah stood up and then reached his hands out for you to grab.

Turns out Noah is as good at aftercare as he is in bed. He took a shower with you, washed your body and then gave you his clothes to change into. He left you to do your skincare and went to make some quick snack for both of you.

Later when you were back in his bed, you were already sleeping cuddled to his chest, he stared into the ceiling and couldn’t fall asleep. He enjoyed tonight, but felt bad for what his motivation was at first, especially when he looked down and saw your peaceful sleeping state.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

@lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall

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[unholyhelbig]

the oversight part 5? i love that series!

Title: The Oversight [Part 5/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7589

Warnings: Blood, guns, general violence, empty threats, angst, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: Listen, I straight up just finished watching 'The Iron Claw' and if you value your ability to hold it together, I suggest not seeing it. But also... go see it because it's phenomenal. Oh, and Happy Holidays!, like with most things, I regret my direction on this.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Softly, you denied the small wooden bowl that was passed person to person, filled with numbers scribbled haplessly on strips of paper. There was a pit of guilt in your stomach for not bringing a white elephant gift- but as the honorary plus one of Darcy Lewis you succumbed to your fate. She’d drawn a middle grade number and sidled up next to you with her third vodka tonic.

You took a swallow of your own cranberry flavored drink, something that masked the sharp taste of alcohol. You were feeling fuzzy, but in the light way that would assure you’d get through the rest of party and the competitive game of gift swapping.

“Thanks for doing this,” Darcy said to you, nudging your shoulder “it was a little too fancy for my liking.”

She had stressed that she needed your presence to get through all the small talk about science. Darcy was an expert engineer but she could only go so far when it came to awkward co-workers murmuring amongst the twinkling Christmas lights and pre-paid meals. She got along well with most, but you could sense her anxiety well.

“Of course, you know I’d never turn down smoked salmon.”

Truthfully, it sounded a lot better than what your own work was planning. It took some quiet background checks and calling babysitting references, but you eventually conceded to a teenage girl that was certified in CPR and didn’t charge interest.

Your own holiday celebration at the Diner had been lackluster and consisted of much more alcohol. This was quiet and subdued, and a welcome break from the usual chaos that surrounded your life. You were more than happy to watch people tear paper from candles and blankets and ornaments.

“How much money do you want to put on Jimmy bringing some sort of magic kit?”

You hadn’t noticed the girl that hugged the side of the bar, waving down the bartender wordlessly. She was drinking something sweet and garnished with orange. She had a beautiful smile and the clearest eyes you had ever seen. Darcy smiled at her with familiarity and it eased you.

“I don’t bet on things I’m going to lose.” Darcy said with finality. “Y/n, this is Monica Rambeau.”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

Her grip was firm, and you squeezed her hand back with the same amount of pressure. Her smile widened at that before the bartender returned with a fresh drink garnished with another twirled orange peel. The two of you separated.

“So, Monica, what do you do?”

Something in science, the answer was obvious if she was at this holiday party. But she humored you all the same, turning her back to the counter and leaning close to you. There was pride in her answer, and it bloomed in her chest.

“I’m a mechanical engineer, specializing in astrophysics and astrobiology.”

“Don’t’ sell yourself short.” Darcy interjected with a watery laugh “She’s the head of our S.W.O.R.D division.”

Darcy had spoken about this before and the name rang familiar. Her company was looking at alternative fuel sources that could supply space exploration. All the while, they focused on vertical growing and bettering the community. From what you understood, this was a big deal. She was a big deal.

“Wow, that’s very impressive Ms. Rambeau”

Your voice was filled with genuine awe, but your conversation was cut short when the number sixteen was called out. Monica sheepishly pulled herself away from the bar and held her strip of paper up before approaching the table filled with wrapped gifts. She went for a medium-sized one adorned in reindeer.

“Oh wow!” She forced a smile, voice sweet like honey “A magic kit!”

The air in your room was stale and fought you as you pulled it into your lungs. You’d, at some point, kicked off your comforter and were splayed out on your sheets in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. Sweat hat soaked through both and the fabric clung to your skin.

On a blind instinct you grabbed at the gun under your nightstand, fastened by nothing more than duct tape. You could feel your heart in your throat and struggled to swallow it down again. You weren’t sure when this became second nature for you, something within the last two months of accompanying Natasha to the gun range for hours a time.

All the same, you held the tip of the weapon to the ground and rounded the corner of your bedroom into the dark hallway. You were unsettled from the dream you’d just had. The memory. Your subconscious had finally connected the woman who stood at Carol’s side. Her familiarity.

Monica Rambeau.

It was true, there was a stark coldness to her when you’d met at a Christmas party just the year before. It was only in passing and there were moments, like at the fair, when Darcy would mention her co-worker.

This changed things. Anxiety spiked haplessly, even as you diligently searched and cleared each room the way you had been taught. Keep your gun down, keep your eyes on the darkest corners of the room, ready to fire your weapon at any point. Especially if it was aimed at Natasha.

There was the slight movement of a shadow to your left and you quickly raised the gun, aiming it directly at the disturbance. Veronica stood on a chair in the kitchen, struggling to fill a glass with warm water, the only temperature that the faucet would allow.

You let out a quiet, mortified sigh before tucking the weapon into the waistband of your shorts. Your daughter blinked with wide eyes and that same guilty feeling flooded you at once, overtaking the anxiety.

“Baby,” You breathed, closing the distance between you and flicking on the overhead lights. You both flinched at their harshness but eventually blinked the shock away. “What are you doing up?”

You didn’t expect an answer, nor did you get one. Instead, you scooped her up under her arms and set her gently on the linoleum. There was water in the fridge, but she always had issues pouring it from the large jug. Ronnie was stubborn and shot you a frown at your intrusion.

“Don’t give me that look, kid.”

Her expression eased and you dumped the water down the drain before refilling the glass with something colder and more refreshing. Ronnie gulped it down eagerly, soaking the collar of her shirt with the liquid. She let out an appeased noise and wiped the rest of the water away from her mouth. She stood on her tip-toes and placed the glass in the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me either.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked tiredly at you, your heart melting at the sight. It was easy to remember the words Natasha had trusted you with on the Ferris Wheel. Veronica would talk when she wanted to, but you had become quite good at reading her expressions and movements. Within the last month, you had stopped the long drives and the specialists. It eased you both.

“How about a sleepover?”

The exhaustion turned into joy and then combined within her look. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you scooped her up. She was getting too big for this, but you didn’t much care. You’d gotten stronger in the last few months and even if you hadn’t, you’d do the same.  

With a show of dramatics you tossed her onto the bed and replaced the duvet that you’d flung off. Carefully, as Ronnie’s stare averted, you placed the gun in the drawer next to your bed. The last thing you did was prop the window open, letting out the flat air and letting in the sound of the city.

Ronnie was pulled flush against your chest in a matter of moments, though you had suddenly lost all exhaustion. You listened to the sirens, to the calls of people just ending their nights. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the horns of the boats that settled into the harbor.

“I love you so much.” You whispered into the small of her neck, “One day I’m going to get us out of here.”

Veronica didn’t respond, but the squeeze her little hand gave yours was all the reassurance that you needed.

Clint swallowed down steaming black coffee without blowing on it to cool it down. The nutty scent filled the cab of the car and warmed your nerves. He drank like your daughter did, but with the purpose of waking himself up before the sun. You never did get back to sleep and were wired enough to refuse the cup he offered you this morning.

He’d knocked on your door as the orange sun moved over the horizon. You were to accompany him to the docks to check on business. This somehow seemed less intimidating than the dinner you’d attended with Natasha.

“It’ll be easy. We have a chokehold on the harbor, we just have to check with a few of the vendors to collect their dock rent and call it a day. Everything else is done under the table. People aren’t too happy because at the end of the day, we’re the ones that take money from them. But it’s a necessary evil.”

You nodded and watched as the city went by. It was peaceful, quiet. There had been a single foster home that you stayed in that had a view of the entire skyline. You were too far away to see the bustling people and the everyday chaos that accompanied it.

There were, of course, moments of calm when you would work the early morning shift at the diner. But that would always shatter by the time you made the two minute walk from your apartment to the back door that was choked with the scent of garbage and cheap cigarettes.

“We have some invitations to hand out too. In the glovebox.”

You furrowed your brow and popped it open. His weapon (or his second, or third) sat upon a stack of manilla cards with elegant writing on them that had to be done by hand. You inspected them but didn’t’ dare separate the paper.

“What are these for?”

“Nat throws a party for her benefactors every single year. It’s real fancy, a suit and tie thing. Her renters are invited too and if they have the balls to show up, they always have a good time. She makes sure of it.”

“We’re expected to attend?”

He nodded, “It’s a requirement, really. As Natasha’s right hand. You go where she goes and once your probationary period is over, you’ll be on her like glue. Though, I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.”

You frowned at his statement, his insinuation. Sure, you had gotten close to Natasha, had even grown to like her. She had a way of getting under your skin until it felt like she lived in it. Otherwise, you would have cut your losses long ago and let her slit your throat the first moment she met you.

There was a feeling of devotion that you felt the need to uphold. She had spared your life, after all. You’d spent the last two and a half months with her guiding you, teaching you how to obey her every word. Without fault, you would. Clint knew it, Kate and Yelena knew it. You knew it.

Instead of admitting it, you frowned and slumped further in your seat, struggling to ignore Clint’s own shit-eating expression. By the time he pulled to a stop, it had started to drizzle enough for him to flick his wipers on. The sound of them scraping against the window filled the silence.

You took careful attention to stay quiet and observe. Your gun was strapped carefully to your side and the invitations rested in your side pocket. You didn’t dare get them wet and let the ink run in a soupy mess. It had been years since you’d been out here and part of you was unsteady on the aged and slick wood.

“Sam is a cool guy. His family has hold on a good portion of the harbor. He likes to joke, so don’t pay him any mind.” Clint jabbed you with his elbow. “And loosen up a little bit, would you?”

You glowered at him and rubbed the stiff spot on your ribs but felt your shoulders lower a bit. There was a lot of weight behind this, that had been made clear to you the second you were inducted into this system.

Instead of heading directly down the long stretches of worn dock, Clint took a turn just before the asphalt ended. A small structure that looked less weathered than the rest of your surroundings rested at the lots end. The windows were thick enough to withstand the watery winds.

Clint stilled his large hand shooting out across your chest. It took you a few seconds to clock the shattered glass on the front door. Small smears of crimson pocked the shards that remained. Much like the evening before, you drew your gun on instinct, and Clint did the same.

He didn’t take care to hide your presence. Instead, he took the brunt of his large boot and cracked through the doorframe with the force of one kick. Wood splintered, raining down on linoleum and a desk that was easily from the 70’s.

You could smell the blood before you saw it, nearly sliding on the flooring. You caught yourself before that happened, heart pounding in your ears. “Fuck!”

“Jesus Christ,” Clint mirrored your sentiments.

Whoever had been here was long gone, but they’d left quite the mess. They’d torn through the filing cabinets, leaving legal papers and folders scattered against the desk and the expanse of cabin space.

You tracked the source of the pooling blood with little difficulty. A man- one that you had rightly never seen before- was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. From edge to edge of his throat was a long cut leaking an ugly red color. His stare was frosty, soaked into his sweatshirt.

It was like a car crash, something that you struggled to avert your eyes from until Clint physically grasped your chin and turned your attention to him. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, yes. Good.” You answered cooly, swallowing whatever dryness was in your throat. “Who would do something like this?”

“Carol… one of her lackeys. This is an eye for an eye thing.”

Even if it was an act of revenge, this was extensive. It sent a clear message even if you didn’t’ exactly know all the specifics of the feud. Of course, you’d seen Yelena at work and even that was mild compared to the brutality of this.

The thought of Monica, if it even had been her, completing a task as unfeeling as this filled your veins with ice. You felt your nails dig into your palms, soft and stinging. There was a surge of anger, and sadness that mixed into resolution. Natasha was right to despise the Danver’s family. Any family that treated the world with this much cruelty.

Natasha was in the gym on the second floor. Large windows overlooked the backyard, and a prolonged view of the harbor. There were blue mats adorning the floor, and a few wracks meant for weightlifting.

You had never seen this part of the house before. Usually the weather permitted sparring outside, but the late summer rain had made that impossible. Sheets of water obscured your usual view, though, it wasn’t exactly trained on the windows.

Natasha had her back facing you, her breathing timed evenly with each punch she threw at an 80-pound bag filled with sand. She wore tight-fitting shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Not that you had imagined her in that situation before.

Her muscles tightened and relaxed with each movement. They were scarred in a deep orchid pink, long ago healed. At one point, she was lashed. You recognized the damage done by a leather belt and shivered at the memory of it.

Natasha was fit, she was coated in a layer of sweat that dripped across her strength. You had to be clear minded for this and the state of her wasn’t making it easy on you. Her knuckles were wrapped, and she would grunt with each thrust of her fist. For just a moment, you wished you were under her mercy instead of the punching bag.  

That broke when she panted against the bag, stopping its swinging with a firm grasp on either side. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Natasha had focused her green eyes on you through the reflection of the window. Of course, you hadn’t intended to gawk as long as you had. But you were leaning against the doorframe of the gym, practically drooling. You had forgotten yourself and you wouldn’t’ put it past Natasha to notice.

She turned to you, a wolfish smile on her face. “Take your jacket off. Holster too.”

You struggled to ignore the haughty expression on her face when you did exactly what she said without question, almost too eagerly, depositing them on the edge of the mat. You pushed your shoes off too, knowing not to track mud on any of Natasha’s carpets.

Her eyebrow lifted at the action. She’d moved closer during your actions, and you’d nearly run into her before noticing. Her presence was intoxicating. All-consuming.

“You’re here to tell me something,” She proclaimed “you’ve got that adorable look on your face. It’s good to know someone in this house still fears me.”

She was joking and it tugged at your heart to send that mood down to the ground before lighting it on fire. You’d expected her to be in poorer spirits after Clint had called her and let her know what had happened at the harbor. Instead, she responded in her same calculated coolness that she regarded you with now.

There was nothing about her demeanor that eased you, and suddenly, it felt like you were being scolded for a decision you had made. Even more so when she grasped your chin and forced you to look at her.

“That woman with Carol from the other night. I know her. Briefly.”

“Briefly?”

“As in, I met her at a Christmas party a few years back and… left with her.”

Natasha’s grip tightened against your chin, her thumb digging into your jaw. There was too much alcohol flowing that night and after making stinted conversation about how to disconnect two metal rings smoothly, the two of you went back to her apartment.

Before the sun came up, you left. There was shame in it, and the walk back to your own apartment punctuated with Darcy’s scolding was enough to make you forget the encounter altogether. It was one night- a fun night, but singular all the same.

Natasha let out a small noise of disapproval that sunk straight to your core. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does she remember you?”

“It… didn’t seem like it.”

Her eyes narrowed, nose a short distance from your own. You could feel the hotness of her breath against your throat. How you had disappointed her. That much was clear from the lack of tenderness in her grasp. She eventually released you, trailing her fingers down the expanse of your neck.

She played with the small charm of your necklace, nothing more than a dainty gold chain with the tiniest whisper of a diamond in the center. Your skin prickled at the sensation, breath audibly catching as she worked her fingers over the length of chain.

“Well, I suppose this could be a problem. Especially with Carols violent behavior lately.”

Natasha sighed dramatically, and within an instant her nimble hand had tightened around your throat. She walked you the three steps backwards to the nearest wall. The small of your back landed with a heady thud and you used the last of your available breath to grunt out in protest.

Of course, you had seen her angry before, but it was never directed at you. Not like this. She wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure you, not really. But the shock of the movement had made you think she would end you all the same.

“You should have come to me right away, pet.” Her grasp tightened; words growled. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient, girl.”

Her words filled you with an immense shame for letting her down. Over the past few months, it had become impossible to be anything but perfect for Natasha Romanoff. The fact that you hadn’t connected the dots sooner was disillusioning.

The grip against your throat loosened ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her lips nearly ghosting your own. You could barely taste her, a strangled whimper escaping you. She pressed her body close. It was warm and overwhelming.

“I expect you to handle this on your own if it becomes a problem, darling.”

Before you could close the distance, Natasha pulled away from you entirely. It left you panting against the wall, wanting for something more. She knew exactly what she was doing. You craved her more than anything, and she had brought you so close to something you both wanted before denying it altogether.

Natasha sauntered, actually sauntered, across the gym and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench. She regarded you with flushed cheeks, her eyebrow raised as if nothing had just happened and you supposed that nothing did.

“Clint has told you about the party?” It took a few seconds before you found your voice, after her gentle urgings “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am. He did.”

She reached for a water bottle, exchanging it’s spot on the bench for the towel. She takes three hungry swallows, and you watched the way her throat moved in response to the water. Each of her movements seemed deliberate, nearly calculated to get a reaction out of you.

“Perfect. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about what to wear. I’ll lay a dress out in your room.”

“My room?” Your words were squeaked.

There was a short hum in response as she gulped down another helping of water before setting it down entirely. That anger had ebbed away from her almost entirely. The fire that had been within her eyes excited you, and despite yourself, so did her demands.

“You’re so skittish. Come here. We need to work on your lead hook.”

Natasha didn’t offer to wrap your knuckles, nor did you ask. Instead, you leaned into the bag, letting the course material cut into your knuckles with a welcoming sting.

There was great thought put into any Romanoff party that was thrown. Lights were wrapped around the banister, and caterers walked through the teems of people with unwavering silver trays of finger food that cost more than your old salary for a number of months.

Back storm doors were opened to the pool, lit up and buzzing with an equal amount of people. Natasha had hired a piano player who haplessly pressed down on keys and drew a small crowd with each song that would crescendo into the dining room.

The overlapping theme was a dark forest green that reminded you much of the paint color slathered on Natasha’s bedroom walls. Something you hadn’t seen in months, but remembered so fondly. It was clear that she wanted to present a united force, something strong and unwavering in their power.

Clint was dawned with a finely pressed suit and a deep green tie that matched the shade of Kate’s dress to the very hue. She wore something silk and modest, reaching down to her heeled feet but leaving her muscular arms entirely bare.

Yelena stunned in a dress of her own, a crushed sage velvet that had a dipping neckline and sleeves that met at her wrist. By the confidence of her stride, you had no trouble believing she had chosen the outfit with the thought of how many weapons she could conceal. Her devilish smile only confirmed your thoughts.

As of you, Natasha had picked out something a little more revealing. Much like the maroon number she wore to dinner the other night, the dress she chose for you hugged every inch of your body. Its fern color complimented your complexion, bringing out the redness of your cheeks.

A slit moved from the base of your dress to the middle of your thigh. A halter neckline clung to your breasts, nearly pushing them up and out. It had been years, high school prom, since you’d worn something even close to this. You felt your shoulders flush red when you descended the stairs and struggled to blend in.

Natasha was sidled up by the mantel in deep conversation with someone who was a stranger to you. Most of the people here were. Though, their hands gave way to their high-ranking positions in the city. Few had callouses or oil stains.

She was in a three-piece suit that was color matched to your own outfit down to the shade. There were gold accents on her jewelry and the neckline of her waistcoat dipped down the tanned expanse of her skin.

Kate let out a low whistle in response to your entrance as she offered you a hand at the base of the stairs. You’d almost missed the last one due to your shameless gawking at the woman of the party. “Quite the looker, y/n. Natasha chose this?”

“Naturally,”

She chuckled softly, a small sound “Nothing if not calculating. Do you know how to socialize at one of these things?”

“Mm, as the caterer, yes.”

This seemed to amuse her more than you’d like. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop was a name that you had reluctantly googled early on in your employment. She had grown up wealthy and well acquainted with gatherings such as these. Of course, that was before her mother wound up incarcerated for white-collar crimes. The skills seemed to benefit her here, however.

Kate did everything with practiced fluidity that you envied. She plucked two champagne glasses from a nearby tray. “Only one of these, nurse it like your life depends on it. That way they won’t keep trying to shove alcohol into your hands. This is work, after all.”

You followed her lead and took a small sip of the bubbling, sour liquid. It was more expensive than anything you had ever had before and far-from-palatable. It wouldn’t be had to keep the drinking at bay.

“The man that Yelena is schmoozing over there is Billy Russo. Jigsaw. He’s in charge of the lower quarter. The Romanoff’s and the Russo’s have a cordial relationship and Yelena is much more feared than him.”

“Why do they call him jigsaw?” You whispered.

“He tends to chop people into pieces until they’re impossible to put back together. And that’s if you find all the missing parts. He has a very nice summer home up in the Poconos, so don’t get on his bad side.”

Suddenly the drink in your hand didn’t look too bad, but you held it right where it was. Clint was laughing by the window, obviously pushing his charm on a woman that you had never clocked before. She was running her fingers up his tie, tightening it before letting her hands drop.

“Barton is with Ophelia Sarkissian, the Viper. She is known for her cunning leadership. She’s got a huge organization in Hell’s Kitchen. Something called Hydra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though because Natasha is keeping a tight eye on it.”

“Mm, cut one head off, two more grow back.”

“What?”

“Greek mythology. Hydra is a big water snake that has nine heads. Each time one was cut off two more would grow back in its place. It was practically unkillable until Hercules came through the marshes with his nephew. Hercules would slice each head off while Iolaus cauterized the wounds so the heads couldn’t grow back.”

Kate blinked at you with shock in her eyes. You simply gave her a shrug in return. People constantly underestimated you and your intelligence. Besides, when you were a child, you had a morbid fascination with Greek mythology as a whole.

She stared beyond your shoulder, lilting her head to the side.

“I didn’t realize that Natasha’s new plaything was so knowledgeable.”

Ice ran thorough your veins. Your eyes darted to the window where Clint and Mrs. Sarkissian had once been. It was vacant now, and an expertly painted hand drummed past your arm. They were sharp and sent chills down your spine as she rounded you, sidling up next to Kate.

“Trust fund kid, leave us.”

Kate drew in a sharp breath, straightening her shoulders. She nearly opened her mouth to stay something but thought better of it before shooting you a look of apology and vanishing into the crowd in the dining room.

Ophelia was intoxicating in her presence. She towered over you and wore snakeskin heels to widen the distance. She wore a tight-fitted black dress that had cuts on either side, exposing her toned stomach to the world. What she wanted with you wasn’t clear, but her hand toyed coyly with the neckline of your own dress, adjusting it.

“Word travels fast in this city. I just couldn’t wait to see it myself. Hearing that Natasha Romanoff of all people expelled her Winter soldier for a… Summer Sentient. All seasons are temporary, I suppose.”

“Expelled?”

The word had slipped from your tongue, and you quickly thought better of it when she settled her splayed hand against your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It was cold, unfeeling. Unlike the fire that Natasha had instilled in you earlier.

There was a demonic smile that spread across her face, both of her eyebrows lifting as she let out an exaggerated grasp. It was clear that this woman, this leader, couldn’t keep her hands to herself in any manner, including the internal affairs that she dangled in front of you like a prize.

“Oh, did Natty not tell you? She had Bucky under her thumb for years, nearly a decade. A few months back, he was just gone. There’s a lot of gossip in these streets and not much of it is plausible, but I’d put money on this one.”

 Again, her fingers danced over your collarbone. “Miss Romanoff is not known for her mercy, but after beating the Winter Soldier within an inch of his life, she let him go. He ran like any sensible man would, of course. But he left a trail of blood behind him. I’m quite sure he’s somewhere out west struggling to move in an upper body brace.”

She laughed cruelly at the look on your face. There was no use in masking it. You knew that Bucky had been absent, but through your own turmoil you had forgotten all about it. Your stomach twisted in unease. What if Natasha grew tired of you? It was inevitable, really. You’ only prolonged your fate by bending to her whim.

“Ophelia,” Natasha’s voice drew your attention first, and then the heat of her touch on the small of your back. “Have you tried the lamb?”

The woman faltered, gritting her teeth “I was about to.”

“Oh, you must.” Yelena seemed to materialize out of nowhere, looping her arm around Madame Hydra herself. She pulled with intent. “I haven’t seen you since Moscow. We need to catch up!”

“I was never in Moscow.”

“That’s a shame. I can paint you a brilliant picture.”

Their voices faded away into the rest of the party. It was then that you noticed Clint by the door, his stance stiffened. Kate glowered next to him, not following her own rule and downing the rest of her drink before plucking another off the passing tray.

You stepped out of Natasha’s grasp, not wanting to be anywhere near her at the moment. Her perfume was intoxicating. Its floral scent made you dizzy and took away your ability to think straight. It was part of the reason you had been lulled this far into complicity. It scared you that you were willing to do anything for her.

“y/n,” she urged.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s stare hardened. She gripped the back of your neck in a movement that would otherwise be familiar, sweet, even. However, the way she led you down the hallway made your stomach drop in a feeling of doom. “Not here, Malen'kiy krolik.”

Natasha’s office was strictly off limits, but you found yourself in the warmth of it in a matter of moments. There was no wall that wasn’t adorned with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a large cherrywood desk was at its head. It was kept neat like the rest of the house.

There was a PHD on the wall, and an associates under that. Each bore Natasha’s name. She closed the doors behind her. Without regarding you, she went to a shelf in the back of the room, pouring herself a glass of bourbon, much like the one she was drinking when you stirred in her bed.

She swallowed it back, before pouring another. This time she sipped it. Your own back was against the far wall, heart pounding mercilessly through you. Yelling at Natasha had a lot more weight behind it than you anticipated.  

“You’re going to do the same to me.” You eventually whispered.

Her body stiffened, muscles tightening and then releasing before she turned to you, her eyes reddened. “What?”

“I’ve been entirely blind to my purpose here. I’ve never… I’ve never understood why you chose me. Why not go for someone who knows what they were doing? Who knew how to protect you and care for you? You had that with Bucky.”

Her eyes hardened. “Don’t you ever mention that name in this house.”

“It’s the truth, Natasha! You could have let me die, just like that, and you didn’t. Instead, you took me in and trained me, and for what? Just to throw me into the harbor with cement blocks chained to my ankles.”

“That is an entirely outdated practice and frankly, it’s insulting.” Her words were soul deep, but they barely broke your skin. “I would never do that.”

“A bullet through the head, then?”

“No.”

You were gaining traction enough to pull yourself from the wall and take heady steps towards her. If you didn’t do it now, you would never. Part of you was certain that you’d never see the outside of this room again. That she’d snap and do exactly what you were imploring her to.

“He served you for years and within a singular night you nearly kill him.” Your breath shook, you were so close to her now. “What is stopping you from doing the exact same to me?”

“No, no” She reached up and grasped both sides of your face. There were tears against your cheeks, something you hadn’t realized dripped from your chin. “Malyshka, no don’t cry.”

Everything had come to a head; the months of non-stop training, the pressure of keeping this side of your life away from your daughter, away from Darcy. A true friend that you had been lying to. And now, knowing that it could be all for nothing. It was easy to dispose of someone like you.

There was no reason to show weakness in front of the woman who was training you not to feel anything at all. Above everything, you found yourself ashamed. She still held your face within her grasp.

“He hurt you.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched, there was a fuzzy vulnerability in her green stare. “I can show mercy, y/n. But I’ve learned, not when it comes to you. Even before all of… this, there was something that I saw within you. Something that made what I did to Bucky all the more worth it.”

You breathed in a watery sniffing sound that was replaced by nothing but a whimper. Natasha softened even more, letting her shoulders fall. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He was pulling back for months, and you were the final straw. I had never seen someone so resilient, someone who didn’t beg for their life but recounted it. In a moment of weakness, I let you go. I thought that training you, that making you mine, would absolve my sins but it’s only deepened them. My feelings for you have only deepened.”

Her forehead was pressed against yours, her ministrations, and God help you, her apologies were startling. Her lips were so close to yours; you could nearly taste the liquor on her breath “Natasha,”

Suddenly, she was all you could feel. Her hand was against you back, pulling you into her body to fit directly on hers. There was such a strong guiding power to her. Your shock was muffled by her mouth on yours, your whine swallowed in moments.

You melted into her, kissing back with enough fever to leave you both breathless. There were stars dancing in your vision, you lungs burning eventually pulling you both apart. She panted twice before pecking your lips once more, you nearly chased after her.

“Fuck,” she growled “you… are absolutely delicious.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated up and you hid your face in the small of her neck, letting out a small groan in embarrassment. You felt Natasha’s laugh rumble through her.

“No need to be timid, pet. There will be plenty of time for that later.” She raked her nails up your back, “Right now, I have a snake to behead.”  

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife]

[monzamash]

cardinal sin — daniel ricciardo

"let's commit some sins." daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.1k rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) a/n – this was way too fun, @rizzciado. masterlist

“Is this seat taken?”

The gentle voice drew your attention away from the vodka martini cradled in your dainty hands, eyes locking with a pair of dark brown ones waiting for an answer. You glanced around the hotel bar, wondering if the man was speaking to you or someone nearby but his gazed remained on you.

“Oh…” realising he was focused on you, “No, go ahead.”

“I’m Daniel,” He introduced and placed down his glass of red wine before pulling out the bar stool beside you.

Daniel hummed at the sound of your name when you indulged him in the pleasantries and repeated it back in his smooth Australian accent, “That’s a beautiful name.”

He was handsome, that was obvious and the way his smile radiated pure joy allowed you to slowly let your guard down. The cream knitted sweater he was wearing fit perfectly and the tailored black pants indicated his keen eye for fashion while the understated vintage Rolex sitting on his wrist exuded wealth. Old money.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You asked curiously, intently listening to his crooning voice as you sipped your martini.

His answer was vague, something about a special event happening in town that he was apart of but what really intrigued you was the fact he was holding your attention like no one had ever done before. You’d been approached by a stranger in a bar plenty of times, identical situations – but this man had mastered the art of the pick up. Small talk had never been so captivating.

“So how’s your night been so far?” Daniel turned the conversation to you and took a sip from his wine.

You sighed, “Bit of a bust to be honest. I was supposed to be on a date but he didn’t show up…”

Daniel gasped and leaned in close enough for his cologne to be spellbounding – Dior Sauvage. His eyebrows were raised high on his forehead, perplexed by the idea of you, a complete stranger, being stood up.

“What an idiot. If only he could see what he was missing,” He complimented and fell back again, leaving you wanting more.

The dismissive shrug of your shoulders sent your freshly curled waves flowing down your back, revealing a little more of your dress. Daniel’s respectful eyes skimming across your décolletage didn’t go unnoticed and you weren’t mad about it – only set alight.

“Eh, one man’s missed opportunity might be another mans good fortune,” You flirted back, fingers intentionally brushing his as you grasped your martini.

Daniel’s dark chuckle sent chills across your exposed skin, the tight black dress now feeling like the perfect choice. You could feel him nudging closer, knees bumping underneath the bar as he leaned forward and waved down the waiter who had been serving you for the past half hour.

“Hey man – can I get another one of these please?” He asked, pointing down at the empty glass sitting lonely in front of you, completely forgotten in scintillating conversation.

“And a whiskey on the rocks? Thanks mate.”

You propped your elbow up on the bar and rested your chin on you knuckles, eyebrow cocked at his choice of drink, “Moving onto the hard stuff?”

Daniel breathed out a soft laugh and turned to you, eyes shamelessly dragging over your newfound body language and pleased to no end with how intuitive you were to his charm. He knew you could match him, flirtatiously batting your eyelashes and giving him a little more attention than a stranger would. He was having too much fun.

“Yeah, well…” He paused and slipped the waiter a tip, “My wife is a bit of a prude and usually doesn’t like me mixing my wine with whiskey but she isn’t here tonight.”

A devious smirk tingled on your lips as you glanced playfully around the bar, “I certainly hope not. Where is she? There is no way I would let you out of my sight.”

“She’s out with her friends who take up way too much of her time.”

You let out a soft hum in response, “I’m sure she adores you.”

“You see – that’s the problem…” Daniel sucked in a sharp breath and leaned in, meeting you in the middle – lips ghosting your keen ear.

“She’s a little too good to me, if you know what I mean.”

You pulled back ever so slightly, catching Daniel’s gaze that had shifted to you plum coloured lips – eyes hungry for more when you whispered, “Do you want something bad?”

“Someone maybe…” He teased, noses brushing as your hands came up and gently adjusted the silver chain hanging around his neck.

“Promise I don’t bite.”

“I really hope that isn’t true,” You quietly but confidently retorted as Daniel reached down and expertly pulled your stool closer – his knee slotting in so close that you could feel his warmth through the thin layer of lace separating you from him. Teasing.

“Surely a pretty girl like you doesn’t dabble in the dark arts,” He taunted, knowing from the glint in your eye that you weren’t like most pretty girls.

“I like to think of it more as a fine art but you really have no idea who you’re dealing with here …”

Daniel couldn’t hide the way he felt hearing those words tumble from your mouth, lip bitten and trousers a little bit tighter than before. You were magnetic in his eyes, enigmatic and mysterious as you played with the stem of your martini glass, toying with him and fuelling the desire bubbling in his stomach.

“Tell me,” He challenged and watched as the devilish grin swept across your beautiful face.

“Or I could show you…”

A deep groan purred in Daniels throat as he inched forward and crashed his lips into yours, holding your jaw loosely between his thumb and fingers. Your mind was a haze as his tongue slipped around yours, searching for a moan that you generously gave. He was intentional with the way his lips moved against your own, pressure wavering as you became breathless.

“I’m staying here at the hotel…” You managed to breathe out; the statement laced with promiscuity and a promise of more.

“If you think the public is going to stop me then you're sorely mistaken, sweetheart," Daniel grumbled into your hair, fingertips rushing down your spine and stoking the flames within.

A guttural whine slipped from your throat as he took the soft, sensitive skin on your neck between his teeth, the subtle sound of your dress zipper made a small, barely there smile appear on your features. You loved the idea of him taking you right there and then but even you could admit when the limit had been reached.

But god, all you wanted to do was push the boundaries with him as you shoved him across the threshold of your expensive hotel room. Daniel was already half undressed by the time you left the elevator, decently tucking himself back into the waistband of his underwear after receiving the sloppiest blowjob of his life. As he looked down at you on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around his thick cock, doe eyes gazing up, he was convinced that he had died and gone to heaven.

It was all heavy breathing and belt buckles clanging as you fell face first into the gloriously comfortable bed. Arse up in the air, dress hiked up and revealing the lace you’d picked specifically for the night. All you wanted was for him to fuck you stupid and what better way to start than his tongue gliding across your holes, tasting all of his hard work.

“Yes god, thank you…” Daniel praised, mouth glistening and no doubt looking up to a higher powers for serving you on a silver platter, “Or maybe I should be thanking the devil for delivering you.”

You craned your neck and watched as Daniel shed his knitted sweater, exposing his chest hair and a chiselled body, thighs squeezing at the sight. His devilish good looks and toothy smile had you hypnotised in his grip; strong hands grasping your hips and bringing you level with the hardness in trousers that was begging to be touched.

“You should be thanking your wife for letting you off the leash,” You quipped, taunting the gorgeous man standing above you – about to devour every single inch of you.

Daniel hummed in agreement and theatrically unzipped his trousers, “I’m the luckiest man in the fucking world.”

With a couple of firm strokes, Daniel was slipping into your warmth like a man starved. He had you up on your knees, back pressed against his strong chest while he fucked into you deep. The snap of his hips had you begging for mercy, or for more depending on the angle – every single inch he had lining your insides and hitting every bump along the way, fingertips playing with your swollen clit as you threw your head against his shoulder.

“I want you to fuck me like you fuck her…” You slurred, cock-drunk coursing through your veins, “But dirtier.”

And he did. The grip of his fingers around your gulping throat and the unrelenting pounding you were getting had you grasping for the hand holding your waist for dear life. Daniel was vocal but deliberate, every little whisper turned grunt in your ear sent shockwaves straight to your bud. The sound of how messy he was making you emanating through the humming hotel room, clenching hard and coming fast.

It was dark and filthy, just like the slurry of words dripping from Daniel’s swollen lips as he laid back and let you take control, “That pussy feels so fucking good around my dick, baby – fits me like a glove.”

“Mmm, you like it?” It was a rhetorical question – you could tell by the blown out pupils studying your every move how much he liked it.

Daniel’s strong hands crawled up your thighs, leaving light scratches on the skin before taking their rightful place on your sinking hips while you bottomed out. The burn of his stretch made your head fall back slightly, the bites littered across your collarbone making the man below you beam with pride. I fucking did that, he whispered to himself as you swept your hair to one side.

“Wanna come inside me, pretty boy?”

A strangled moan and a dramatic head nod was all the answer you needed – placing your hands on his thumping chest and lifting your hips gradually, teasingly. He held firm and guided you into the rhythm he needed to get himself off, eyes fluttering shut in concentration as you rotated slowly.

“I’m gonna fuckin' – oh, fuck. Holy shit.”

Watching him lose all control of his suave composure and submitting to the unadulterated pleasure had you coming undone around again, panting and moaning in synchronicity. The aftershocks of your high sent him tumbling over the edge – your pussy clenching his swollen dick as he filled you to the brim, dribbles of his high slipping down your shaking thighs.

“Take it all, baby… That’s it,” Daniel encouraged as you continued to slide up and down his softening cock – squeezing out every last drop.

“So fucking good to me.”

You collapsed into Daniels’ welcoming embrace, face nuzzled into his damp neck and breathing in his sweet scent. It was a scent you found comfort in and it didn’t take you long to find yourself melting into his touch. The facade finally falling.

“... We need to do that more often.”

“I liked how suave you were – so sexy. Really felt like you were in character,” You praised, brushing the dark unruly curls from your husbands blushing face.

“Huh, you liked that?” He baited, reeking of smug.

“Bitch, you know I did,” You scoffed and rolled onto your back, “But I always let you drink whatever you want so take it easy on the insults next time. Calling me a prude... Un-fucking-believable.”

Daniel chuckled, knowing you were only kidding and turned onto his side to take you all in - his beautiful wife, the one person who knew him better than anyone else. You were the person he had endless adventures with, the sex immaculate from the day you started dating ‘til now. The lust you had for each other never fading, in love.

“Roleplaying was your idea so don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Daniel yawned and wrapped his arm lazily around your bare torso.

He continued, “You were incredible though, like at the end with that little move you do that drives me up the fucking wall.”

You giggled and rested you head on his shoulder - legs intertwined under the covers as you listened to him relive the night, “We’re gonna need to do a play by play in the morning, I reckon.”

You sighed and closed your weary eyes, “Good shout, baby.”

“I love you."

“And I love you.”

[snowyquokka]

MONSOON - L. MINHO

cw - mature themes MDNI, fem!reader, brothers best friend!Minho, swearing, angst, fluff (kinda?), mentions of alcohol, mutual pining, somewhat proof read, yada yada yada

wc - 3k

a.n - I FINISHED IT. im not sure how many parts there’ll be but here’s this for now :)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Your heart is beating at the same frequency as the music blaring through your ears whilst making your way to the front door of the shitty little run down frat house. You’ve managed to throw back three rounds of vodka shots without puking and you were feeling a bit proud of yourself. But you have enough self respect to know when to call it quits. The cheap liquor did it’s intended purpose. That purpose being forgetting about someone.

Or not. 

You roll your eyes drowsily as you push your way through the door and onto the surprisingly somewhat empty porch. Plopping down on the top step, you pull out your phone before pressing the only emergency contact you have. 

“Aw you do care enough to call me,” Jisung’s grin is present in his soft voice.

“Mhm, yeah care- sure. Erm, busy?” There’s some muffled laughter in the background followed by some shuffling before he finally answers. 

“I- are you-“ he cuts himself off and whispers something incoherent, “Scale of one to ten?” Due to your recent lack of responsibility, as Jisung calls it, he’s set up a scale system to determine how wasted you are. 

One being buzzed, tipsy at best. 

Ten being, well, absolutely plastered.

“Eight and a h-half?” you hiccup. 

More muffled whispers are followed by, “What am I going to do with you.” and “Send me your location,”

-

After what seemed like an eternity of being surrounded by makeout sessions and college kids blowing chunks into the nearby hedges, a familiar car finally pulls up to the curb. 

You stand up, albeit a little too fast, but you still make it to your feet. The sound of a car door slamming rings in your ears, leading up to warm, gentle hands carefully lifting your arm over their shoulder in order to help get in the passenger side of the car. 

“Han- Minho?” Big brown eyes stare into yours as he leans over you and buckles your seatbelt. His expression’s blank, but it always is when he looks at you. 

Minho looks at you for another moment before shaking his head, as if he’s snapping himself out of a trance, and shuts the door.

-

It was only about halfway to your dorm that you realized you didn’t have your keys and your roommate was out for the night.

“Ughh.” You whine and Minho eyes you like you’re crazy. 

Maybe you are. 

Crazy for leaving your stuff at home.

Crazy for catching feelings for your brother's best friend.

Crazy for trying to drown him out of your thoughts with shitty tequila and obnoxious music. 

Crazy for actually thinking that you could distract yourself, let alone forget about him.

“Hello? Earth to her majesty.” he pokes your shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Please don’t stop talking to me.

“Ah, see I like bothering you too much for all that,” he glances from the road to your curled up form. Your ‘defensive pose’ as he likes to call it. It’s not the first time he’s seen you absolutely shitfaced.

“Wanna tell me why you’re throwing a fit over there?” 

“No key,” you mutter and press your head against the cool glass of the window, reveling in the way it soothes your massive migraine.

“No k- what are you talking about? You went to a frat party with no keys? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Minho lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh, making you curl into yourself tighter. He sighs softly and prays that Jisung won’t kill him for taking you home with him.

“Why are you smiling like this is funny? None of this is the slightest bit funny. You could’ve been hurt and then I would-” he snaps his mouth shut and grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white.

-

There’s a small amount of pressure on your stomach when you wake up and the sound of light purring fills the room. You peek your eyes open cautiously until you spot the orange and white cat resting on your lower abdomen. 

“Soonie,” you hum with a smile. 

Wait. Soonie?

You sit up fast making Soonie dart off the bed in surprise. 

You’re in Minho’s bed. And not for the reason you would’ve preferred. 

You’re engulfed in his scent, tangled in his sheets, hair spread across his pillows. You wonder how many girls he’s had here before and mentally gag at the thought.

“Morning,” Minho nods as he sets a tray with a bottle of painkillers and some water on it next to you.

Memories of the night before flash throughout your head and your cheeks flush red with embarrassment while your hands run down your face.

You made a fool of yourself in front of Lee Minho. This is a new low for you, you think. 

But then again this isn’t his first time tending to you and your drunken stupor. 

Maybe not in his own home, and maybe without you knowing but he’s done it enough to be well versed with handling you.

You down the water along with one of the capsules and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, trying as hard as possible to avoid Minho’s gaze. 

“Better?” He whispers. 

No.

“Mhm, fine.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it now or-”

You climb out of his bed groggily, “I don’t want to talk about it at all, actually.” Minho does a double take and you realize that your dress slid up your leg and exposed almost the entirety of your legs, dangerously close to your core. 

He looks away long enough for you to fix yourself before clearing his throat. “That sucks because we’re going to.” His annoyance is obvious, the tips of his ears pink from being flustered. As much as you really really want to push his buttons, your head is pounding and you feel simply, well - gross.

“I uh- I went and bought you some stuff so you could go shower,” he says, almost as if he read your mind. He rubs the back of his neck nervously with a grimace.

You look at him with a confused expression, “Huh? I’m sorry, I must not have heard you correctly.” Minho rolls his eyes at you. “Don’t argue with me. Just go,” he points to the adjacent door which connects his room to the singular bathroom in his one bedroom dorm.

He pauses and tries to gather this words, “See, the thing is I didn’t really get a chance to get you clothes…” Lie. “So you could just, I don’t know, wear some of mine?” You stop mid walk and turn on your heel to see Minho with a hoodie and sweats in his grasp.“Please cooperate with me for once.” You sigh and hold out your hands for him to place his clothes in them. 

“This is the stupidest idea i think I’ve ever heard come out of your pea-sized brain,” you grumble and stalk into the bathroom unbeknownst to the massive smirk adorning Minho’s face.

-

You were right when you thought you’d look absurd. Of course you were, anyone could look at you and tell you wouldn’t fit in his clothes. You step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and teeth brushed.

You’re practically swimming in his shirt and you had to tie the drawstring on the sweatpants so tight that it was a literal struggle.

“You were in there for an hour.” He deadpans.

“How’d you know what shampoo I liked,” you ignore him and ask as he eyes you. His gaze drags up your body as you run your fingers through your damp hair.

“I don’t know. Lucky guess?” Minho shrugs it off and folds his arms over his chest.

“Okay then,” you roll your eyes and copy his stance. You two stay silent for a solid ten seconds until he finally speaks,

“This is ridiculous.” He says as he glares at you.

“If anyone’s ridiculous it’s you.” 

“Me? You’re the one being an ungrateful brat,” he steps closer to you until you’re face to face, “I’m the one who came to your rescue. I could’ve told Jisung no, could’ve said I had better things to do than save you from yourself.”

You shake your head, “Then why didn’t you? I’m obviously just a bother to you, aren’t I? A burden that you can’t wait to be freed of.”

Minho furrows his brows, “Bullshit. That’s complete and utter bullshit and you know it.” 

You inch closer to him so your chests are pressed against one another. “Do I, Minho? Because it seems like you only enjoy being a dick to me,” your hands curl into fists at your sides. Never in the four years you’ve know him would you have ever expected to have an actual argument with him. Usually it’s all meaningless jabs at each other, but right now you can tell that it’s more than that.

Minho’s eyes search yours as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “Don’t fucking do that,” his voice comes out in a harsh whisper. 

“Do what?” 

“Act like the fucking victim of the situation you put yourself in,” His expression has grown agitated which only pisses you off to no end. You decide you’ve had enough and turn away from him to collect your stuff. “What are you doing?” 

“I am going to text my roommate and she’s going to take me home.” You don’t bother looking at him as you speak, grabbing your phone off of the nightstand and typing out a ‘send help’ message to your roommate. Before you could send it though Minho has yanked your phone out of your hands. “Seriously?” You huff. He holds it above his head as you poorly attempt to reach for it.

“No. Until you can have an adult conversation with me you aren’t leaving.” 

“What, are you gonna hold me hostage? Tie me up?” You realize that was the wrong thing to say when a smug smirk tugs at Minho’s lips.

“You’d like that too much. Wouldn’t you, princess?” Your breath catches in your throat as you fall dead silent. You’re still leaning against him, using him as leverage to get your phone. “Cat got your tongue? Never thought I’d see the day where you’d fail to find a snarky response. Always need to have the last word, don’t you.”

Your brain is so fuzzy, a mix of emotions jumbling your thoughts around. You slowly stand flat and remove your hands from his arms with palms on fire from the contact with his bare skin. 

“You’re a dick.” You say while you take a few steps away from him.

“So you’ve said.” Minho stares at you with ice in his gaze. He slides your phone in the pocket of his hoodie and folds his arms over his chest. “You can go when you tell me why you’re doing it.”

“Doing what?” You say though you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You are quite literally self destructing. Why?” He narrows his eyes at you, waiting for you to explain yourself. Unfortunately for him, it’s going to take more effort than that to get you to spill.

“That’s none of your business. Now give me back my phone, I want to go home.”

“No. I’m not just going to sit back and watch my best friend’s sister practically kill herself over something that is probably meaningless.” You keep backing up as he walks towards you until you collide with the wall behind you. 

How cliche.

“Just tell me so we can move on with our lives. But just so you know, I will not hesitate to keep you here as long as I have to until you help me understand why you’re acting so stupid when we both know that you’re far from it.”

Minho leans in closer, invading your space and allowing himself to be as close to you as he’ll ever be able to. He cares about you more than he cares about himself. His best friend’s little sister. At this point he’s a walking romance book trope. 

“It’s nothing I’m fi-” Before you can utter another word Minho has his index finger pressed against your lips and an eyebrow raised. 

“I’m going to give you another chance to rethink your words. Choose carefully.” You roll your eyes, prompting him to drop his hand.

“I’m trying to get over something.” You look down at your hands as you refuse to make eye contact. 

“Something or someone?” You sink back against the wall. 

You weigh your options: you could either lie to him, or you could confess and hope that you don’t die of embarrassment when he rejects you. 

“Someone.” When you finally look up at him you’re surprised to see his boba eyes clouded with - jealousy? No, you’ve got to be imagining it. There’s no way. 

“Who?” Are you imagining it?

“Just..someone.” Minho shakes his head as if saying ‘not good enough.’ But you’re not backing down that easily, this is just too good. So you do the next best thing: you mess with him.

“It’s someone from school..?” you wince, the statement coming out as more of a question. 

Minho’s eyes narrow and he finally steps out of your way. He stares at you dumbfounded before pulling your phone out of his pocket and holding it out to you. As you reach for it your fingers graze his and you’re reminded of the situation you’ve put yourself in. 

“Like I said, meaningless.” Minho’s voice pulls you out of the endless rabbit hole that is your stupid, insecure brain. 

All of this for nothing, he thinks. This whole time he was dumb enough to believe that you had feelings for him but instead you were treating it like a joke.

“Whatever, come on.”

-

Two weeks have passed since you woke up at Minho’s place. Two weeks have passed since you came home trying to determine if you were being delusional or if he actually got jealous of the idea that you were thinking about someone else. 

But hey, even if he didn’t actually feel that way you figure it’d be fun to play with him. 

Why not? It’s all harmless anyway. What could possibly go wrong?

Luckily for you he’s supposed to be at Jisung’s place, where you happen to have just made a surprise appearance at. Your top tier excuse? There’s family drama that you want to gossip about with him. 

Now you’ve finally comprised a seemingly fool proof plan to get a reaction out of Minho. You threw on his hoodie and a pair of shorts before leaving the house. 

To your delight when the door opens to reveal Minho sitting on the couch he looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head. He can’t believe you even kept it, let alone willingly wore it. He wonders if it still smells like him or if you washed it, ridding it of any traces of himself.

“Hi, Sungie,” you pull your brother into a hug and make eye contact with Minho over Jisung’s shoulder. 

“Why are you- I mean don’t get me wrong, I love it when you visit but like…you never do.” Jisung pulls back and gives you a skeptical look, preparing himself for whatever you’re about to ask him for. 

“You never invite me,” you pout and slip past him into the living room. “Did you hear about auntie?” You say, turning to Minho before continuing, “You remember her, right? The one with all the cats, tried to get you to take them all? Yeah, you remember.” You smile before sitting next to him on the couch. Meanwhile Jisung - completely ignoring your babbling - has moved into the kitchen to make you a cup of tea, just like any other time you’ve shown up at his place unannounced.

Once you can tell that he’s out of earshot you look at the boy next to you who is painfully obvious in trying not to look at the exposed skin right underneath where his oversized hoodie, that could be classified as a dress on you, stops.

You look down at your body with an amused pout, “What’s the matter?”

Just as Minho was about to open his mouth your brother comes in with your tea, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you. 

You thank him before crossing your legs and sinking backwards into the couch. You play with the end of your sleeve which goes an inch or two past the tips of your fingers as you wait for someone to speak.

Just as you thought you’d be playing the quiet game for the next three hours Minho answers your silent prayers.

“So, I decided to take a BDSM test,” he says just as you took a sip of tea, you almost choke on it but manage to cover it with a cough.

Jisung’s complaining is drowned out by the words that have been engraved in your brain for the past two weeks,

“What. You gonna hold me hostage? Tie me up?”

“You’d like that too much. Wouldn’t you, princess?” 

Touché, you think. This little game has gotten ten times more interesting.

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tags: @skzstarnet @godslino @seungseung-minmin @myseungsunglove @azuna-sz @solisyeah