#what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind???? <- LIKE HELLLOOOOO

[foursaints]

what did you think of ttpd!! we gotta know

[seiwas]

guilty as sin? is so so so sooo good

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

GUILTY AS SIN?- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Jock! Peter x Nerd! Reader (enemies to… lovers?)

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: With the final project deadline coming closer and closer, tensions are running high between you and your enemy- Peter Parker. The two of you have to get closer to get this done, which comes with stress and... sexual tension.

Warnings: SMUT, making out, pet names, swearing, implied sex, implied masturbation, drugs used, sorta voygeurism?

what if he's written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind?- guilty as sin?, taylor swift

part one: here (but no need to read beforehand!)

PETER

Guilt wasn't a way to even begin on how Peter Parker felt. He wallowed in it. He let it slither up around his legs, weights chaining him down to his bedroom floor reminding him of the what if’s.

What if he had taken it a step further then where it had been the other night?

What if he had let the leash he had so carefully crafted slip, the longing and want he had becoming an overwhelming force that would have had you screaming and crying his name for hours?

What if it had ended differently?

Or never started in the first place for anything to end?

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands with distress. You were killing him,slowly, and painfully- as if this was your revenge against him.

He didn't blame you for resenting him all these months. He would’ve too- with the way he nagged you. But from the simple nagging alone, he had felt a spark there more than he had with anyone, about any conversation.

He couldn't explain it. But things had turned so south from where they once pointed north, and he couldn't help the little flirty comments he made.

But you made them back.

And as he lay on his floor with his head in his hands, he cursed your very existence. You plagued his thoughts day and night. It was unhealthy, to the point he felt dizzy with the flames he spurred up in himself, the visions he had causing him to feel mad.

It was a constant loop of things the two of you never did, but he wished he could. The two of you had already done it in his head, on every surface. The bed. The floor. The couch, bent over the desk, against the window…

Fuck. Fuck, fuck off Parker.

He cursed himself, trying so hard to not think of the memories he conjured late at night, when his hand was wrapped around his cock, head thrown back in pleasure against the pillows as he imagined you.

It had been a week.

A week since the last time you were over at his house, in his room, coaxing him with those delicious looking thighs from under that short little skirt. That messy, top lipped kiss that sent him reeling. Yet he was sitting here, acting like he hadn’t seen you in ages- and that you were his.

Did he want you to be his? He wasn’t sure.

He still had to face you again for this assignment, and present it with you.

While he was having these thoughts? Impossible.

He shut his eyes, trying to stop himself from slipping back into that hedge maze. It wasn't awkward per say after what happened, but you had both been quiet, before you had left- presumably because he and you both knew nothing would get done.

And nothing good could come out of it.

The buzz of his phone broke him free from his shackles, and he quickly reached in his pocket to then feel shock.

This was the first time you had texted in a few days, and from the looks of it- it was the first time you had texted first, and not for scholarly purposes. His interest perked even more, and he opened the message faster than he wanted to admit.

Y/N: thought of you:)

You had sent a photo of a shirt that read “Big ego, Small dick” from outside what looked like one of the side streets, and he couldn't help but zoom in to your reflection in the shop window.

Your face was covered by your phone, but it didn't stop him from staring at your curves from under the little sun dress you wore.

He was going to die if you wore that anywhere near him. Or wore anything. Because all he could think about was ways he could rip it off you.

What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Peter: Awh I’m honoured you’re thinking of me. You sure about that last part though? I would confirm before making comments like that Y/N… ;)

He couldn't help but throw in that little flirt. He was trying to dial it back, but ever since that night it just seemed to rile him up even more.

Y/N: Not funny Parker. Not funny at all.

He couldn't help but smirk, knowing damn well you were all flustered on the other side of the screen. If there was one thing he loved, it was getting you flustered. And annoyed.

He sprawled out on the carpet, trying to ignore the throbbing headache that drummed in his skull. A knock intruppted him, Sam’s loud footsteps following.

“Open up Parker, game’s on in five minutes.” Bucky called from behind the door.

“Mghm.” was all Peter could muster as he watched the text bubble pop up and down on his screen- as if you were thinking of what to say, before deleting the thought.

His door creaked open a smidge, baby blue eyes and jet black hair strands that fell staring back at him.

“He’s in a crucifix position again.” he called back to someone- presumably Sam. “Get him up!” he yelled, the tv flickering on downstairs.

“Thats the third time I’ve caught you on the floor this week. Dude, seriously- your bed is right there.”

“I think better on the floor.” he grumbled, watching the text bubble disappear again. “Think about Y/N?” Bucky asked, getting a glare in return from Peter.

“What dude?! You’ve been glued to your phone. I know it’s about a girl, and shes the only one whose been over all week. You made us all leave the house for gods sake. You’ve never done that for literally… well anyone.” he huffed, sitting next to Peter- back pressed against the smooth wall while his legs stretched out like a cats.

“I’m waiting for her to text back. Again.”

Bucky smirked. “Down bad eh? Never thought I’d see the day Peter Parker was head over heels for a girl- nonetheless Y/N. Thought she hated you?”

“She does. I’m trying to make her change her mind.” Peter sighed, giving up and tossing his phone across the room, landing on the hardwood with a little thud.

“Well if she doesnt, send her my way. She’s hot as shit man.” he laughed, which erked Peter more then he’d care ro admit.

You werent even his anyways, so why did it matter? It’s not like he had written “mine” on your upper thigh, though the idea excited him beyond belief.

His cock threatened to stir in his sweats, and he begged to god he could calm himself down before Bucky noticed. He needed to get his jealousy under control. Bucky must have sensed a tension, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’m joking man I promise. But she is hot, and smart, and from what I’ve gathered- funny as fuck. So don't mess this up, because I need another person to bully you.”

“She’s already beat you to it” Peter grumbled, earning a chuckle from Bucky as he stood, reaching out a hand to pull him up.

Though the second his phone buzzed, he darted towards it like a wild animal, completely tuned out to his roommates complaints that he was missing the games beginning.

He didn't care.

All he cared about was the address you sent him, a little cafe downtown, and the words you wrote after.

Y/N: 10’ o clock, and bring your books. we should go over stuff with chocolate croissants and iced coffee.

He didn't drink iced coffee, but he’d try it- just for you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N

You sat at the table, laptop opened, books splayed out, ready to be read.

But you couldn't read them.

No, all you could do was shake your leg in anticipation, waiting for the clock in the corner to tick faster. It wasn't 10, and you had missed breakfast. But you were too anxious to eat, butterflies filling your stomach as you waited for Peter.

The croissant you bought for him was still fresh and warm on the plate, and you hoped he didn't think it was weird you had ordered it for him. Taking a deep breath, you sipped on your iced coffee as you pulled out your phone- attempting to distract yourself from the first date jitters.

Wait- was this a date? A real date? Or just a study date? No, no it was just a study date. Jesus Y/N chill the fuck out!

You clicked on his messages, scrolling back to what he sent in response to your date suggestion. He had sent a mirror picture, In those damn sweatpants and a tight band tee that had you drooling.

You could see the faint outline of his cock, whether that was intentional or not you didn't know. But the smirk on his face, the glint in his eye through the photo had nearly brought you to your knees.

You had to remind yourself to breathe to not choke on your drink, reminding yourself you could not, under any circumstances fall for Peter Parker harder than you already had. You hated him. Simple as that. So why did his message mean so much to you?

Peter: Is there a dress code? How does this look doll? You know I always care for your opinions ;)

A jangle of a bell had your eyes snapping up, and immediately snapping back down. Peter walked in, not one second late in the richest looking sweater you had ever seen.

It looked so soft, the creamy white colour stark against his baggy jeans and headphones slung around his neck.

He looked expensive.

The smell of his cologne wafted through the room, overpowering the scent of the baked goods and coffee grounds as he neared.

God he looked so hot.

Your throat became dry again, despite the fact you had just chugged half your coffee. “What’s this?” he asked, nodding down to the croissant across from you as he set his back down, a smirk plastered on his face.

“A croissant. I didn’t realize you didn’t know what a basic pastry was Parker. I’m disappointed.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m flattered you bought me something doll. It’s cute.”

You frowned, wrinkles creasing your forehead. “Yeah yeah don’t mention it. I didn’t bother with the coffee, cause then it’d be personal. I’d have to know your order.”

“Well I suppose you’ll be finding out shortly won’t you?” he winked, walking towards the counter to buy a drink. You starred as he turned around, now free to roam his body as you pleased- like everyone else seemed to do.

Even his backside was hot.

You couldn’t win this battle. You rolled your eyes as you watched the barista flirt with him from across the counter, practically begging to lean over it to make out with his face.

God give me a gun please so I can shoot myself.

It made you want to vomit, something acidic bubbling in your gut. Jealousy.

Why you cared- you didn’t know. Probably because he kissed you, and ignited a fire in your belly that could’ve caught the sheets on fire if it had gone on any longer.

Part of you was glad you left that night when you did, because if you didn’t- you’d be wrapped under his finger. You tried to act like you didn’t care, but it was too late. You knew deep in your bones you longed for his attention. It was the first man you cared about, and cared what he thought about you- and you hated yourself for it because of course of all people it was Peter fucking Parker.

You watched subtly as he grabbed his drink from the counter, the girl throwing a wink at him that you couldn’t tell if he avoided or not. You glanced for a heart beside his name on the cup, and were relieved to not find one, though his cup was so dark you couldn't be sure.

“Black? Really?”

“What’s got your panties in a twist? You look like a pitbull getting ready to strike.”

You tried to relax your face, appearing nonchalant as you stared at your laptop screen, not reading the words. “I’m not wearing panties.” '

You don’t know where the sudden boldness came from, but you were glad for it. It was a lie, of course, but it stopped Peter in his tracks, eyes widening and a small shade of pink appearing on his cheeks. “Y/N coming in strong with the jokes. Never thought I’d see the day.”

You snorted. “I got them all on my sleeve ready to go. A cobra ready to strike, not a pitbull.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” he sat down, sliding a piece of paper your way as he took a bite of his pastry. You picked it up, looking it over closely.

It was the data and crunched numbers from the spider experiment. You were so thankful he had left you out of it- clearly expressing your discomfort around the thing. At least he wasn’t that cruel- and had offered to do so.

“Your handwriting is really pretty.” you commented before you could stop yourself, admiring the swirls and dips of his letters and numbers.

“A joke and a compliment in one day?! Who are you, and what have you done with Y/N?” he murmured, and you laughed.

“Don’t take it personal.”

“I am.” He smiled, taking a small sip of his coffee. “Thanks again for doing this whole part. I hate spiders so much.” you sighed, pulling up a spreadsheet to start putting the data in.

You didn’t notice him staring at you, watching your eyes flicker across the screen. You also didn’t notice the subtle gaze down to your luscious lips, just tempting him the more you parted them, focused on the numbers in front of you.

“Don’t worry about it doll. I’m sure there’s a higher chance of you poisoning me then the spider.”

You glared up at him, the clacking of keys halted. All you could hear was the soft sound of the cafe's radio, and milk being steamed.

“You’re a real jerk. You know that?”

Without even looking up from his laptop he had pulled out, he laughed. “I know.” he said. “Trust me, I know.”

--------------------

He had managed to get a few more smiles cracked out of you by the end of the date, probably more if you hadn’t been holding yourself to not give him the satisfaction.

He was funny. You’d give him that.

He was funny and handsome, but handsome in a way that was still pretty. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he focused on his notes, watching his every move when you didn’t feel his eyes on you. You watched when he ran his large hands through his chestnut hair, deep in thought- or when he slid his glasses up his nose when they slipped down.

You watched his muscles flex as he’d stretch, curling under his sweater, and when he rolled up his sleeves to reveal his watch he’d occasionally check, despite having a laptop with the time in the bottom right corner directly in front of him.

It drove you insane.

But you didn’t notice when he stared at your lips as you wet them, or when you took a sip of your coffee with your straw. Or when you’d drum your fingers in thought, polished nails clacking against the table- your legs bouncing, boot heel clicking in rhythm.

You liked how he was taller than you- towered over you actually, even with your boots on. You stood up in them now, a few hours passed and you felt like you would lose your mind doing anymore work.

Or maybe you were losing your mind because Peter was right there, and you still felt like you couldn’t have him.

You craved his touch more than anything. It was permanently imprinted in your mind, and you’d do anything to get rid of it. But you needed your fix again, and he was a drug you could never get enough of. It was sickening- you hated yourself for it, but were too beyond caring anymore.

And as Peter looked up at you from his seat, craning his neck just barely, with that boyish gleam in his eyes you knew you were done for.

“I think we should review some stuff the night before in the library. Is that okay with you?” you asked softly, adjusting your bag over your shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the straps.

“Only if you admit something to me while we’re there.” he smiled, quickly packing up his things.

“What’s that?” You watched as he grabbed your empty cup and tossed it out, along with his, before caging you in against the table, voice dropping to a low whisper that tickled your neck as he said it.

“That you like me.”

Your eyes widened. The air whooshed out of your lungs, and the background noise faded to muffles. “No way in hell could I ever like you Parker. You’re delusional.”

Fuck.

You felt your panties dampen at the canine smile he gave, an eyebrow raised. He was so close he could smell each scent in his cologne individually.

“I’m delusional? Look in the mirror sweetheart.”

The pet name made your knees threaten to shake, and you prayed you could hold your own long enough to get out of Parker’s site. You couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him, let him know he had an effect on your demeanour.

“Delusional.” you spat, eyes narrowing as he looked you over with a hungry look- laughing.

“See you on Thursday doll.” he smiled, getting the last word before turning on his heel, the door jangling before the wind slammed it shut.

He didn’t even look behind him. He just walked away, like nothing had even happened. And you stood, frozen like a deer in headlights as your heartbeat raced, need and annoyance churning in your gut.

You needed to get back at him. You just had to figure out how.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

PETER

You hadn’t texted him since you invited him to the cafe. Despite the three days with no change, he stayed glued to his phone.

He constantly reloaded your social media, stalking you like a fucking creep- and he knew he was being obsessive. But he didn’t care. He looked back at old photos, recent photos- any photos.

He missed your face, your body, the way you talked- the way you smelled.

It was heavenly.

He wanted to tarnish you, corrupt you- though he didn’t doubt you weren’t corrupted yourself. You could judge him all you’d like with his shameless flirting- but he knew you liked it. He didn’t miss the way you bit your lip at his comments, or the way you’d squeeze your thighs together.

Nothing got past him when it came to you.

Nothing except… when his roommates confiscated his phone so he would actually interact with them again instead of acting like a living breathing zombie.

He sat with them now on the couch, Steve’s long legs kicking him lightly to annoy him as he took a hit from his bong. “I’m gonna kill you dude.” he coughed, puffing out the smoke before passing it over to Sam.

The sound of Steve’s fingers flying over his controller echoed through the room, everyone watching as he destroyed Sub- Zero in Mortal Combat.

“Now what would your girl say about that Pete?”

Everyone smirked, knowing they were taunting him, just by mentioning you. Especially since his phone was in Buckys front pocket.

He frowned, just as his phone buzzed from that very pocket.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, watching as Bucky pulled it out, your name flashing across the screen. “Bucky I swear to god-“

He whistled.

“Well god damn Pete- you’re a lucky man. You sure you don’t wanna share her or something?”

He growled, lunging for his phone, snatching it to showcase the most jaw dropping thing he had ever seen.

You had sent a mirror photo, a photo in he presumed your bedroom. You were on your knees, thighs on full display, from under a pair of fishnets. You wore a short little black skirt with a tight fitted shirt, a vest to match.

It hugged you perfectly, insinuating your curves, showing a sliver of your cleavage- just taunting him.

A pout was plastered on your face, long nails glimmering off your phone case.

Y/N: does this fit the dress code?

Fuck.

Bucky laughed harder- he hadn’t realized he had said that out loud. You were a fucking tease.

He stormed up to his room, phone clenched in hand to take care of a not so little problem in his pyjama pants- his friends laughter following him all the way up the stairs.

Slamming his door shut, he let out a rattling sigh.

You were going to be the death of him.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N

“My god.” you heard a girl whisper from a few tables down from you- though whisper was an understatement, she practically yelled it in the quiet library.

She stared in front of you, and you followed her eyes until they met their match.

Cool, calculated chocolate brown eyes pierced your soul. Eyed you up and down. If he was aware of all the swooning thrown his way, he didn't show it.

You were his target, the only thing in his mind.

You swallowed, hands becoming cool and clammy as he smirked, that stupid, stupid smirk that had you praying for your life that you wouldn't die dead on the spot right then and there because he was so attractive.

It made you sick. You wanted him- bad.

So bad, you wanted him to take you right here, right now in front of everyone. They could pack their shit and leave. You just wanted him, more and more the longer he stared at you like he was pure fire, a man starved and hungry and you were fresh meat for his picking.

You gasped as he tossed his bag down, hands slamming down on the mahogany desk, leaning over you.

He was so big. Fuck.

Pure energy seemed to radiate off him, sizzling in the air. It electrocuted you.

“We need to talk.” was all he said, voice low and threatening. You squirmed in your seat, squeezing your thighs together as you crossed your legs under the table.

“We can talk plenty when we review this. Now sit, you're making a scene.” you said, feeling dozens of eyes on you, and the scene unfolding in front of you.

He didn't seem angry, but simply… on edge. Like he had been holding himself back from whatever- and he was starting to spiral without it.

You hoped that thing was you.

God it was so hot in here.

You pulled your collar away from your neck, fanning yourself with a paper. He continued to stare at you. You sat in silence as he stared holes into your skull, not looking at his book once.

You sighed, twirling the pen around your fingers, finally meeting his gaze again. Your leg brushed his, inching their way up to rest at his knee and he shivered.

“Should we review this?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“No.” he said.

“Peter I don’t know what you’re doing but we came here to review this. It’s tomorrow.”

“No.”

You put your head in your hands.

“Okay I’m done. I’m going to the washroom and then I’m leaving. You’re being difficult for no reason.”

You didn’t really need to use the washroom, you just needed to catch your breath. It seemed closed in, tight almost with each inhale. Or maybe it was because Peter still seemed to tower over you, even when he was sitting down.

You pushed your chair back, it scraped against the floor- eyes lingering on you.

He was being stupid. You could tease him, if he teased you. It was only fair.

You made sure to put a little swish in your hips as you walked away, pushing the stares off of you like an imaginary force field. You had enough on your plate then to worry about attention.

You willed for your hands to stop shaking, for your heart to stop racing. Need clouded your thoughts, like a fog misting a windshield on a chilled night.

You couldn’t see.

It was dark, and you blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. A hand had grabbed your lower back, dragging you into the empty study room- the door slamming shut with a bang.

The blinds were yanked shut, the only window open facing the dark forest towards the back of the library.

“Peter?” you whimpered.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he whispered, and you gulped.

Oh.

“Do you?”

“No?” you winced, knowing exactly what he was talking about. The photos you had sent, the sexual tension that could be cut with a butter knife.

“You consume me. You’re all I can think about. Day in, and day out.”

You could barely breathe.

“I know you know how I feel. I know you feel the same.”

“And how do I feel?” you asked meekly, slowly backing up as he walked forward, trapping you against the wall.

“You feel sick and guilty. You want me, you need me but you can’t have me because you’re trying to convince yourself you hate me.”

“I do hate you.”

He smirked. “If you hated me, you wouldn’t squeeze your thighs together whenever I’m around.”

Well shit. He got you there.

“But here’s the thing sweetheart, I don’t hate you. In fact, I can’t get enough of you. I want you to consume me, and I hate myself for it. But I don’t hate you. I just need you.”

You swallowed, wet your lips. Took a breath.

“I need you too.” you whispered, so quiet you question if you even said it out loud.

“What was that?” he smiled, clearly hearing you- but wanting to get under your skin. His hands splayed out on the wall above your head, his own head hung low to urge you on.

“I- I need you too.”

That was that.

Within a breath he had his hands in your hair, gripping you with such a passion you felt dizzy as his lips crushed yours. There was pure need in his touch. There was no time for soft, gentle, tender touches.

No, this was rough, this was hard.

This was him letting go.

And fuck, if you didn't love it.

His kiss swallowed your moans that threatened to escape, pressing you harder into the wall. You felt something brush your lower core, hard and throbbing through his pants.

Teeth and tongue clashed as his hands slid down to run across the lengths of your body, wrapping around your thighs. You gasped loudly as he picked you up in one fluid motion, your back arching against the wall.

This was even better than your wildest fantasies.

“Peter what if-if someone sees us? Or hears us?” you moaned, sighing as his lips slid down to kiss and suck across your jawline, down your neck to the sweet spot.

Ohhh.

"Then I guess you better be quiet hm?'' he smirked, clearly enjoying the rush.

You'd be lying if you didn't feel the same. The idea of getting caught kinda just made it... hotter.

You yelped as he bit down on your neck, teeth leaving a slight sting, as he licked the mark. Your panties dampened as his hand snaked around to squeeze your ass, giving it a rough slap.

“Fuck baby, you know how long I’ve been wanting to do this for? To fuck your tight little pussy until youre a blubbering mess? You’d like that hm?” he asked, tauntingly.

“Mhm..” was all you could muster out as he slid your thong to the side, the rougher fabric of his pants rubbing against your sensitive clit.

“Peter I nee-”

“Shh. Shh.”

You fumbled for his button, despite to feel him. You didn't even need the foreplay, or want it for that matter. There was plenty of time for that later. Pulling him out, you gasped at the sheer size of him.

“I’m not sure I can take all of that Peter..”

He laughed. “So the shirt you sent me was incorrect then? I told you, you should wait before you open that pretty mouth of yours.”

He teased you, rubbing the tip against your soaked middle. You clenched around nothing, begging for him.

It was humiliating. But you couldn't stop yourself.

“Now normally I wouldn't be this eager, I’d make you beg a little more… but I need you so bad it's clouding any sense of judgement or restraint I had left.” he gritted out, plunging into you so hard you saw stars.

There was no time to adjust, no slow touches or gentle teasing. Just rough, and hard. Like this thing would never happen again, even though you prayed it did.

You couldn't hear the words you were saying, they were gargled and muffled as his hand cupped around your mouth to keep you quiet, still ruthlessly pounding into you.

He was delicious.

He stretched you so good it almost hurt, but the pain was consumed with pleasure. Your brain had fogged, and all you could hear was the wet, slapping noises of skin, heavy breathing and his praises.

You’re so good for me, so tight and pretty. Why didn't we do this sooner hm?

You wanted to ask the same question, but before you could answer or ask him the same- you came around him with a muffled scream of his name.

“Shhh, shh baby. That's it.”

He encouraged you, riding you through your orgasm, before quickly pulling out leaving you gasping and sputtering before he twisted you around with ease, your legs wobbly as you attempted to find your footing.

There was no point, as Peter just slipped right back in, admiring your ass in the process.

The two of you were practically still fully clothed, yet you might as well be naked on your honeymoon with the passion he was showing you.

And you ate it up.

You might have been drooling, or crying- you didn't know. He moaned your name, and you felt hot liquid drip on your ass, down your thighs.

There was no talking.

Just panting, struggling to catch your breath, to grip onto the wall your face was smooshed into and find your sense of reality, that you were really here and just had the most mind shattering orgasim from Peter fucking Parker.

His hand still was tangled with yours, the other pulling out his phone.

“You need photo evidence this happened?” you laughed, knowing damn well he wouldn't tell anyone about this- except maybe his best friend Bucky.

They were inseparable.

He smirked, shaking his head. You didnt give a fuck what he did- the sex was too good for you to care.

And that's exactly what he was doing.

Bucky: Studying going well?;)

Peter had taken a picture of your hand intertwined with his, the glittering rings contrasting against your cherry red nails.

Peter: Very productive. I think she likes me.

[stuniolvs]

GUILTY AS SIN? JOBE BELLINGHAM

based off of this request! my fav song from ttpd!!

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh Only in my mind? One slip and falling back into the hedge maze Oh what a way to die My bedsheets are ablaze I've screamed his name Building up like waves Crashing over my grave

jobe locks your lips together cupping your rosy cheeks and softly pushes you back onto the bed. he pulls back and starts kissing down your jaw and neck. he pulls your shirt off your body revealing your lacy pink bra, you see his face morph into an expression of shock “so beautiful darling,” he glances up at you before going back to kissing down your breasts.“jobe,” you whine. he smirks, “what’s up baby?” the ease of the nickname rolling off his tongue makes you moan out,“please jobe,” you whimper he licks down your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your pants. he glances up at you for approval, you nod vigorously. 

as he slowly unveils the matching baby pink panties that you were wearing he drops his head on your thighs “fuck baby,” he groans. he lifts his head and starts kissing your thighs until you see his eyes fill with desire. he takes his tongue and drags it up and down your thighs once he reaches your upper thigh you see him start to write letters with his tongue. first, he writes an M then an I, N, and then finally an E. he starts kissing around the area “all mine,” he whispers “all yours,” you mutter back. 

jobe smiles, now shifting his focus to between your legs. he spreads open your thighs smiling at the pool on your panties.“so wet,” he murmurs. he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses over the material of your panties. you moan lightly buckingyour hips up into his mouth. “patience darling.” he smirks. “please jobe, please” you moan. he loops his fingers around the elastic of your underwear pulling them down. “such a pretty pussy baby.” he groans before diving in. his tongue laps at your throbbing pussy before he slips his two middle fingers into your core. “jobe!” you moan out gripping the sheets below you, the cotton material weaves in between your fingertips.

as jobe continues working his tongue and fingers you feel your orgasm reaching closer in waves, your moans and whimpers grow as you feel closer and closer to your release. “jobe, close.” you warn. “go ahead darling” he mutters against your pussy. the nickname driving you crazy. you come, your release dripping down jobe’s chin. but to your surprise he doesn't stop, pussy drunk. you try to close your thighs but jobe pushes them down and apart. “jobe! i can’t!” you scream out “yes you can.” he confirms now switching to thrusting his tongue into you. jobe slows down teasingly“please don't stop! please!" you moan loudly, your neighbors definitely able to hear. he hums against you and that is your final straw the knot in your stomach tightens, then snaps. your vision turns black as you feel your release soak jobes face and the sheets under you. your vision slowly regains as you see jobe smiling at you. “hey baby,” he soothes. “that was amazing.” he beams. “i love you, you whisper “i love you more,” he smiles.

[drvscarlett]

The Tortured Drivers' Department

— combining another one of my favorites. I'll be taking notes and writing fics about which TTPD song do I associate with the drivers ( + I will be including the retired ones). This is the main list and I'll be linking them when I finished writing them. Let me know if you wanna be tagged

Also give TTPD a listen. Its so beautiful and a masterpiece

Fortnight

— i love you, its ruining my life (Lewis Hamilton x Mercedes!reader)

The Tortured Poets Department 

— At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on. And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding (Pierre Gasly x ex!reader)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys 

— 'Cause he took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart left all these broken parts (Lando Norris x reader)

Down Bad

— Fuck it if I can't have him (Charles Leclerc x kpop idol!reader)

So Long, London

— You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? (George Russell x secret girlfriend! reader)

But Daddy I Love Him

— "I'm having his baby" No, I'm not, but you should see your faces (Alex Albon x Horner!reader)

Fresh Out the Slammer

— Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you (Esteban Ocon x childhood bestfriend!reader)

Florida!!! (feat. Florence + the Machine) 

—I need to forget, so take me to Florida (Logan Sargeant x heiress!reader)

Guilty as Sin?

—What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind? (Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

— I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean (Nico Rosberg x Lewis Hamilton)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

— they shake their heads, saying, "God help her" when I tell 'em he's my man (Daniel Ricciardo x longtime girlfriend!reader)

loml

— Oh, what a valiant roar. What a bland goodbye. The coward claimed he was a lion (Max Verstappen x childhood sweetheart!reader)

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart 

— Lights, camera, bitch, smile (Zhou Guanyu x model!reader)

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

— And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive (Yuki Tsunoda x Actress!reader)

The Alchemy

—'Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me (Kimi Räikkönen x assistant!reader)

Clara Bow

— This town is fake, but you're the real thing (Sebastian Vettel x Ferrari heir!reader)

The Black Dog

— I am someone who, until recent events you shared your secrets with (Mick Schumacher x driver!reader

imgonnagetyouback

— I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch (Fernando Alonso x wife!reader)

The Albatross

— She's the albatross, she is here to destroy you (Jenson Button x revenger!reader)

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

—So if I sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet. Will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon? (Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!reader)

How Did It End?

— The deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling (Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri)

So High School

—You knew what you wanted, and, boy, you got her (Charles Leclerc x reader ft Max Verstappen x childhood friend!reader)

I Hate It Here

—I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind (Kimi Räikkönen x interviewer! reader)

thanK you aIMee

— And then she wrote headlines in the local paper laughing at each baby step I'd take (Mark Webber x reader)

I Look in People’s Windows

—What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time (Sebastian Vettel x reader)

The Prophecy

—Don't want money, just someone who wants my company (Pierre Gasly x politician's daughter!reader)

Cassandra

—So they killed Cassandra first cause she feared the worst (Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader)

Peter

— Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold onto the days when you were mine (Lando Norris x reader)

The Bolter

— "Oh, we must stop meeting like this" (Max Verstappen x hollywood starlet!reader)

Robin

— You have no room in your dreams for regrets (Oscar Piastri x girlfriend!reader)

The Manuscript

—One last souvenir from my trip to your shores. Now and then I re-read the manuscript. But the story isn't mine anymore (Carlos Sainz x McLaren employee!reader)

[rafesfavgirl]

mine — j. maybank

short little jj fic bc i've been thinking about this one for dayssss

❝ what if he's written  'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind ❞

pairing: bf!jj x fem!reader

context: jj gives you a stick and poke tattoo.

words: 321

warnings: tattooing, branding (?), fluff

"quit squirming, mama," jj gently pushes your thigh down to keep it steady as he used a stick and poke kit on your inner, upper thigh just right below your bikini line.

"can you hurry it up, jay?" you ask, eyes watching him carefully.

"give me a sec, i'm almost done," he said, poking little dots into your skin, as he finished up one j.

you still couldn't believe he was able to convince you to let him do this. seriously, who in their right mind let their boyfriend tattoo their initials on them? no one.

no one does this.

but when he promised that he'd let you poke your initials into his bicep, you couldn't exactly say no. especially when he pouted and gave you those cute little puppy dog eyes of his and told you it was to symbolize his infinite love for you.

besides, it's not like you'd come to regret it, right? jj wasn't just your boyfriend, but your best friend. the one person in the world you'd completely laid yourself bare to and still loved and accepted you for exactly who you were.

even if it were to end, at least you'd have a reminder of what it'd felt like to be young and in love.

you were okay with that, right?

"all done," jj gives you his wide toothy grin once he finished up a s after the apostrophe and sat up. "now you're officially mine forever."

you chuckle and kink a brow at him. "oh, is that so?"

"oh yeah," he nods, moving to wrap his arms around you. "you good with that?"

"as long as you are," you let yourself sink back against his warm chest, and glance down at his initials that were now forever carved on your upper thigh.

jj's, the tattoo read.

he smiles, lips placing a soft kiss on your forehead, as he rested his head against yours. "always."

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

tags: @chiaraanatra @ijustwanttoreadlols @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @solanathascientst @10ava01 @werewhatkilledthedinosaurs @void21 @groovycass @azrielsgirll @rroslitas @crvptidgf @star-girl-05 @redhead1180 @shadyshadyy @prettypimpcess12 @emotionsmgcbabe @outerbankspov @letmeintourheart @gublerstylesobrien1238 @deadgirlwalkingirl @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @jul1ettt @ihe4rttwd

[petertingle-yipyip]

GUILTY AS SIN - KAZ BREKKER

//don’t ask me what this is dawg, i thought of it forever ago and wrote it half asleep and threw on an ending. leave me alone//

Pairing: Kaz x Crow!Reader

Word Count: 2,119

Summary: The little Songbird. A silly nickname for the Crow that likes to sing at the Club. When debuting a very personal, very specific song, the muse of that song - who isn’t supposed to know - is intrigued by the performance.

You were seated at the piano bench with Wylan while Jesper was bleeding fabric of color on the floor. You tapped your pencil against the notepad in your lap while Wylan played the same chords on the piano.

“I can’t get this chorus!” You groaned.

“What’s this song about? That Merchant’s son?” Jesper asked idly and you had to resist throwing your pencil at him.

“No, she’s writing about Kaz.” Wylan answered.

You whacked his arm with the notepad and he laughed.

“Just play the notes again.” You grumbled.

He was right, of course. Everyone knew of your crush on Kaz. It had started when you were younger and you figured you’d grow out of it. His cruelty seemed to guarantee it, yet he was kind enough to you. He was a very confusing man, especially as he grew into the feared Barrel Boss.

But still, your heart yearned and who were you to deny it?

You let your crush exist, burning under your skin when he was around. When you met his eyes in the crowded Club, your pulse jumped. When you two were partnered for a job, your nerves were electrified. When he spoke to you, you melted. Oh Saints, were you in deep.

Wylan, with a grin still plastered on his face, began the notes. You hummed along, finding the general flow of syllables.

“What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh, only in my mind?” Your voice drifted with the music and Wylan nodded along.

“One slip and falling back into the hedge maze. Oh, what a way to die.” Jesper added from the floor.

“I keep recalling things we never did.”

“Messy top lip kiss.” Jesper teased. He was lucky your legs weren’t long enough to kick him past Wylan.

“How I long for our trysts.” Wylan continued and you pinched him, making him yelp.

“Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?” You finished then squealed in delight. “I like that!”

“You should be more honest though.” Jesper said, standing and leaning on the piano. Your brows furrowed and he grinned.

You suddenly regretted his input.

“You should say something about wanting to bed him.” He laughed and you stood calmly. Wylan leaned out of the way and let you fully whack Jesper on the arm.

The boys laughed and you shook your head with a smile as you jotted down the lyrics you all came up with. You worked through the next verse with them and started a bridge. You adjusted a few lines in the chorus when it rolled around a second time, then found your favorite line.

I choose you and me, religiously.

You has chosen to be at Kaz’s side every time, without fail. You wondered if he noticed, then doubted he paid that much attention.

Later that week, there were no upcoming jobs to prepare for. There was no fight to ready yourself for. There was hardly any opposition since Pekka Rollins disappeared. So you found yourself, and friends, falling into your usual downtime routines.

Nina and Matthias playfully argued about something trivial. Wylan and Jesper made nonsense bets with each other, occasionally roping in Nina and Matthias, that usually ended with owing the other a drink or some treat. Kaz was nowhere to be seen, which wasn’t entirely unusual.

And you took to the stage.

Wylan had done several copies of the music for the few members of the band you recruited. While they played, you sang and lightly danced. You captivated the crowd, watching the women giggle and exchange glances at your lyrics. It seemed like they all had their own versions of that special type of crush.

The lyric change for the second chorus came up and you watched Jesper’s reaction specifically.

“My bedsheets are ablaze. I’ve screamed his name. Building up like waves, crashing over my grave.”

Jesper nearly spit out his drink and you grinned.

The grin quickly fell away and your body went ice cold when you noticed who had slid into the booth with your friends.

Kaz Brekker.

“I choose you and me, religiously.”

You finished your song and curtised to your applauding crowd. You smiled kindly before you hopped off the stage. Jesper was whistling loudly and waving

you over but you shook your head. You hid behind your hand to make your way through the dense crowd, making yourself scarce for the rest of the night.

Finally, though unsure how, you made it back to your room. The laces of your bodice had felt suffocating tight all night after seeing Kaz so as soon as your door shut, you pulled at the ends and took a deep breath.

You had sang in front of Kaz before. He said you had talent the first time he heard, and he was the one who offered you the stage whenever you wanted it. But singing that song in front him felt like you were holding a large sign that said “IM IN LOVE WITH YOU” with a bright red arrow pointing to yourself.

What else was he to think?

I dream of cracking locks = Kaz.

Without ever touching his skin = Kaz.

Every single lyric felt like an allusion to Kaz and you felt

stupider than ever.

You changed into something to sleep in and had just gotten the flush to leave your skin when a quick knock sounded at your door. You groaned quietly and flopped back onto your bed when you called for them to enter. You folded your arms under your head and stared at the ceiling as they came in. The door shut gently behind them, then a few seconds later, the bed dipped with their weight as they sat near your feet.

“If you’ve come to gloat about your lyric suggestion, I’m going to shove you off with my foot.” You warned, assuming it was Jesper.

You were wrong.

“Is that how you welcome all your guests?” He asked and you bolted upright.

You nearly collided with him but he seemed unfazed.

“I was expecting Jesper.” You admitted.

“He was very excited about your lyrics.” He nodded. “You gave him quite the ego boost.”

You groaned and fell back against your mattress again.

“Why are you here?” You asked the ceiling.

“Your song…”

“My song.” You sighed, closing your eyes in embarrassment and to brace yourself for his berating. “It wasn’t something you were meant to hear.”

“I assumed as much when you practically ran from the Club stage.” He agreed, tapping his cane rhythmically against the floor.

“Yes, well, I don’t exactly enjoy being mortified.”

“Though I’m not sure why you ran from me.”

Did he really not put it together?

You sat up on your elbows and gave him a dumbfounded expression. You doubted Kaz Brekker couldn’t figure out the truth behind your song, so you decided you’d play dumb too. The Saints themselves wouldn’t be able

to get you to outright admit to that song being very much so about Kaz, so there’s no way he would get it out of you easily.

“That song was very vulnerable.” You carefully admitted, watching for a reaction but getting nothing. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Seemed like you wanted someone to know.”

“Not specifically.” You mumbled. “I blame Jesper and Wylan. They helped me write it and then convinced me to sing it…”

He nodded slightly and you let out a sigh. You pushed yourself to sit up and crossed your legs in front of you. Kaz shifted slightly and intently looked at your expression. You had both lips between your teeth with your brows raised, waiting for him to say something.

“Did you like the song, at least?” You finally asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

You refrained from swatting him with your pillow. Instead, you huffed and rolled your eyes.

“You do realize that could be both insult and compliment, right?”

That half smile grew a little wider and that time, you did hit him with the pillow.

“Jackass.” You laughed and tucked your pillow into your lap.

“Tell me.” He said. “You said ‘there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.’ Did you write that line?”

You nodded. “My sister told me that when we were little, before she was recruited for the Second Army… I was struggling with my first crush and she said that it was okay to think things about people. It mainly mattered what I did with those thoughts.”

“And who do you have thoughts about now?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You pursed your lips and looked down at your scrunched pillow in your lap. It was the perfect opportunity to tell him, you recognized that, but that would mean telling him. The weight of the secret coming off your shoulders was tempting, but the fear of losing your current relationship gripped your heart tightly.

You two didn’t have the same closeness as you did with Wylan or Jesper. You could tell those two anything. Often times you did. But you and Kaz had an unspoken understanding to watch the other’s back. You never feared walking the Barrel or pissing someone off - unusually unintentionally - because you knew Kaz was there for you. In turn, Kaz knew he could depend on you for your part of the job or just your support for his death defying plans.

You were the first to agree to the Ice Court and you two had been an unexpectedly natural pair ever since.

“A man that I'll never quite get over, I fear.” You answered vaguely. “But I doubt I’ll ever truly have.”

“Then he’s a fool.” He said honestly, but the look on his face told you he hadn’t meant to say it.

“No.” You smiled softly. “It’s just… different. He’s different and complicated. I’d choose him and I if I had the chance.”

You were ignoring the fact that you did, in fact, have the chance.

“Complicated…” Kaz repeated.

“Among other things. But that’s one of the things about him.” You looked at your hands rather than him. “He’s clever and caring, but in a ‘I’d rather yell at you for being reckless than tell you I care about your life’ kind of way. And he does these subtle things to show he pays attention and he listens, but if you ever bring it up to him, he’ll deny it. He’s tough to get through to, but if you mean something to him, Saints, he’d burn Ketterdam to the ground to protect you.”

“And you feel guilty having these feelings for him?”

You looked up at him. “Not exactly… It’s more about whether or not I should feel guilty for thinking of him like that.”

“Because you think it's unrequited?”

“I’m almost sure it is. I’ve never seen him have feelings for anyone, except one woman, and it’s not the same with me.” You shook your head sadly.

“Y/N.” He hesitated.

Your brows furrowed. You’d never seen Kaz hesitate.

“You alright, Kaz?” You reached a hand for his arm, a gesture you did with the rest of the Crows without hesitation, then thought the better of it. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re wrong.” He answered carefully.

That answer cleared up nothing.

“About why he treats you differently.” He continued while staring at his hands and you listened quietly, trying to figure out what on earth the man was talking about. “It’s not because he doesn’t care. It’s because he cares about you and that frightens him. Last time he cared about someone, he still lost her. He doesn’t want the same to happen with you.”

“What are you…” You trailed off. Then it hit you. “Oh.”

His hand landed on your leg.

“How did you know?” You asked, not knowing if you should be excited or embarrassed.

Probably both. Both felt right.

“You weren’t exactly subtle.” He joked and you picked up the pillow to whack him again. “And Jesper told me.”

“Saints, that man can run his mouth.” You complained. “I’m going to stop telling him things.”

“Am I bad? Or mad? Or wise?” Kaz repeated your lyrics to you. “To have these feelings about you? To have these thoughts about you?”

“Someone told me there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.” You smiled slightly at him.

It’d be a trial to date Kaz. You always figured it would be, considering his temper and violent tendencies and touch aversion. But the look in his eyes, open and pleading, had you immediately choosing to try.

I choose you and me, religiously. 

Your smile grew a little wider when you felt his finger moving against your leg. 

M-I-N-E

[lixzey]

No one's ever had me not like you

✨ give me a scenario + character for headcannons!

First off happy birthday!

Can I have Evan Buckley with a daughter of Bobby reader? (Totally not projecting my 911 DR right now)

Like relationship headcanons and date ideas and all the fluff please and thank you!

Because sometimes squishy is a 30+ man

Take care of yourself!

what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh, only in my mind?

evan buckley x nash!reader headcannons part one!

• I firmly believe that the two of you would be a grumpy x sunshine kind of trope. A slow motherfucking burn kind of romance, if I do say so myself.

• The day he arrived at the 118, he immediately tried flirting with you. “Hey, miss?”

• The look on his face when you told him your name was priceless!

• Buck definitely tried to get on your good side the minute he found out you were the captain's daughter. 

• Bobby was a bit skeptical of letting you dive into intense...fires, you know? because of the fear of losing you—his only surviving family—was bugging him. you didn't know what you were thinking, but you said: “Don't worry dad, Buckley's here to protect me, if I ever—God forbid—need it.”

• Which, Evan Buckley unfortunately heard, of course. “Protect you, huh?” Buck teased, grinning at you so annoyingly smug. “Didn't know you thought of me so highly, miss Nash.”

• From that day on, Evan motherfucking Buckley made it his personal mission to annoy the hell out of you. Why? Because he thinks you look cute when you're mad.

• The two of you argue over the smallest things, it actually drives Hen and Chim crazy because the two of you ask them who's right and wrong. 

• Speaking of Chim and Hen, they are 100% done with both of you. You two haven't even been at the 118 for a year but it sure feels like it with all of the bickering. You would always rant to Hen about Buck's annoying antics “That...that fucking grin of his- Ugh! I swear to God, Hen, one day I'm just gonna snap and pretty sure I'm gonna murder him, and you are helping me dispose of his dumb ass.” and Hen just chokes on her coffee, looking at you with wide, terrified eyes. “Sorry, what?” 

• Meanwhile, Buck is yapping to Chim about your cute annoyed little pout. the poor guy has heard buck ramble on and on 

• Your dad has had to pull you away from evan multiple times per shift, seems like you inherited his temper. 

“Is she always like that, Cap?” Buck asks with an amused chuckle as he watches you stomp away with your arms folded over your chest like a child throwing a tantrum. Bobby sighs, giving him a stern look—more like an exasperated one, Buck couldn't really tell. 

“I'm afraid she's got fire,” Bobby placed a hand over Buck's shoulder, causing him to tense slightly. “Think you can handle more?” 

Buck stared at Bobby, like he'd grown another head or two. “M-more? what do you mean, more?” 

Bobby raised a brow. “I thought I heard you tell my little girl you'd protect her?”

• After that little moment with your dad, Buck literally started protecting you. A fire? He’s pushing you away with a big ass smug grin on his face. “I got this,”  God, that annoying grin of his was getting on your nerves so badly, you almost hit him with the line hose once.

• The arguments went on and on, of course. Buck would often tease you about being, well, a damsel he loves saving. And you’d always clap back that he’s an annoying peasant that should bow down to you, because you’re no damsel, but a queen. 

• Cat and dog, the nickname the whole 118—including your father, unfortunately—gave you and Buck, much to your complete, absolute, annoyance.

• You’ve always viewed Evan Buckley as this manwhore, annoying, little shit starter, but when he fails to save a person in a roller coaster accident, your views change drastically. 

• He has a heart, and you saw first hand how everything affected him. Which honestly gave you flashbacks when…your mother and siblings died and you couldn’t do anything. 

• You helped Buck with the guilt he felt, and it somehow made him feel better. It was also the very first time he saw you smile at him, easing his worries even for just a split second.

• Sometime later, you and your father didn’t show up for work. Buck was worried—terrified, almost—because all of his texts and calls were left unanswered. You always answered texts, even before when he was still the annoying douchebag, you answered. Turns out, your father was relapsing with his alcoholism, and you were reliving the past trauma.

• You were a mess when Buck and Hen arrived at yours and your dad’s place. You had been trying to get your dad to come out of his room, but all of your efforts were in vain. It was like you forgot that you were a trained firefighter, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything aside from calling your dad’s name from outside his bedroom door the way you did after the loss you and your father faced.

• As soon as the apartment door opened, Buck immediately came running towards you, not even letting Hen get to you first to check you out for any injuries or whatever. Evan Buckley just wrapped his arms around you, and you broke down crying like a little girl, holding onto him for dear life.

• After Hen got your father sane, you and Bobby recalled the day of the accident, which honestly gave Buck a better insight of you. From that day on, somehow, you and Buck became friends. 

• Do not get me started on Abby Clark. 

• You hated her, but you wouldn’t admit it (Hen definitely noticed how your face would contort into a look of disgust whenever she was mentioned.)

• And Buck just HAD to date her, aka creepy old lady.

• The look on your face was absolutely priceless when Buck invited her to Chim’s welcome back party. Let’s just say the poor cake you had didn’t deserve the stabbing.

• And him going on a DATE with her???? That Chim and your father took holiday duty for?????

• Technically, it wasn’t Abby’s fault that Buck choked on a piece of bread (you were mad and worried, but you still laughed a little-) but you still blamed her (you are not a girl’s girl when jealous- is that what it was?, that’s for sure.)

• As Buck, well, pushes through with his new relationship, you grew a bit distant with him, which confused the fuck out him because he thought you were friends. You had to assure him that yes, you were friends, but you also had a life of your own. Funny, because you just sulk in your home every day because of, well, you know. 

• You tried meeting other people. It was weird, to say the least. When Buck found out, he almost choked on his water (see what I did there?). At least your dad is on the road to finding happiness again.

• Okay, so let’s do a quick uno reverse. 

• Eddie Diaz, the new guy, who caught Buck’s attention. Why? Because he was a bit too chummy with you for his liking. 

• And there you two go again, arguing like petty middle schoolers.

• You were siding with Eddie with everything, with infuriated Buck so bad he wanted to bang his head on the gym equipment. 

• Because what the fuck did you mean when you told Eddie he should join the freaking sexy firefighter calendar????? Was he not sexy enough for you????? Bro was having a midlife crisis at this point.

• Buck constantly judged everything Eddie did, and it was getting on your nerves, to the point of-

• Okay so, long story short, Buck and Eddie become friends after you snapped at them during an argument. The way you shut Buck up completely was honestly amazing, because he literally said “Yes, ma’am.”

• And then you and Buck finally meet your new godson, Christopher! Buck was a sweetheart, honestly, you loved seeing him interact with him.

• Everything was fine, until this reporter came in. 

• God, you hated those cameras. You wanted to punch them and her for constantly being in your space. 

• On the bright side though, you now have a new mom: Athena! And a new friend, aka Maddie Buckley, Buck’s big sister! You love hearing stories about Buck from her, and you consider her as your new favorite person.

• Speaking of Maddie, when her deranged ex-husband kidnaps her, you helped Buck find her, despite your dad and new mom’s protests. 

• When the 118 was targeted by this bomber (you wanted to strangle the kid with your bare hands) you were absolutely torn. Buck’s legs were crushed by the fire engine caused by the explosion, to add salt to the injury: you and your dad were the MAIN targets. 

• Even though Buck was in immense pain, all he could think about was you, only you.

Buck screamed in pain, his legs trapped under what felt like tons and tons of weight, but when he saw you, crawling towards him, somehow everything in his body felt fine. You were now his main concern. 

“Y/n- ah!” Buck screamed out in pain, struggling to reach his hand out towards you. “A-are you- ah! Okay?”

“Buck!” You cried, taking his hand in yours, desperately trying to push the damned heavy truck off of his legs. “Someone help! His legs are getting crush, for fucks sake! Help me get this thing off of him! Someone!”

• THE WAY YOU FUCKING CURSED THE LITTLE FUCKER WHO CAUSED THE EXPLOSION-

“Let my friends go, you stupid dumb fuck! It’s me you want, right? To get revenge on my dad? Let them go! They didn’t do shit, you stupid brainless son of a bitch! Let them go! I swear to all the deities out there, I personally escort you to hell! I will drag your corpse straight to motherfucking satan if you don’t let my friends go right this goddamn instant!”

• Way to get someone’s attention though, because of that your dad got the upperhand (Bobby was surprised by your vocabulary, though).

• You held Buck’s hand while the people around you helped to get the truck off of his legs. You tried your best to soothe his pain, despite your own broken arm (Who cares about your arm? Hell, you don’t even care about yourself, the only thing that mattered to you then was Evan Buckley).

• You were there by his side when he got to the hospital, and refused to leave. Athena and Bobby had to talk to the hospital staff to let you stay, because there is no way in hell you were leaving him.

• You comforted Buck when he was told that his injury was severe, and that he might need to consider another career. You glared at the doctor, whilst holding Buck’s hand tightly in yours.

• Five months after the accident, when Buck was finally cleared (oh, so you all thought-) you were absolutely happy and your mom and dad could see that. Pretty sure from that point onwards they knew you had feelings for Buck because when he coughed up blood, you were the first one to respond and do shit. 

• After finding out he is no longer cleared to go back to work, Buck quits the LAFD and starts spiraling. You ask Eddie if he could bring Christopher over, to cheer him up—which helps, thank God. You and Buck bring Chris to Santa Monica, for a bit of well-deserved relaxation, almost looking like a little family (Buck may or may not have thought about that-).

• You and Buck almost had a moment, standing so close to each other, barely and inch separating both of your faces, AND A FUCKING TSUNAMI RUINS THE GODDAMN MOMENT.

• Even after being injured only months prior to the tsunami, Buck put yours and Chris’ safety first. Jesus, the man could RUN with you and Chris in his arms.

• The three of you managed to hold onto each other for a while, with you practically refusing to let go of Chris—maybe it's the trauma of losing your younger siblings, or something else—like he was your lifeline in all of this shit that was happening around. Same goes with Buck, but it’s mainly you who’s anchoring him down. The way the both of you almost lost your minds when Chris got separated from you was honestly crazy, Buck had to hold you by the waist so that you wouldn’t swim through the running waters in search of your kid, even though he wanted to do the absolute same. The breath the two of you breathed out when you saw Christopher safe and sound, looking for his ‘Buck and Y/n’, oh, you almost cried on the spot if you weren’t so dehydrated from helping throughout the stupid tsunami. Eddie couldn’t thank the two of you enough for putting his son first in a calamity. At this point he owes you and Buck his life.

• When Buck decided to sue the department and city for wrongful termination, it caused a rift not only between the two of you, but with the whole team. You were mad at him, because was it wrong to think about his safety first? It was actually you who suggested it to your father, in hopes of helping Buck get the medical help he needed first before finally getting back into the workforce, but he took it the wrong way when you and your family tried explaining it over dinner.

• You and Eddie decide to ignore him, even though it pained the both of you because Buck was your best friend, the only person you and Eddie trust in this world to have your backs and everything. Now, the two of you had to rely on each other now.

• When the team encounters Buck at a supermarket, you snap at him. Giving him a dose of reality he needed to hear. No one could stop you, even your own father could as you lashed out on this man, who you only wanted the best for. This little interaction leads to his reinstatement to the team (Partially, as everyone is still mad at him, until Eddie, Hen, and Chim finally forgave him). Yet, you still avoided him at all costs because of how much he hurt your feelings with all the shit he pulled. You still went with your dad though after finding out that Buck was in the emergency room (still acting mad, but in reality you almost had a heart attack when you found out.) You quickly left when he said he was fine, much to the confusion of your father, since you were so adamant on coming with your dad to see if Buck was alright.

• Okay, so after that little stint in the emergency room, Buck is now a regular in your life again, as he is now a full member of the 118 again without any restrictions whatsoever. Which made it harder to avoid him, since you still felt a bit, well, heartbroken. Honestly, you were so confused with your own feelings, you thought it was better to stay the fuck away or else you would have punched him in the face the minute he initiates small talk or whatever. Buck tried everything to get you to talk to him, or at least yell at him or something since it was his and your thing, where he’d annoy you and you’d snap at him for being a little shit who won’t take no for an answer. Hell, he even got Eddie, Chim, and Hen on board (begrudgingly, might I add, as they do not want to invoke your anger, really.) with his plan. Like, them purposely taking seats close together and leaving seats opposite of each other or side by side for you and Buck to take with no other choice. It was torture for Buck more than it was for you, because he missed you. 

• Eddie, Hen, Chim, and Maddie are absolutely tired of hearing Buck talk about you. Like, if they hear one more word from him, they’re either banging their head against a nearby surface or taking an ungodly amount of alcohol or coffee to be able to cope with this whining from Buck. At least they aren’t hearing from you. You practically detached yourself from them (they’re honestly worried, especially Eddie, Hen, and Chim), you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was working in terms of being left alone.

Okay, let’s get to Christmas!

• After learning that Christopher isn’t happy about spending Christmas without his favorite people—his father, his Y/n, and his Buck—you feel a bit guilty, I mean, all three of you are. You’ve just been so…busy? With your father’s health being on the line caused by hazardous radioactive material, you were just so stressed. You’ve already lost one parent, and you were not going to lose another. Athena was your rock during all of it, and she was the only person you’d talk to about your mind and heart messed up by someone named Evan Buckley. To relieve everyone’s worry, Athena and Buck managed to throw a Christmas party at the station for everyone. You loved the party, getting to spend time with your family was the best thing you could ever ask for. You felt a bit like yourself again, but there was still this longing ache inside of you that you couldn’t shake. God, it was annoying. Because deep inside, you knew this longing was something else. Who knew stolen glances between the two of you would feel like this? 

• In the middle of everyone mingling at the party, Buck managed to pull you aside (downstairs, but yeah), and surprisingly, you didn’t pull back. It was as if his touch was your vice and you couldn’t get enough. 

“Uh, hi?” Buck awkwardly smiled at you, scratching the back of his neck as if he was in high school trying to ask a girl out for the very first time, though, you highly doubt that he was like that during his years as a high school student with the personality he had. “Are…are you enjoying the party, so far?”

God, is this what the two of you have reduced to? Cringe worthy small talk? Jesus Christ, what the fuck? 

You gave him a little smile, pulling your hair to the side, trying to hide the growing awkwardness—more like something else—that you felt deep in your bones. “Yeah, it’s…fun, really. I’m glad you and Athena thought of this, it’s quite thoughtful of you to think about everyone.”

A nervous chuckle leaves his throat, his eyes meeting yours after all of those secret glances in the middle of the crowded party. “I’m glad you liked it.”

The two of you stood there, face to face, your heart beating uncontrollably inside your chest like a machine gone haywire. Sweet baby Jesus, how on earth does Evan Buckley’s presence make you feel…stuff like this?

And then, Buck took a step forward, standing a few inches away from you. He was so close, but you still felt so far from him. Without thinking, you took a step forward, meeting him halfway, with only a few centimeters separating the both of you, his breath hot on your cheek as the two of you locked eyes like those romance movie posters. God, why is he so tall? You were already on your toes just looking at him.

“Hi,”

“Hey,” Buck laughed, finally closing in the distance between your bodies, your lips almost touching, sending a shiver down your spine as you placed your palms onto his chest, feeling his heart beating the same way yours did. He then wrapped a strong arm around your waist, and then he kissed you. 

And you kissed back.

God, is this what love feels like? A warm, fuzzy feeling spread all over as your body kissed the living daylights out of you, devouring you like it was the last day on earth and he wanted to make it last at least until everything faded into the cosmos or whatever. A moan escaped your throat as Evan picked you up in his arms, like one of the kisses in those cheesy romantic comedy movies. Somehow, everything about this felt absolutely right. Everything made complete sense now, Evan Buckley was your true north.

You could have stayed like this forever, wrapped in his arms as the two of you hungrily made out like two lovers separated by war, but all fantasies have their limits. Maddie and Chim spotted the two of you, and well, it left you and Buck, rather breathless.

Evan Buckley tasted like heaven and hell, intertwined in a perfect storm of love and admiration that made you craving for more. Fuck, how the hell does he manage to make you feel like this? 

If it wasn’t for Maddie and Chim standing there, you would have gone for seconds, thirds, maybe even fourths, fifths, and so on. You were in too deep with him now, but Evan Buckley was already far deep down that hole—having realized that he’s been in love with you for the longest time.

After that breathtaking kiss, you and Buck quickly ran upstairs, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Anyone with functioning eyes could easily decipher what just happened, the smudged lipstick was already a dead giveaway. 

“Looks like someone finally got the courage to ask the girl out!” Hen grinned, placing her plate down onto the table. “I won, pay up everybody!”

“What?” You asked, your eyes wide with disbelief. “You bet on us!?” 

“Who wouldn’t?” Chim answered, taking out ten dollars out of wallet. “I’m not even mad at losing the bet. Hell, I’m absolutely over the goddamn moon for the both of you! It’s about fucking time you two got together!”

You stared at him, your cheeks tinted pink, either from the kiss of your life, or the embarrassment you felt. “God, are we that predictable?”

“Yes, you are.” Your father laughed, walking towards you, Athena following suit. “We’ve known for quite a while, darling.” 

“Dad!” You looked at your father, horrified. “You knew? You actually knew, knew?”

“Oh, baby,” Athena placed a hand on your shoulder, motherly as always. “Your father knew the minute you complained about Buck.”

“You complain about me, huh?” Evan gave you a teasing grin, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “How mean of you, miss Nash, you wound me!”

You glared at him. “Shut up, Buckley.”

“Make me, Nash.”

“How cute!” Maddie gushed, loving the way her baby brother looked at you like you were the only person in this crowded area. “Buck’s finally happy, I’ve never seen him this happy.”

“He’s finally found his match,” Chim chuckled, watching you and Buck argue like children, which was almost endearing to see. “I’m just glad that I won’t be hearing Buck whining again.”

“Hey! I do not whine!”

“Yeah, you do.” Eddie said, patting Buck on the back. “You’ve been whining about Y/n not-”

“Shut up,” Buck grumbled, rolling his eyes playfully. “We get it. I was a whiny baby because of my beautiful, amazing, girl who never fails to make me crazy with her.”

• And just like that, you and Buck are finally an official couple with Bobby and Athena’s blessing (Bobby gave Buck the protective father talk, let’s just say Evan Buckley would be an idiot if he hurt you in any way possible, he'd personally beat himself up if he ever did so.) 

• Evan Buckley is a simp, I say this lovingly. Like: “Look at my beautiful girl!”, “Hey, you see that? That’s my woman over there!”, “Isn’t she just amazing?”, “I love her so much, it hurts!” Eddie, Chim, and Hen have escaped whiny Buck, but now they have to deal with an in love Evan Buckley. 

• He keeps a photo of you practically everywhere. In his wallet, locker, phone, the bac of his phone, his name plate thingy where the gear are, EVERY FUCKING WHERE. 

• Pet names!! This man loves to call you a bunch of tooth rotting pet names like sweetheart, bunny, my love, lover, baby girl, princess, sweet pea, darling, my beautiful angel, honey, angel baby, love of my life, queen of my heart, the flame in my heart and a shit ton more. Buck definitely beat the record for cheesy pet names. 

• Buck loves seeing you in action on the field, like “That’s my girlfriend, you suckers!” kind of vibe. But he does step in when the situation gets dangerous for you. 

• Dates. DATES. Dates!!! Evan takes you on a date every day off from work. Honestly, he specifically asked Bobby to give him the same days off as you so the two of you could spend time with each other and have fun (but not too much fun - protective father Bobby Nash).

• Your favorite activity to do with Evan is definitely cooking! 

• Okay so, remember Jeffrey Hudson? Yeah, him. Buck is absolutely terrified that you’d be his next victim. After everything that happened with Athena, he fears that as an act of revenge towards your step mother, he’d kidnap you and….let’s just say Evan never had peace of mind after that. 

• Because of said fear, Evan asked you to move in with him, with Bobby’s blessing, of course. And you said yes! Living with Buck felt so natural, the domestic kind of life felt nice. I mean, the two of you weren’t only just playing house, but it’s kinda like a preparation for what’s to come. 

• Remember Abby? Well, Buck doesn’t care about her anymore. In fact, during the rescue, he told her “My wife and I are going to do everything to rescue your fiancé.” Him calling you his wife???? MADE YOU MELT! 

“Wife, huh?” You grinned, fixing your harness for the rescue operations. “I’m flattered, Buckley. But where’s my ring?”

“I-uh, you know I just said that-”

“I know, baby.” You kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you more, my future wife.” Buck smiled, kissing your forehead. 

“That’s more like it.” You giggled, tugging on your straps to make sure they’re safe and secure. “Come back to me, alright?”

Buck nodded, placing another kiss on your temple. “Always. You stay safe, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too, Evan!”

“I love you too, Y/n!”

• When Maddie announces that she and Chim are expecting a baby, you and Buck were so excited! Auntie Y/n and Uncle Buck for the absolute win! 

• When Buck and Maddie’s parents came to visit, you stood by your boyfriend, holding his hand because you knew everything about his childhood and that he was seeing a therapist for it. And when the secret about their older brother was revealed, you were Evan’s rock—the only person he knows that would never lie to him. 

[wingedblooms]

IS THIS ANOTHER HINT FOR ELAIN?!?! ELRIEL? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[Verse 1]

Drownin' in the Blue Nile

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

I hadn't heard it in a while

My boredom's bone-deep

This cage was once just fine

Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of crackin' locks

Throwin' my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks

Crashin' into him tonight, he's a paradox

I'm seeing visions

Am I bad or mad or wise?

[Chorus]

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

I'm slippin', fallin' back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trips

Without ever touchin' his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

[Verse 2]

I keep these longings locked

In lowеrcase inside a vault

Someonе told me, "There's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk"

These fatal fantasies

Giving way to labored breath takin' all of me

We've already done it in my head, if it's make-believe

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

[Chorus]

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

I'm slippin', fallin' back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

My bed sheets are ablaze

I've screamed his name

Buildin' up like waves crashin' over my grave

Without ever touchin' his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

[Bridge]

What if I roll the stone away?

They're gonna crucify me anyway

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly

I choose you and me religiously

[Chorus]

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

I'm slippin', fallin' back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trips

Without ever touchin' his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

[Outro]

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

I hadn't heard it in a while

Am I allowed to cry?

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | July 1st-14th 2024

Work has been kicking my ass. Can't wait for my vacation! Hope you're all doing well!!

Complete

what if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh? by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Fanart, PWP | <1K | Explicit): “I'm gonna ride you,” Eddie says, flicking his wrist. “Okay, baby?” When Eddie straddles Buck's lap and sinks down, his eyes closed, he doesn’t fuck himself down onto Buck like he normally would— he wants to drag it out, tease his boyfriend untill he's a whimpering mess underneath him.

Sparks Fly by Inell/ @inell (Reporter Buck AU | <1K | Teen): Eddie meets his match when reporter Buck shadows the 118

Seeing Stars by Inell (Astronauts AU | <1K | Teen): Buck and Eddie are best friends who have been pining for a while when Buck finally makes a move.

when it all melts down by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (Post-S7, Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Buck thinks a beach day is the perfect distraction from an empty house and a lack of summer plans. Eddie thinks if Buck walks out of the ocean like a Greek god one more time, he might just lose his mind. or: there’s only one cure for a frozen tongue after too much ice cream

The Moment is Here by Inell (Post-S7, Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Eddie has been in love with Buck for longer than he cares to remember but he’s been scared to jeopardize their friendship. Lucky for him, Buck is feeling brave this morning.

i'll never give you away ('cause i've already made that mistake) by Iover_of_mine (I_almost_do)/ @lover-of-mine (Post-S7, Love Confessions | 3K | General): Buck almost kissed Eddie at the bachelor party and forgot about it. Until he remembered.

this postcard tells you where we've been by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7 | 3K | General): Eddie finds a collection of postcards Buck sent to Chris over his summer in El Paso.

pauses, then says you're my best friend (you knew what it was) by instantcaramel/ @buddiekinard (Social Media Fic, Post-S7 | 4K | General): buck drags eddie to a taylor swift concert. wackiness ensues.

Cursebreaker by Inell/ @inell (Post-S7, First Date | 4K | Teen): Buck is nervous about his apparent dating curse ruining his first date with Eddie. Lucky for him, Eddie doesn’t believe in curses.

A Love As True As Mine by Inell (Post-7x10: All Fall Down, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): After Buck gets injured during a call, he overcomes some personal issues and ideas of love with Eddie’s help.

One Look at You by Inell (Post-S7, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Eddie and Buck are enjoying a night out when lines get blurred and feelings are finally admitted.

And There You Were by Inell (Post-S7, Getting Together, Fluff | 4K | Teen): After admitting their feelings for each other and spending the night together, Eddie wakes up to find Buck in the kitchen and decides to distract him. 

I Can See Clearly Now by Inell (Post-S7, Getting Together | 5K | Teen): During a simple call, Buck finds himself locked in a lab after a possible exposure with Eddie and the rest of his team on the other side of the glass doors.

Pumpkin by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 5K | General): “You were just telling us about your dog, Pumpkin. Three years old. You’re taking her to the park this weekend?” And, oh. Buck wanted to laugh. Hen thought Pumpkin was a dog. He did laugh; loud and wheezing. “Right, you’re right. Pumpkin. How could I forget?” Buck wiped a tear from his eye. He didn’t know why it was so funny, maybe he had bumped his head a little, but for some reason, Hen mistaking his three-year-old daughter for a dog was just about the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

🔥 bark like you want it by colonoscopys/ @colonoscopys (Soulmates AU, Crack | 7K | General): The first time Eddie Diaz hears his soulmate’s voice, he hears him say Damn, that’s a nice ass.

🔥 the book of love by colonoscopys (Time Loop, Getting Together | 8K | General): It was a pretty regular day. He had an eight hour shift the day before, slept in a little bit, ate dry toast and drank a black coffee before dropping Chris off at physical therapy for an hour. If he had known he was gonna die, he would have sprung for the hashbrowns in the freezer.

🔥 trying hard not to act a fool by arcanaphora (Didn't Know They Were Dating, Post-S7 | 10K | Teen): Or: 5 times Eddie jokes to Buck about marrying him + 1 time where Buck doesn't think it's very funny anymore

The heat of the moment by JamesPearce911/ @diazsdimples (PWP | 10K | Explicit): Tired and frustrated after a long shift, Buck and Eddie take an impromptu trip to the sauna. Only problem is, it's a nude sauna, which Buck didn't notice when he booked them in. Thankfully the boys handle the slip up gracefully, and possible break a few public sex laws in the process.

What if this storm ends? by JJK / @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-6x12: Recovery, Getting Together | 11K | Teen): After the lightning strike, Buck grapples with the fact that he's still alive, that he's hopelessly in love with Eddie, and that more than anything he wishes Eddie and Christopher could be his family. Too bad Eddie doesn't feel the same way, right? But then Buck chaperones Christopher's school trip and an injury shakes things up.

🔥 if i said you could never touch me by marviless/ @marviless (Established Buddie | 15K | Mature): “Buck. What’s wrong?” Buck closes his eyes, then blinks them open. “Nothing,” he says, because he doesn’t know how to tell the truth. He doesn’t know what the truth even is. “Everything’s, uh—everything’s fine. I just—” he chews on his lip. “I was just thinking that, uh, maybe we shouldn’t go any further tonight? You know, not with Christopher in the house.”

What is Love For $2000? by fayevian/ @fayevian (Canon Divergent, Jeopardy Contestant!Buck | 17K | Mature): One night when Eddie can't sleep, he discovers the hottest Jeopardy contestant of all time (objectively). With the "help" of his team and his fairly good working knowledge of Twitter, they devise a plan to get Evan (from Jeopardy) to slide into Eddie's DMs. It works surprisingly well.

🔥 keeping score by arcanaphora (Post-S7, Fake Relationship | 23K | Mature): After getting dumped, Buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. Eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. All's fair in love, war, and trivia.

🔥 Steal My Sunshine by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Altered Memories | 30K | Mature): Memories hazy and unreliable, Eddie Diaz wakes up every morning in a house at the end of a cul de sac, goes to his office job at a petroleum engineering company, and comes home to his wife and son. But something is missing, and the more Eddie begins to put the pieces together, the stranger the predicament he finds himself in. 

🔥Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home series by Daisies_and_Briars

Pennsylvania Under Me (Future Fic, Buckley Family | 22K | Teen): When unexpected circumstances require Buck to travel back to Hershey for the first time in over a decade, Eddie and Chris are right by his side. A Lot Like You (Future Fic, Buck&Bobby | 14K | General): The dynamics between everyone change when Buck and Eddie have another child and Bobby moves on from the 118. I Hold It Like a Grudge (Buck&Maddie, Future Fic | 11K | Teen): Buck and Maddie come into unexpected and unwanted conflict when their parents meet Buck's son for the first time, by surprise, when he is under Maddie's care.

WIP

The Smutty Ones by Tizniz/ @tizniz (PWP | 56/? | 23K | Explicit): A collection of smutty Buddie drabbles.

E & E: A Buddie Drabble Collection by Tizniz (Prompt fic | 105/? | 22K | General): A collection of drabbles for Buck and Eddie.

It's Me That He's Always Choosing by I_still_dont_understand_13/ @dangerpronebuddie (Prompt fic | 20/? | 8K | Explicit): A collection of smut prompts originally posted on tumblr.

🔥 boys, when my baby found me by nondz (pinkjook) (Post-S7, Presumed Dead Eddie | 2/3 | 17K | Explicit): “It just feels… I don’t know. I feel like I’m back to being an old version of me. Like I’m— fucking— Buck 2.0 again. I can’t be good to him if I’m Buck 2.0. I know that.” Eddie frowns. “I first met you when you were Buck 2.0. And you were good to me.” Or: three months later, things are mostly back to normal. And then there's an accident.

🔥 Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Not A Firefighter Eddie, Sugar Baby Buck | 10/22 | 46K | Explicit): When Eddie Diaz stumbles his way into money, he finds himself one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles - to his dismay. He needs a way to get people off his back without confessing his messy marital situation, and Shannon's still not answering his calls, so he caves to a friend's suggestion: hire someone to pretend to be his partner. Enter Evan "Buck" Buckley: sugar baby, fire fighter, and the man about to turn Eddie's world upside down.

🔥 If You Can Make the Music by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, | 3/5 | 7K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 5 (Seaside): A year after a whirlwind two week love affair with bartender Buck in Galveston, Texas, Eddie Diaz finds himself coincidentally relocating to the area. But when he attempts to reconnect with Buck, he's in for an unfortunate surprise. (Part 3 of Coma-Verse)

🔥 you're almost home (i've been waiting for you to come in) by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (Post-S5, Canon Divergent - Roommates, Getting Together | 3/5 | 18K | Mature): Buck moves in. Eddie comes out. Things get a little messy.

🔥 Long Death by Daisies_and_Briars (Post-S7, Vampire AU | 5/10 | 17K | Explicit): In the summer of 2024, a never before seen form of vampirism breaks out in Los Angeles. Just as Eddie is about to get his son back. Six months later, Buck's life is permanently changed.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 14/19 | 71K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 130/? | 408K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

[guiltyasdave]

heaven can't help me now

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're afraid Dave might not like you as much as you like him. ...Meanwhile, Dave is afraid of the same thing. (They're idiots okay)

word count: 6.5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, phone sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, cream pie, use of panties as a gag, orgasm denial, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

taylor swift said “what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh” and i took that personally

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading! <3 (and listening to me freak out about this on a daily basis)

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Dave regrets the message as soon as the small text underneath it switches from delivered to read. 

He knows that he’s been cruel to you, he could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face when he drove you home. But he has to be the responsible one, the adult in this situation. The one who’s able to hold back. Nothing should have happened between you and him, not once, let alone twice. He shouldn’t indulge in this, shouldn’t give you hope. 

He has always looked down on men who were with women much younger than them. Midlife crisis. Not able to have a relationship with someone on the same maturity level. 

That’s not who he is. He understands that the reason why you’re attracted to him lies at least partially in your relationship with your father, and he won’t take advantage of that. It’s not who he is and it’s not what you deserve. 

You’re gonna go back to college in a few weeks and he can pretend that none of this ever happened. You’re gonna meet a nice boy your age, become a lawyer, get married and live your life the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, the memory of you writhing underneath him, your voice so sweet and needy in your desperation, surely won’t be as vivid as it is right now.

But then he found your panties between the cushions of his couch, still damp with your arousal, still smelling of you. His mind started wandering, conjuring images that he should be ashamed of. The things he could do to you, the things he could show you. 

It’s like he’s lost in a haze, stroking his throbbing cock to fantasies of you, all the depraved shit that some respectful fellow student would never do, but that he knows you crave. He hears your whimpers so clearly in his head, pictures your face, so pretty begging him for things only he knows how to give you, until he releases himself all over the lacy bit of fabric that’s clutched between his fingers. 

But now you’re not answering, and shame is swirling in his stomach, surely now he’s overstepped, why did he even think– 

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the quiet ping of his phone and a message from you. Just a photo, no text. 

His eyes widen, taking in the image. He can’t see your face, only the shape of your tits, already so familiar to him, covered in dark, lacy fabric. Exactly the same color, exactly the same pattern as the fabric that he soiled and photographed to send to you.

You put on the matching bra for him, he realizes. Which is probably why it took you longer than usual to answer, you had to get into the lingerie and put yourself all prettily on display for him. He drinks in the shape of you, the skin that he knows would feel so soft underneath his touch, the swell of your breasts, the nipples hidden behind lace, how they would harden for him, how you would squirm if he–

Desire starts coursing through him again, and he feels like a teenager, reduced to this by just a photo. His thumb finds your name on the display almost instinctively.

“Fuck, baby.”

The rasp of his voice hits your ear as soon as you accept the call. Your heart had been hammering away inside your chest since you hit send on the photo. 

“You like it?” 

You hate how needy you sound, how desperate for his approval. David exhales sharply and you wish you were with him again.

“Trust me, I like it very much.” 

Your cheeks heat at his tone. He blows all other thoughts out of your head. You forget how rejected you felt, how you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. It doesn’t matter, not when he talks to you like this. You whisper a thank you and he chuckles. 

“Are you in bed, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, considering the words resting on the top of your tongue. Deciding to take the leap. “Wish you were here too.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he purses his lips, how he slowly curls them into a smirk.

“Mhm? What would you like me to do if I was?” 

Your face burns hotter. 

“I– Touch me, use your fingers to–” 

He groans, a rich, deep sound in your ear. You’re still sore, but your fingertips ghost down your body anyway, chasing the need that’s building up between your legs again. You gasp when they find your clit, already swollen and covered in your slick. 

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, please David, I need–”

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” 

He keeps talking to you, low murmurs in your ear, directing your fingers over your body. He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice, until he’s reduced you to a whimpering mess without even being there. 

He doesn’t apologize for earlier, not directly at least. You didn’t expect him to. In a twisted way, that you’re not sure anyone but the two of you would understand, this was his apology. 

You’re not sure what changed his mind, but he doesn’t go back to his distant self afterwards. Maybe he’s come to the same realization as you. That neither of you is going to be able to stay away. 

He’s on your mind constantly, you catch yourself checking your phone for new messages way too often and smiling down at the screen whenever he’s texting you. You know that you shouldn’t act like this, shouldn’t give him that much power in your mind. But it feels so good, to be seen, to be wanted like that. 

You’re both busy; he’s working on an important case and you’re in desperate need to catch up on job applications and college work, which you’ve neglected over the past few days, as your father is quick to remind you. 

But you keep exchanging messages, keep sharing hushed whispers at night. It never lets up, the thrill of his voice guiding your fingers and hearing the sounds that he makes when he’s putting his hands on himself. Knowing that it’s you, the thought of you that elicits them. 

You’re having dinner with your father, who is home earlier than most days, the brightly lit dining room reflecting off the massive windows, when the bubble bursts. 

“You remember Dave, right? From the country club?”

You freeze, your fork hovering in the air over your plate. He knows, your mind screams. No, there’s no way he would know. 

You fight hard to appear nonchalant, to not let your face betray you. You nod, humming questioningly in a way that you hope sounds innocent enough. 

“I told you how he got divorced recently, didn’t I? It’s been hard on him, poor fella…” 

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. You furrow your brow, at a complete loss where this conversation might be going. 

“Well, guess who got him a date?! Cheryl from the office is single and I realized, she’s perfect for him! An amazing match. He never goes out, always been a bit of a loner, I guess… But I set them up and they went out last night! Great, huh?” 

Your mind is running a mile a minute. You force a weak smile, lifting your head to meet your father’s proud grin. 

“Y-yeah, dad. Great,” you echo. You feel hollow.

He leans back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to play matchmaker for you too, eventually, with the way things are going, hm?” 

Under different conditions, the snide remark about your dating life and how he’s never been even remotely happy with any guy you had dared to bring home, would sting a lot more. Right now though, you’re reeling from the fact that David went out with another woman last night. 

“Sure,” you whisper. “May I please be excused?” 

You don’t wait for an answer, already pushing back from the table and rushing up the stairs. Back in your room, you grab your phone, scrolling through your past messages. You didn’t hear from him last night, which you hadn’t found weird at the time, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now. 

Maybe he finally realized that someone his age would be much better suited for him. A real woman, not some little girl who still goes to school, calls him drunk in the middle of the night and can’t stand up against her father. Of course that’s not what he wants. 

You pace in your room, thoughts running through your head. Do you confront him? You never talked about it, never discussed exclusivity, but still… You don’t want anyone else and you had thought that he wouldn’t either.

After tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you decide not to ask David about it, to not contact him at all. Maybe that’s for the best. Save him the trouble of letting you down. It’s like a weight pulling under, the uncertainty and fear of this being it tying itself into a tight knot in your stomach. But you’ve been desperate enough for him already, you try to reason, you need to stop embarrassing yourself by running after him. 

He texts you the next day, sounding just the same way he always does. You can’t bring yourself to not reply to him at all, but it’s clipped, one-sentence answers, which he picks up on soon enough. His name lights up your phone as you’re hunched over your desk in your bedroom, pondering over an essay that you’re supposed to write over the break. 

“Hello?” 

“Sweetheart.” The deep smoothness of his voice travels from the speaker right under your skin, holding you under his spell the way he always does. “Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, muttering a no in reply. You sound like a petulant teenager, everything that you don’t want him to see you as.

“Now why do I not believe that?”

You hear his smile in the way he sounds. You want to see him so badly, want to be on the receiving end of that smile. You wonder if Cheryl from the office got to see it last night too. If he’s given her all the parts of him that he’s given you. 

“Dunno.” There’s a sting in your voice, not unlike the sting that you feel piercing through your heart at the thought of him with someone else. 

Dave frowns at the way you sound. You’re never this short with him, never seemed so sad since that night you called him drunk and he turned you down. And even then, it was different, not dismissive the way you are now. 

His anxious mind immediately provides him with a variety of explanations. Maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and realized that you don’t want him. That you don’t want a man twice your age, that him wanting you actually makes him a fucking creep, that he isn’t as great as you’ve built him up to be in your head. Maybe you’ve realized that what you’re doing is wrong. He wouldn’t blame you for it. One of you should be reasonable and end things for good. He has been telling himself that.

But you sound so upset that worry settles in his gut. He feels that pull towards you again, only that it’s not explicitly sexual this time. He just really needs to see you, to touch you, to make sure that you’re okay. 

The invitation for you to come over leaves his lips without thinking about it, just the overwhelming need to have you close. You pause, so long that he gets even more uneasy, but eventually you agree.

Dave knows that something is wrong as soon as he opens the door. You look smaller, slightly curling in on yourself. You don’t meet his gaze, eyes downturned and without the spark in them that he sees in his mind when he thinks about you. He pulls you into a hug, one that you barely return.

His bedroom door is once again firmly closed, and he’s directing you towards his couch again. Still the last invisible line, the one that he tells himself will keep him from letting you in all the way. Your eyes linger there for a moment, he can almost see the wheels turning in your head. You deflate even more.

He hates to see you like this. Fights the urge to wrap you in his arms, satisfy his hunger for your lips and fuck you until every trace of that sadness written over your face is erased.

The door that you presume leads to his bedroom is closed, just like the last time you were here. You wonder if he opened it for Cheryl, if she got to see a part of him that you didn’t. Then again, he probably treated her like a lady. Wined and dined her properly, maybe a chaste kiss to say good night. Because she’s someone who’s right for him, someone worth putting the effort in. Not the quick fuck that you had been. 

He probably invited you over to tell you in person that he really can’t see you anymore. That he means it this time. You suppose that in his mind, that’s the decent thing to do. You think that you would have rather had him text you about it. That way you wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to tell him to his face that it’s fine, that you understand, don’t worry.

Still, he called and you came running. Like a fucking idiot. 

You sit down on the edge of his couch, decidedly keeping the images of the last time you were here buried in your memories. “Do you want something to drink?” You shake your head no and he sits down beside you. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the simmering need that you feel for him, even now. Please just get it over with.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You’re not looking at him, keeping your eyes on your hands, your fingers gripping each other tightly, tense like the rest of your body.

“Do all what?” 

You bite your lip, attempting to swallow down the anger at the fact that he’s gonna make you the one to say it, but it’s no use. Your eyes fly up to meet his. 

“Make me come here, to talk to me in person, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You– you could’ve just texted me.”

He furrows his brow, a hint of defensiveness in his warm brown eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” 

You scoff. “My dad told me. About your date.” You’re never like this, your voice biting and your eyes glaring. You’re never like this and you have no right to be like this now, getting worked up over the end of something that never even was, not really. “I’m sure she’s nice. A great match, he said, so you’re gonna tell me to fuck off. It’s okay, I understand.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. A lump is building in your throat and your eyes burn with unshed tears. This can’t be happening. It’s bad enough that you feel this much about it, but it’s indefinitely worse to have him know it. 

David’s expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s not–” He slips one hand in between yours, gently pries your fingers away from each other. “You thought that’s why I asked you to come over here?” 

You shrug, once again unable to meet his gaze. 

“The date was shit. I wouldn’t even have gone if Jim hadn’t kept bugging me about it.”

Inhaling deeply, you slowly trail your eyes up to his face again. 

“Really?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. His lips press against your forehead. 

“Promise.” He sighs. “You sounded so upset, that’s why I asked you to come–”

You sniffle, suddenly feeling stupid about the whole scene you made. He holds you a little longer, and you revel in his scent that’s engulfing you, in the warmth and solidness of his body. When he finally pulls away, his hand finds your chin and lifts it until you’re looking straight at him. A hint of amusement is glinting in his eyes.

“Were you jealous, baby?” 

You’re well aware that he can see right through you, but shake your head anyway. He allows himself a grin.

“What then? Worried that you’ll find no one else to fuck you like I do?” 

Heat is burning in your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, at least partially. 

Your lips curling up and the soft laugh tumbling out of you soothes him, eases the sting in his chest. The severity of your reaction to the idea of him dumping you for another woman took him off guard. He never wants to see that kind of hurt written over your face ever again. 

He should have told you, he realizes that now. He knew nothing would come out of meeting with that woman that Jim had been boasting about all week, but what was he supposed to say? No need pal, I already got everything I need fucking your daughter? 

He doesn’t know when you began feeling like everything he needed. He knows that you shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t check his phone as often as he does, shouldn’t spend his days fantasizing about you, shouldn’t imagine you by his side almost constantly. 

But how can he not, when you’re looking at him like this, your eyes so wide, so filled with trust. Always ready, always desperate to give him everything of you. Like a dream come true that he didn’t know he had. 

“Maybe,” you admit, teasingly but still so, so soft. Everything about you is so fucking soft. His to touch, his to defile. Because, inexplicably, you fucking let him.

He needs to reassure you that he’s worthy of that trust. He leans in closer, feels your breath ghosting over his face as his nose nudges against yours. He pauses, searches your expression for a moment. You dip your chin down in a tiny nod and he’s onto you, chases your mouth with his. He pours all the emotion that he doesn’t understand, can’t begin to name, into the kiss. How much he misses you, how often you are on his mind. How he doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to do right by you, but has no clue how.

Your lips move against his with more fervor, a mess of tongues and teeth clashing against one another. Your whimpers drip into his mouth, leaving him drunk off you. Heat spreads through him, like a fire that’s going to consume you both. He thinks that he wants it to. 

He trails kisses down your throat, sucks at the skin, relishes in the shivers that it sends through your body. You grasp at his shirt, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he stops you. Nipping at your collarbone, he looks up at you, takes in your wide blown pupils, the hunger in your eyes.

Maybe this is all he can give you, but he’s going to do that right. He’s going to give you what he can, as long as you let him. 

He hooks his fingers under the neckline of your dress, pulls it down a little, inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. Every new inch of your skin that he reveals fills him with the need to worship it. 

“Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” He mouths at your skin again, his eyes still trained on your face. “Let me make you feel good?” 

You nod eagerly, a breathy please, David falling from your lips. He runs his hands up your thighs, marvels at the almost feverish warmth of your skin, before he lifts your dress and helps you pull it over your head. 

Your underwear is white this time, a picture of innocence that only he knows is an illusion. His arousal swells at the thought, his cock pushing against the confines of his pants. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, his hands trailing over your waist, tightening his grip momentarily and enjoys watching you squirm in response. “I think about you all the time.” 

Your gaze flickers for a moment, and he realizes what he just said. It’s not a lie, but also not a truth that he intended for you to know. You bite your lip, expression turning thoughtful for a moment. Then a small smile spreads over your face. 

“M–me too,” you whisper, a bit shy, like you’re still half-expecting him to take it back, but putting your trust in him anyway. 

He has to kiss you again, remove all remaining doubts about how much he wants you from your mind. Licking into your mouth, he starts toying with the cups of your bra, pulling them down just so that his fingertips can graze over your nipples. You press your body into his touch, your back arching off the cushions, and he undoes the clasp, lets the fabric fall away from your body. 

He runs his fingers over your flesh, teases the hardening buds, loves the way you keen into his mouth in response. Palming your tits roughly, he pulls away a little to look at them. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever tire of the sight of his hands on you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Like you were made for me.” It stings only a little right in this moment, while he’s touching you, to know that you are not. He can keep pretending, for a while. It’s worth it, seeing how you light up at the praise, how you drink in his every word, sinking deeper into his touch. His, his, his.

David peels your panties off of you, the image of the white lace against his hand one that you know will burn itself into your memory. His eyes linger on the fabric, a grin slowly growing on his face. Arousal tingles at your spine at the sight. You’re entirely bare now while he hasn’t removed one item of clothing. The obvious power dynamic leaves you feeling vulnerable, you and your body at his mercy, but you trust him. To treat you the way you want, need to be treated, to push you to your limits and to still keep you safe.

The weight of his hands lands on your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, making room for his body between them. You’re acutely aware of how wet you are, and how clearly he can see it right now, with your folds all spread out right in front of him. You feel your slick coating your inner thighs, feel his breath ghosting against it.

He groans at the sight and sinks to his knees, almost at eye level with your pussy. The realization of what he’s about to do sinks in as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your clit that has you trembling. But still–

“Y–you don’t have to do that,” you stutter, suddenly feeling a different kind of vulnerable. A shame that you can’t explain starts welling up inside of you. 

He pulls back, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at you. His hands gently push your thighs back together, leaving you less exposed. 

“Do you not want me to?”

You bite your lip, fighting not to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. I– I’ve never–” Your voice trails off. A fire is burning in his eyes, intimidating you. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He sounds incredulous. 

You shake your head, shoulders moving up in a shrug, a wave of embarrassment growing in you. “Men don’t really… like to. In my experience.” 

He sighs and leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your left knee. “Most men are idiots.” It’s mumbled into your skin, lips moving against it. His fingertips inch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You deserve to feel good, baby.” His voice sinks into your skin, low and raspy, and you have no choice but to believe it. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks again.

His dark eyes are on you, his fingers still tracing shapes over your skin. So close to where you want him. You’d let him do anything. 

“Please, David,” you whisper, for the second time. 

He pries your legs back open, a low growl in his throat as you’re spread out for him. Then he dives in, licking and sucking at your clit, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense, until stars start to burst behind your eyelids and you’re gasping his name. It’s overwhelming, unlike anything that you’ve ever experienced before. 

He lets up momentarily, licking through your slit, drinking up your arousal that’s dripping out of you and groaning at the taste of you. His mouth moves to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He bites down suddenly, sinking his teeth into your skin and you scream his name at the unexpected burst of pain that transforms into pleasure almost instantly. 

He does it again, and again, leaving his marks on your body. It hurts just right, the sensation of him leaving his trace on you, marking you as his. You clench around nothing, desperate to feel him on your clit again, to take you the final bit to the top. 

As if he was reading your mind, he lets up his ministrations on your thighs and kisses his way to the spot where you need him so desperately. Your fingers sink into his hair, tugging at the roots, and he looks up at you, smug pride glinting in his eyes. He licks through your folds, nudges at your entrance with his tongue, before his lips find your clit again, closing around the sensitive nub. 

You come within seconds, the waves of your arousal crashing over you so suddenly that it takes your breath away. His groans vibrate against your skin as he laps at you, drinking you down. You feel like you’re in heaven. 

David gives you time to calm down, gently mouths at your heated skin, licks over the spots where you feel the indents of his teeth, before he kisses his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips when they connect with yours. It’s messy, and filthy, and you can’t get enough of it. 

You whimper when he pulls back and his eyes find yours again, his almost black, the pupils blown wide. He rises to his feet and looks down to where you’re spread out, thighs parted, on full display for him as he towers over you. He leans down, a finger tapping against your mouth.

“Open.” 

Your lips part immediately, giving him all the access he wants. He groans at your obedience, trails his knuckles over your cheek for a moment, before raising his hand to your eyes. He’s holding your panties again. 

“These are so pretty. Would be a shame to just leave them lying around, don’t you think?” 

You let out a sound, something akin to agreement. His grin widens. 

“Good girl.” 

His fingers push the fabric into your mouth, your spit soaking the material, mixing with the arousal that’s already sticking to it. You moan at the taste, your eyelids fluttering shut. 

His palm connects with your cheek in a light slap. Not hard enough to sting, but your eyes fly back open at the sensation. You grind down onto the cushions, desperate for friction as another wave of need floods you. 

“Eyes on me, remember?” 

You try voicing a sorry, but it comes out garbled and he chuckles. Soothing his fingers over the spot he just slapped. 

“There’s no need for you to talk. Just be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?” 

Your body is buzzing, but your mind is blissfully empty. Ready to give yourself over to him, to submit to whatever he asks. It feels so good, so easily being able to please for once in your life. To follow rules and be praised for it. Simple. Safe. 

He wraps the lace around your head and ties it together in the back, effectively gagging you, leaving your mouth opened, the fabric stretching against the corners. Your desire is coursing through your body with so much force that it’s almost painful. 

He kisses you over the gag, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying a hint of pressure. Your hips chase him, your arousal close to unbearable. He chuckles against your mouth before he pulls back.

“Such a good girl.”

He teases you endlessly. Drinks in the sight of you writhing under him as his fingers are back on your nipples, tugging them harshly and eliciting soft mewls from you. You look beautiful in the golden light of the evening sun that’s falling through his windows, almost angelic. 

An angel that he wrecked, already so fucked out when he finally sheds his own clothes and starts sliding his cock through your folds. He coats himself with the slick of your desire, taps his head against your clit, nudges at your entrance again and again without sliding inside. 

Your whimpering cries are music to his ears, your fingernails digging into his shoulders sting just right. You’re pleading with him through the makeshift gag, your words all muffled, and he revels in the desperation in your eyes. Loves the sight of it. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he coos, slides over your clit again. “Tell me.” 

You’re trying, trying so hard to get out real words, and he chuckles at your efforts. Deciding to grant you a little mercy, he pushes the head of his weeping cock into you. He throbs at the feeling of it, of how your slick pissy tries pulling him in deeper. You’re whining at the stretch, your hands desperately grabbing at him, before he pulls back again. 

Your eyes are swimming with tears, silently pleading with him. It’s like a rush. You’re always such a good, polite and well-behaved girl, so sweet, and here you are, completely bare and spread out underneath him, crying to get fucked. By him. He’s a bad man, he knows it. He doesn’t care, not when it feels like this. 

He smirks down at you. “Say please.” 

It’s obvious that you’re trying, your tongue struggling against the soaked fabric in your mouth. He lines himself up once more, looks at your face, at the desperate hope written out in your eyes. Then he slams into you. You scream, gripping his shoulders so tightly that he thinks you’ve drawn blood. He couldn’t care less.

Now that he feels your tight walls all around his cock, engulfing him with pulsing heat, it’s impossible to tease you any longer. He pulls back, just to sink deep into you, again and again. You cry out at every thrust, every time that he hits that spot deep inside of you that leaves you such a trembling mess. 

He can tell when you’re starting to tighten around him, your cries getting higher, and he knows that you’re close. Slowing down, he leans his head down to yours, his thrusts becoming more shallow. 

“Hold it,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the soft shell of your ear. A whine escapes from your throat, fresh tears falling from your eyes, your whole body trembling underneath him, your cunt squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s breathless, high on the control you’re giving him, on your level of obedience, doing every single thing that he asks from you. 

Letting you calm down a little, he busies himself with kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach. Almost bursting with arousal himself, he knows that he’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer. 

When he speeds up again, he sets a harsh rhythm, jostling your body with every thrust, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce with the movement. Your walls start tightening around him again, pulling him in. He can’t hold back anymore. 

“I’m gonna come. Gonna leave you just as messy as those little panties of yours. ‘S that what you want?” 

You nod eagerly, more unintelligible pleads stumbling through the gag. 

“Fuck, come here–“ His fingers scramble, ripping the fabric out of your mouth to kiss you properly, to feel your tongue against his. 

His hips move at rapid speed, pumping into you and chasing both your orgasms. He’s breathless, high on the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing him so tight. You come with a cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, and the sensation of you clenching around him sends him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside of you, spilling his cum to leave you just as messy as he promised you. 

“Fucking perfect, like you were made for me, only want you sweetheart…” He’s rambling, barely aware of what he's saying, still lost in the bliss of his orgasm. The words only register when an unreadable expression flies over your face in reaction. Shit. He goes through things to say, ways to somehow explain, though he couldn’t even explain the words to himself. 

His mind quiets when you smile shyly and burrow your face in his neck. He moves the both of you until you’re a tangle of intertwined limbs, resting on his cushions, watching as the light slowly fades outside. You’re warm in his arms, your breath coming softly, fanning against his skin. It feels too right to be wrong, he decides silently. 

The peaceful silence between you breaks with a chime from his phone, a message from  your father. 

“Looks like I’m invited to have dinner at yours,” he says, turning the screen towards you. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing for your own phone to check the time. “I should get going.” 

He helps you get dressed, until your still soaked panties end up in his hands again. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, on the bare thighs beneath them. You take a step closer, your hand stretched out for them, but he pulls them away, sliding them into his pocket. 

A smirk grazes your features as you take another step closer. “Again? Really?” 

He shrugs, takes your hand to pull you into him. Your responding giggle is a sound that he’ll never get tired of. He sneaks a hand under your dress, palms your bare ass and presses your body against his. 

“Be a good girl and stay like this, for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, before he kisses you once more. 

A grin slowly grows on your face as you realize what he’s saying. 

“Deal,” you agree, your eyes glinting. 

You’re sitting down next to him, sliding into the chair beside him with the most innocent, sweetest smile to both your father and him. You’re still wearing the dress that you left his place in, the one that, if you’ve been good, you’re bare underneath. 

He reaches for you almost instantly, hidden under the tabletop, the pull towards your skin too strong to resist. You tense up for a moment, throwing him a quick glance, before you relax into his touch. He draws circles, featherlight on your skin, and you part your thighs a little more, allowing him to slide further between them. 

Focussing on the conversation with your father isn’t easy, not when you’re right here beside him, so pliant under his touch. 

“So, how was it with Cheryl?” your father asks, far too invested in the whole thing for Dave’s liking. You’re looking down at your plate, your shoulders slumped forward. 

He shrugs, his hand traveling upwards, beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling your thighs apart a little more. “She’s nice, but– Not the right fit for me, I think.” 

The memory of meeting the woman flashes through his mind. “You must be Dave,” accompanied by a shake of his hand. All wrong, so different from the way it sounds when David falls from your lips. He had wanted to leave right then and there. His grip on you tightens at the memory. 

“Well that’s a shame,” Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I really thought you two were a good match.” 

Dave grunts noncommittally, taking another bite of his food. 

“This one,” your father continues, his eyes falling to you, “has yet to find a good match as well. Not the best choices so far.” He chuckles, either blind or indifferent to the way you seem to shrink in your chair. You mumble something about focussing on school and your career right now, your voice so small that it breaks Dave’s heart. 

“Boys your age are idiots anyway,” he says, grinning at how your eyes widen, his emphasis on your age in no way lost on you. “Wouldn’t want to have them distracting you, right?” 

You nod silently, but fire burns in your eyes when his hand reaches so high that his fingers swirl through the slick that’s covering your upper thighs. Dave grits his teeth, fighting the urge to kiss you right here and now, consequences be damned.

It’s wrong, it’s so so wrong, but it’s like he’s lost in a haze, high on the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. On the way your thighs fall open so willingly for him, always such a good and obedient girl. On the way you both know that you’re bare underneath your skirt, dripping with the filthy proof of what you did together. On the way he’s staked his claim all over your inner thighs, to the point that he’s certain the indents of his teeth are still pressed into your flesh. All while your father has no idea what’s happening right in front of him. 

The secret rebellion of it thrills you, he understands that now. He wonders if that’s what he is to you, an opportunity to do something so deliciously forbidden that you couldn’t resist. He’ll gladly be that for you. The idea to be the person who brought this out in you thrills him too. 

He somehow makes it through the evening. Not a single conversation topic has found its way into his memories. All he can think about, all that he knows he will remember is the feeling of you under his tight grip. All his. 

You had excused yourself when your father brought out the whiskey, squeezed his hand under the table before you stood up, carefully smoothing out your skirt. Call me, you had mouthed, turning back to look at him before exiting the room. 

He knows that he will.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[lightsoutnaway]

Guilty as Sin?

PAIRING: Lando Norris x reader

WARNINGS: None, quick fluff.

SUMMARY: What if you’ve written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind?

WORD COUNT: 560

You were having movie night with Lando for the evening. You had been friends since primary school and when you told him you were moving to Monaco he practically begged you to move in with him. You hadn’t agreed initially. You and Lando always had unspoken chemistry. You weren’t sure that was the best idea for a roommate.

Lando was persuasive though. He gave you a tour of his apartment over facetime, showing you a room that was already furnished in the style he knew you liked after looking at your pinterest. He showed you the beautiful view from the balcony you would have and then promised that you would never pay a dime for rent or utilities. You couldn’t say no.

Since you had moved in he had gradually gotten more and more romantic with you. It started small. He started calling you ‘baby’ and ‘love.’ He always made a point of saying good night to you when you went to bed. The first time he left for a race he left flowers for you, telling you he wanted to make sure you still thought of him. He brought fresh ones when he came home.

Movie nights had started after the second month of living with Lando after he complained that you didn’t hang out with him enough. If he was home on a Thursday, the two of you were on the couch with a movie playing and after the third movie night, Lando made sure you were cuddled together as well.

This Thursday you were watching a comedy movie Lando had picked. He had seen it before, but insisted that you had to see it. He had your legs over his lap, gently tracing his finger against your legging covered thigh. His affectionate touch distracted you from the movie and eventually you realized he was writing. And it was the same thing, over and over again. Mine.

Your cheeks burned and you grabbed his hand when you realized. He looked up at you and immediately knew you’d caught him. He blushed a bit, but smirked at you. Lando freed his hand and went back to writing on your leg, a new word this time. Yours.

“Lando…” You whispered in warning.

“What?” He protested. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. About us.” You stared at him.

“I know we’ve both thought about it,” you told him. “But you’ve never done anything before and there has to be a reason for that.” Lando looked into your eyes and you could practically see the gears in his mind turning.

“Well, then I’ll do something,” he said. He grabbed your hips, pulling you fully onto his lap. Before you realized it his lips were on yours. He was kissing you like no one ever had before. His lips were warm and soft and his goatee tickled you as he tilted your head back in his hand, giving himself better access to you. When he pulled away you kept your eyes closed for a moment and when you opened them Lando was grinning at you. You smiled back at him.

“You’re sure about this?” You asked. Lando’s hand moved to your thigh. He began tracing something new on your leg.

“I’m sure,” he answered. It took you a minute but you realized what he was writing on your leg. I love you.

[the-nameless-poet]

Written Mine On My Upper Thigh

Draco Malfoy X fem!reader

Summery : Your Boyfriend Draco wants to get a tattoo and you want one too.

Draco enters the living room where his girlfriend is lounging on the couch with a book in her hands and some snacks. He gently sits down on the floor beside your leg and puts it on his shoulders and gives your thigh a sweet kiss.

"Hey darling." He speaks gently while pressing another kiss on your thigh. This little game of affection is making your heart flutter with heaving desires. Desires similar to the ones described in the book that had already left your brain in a spiral of fantasies that were unspeakable.

"Hey Love." You respond by putting your book down and lightly scratching his head. The silver strands gleaming against the skin of your fingers as your boyfriend hums with delight.

"I was thinking..." He starts while leaving a trail of kisses from your calf upto your thighs and then stops to look up into your eyes, your iris meeting with his stormy blue ones with a passionate gleam.

"What were you thinking, my love?" You encourage him to complete his thoughts, your voice a bit shaky. Not noticeable. But you could feel it on your lips, the shivers that came up from your throat and made the words quiver. Even after all this time you could swear that you fell for your Draco Malfoy everyday, all over again. The tattoo on your collarbone was the permanent proof of your ever growing love for him.

"You know how you have the tattoo of Draco constellation on your collarbone..." His hesitation was clear in his voice; you gently caressed his head as to encourage him to speak further while nodding.

"I want one tattoo of the constellation of your star sign on my arm. The scars from the dark mark are still visible and I.... I-It reminds me of the past time when I look at it and I wish to replace those memories with the ones that help me through my dark times." He laid his head on your thigh, he looked like the child he once was, afraid to ask for something he didn't deserve.

"Darling? Are you sure about it? I don't mind that at all but...are you sure...?" You try your best to show your concerns in a way that doesn't sound too cruel or act like a reminiscent of the time that he went through. You remember how he was afraid of anyone even touching his arm, the one that once held the dark mark one it. You remember coaxing him into atleast letting you touch it. He was hesitant but you were also the only person he trusted at that time. So after some persuading he let you.

And the first time you touched his dark mark was with your lips, a gentle kiss, a secluded remedy, that brought him back to light. He was shocked at first to see you commit, what was a crime in his eyes, a fatal action that might lead you to your end but soon he felt the gratification it gifted. And that was the day Draco Malfoy wrote his whole existence to your name.

"Love I've wanted this for so long. I've thought about it and it doesn't scare me as much as it used to. It's a distant memory. But its still there and I want to erase it and adorn that skin with the one that I'd dream of even after I die. Also I know you'd kiss it to make it better. So not afraid of it much." He chuckled at the end and kissed your lips while sitting on his knees, right infront of your face. You hummed at the warmth of his lips on yours and pulled back with a smile.

His words left a gibberish, jumbled mind for you to deal with. Just the thought that he would dream about you even after he dies, kills you so gently that you'd welcome death with open arms. He was yours. Forever. In his dreams, in his reality, in his death and in his life; he was yours the same was you were his.

"I'll call the muggle tattoo parlor and book an appointment for two." You said and kissed him passionately.

He pulled back with a confused look.

"For two?" You nodded and smiled at his conflicted face. You caressed his eyebrows to make him lose his frown and spoke,

"I want a new one too. Actually I'm gonna need your help for it." His face quickly lit up. Which made you giggle.

You quickly made the appointment for Sunday.

-------------------------------------------------

On Sunday, both you and Draco went to the tattoo parlor and gave the tattoo artist your ideas.

But first for your tattoo you needed Draco's help.

"Draco, I need you to write 'mine' on my upper thigh." You've been wanting to do this for a long time. Ever since you found out about Draco's obsession with your thighs, you wanted to do something about it so it would remind you of his possesive nature towards your thighs. How he puts a hand on one of them underneath the table, or how he squeezes them, how he likes to leave noticable love marks on them, how he loves to kiss them and how he loves to slap them while he made love to you. All of these things made your core wither with desire and you little minx wanted a permanent reminder of your boyfriend's affections.

And he was happy to follow your orders and in his best handwriting, he wrote 'Mine' on your left upper thigh and gave a long kiss to your inner thigh that left you wanting more.

After a while you both got your tattoos. The one on his arm looked as if it shone against his skin and the one on your thigh reflected possesion and your desire towards that obsession. Truth to be told, you couldn't hide the fact that you loved your boyfriend being overly obsessed with your thighs. Afterall you're just a girl. And he was a god when it came to loving you.

And when your tattoos were finally healed, both of you left little red and purple reminiscent of your affection. Your love for eachother was etched into your skin forevermore. And the one that was etched into your soul won't ever fade, Not even after being decayed into mere atoms. The only truth that could be fathomed was that It would shine for the eternity.

[missegyptiana]

what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind? one slip and falling back into the hedge maze oh what a way to die, my bedsheets are ablaze, i’ve screamed. his name. building up like waves crashing over my grave without ever touching his skin how can i be guilty as sin?

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.10.17

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. The First Date by kiraaasdream [G, 5k]

Harry and Draco's first date. . . . & friends who spy on them.

2. Harry's confession by Krissilla [E, 6k]

Umbridge forces Veritaserum down Harry's throat. Malfoy abuses the situation to figure out Harry's darkest secret - his fantasies about Malfoy.

3. i lean on you by @sunbellylou [E, 2k]

Draco loved feeling like that, loved riding Harry until his legs threatened to give up, until he was covered in his own cum, chasing that lovely overstimulation that turned his brain into mush. [...]

4. spanking for the first course by @thisisformyfanfiction [E, 1k]

Harry has Draco over his lap and spanks him

5. Tricked into Red Velvet by Ace_Phoenix [E, 2k]

Draco has given up on finding his gift for Harry for the moment, only for that very gift to already be in Harry's hand. One problem: Harry has very limited knowledge of the gift, and wouldn't in his wildest dreams assume that the toy was directly linked to Draco's arse.

6. what shipwrecks look like by @dancingsparks [E, 149k]

It's after the war, but not terribly long after. Just enough for things to appear happily settled. Draco is an Obliviator. Harry is an Auror. Draco is desperately jealous of that.

7. written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind by allikatt [T, 3k]

After months of wallowing after a breakup, Harry is convinced to put himself out there once again. He does so while also battling a cold that just won't go away. Who would've thought these two things were connected.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. Starry, Silver Anchor by Anonymous [M, 19k]

Although no one can see it, Harry’s struggling and barely holding on. When he's given a chance, he asks for his deepest desire: for the war to never happen. ★ 2024 H/D Muggle Fair | @hd-fan-fair

[dreamcubed]

guilty as sin? | tom riddle x reader

song; guilty as sin? [taylor swift] pairing; mattheo's brother!tom riddle x fem!reader genre; f2l, best friend's brother, (not so) unrequited love, angst, hurt comfort, smut word count; 3,7k timeline; subsidiary eighth year warnings; swearing, pining, references to war, references to tom and mattheo's childhood trauma, unprotected sex, piv, fingering, nightmares, wet dreams summary; your uncontrollable feelings for the brother of your best friend, mattheo, led you to feeling incredibly guilty— even though you had never even touched tom's skin

masterlist

"what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind?"

MINORS DNI! 18+ content.

———————————————

The roaring waves of emotion tucked neatly into your soul hadn't always been around— well, that was obvious, you weren't born with them. Never would you have felt such passion as a newborn only caring for your mother's touch. Not even did the infatuation transpire when Mattheo first introduced you to his elder brother, Tom, back in first year. He was a year older, but he had still been but twelve, and nothing but an awkward prepubescent boy. Salazar, that had changed.

It must have been fourth— or maybe fifth— year when the first ripple of a wave emerged, looking upon Tom sat reading in the Malfoy Manor library one Christmas when Mattheo had invited you over. The cascading glow of light from the fireplace warmed his cold features, and you realised that he was growing into a man: a gorgeously enchanting man. He was nothing like his brother in manner. Where Mattheo was wild, rambunctious, and dirty, Tom was calm, organised and ever-polite. Their similarities were restricted to three things: their last name, their intelligence, and their looks. Even so, the slight difference in features cemented itself as the slight difference in your type.

Mattheo was like your brother, but Tom had never seemed like anything remotely close to that, despite how you came to know him more as the years went by. To him, though, you were probably like an annoying younger sister— the friend of his younger brother's who was always irritating and made said brother twice as unbearable.

You resolved to your dreams and fantasies of Tom, occasionally attempting to date others and feeling guilty the entire time because all you could do was think of another man. A man who had never even kissed you, never once brushed against your skin, never flirted or been anything more than polite. And, the worst part was Mattheo.

The last thing you wanted to do was betray him, make him feel like you preferred his brother over him— the person who had been there for you at your worst and made you feel your best. Guilt consumed every vein in your body, forcing you to seal away the sea storm safely into your soul. But as the waves grew stronger, the dam grew weaker. One of these days, you would crack, and you had no idea how such a scene would play out.

It was your last year of Hogwarts now: a subsidiary eighth year for which you had elected to return. Upon the demise of their father, Tom and Mattheo had moved out of the Malfoys and into Riddle Manor, where they were grateful to know that their father had never lived. Mattheo had come back with you to Hogwarts, but Tom already had his NEWTs, and was settling into a new job at the Ministry. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed.

But one thing stayed the same: Tom getting more goddamn gorgeous every year.

Christmas came both too quickly and too slowly, with you and Mattheo packing your bags to return to your homes for the season. Like usual, you laughed and bickered on the train, but your lingering guilt was heightened on that particular day. Just the night before, you had experienced one of the most vivid dreams that you had ever had about Tom, resulting in you waking up sweating and with a pool of heat between your thighs. You felt awful, almost crying when you realised, which hadn't gone unnoticed by Pansy.

"What's wrong, babe?" she had asked, looking over from the vanity where she applied her makeup.

"I did a bad thing in my dream," you mumbled.

"Don't stress," she said calmly, "There's no such thing as bad thoughts— only your actions talk."

Her words were currently the only thing keeping you from breaking down in front of Mattheo: your best friend should be the only one to know your biggest secret, yet he was the one person you couldn't tell. Well, perhaps that was a lie— the one person you couldn't under any circumstances tell was Tom.

For all you knew, Mattheo would take the news well. You just didn't want to risk it. Not when there was so much at stake.

"I'll owl you, okay?" he said when you parted ways at the train station, "Make sure to come visit."

"I will," you smiled, "See you, dickhead."

He grinned.

Salazar.

***

The cool air from your open window curled around your skin in a delicious sensation, contrasting perfectly with the warmth of the man above you. You heard a chuckle escape his lips as he delicately pushed up the hem of your large sleep shirt and let his fingers brush against your thigh.

"You're so pretty," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you, engulfing you in a magical feeling.

His thumb moved softly against your thigh, tracing something that you couldn't make out.

"Mine."

***

It was still dark out when you jolted awake, the fresh imagery of your dream washing over you and forcing you to sob. The tears poured uncontrollably as the ache in your heart seared: the ache of loving someone who you could never have so deeply, so unconditionally. How had you managed to break your own heart?

Maybe it was the late night hysteria, or maybe it was the consequence of years of pent up feelings, but you decided there and then that you had to tell Mattheo. He had to know— he deserved to know. So, before you could change your mind, you forced yourself out of bed, still in a fit of tears, and pulled on joggers. In a flash, you had apparated outside Riddle Manor, a grand yet gloomy building that screamed status and power.

An ugly sob wretched its way out of your throat as you approached the door, reaching a shaky hand up to rap three firm times. You hadn't checked the time, but Mattheo was always up late, with a body clock so dysfunctional it put the government to shame.

"Y/N?" a voice said curiously as the door swung open, revealing the man who had inadvertently caused you all these problems, "Are you okay?"

That question was the gateway for more tears to flood out of your blurry eyes, and you damn near stumbled into the house when Tom stepped aside to allow entry.

"Where's—" you sobbed, "—Mattheo?"

"He's... pre-occupied," Tom said carefully, and that was when you noticed the sound of loud moaning coming from upstairs through the ringing in your ears.

You sank on to the floor as your body violently jerked with the waves of your upset.

"I've told him a million times to use a silencing charm," he sighed, "I'll be right back."

In the time he was gone, the moans ceased to nothing, and you knew it wasn't because Tom had gone in and told Mattheo to stop. That was the last situation he would want to interact with his brother in, and you felt the same.

"Get up off the floor, come through to the living room," Tom said delicately, helping you up and guiding you out of the entrance hall, "I'll get you some tea, okay?"

You kicked off your shoes and curled up on the sofa as he prepared your drink, trying to silence your horrific sounds which only caused your body to shake harder.

"Here you are," he returned, placing a tea tray on the coffee table and sitting opposite you, "I know we're not as close as you and Mattheo, but you can talk to me."

Shaking your head hurriedly, you mumbled, "Can't."

"I won't judge you, Y/N."

"You don't get it," you choked out, "It's because of you."

Tom stilled, evidently trying to process your sudden outburst that had shocked even you, "I'm sorry, have I hurt you in some way? It wasn't intentional."

You covered your face with your hands, feeling the sticky warmth on your cheeks and moisture in your eye ducts. "You haven't done anything," you finally said, "It's me. It's my fault."

"I'm not following."

"No one knows," you bravely tried to meet his eyes, "No one can ever know."

With a deep sigh, he stood up and moved to sit next to you, tentatively wrapping an arm around you so as to pull you into his embrace. Never had a nice gesture been so excruciating for you: everything from his scent to his kindness was all you had ever wanted, but not like this. Still, you let yourself unfold in his arms, grasping on to the material of his jumper and burying your face in his chest.

He held you for a minute or two of painful bliss, until you cautiously pulled back, wanting to create some distance. When his forefinger pressed under your chin and forced your eyes up to meet his, you felt your barriers dissolve. What should have been a willing feeling, wasn't, as you felt your mind and innermost thoughts lay bare for Tom to weave through. Every erotic dream, every lingering touch, every discreet glance: it all presented itself to him nicely in a slideshow that was never meant to be seen.

Tom retracted his finger from your face and broke the eye contact, turning away from your horror-struck expression. Violated didn't even begin to cover how you felt— he had no right to pry into your head, and yet you were still grateful that finally the feelings weren't your burden alone to share.

"I see," he said simply, looking straight ahead.

"Don't say anything," you pleaded quietly, "Please."

"To Mattheo?"

"Yes, but—" your breathing stuttered, "Don't say the words of rejection. I can't hear them."

An eyebrow of his quirked as he glanced back at you, but he remained silent.

The moment was interrupted by bodies stumbling loudly down the stairs, and then the sound of the front door opening as voices said their goodbyes. When the door had been shut again, Mattheo appeared in the entrance of the living room with flushed cheeks and a bare chest.

"Y/N! When did you get here?" he then noticed your tear stains, "Oh my Salazar! Are you okay?"

"'M fine," you mumbled, standing up, "Just gonna go home."

Mattheo reluctantly let you leave. The second the door had closed behind you, however, he was cornering his older brother. "What did you say to her?" he spat, anger making him clench his fists.

Tom merely rolled his eyes. "Calm down. She was already crying when she arrived."

His statement made Mattheo back off, as he chewed his lip in thought. "And you comforted her?"

"Since you were otherwise occupied, yes."

"Okay," the younger man relaxed his shoulders, saying a stiff, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Tom said sarcastically with a raised an eyebrow, "You might want to have a chat with her, though."

"About what?"

"It's better if you hear it from her."

***

You were a little confused as to why Mattheo had insisted that the two of you go out for drinks the next night, but ultimately you accepted, sitting at a table in a pub with him. The table was characteristically sticky and shiny, with your rum and coke sat on top of it opposite Mattheo's pint.

"What happened last night?" he asked after exchanging pleasantries.

"Oh, nothing," you replied dismissively, "Just a bad dream." Well, it hadn't been bad per se.

"Tom told me I should talk to you."

Your eyes widened, "Did he say about what?"

It was a relief to see Mattheo shake his head, "He said it was better I hear it from you."

A sigh escaped your lips as the reminder that you intended to tell him last night popped up in your brain. To your unpleasantness, you decided that now was as good of a time as any. "Yes. I... suppose it is."

"Tell me," he prompted, "You can trust me with anything, you know that?"

"I... have feelings for Tom."

Mattheo looked dumbfounded.

"Well, that's a lie—" you scrunched your eyebrows, trying to find the words, "I'm... in love with him."

"Have you two been—?"

You cut him off, quickly saying, "No, no! I've never acted on it... it's been years. I tried to suppress the feelings, I swear! But they just get stronger and stronger as time goes on and I feel like I'm going crazy. I feel so guilty— I don't want to betray you!"

As you finished your rambling, Mattheo remained silent, processing the information that you had just provided him.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

"You've been in love with my brother for years?"

You nodded your head shamefully.

"And you never acted on it because of me?"

You nodded again.

Mattheo let out a deep sigh, his fingers interlocking with each other as he rested his elbows on the sticky surface. "Does he know?"

"As of last night, yes."

"Does he return your feelings?"

"I told him not to tell me if he does or not."

"You should've told me sooner."

"I know."

"Y/N," he began, running his hand through his hair, "You didn't need my blessing to date him."

Confusion crept up on you, "I just didn't want you to think I chose your brother over you when we've been through everything together."

"Maybe I would've thought that a few years ago," he admitted, "But we're adults now.

Your mind clouded with possibilities of what Mattheo was saying to you.

"You can date who you want. But if he breaks your heart, I will kill him."

You chuckled to yourself, "I don't even know if he reciprocates... but thank you, Teo. You're the best friend anyone could ask for."

He smiled softly at you, "Hey, maybe one day we'll even be related."

***

Receiving Mattheo's blessing had never seemed possible to you, never appeared attainable, so you had never dared to dream what you would do if you did receive it. Thus, you found yourself sat on your bedroom floor, anxiously fidgeting as you attempted to figure out how to approach Tom. He knew you liked him, so you supposed the first step was complete, but how were you meant to actually make a move? What if it was all for nothing? All those years of pining and anticipation boiled down to him feeling nothing towards you.

Had Mattheo told Tom that he was cool with it? Did that mean all you had to do was wait around for Tom to close the distance?

Too many unanswered questions lingered.

You can't remember when you decided to write a letter, as you only snapped out of your daze as you signed your name, staring down at the parchment of love confessions and yearning.

Dearest Tom,

I never thought that the day would come where I would openly be able to confess to you. Mattheo gave me his blessing, but what does that matter if you don't see me the way I see you? But, after all these years of you haunting me so stunningly, I have to do this. With any hope, if it's rejection I face, I will be able to move on.

Don't ask me to pinpoint when I first fell for you, because I don't know. It crept up on me over the years until all I dreamed and thought about was you, even when I was seeing other people. Guilt has been my dominating emotion for so long that I am not used to no longer feeling it. This likely won't come as a shock, as you saw the state I was in the other night when I found the confession wretched from the vault in my heart. Forget about that, please, and consider this the one true confession.

Every sensation in my body is elicited by the thought of you— we've already done it in my head. My imagination, along with every bone in my body, tells me that you have already written "mine" on my upper thigh. Because I am yours, even if you aren't mine. I have always been yours: not Mattheo's, not any of my exes', just yours.

And for that reason, I suspect I am guilty as sin, for the emotional cheating I have involuntarily committed.

Am I allowed to cry?

Yours forever & always, Y/N L/N

You folded it, pressed your wax seal, and gave it to your owl before you could second guess yourself. That was when the rippling waves of anxiety came, forcing you to pace back and forth and wait for some kind of— any kind of— response.

***

It was late at night when a knock sounded on your door, and your heart raced as you guessed who it was coming to pay you a visit. With shaky hands, you delicately padded over to the door and opened it, to see the bane of your existence and owner of your soul stood with furrowed eyebrows.

"Mattheo gave his blessing."

Those were his first words: a statement of a recently established fact that had changed your entire world. You nod hesitantly, frozen in place.

"Your letter," he murmured, making you realise he had the parchment clutched tightly in his hand.

Your eyes locked on to the piece of paper as your grip tightened on the door.

"Well, are you gonna say something?" he asked.

"I've said all I have to say," you mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

Tom let out a sigh, stepping closer to you, "You've haunted the back of my mind for years— the figment of an annoying younger brother's best friend, and everything I want to forget."

You gulped, unsure what he was insinuating with his cryptic words.

"But I can't forget you," he sighed, "Not just because of how often I see you, but because you're the culmination of all my highest hopes and darkest desires."

His hands found your hips and settled there comfortably: your skin tingled under his touch, the ripples of his warmth cascading across the ocean of your body.

"I want you," he said quietly, "So badly, it hurts."

As if acting on instinct, your resolve snapped at those words, and you slammed your lips on to his. The dam had broken, and the strong currents of emotion were plummeting forward in a whirlwind of passion.

Tom returned the kiss eagerly, his hands exploring every curve and inch that you had to offer him, and it wasn't long before you were hurrying up the stairs to your bedroom, blinded by lust and love. He pushed you back on to your bed, his mouth moving to graze along your neck, eliciting soft gasps from you. His fingers worked their way under the hem of your nightie, pushing your panties aside and teasing your wet folds. The real thing was so much more electric than any of your dreams and desires: his very presence was igniting a roaring flame within you.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his deft fingers finding your clit.

"All for you," you replied breathlessly, "Always for you."

He expertly worked your core, appearing to know every angle and the exact amount of pressure required, as if his life purpose in sex had been to learn how to best please your body. You moaned as he moved more quickly, working you up to the quickest orgasm you had ever been blessed with.

"Fuck, Tom," you moaned, "Feels so good."

"You like that, darling?" he chuckled, riding you through your high, "We're just getting started, hm?"

When he removed his hand from your cunt, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him into kiss you again, drunk on the sensations he provided you. "Fuck me, Tom," you mumbled, "I need to be one with you."

He laughed darkly, "Since you asked so nicely."

It took way too long for him to unbuckle his trousers and release his dick, despite the fact he did it as quickly as possible, working in a frenzy off of the same desperate craving as you. However, the wait of many heart-aching years became worth it when he entered you for the first time, every curve and vein of his cock moulding your walls perfectly, like you were made for him.

"Oh, my-" you gasped out, writhing when he applied pressure to your clit to make it easier for him to slide all the way in.

"You feel incredible," he groaned, staying still for a few moments, basking in your precious warmth, before slowly beginning to move.

Where Tom normally found himself being a meticulous and calculated person, he instead found himself losing all sense inside of you: his thrusts were sloppy and ragged, drawing sounds out of you that he mirrored with guttural moans. His thumb carelessly pressed over your clit, making you feel as if you were ascending from the mattress. This wasn't fucking— this was love-making. Sensual, sloppy, and passionate.

And so, Tom was near his release quicker than he had ever been, his typical stamina long lost in the haze of you. You were no different, building up to a second release as you felt Tom lose even more control: it wasn't long before he was releasing inside of you as you came once more, panting as he collapsed on top of you.

"Fuck, you're so amazing," he murmured, "How did we hold back all these years?"

You laughed tiredly, "I don't know, but I can't hold back ever again."

He agreed with a hum. "Y/N," he propped himself up on his arms, "I love you. It killed me the other night when you told me not to tell you if I returned your feelings."

"It killed me to say it," you smiled, "I love you too, Tom."

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masterlist

written; 23/06/2024 —> 31/07/2024 published; 31/07/2024 edited; —/—/——