#((so you get the full wall of text =P))

[sidemari]

• After Dark •

A NSFW compilation of short texts (not so short) about their kinks. This could also be called "1 character, 1 kink".

Characters included: Childe, Diluc Ragnvindr, Dottore, Kaeya Alberich, Kamisato Ayato, Ningguang, Scaramouche, Wriothesley and Zhongli [separately] x Fem/AFAB/GN!Reader 

TW: Aphrodisiacs; BDSM dynamics; bondage; brat taming; breeding kink; consensual non-con; creampie; DD/LG; dirty talk; edging; exhibitionism; fingering; masturbation; oral sex (F/M receiving); overstimulation; praise kink; sub/dom dynamics; vibrators; unprotected sex. Let me know if I missed any.

WC: 10k+ (all of the stories together, of course).

Forgive me for any mistakes, I'm exhausted, and I won't read this giant post over again for the next few weeks, lol.

Childe 

Consensual non-con. (Fem!Reader) 

You were lying on the sheets, your wrists tied above your head with a bow he had tied himself — tight enough to keep the fantasy alive, but soft enough not to hurt you.

“Look what we have here…” Tartaglia’s voice sounded deep and theatrical, as if he were playing a character. He was looking down at you with a wild glint in his eyes, the crooked smile of someone who was having fun — but with his heart pounding with desire and zeal for you. You squirmed, trying hard to look scared, even though you knew that was exactly what he wanted.

“P-Please… Don’t do this…” You whispered, trembling on purpose, playing the role perfectly.

“You should know that you can’t tease someone like me and still get away with it, princess…” He growled, pulling your legs to the edge of the bed. The way his eyes bored into yours, even when he was playing his role, was still full of adoration. “It’s too late to regret it now.”

The sheets under you were damp with some of the essence that insisted on seeping from you, due to your anticipation. Your nipples were hard beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown, and he noticed every reaction — every little sign that you wanted this as much as he did. 

“You’re so wet…” He commented as he slid his fingers between your legs. “You’re begging me with that little body, even though you’re saying ‘no’ with your mouth.” He leaned in and whispered against your ear, “But I know your body better than anyone, my love. I know when it’s desperate for me.”

“P-Please, don’t do this to m-me… I’m… so sorry for—” But he didn’t let you finish. He thrust into you hard, in one motion, eliciting a scream from you that was a mix of shock and pleasure. You arched your body, pulling at the sheets, feeling the heat rise like an overwhelming wave.

“Beg me.” He ordered, his voice hoarse with lust. “Tell me you need it. That you can’t live without my cock ravishing your cunt.”

“Ajax, please, use me… Fuck me until I can’t think anymore…” You moaned, your eyes moist, no longer from pretense, but from real, deep pleasure. His hips moved with rhythm and strength, your name escaping between his lips. The act had already given way to surrender — the game was exciting, but what made it all intense was the trust between you.

He leaned in, his red hair wet with sweat, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Is everything okay?” He asked softly, breaking character for a moment, just to be sure.

You nodded with a lascivious smile. “I can still take much more, love…”

And he provided that to you, until your legs were trembling, until your eyes watered with pleasure, until your voice broke. And when it was all over, he released you with loving hands, kissing each mark and scratch, wrapping you in his arms as if you were fragile. 

“It was perfect.” He whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Diluc Ragnvindr

Bondage. (Fem!Reader) 

The flames in the fireplace cast warm shadows over the stone walls of the room. The unmistakable aroma of wine and wood filled the room, and the silence was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire. You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing, your eyes attentive to Diluc’s every move as he walked back towards you. 

He looked even more imposing under the golden light, his red hair loose over his shoulders and an expression that mixed concentration with restrained desire. In his hands, he held the red satin strips that you had timidly suggested the night before. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asked in a low, husky voice, kneeling before you. His hands caressed your thighs gently, reverently, as if preparing the ground for something deeper. “I only want this if you want it too.” You nodded, your face hot, your breath shallow.

“Yes. I do. Just… just take care of me.” A small smile appeared on his lips — a rare, intimate smile that made your chest tighten. 

“Always.”

Patiently, Diluc led you to the center of the bed. His kisses came slow, intense, as he took his time to undress you, piece by piece, as if each button and strap were a ritual. When you were naked beneath the fine linen sheets, he pulled away just enough to tie your wrists with the satin, crossing them over your head and securing them firmly to the headboard.

“Let me know if it’s too tight.” He said, caressing the skin of your arms, his dark eyes assessing your expression every second. You felt the knot tighten securely, but it didn’t hurt. It was firm… comforting, even. You trusted him. You always had.

Diluc lay back down beside you, his fingers gliding over the curves of your bound body, his eyes exploring every detail as if he were memorizing the landscape of the woman he loved. He leaned in, kissing your collarbone, your jaw, until your lips parted reflexively.

“You’re so beautiful like this…” He murmured against your skin. “Surrendered, only mine.”

His words made something inside you melt, even more so when his hand went down between your legs and found you already wet, hot and pulsing.

“Already so wet… I’ve barely touched you.” He chuckled softly, a deep, satisfied sound, before pressing his thumb against your clit and making slow, teasing circles. Your hips moved instinctively, but he held them back with his other hand, holding you in place.

“No.” The word was spoken tenderly, but full of command. “I’m the one in control here.”

You bit your lip, arching your back with a restrained moan. Tied up and exposed, each touch felt more intense. Diluc knew that. He knew your body like no one else. His fingers danced between torture and pleasure, making you writhe under the delicate control he masterfully exercised. His breathing was also heavier, his dark eyes fixed on your face, capturing every reaction. He alternated soft caresses with firmer touches, sometimes leaning in to kiss your breasts, sometimes whispering praises in your ear: 

“You endure so much for me… so obedient…” 

“You’re driving me crazy like this…” 

“I need to hear you beg, love.” 

You felt yourself getting close. Your body trembled, your muscles contracted, your orgasm building like an inevitable storm. But then, just as the wave began to rise, he stopped. He removed his fingers, went back to kissing your neck, leaving you on the edge — dragging your pleasure with refinement and intention. 

“D-Diluc, please…” You whimpered, your eyes watering, your body arching toward him. “Don’t stop…”

“You haven’t reached your limit yet,” He replied quietly, his voice low and husky, his fingertips tracing your abdomen. “I want you to need this. To really beg for me.” You panted, your body too hot and sensitive. Each pause was sweet torture, a flame that burned without consuming — until the desire became something deeper, more urgent. And then, when you finally moaned his name, begging without pride or shame, he smiled.

“Good girl.” He positioned himself between your legs, kissing you hungrily, his entire body pressing against yours. The heat of his skin, his weight, the firmness with which he held your hips — everything about him was absolute. When he finally entered you, slow, deep, your body cried out in relief. It was as if everything fell into place — as if the universe were spinning on its axis again. He groaned softly, his lips against your neck, his hips moving with a rhythm that was torturous, but felt so good.

“You’re perfect. So tight… You take me so well…” His voice was hoarse from pleasure. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this… about you, trapped, moaning my name…”

The restraints kept you from touching him, but that only made everything more intense. You felt vulnerable and adored at the same time. His thrusts became harder, but the bed creaked in protest as he lost himself in you.

“Look at me.” He pulled your face with one hand. “I want to see your eyes when you come for me.” And you obeyed. There was no other choice, no other destiny, no other name to say but his as your body shattered with pleasure — the orgasm ripping through every inch of you hot, overwhelming. Diluc continued for a few more seconds, until he spilled himself inside you, trembling, his face hidden in your neck.

When your breathing returned to normal, he carefully untied your wrists, kissing every red mark left by the satin. His fingers caressed your arms, your hair, your waist.

“You were wonderful,” He murmured, pulling you to his chest. “Thank you for trusting me.” You smiled, tired, satisfied, whole. In the flames dancing in the fireplace, everything seemed safe. Everything was love.

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 

You were sitting on the couch in Diluc’s private library, wrapped in a light robe, your body still tingling from the wine he had brought. But it wasn’t just any wine. It tasted exotic, sweet and spicy — with something that made you feel warm from the first sip.

Your heart beated faster, your skin felt more sensitive, and every glance Diluc made in your direction made your breath falter. He was there, standing in front of the bookshelf, watching you with those intense red eyes, like embers about to catch fire. There was a small smile on the corner of his lips — a smile that betrayed that he knew exactly what he had done. 

“This wine…” You began, your voice lower than you expected. “There’s something more to it, isn’t there?” Diluc approached slowly, his hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes fixed on yours. 

“It’s a special batch. Made from a rare variety of fruits grown in the fertile soil of Sumeru. Some say it… stimulates the senses.” He stopped in front of you, leaning down just enough to touch your chin with two fingers. “Do you feel it?”

You nodded, your lips parted, the heat growing in your lower belly like a fire slowly spreading. He gently removed the robe from your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warm air of the room.

“You look so beautiful like this… all flushed, breathless…” He knelt between your legs, his fingers sliding up your bare thigh. “Sensitive.” His lips brushed against your skin, each kiss sending electric waves to the core of your body. It was as if each touch of his tripled in intensity. The wine, or whatever it was, made your body beg for more — made you writhe under the softest caresses, yearning for something that had yet to come.

He pulled your legs up to his shoulders with ease and buried his face between your thighs, his hot tongue sliding inside you with precision, firmness, and calculated pleasure. It was almost cruel, the way he used his mouth — as if he studied your reaction to every movement. You moaned, your hands going to his hair out of reflex, but he held them with one of his large hands, keeping you in place.

“Stay still,” He murmured against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

And you tried. But it was impossible not to writhe, not to moan, not to beg. The heat was too much. Your body throbbed, hungry, desperate for release. And when you were finally on the edge, arching your back and gripping the seat under you, Diluc stopped. His red eyes rose to yours, hungry, and a little cruel.

He stripped off his own clothes, revealing the strength contained beneath his formal attire, his muscles defined in the firelight. When he lay down on top of you, the heat of your two bodies met like a spark in gunpowder. He entered you slowly, filling you completely, and you both gasped in unison.

“You’re… tight,” he whispered through his teeth. “Like you’ve been waiting for me for days.” His movements began slowly, deeply, and you felt every inch of him as if it were the first time. The aphrodisiac made your body vibrate, your skin tingle, your senses plunge into a pleasurable torpor. It was impossible to control your moans, the way your body trembled beneath him, the way your hips sought more. Diluc bent down, kissing your neck, your shoulder, biting carefully. 

“Are you this sensitive because of me? Because I filled you with that wine, knowing what I would do to you later?” The answer escaped like a sob of pleasure. 

“Yes…” He increased his pace, his movements more intense, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the muffled room. His hands held your waist firmly, keeping you in place as your body was taken deeper, faster, harder.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your mouth. “Only mine. I want you like this… writhing in pleasure, calling my name, begging for more.” You couldn’t think, speak or breathe properly. The pleasure came like violent waves, and when it arrived, it was overwhelming. Your body arched, your eyes rolled back, your moans were lost in Diluc’s mouth as he also spilled himself inside you, with a low, hoarse grunt, full of pleasure.

He stayed there for a while, still on top of you, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair. Then, he pulled you to his chest, covering the two of you with a blanket.

“Next time,” He said with a satisfied smile, “I’ll use a smaller dose. Or maybe not.”

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 

The night had started slowly. Calm kisses, hands exploring patiently, and tender whispers exchanged under the soft light that entered through the mansion’s windows. Diluc was always meticulous with everything he did, and with you it was no different. He made love like someone who appreciates a rare wine — slowly, savoring your every reaction, every sigh.

But that night, there was something more. A glint in his eyes, something hungry, that made your entire body react even before the first most intimate touch. He wanted more — and he wanted you to feel more.

Your eyes met his for a moment, and all you could do was nod, already feeling the heat begin to pulse in your belly. Diluc smiled — not that gentle smile of his usual, but a slower one, full of dangerous promises.

The sheets were rumpled beneath you, your hair spread across the pillow as he settled himself between your legs again. You had already gotten there — not once, but twice. Your body was trembling, sensitive, a little fragile under the touch of his hands… but still hungry.

“Look how wet you still are for me,” He whispered, sliding two fingers inside you, slowly, almost reverently. You gasped, your body reacting with small spasms, as if you were on edge — and you were.

“Diluc…” Your voice was broken, pleading, but he just smiled and lay back down between your thighs. The first touches of his tongue were almost unbearable. Your skin reacted with small tremors, the pleasure coming fast, too aggressive, as if every nerve was screaming with the accumulated intensity. You tried to close your legs, instinctively, but he held them firmly.

“Don’t run away now, my dear,” He said in an almost serious tone, looking at you with his red eyes burning with desire. “You can handle it. I know you can.”

And he went back to licking, slow and deep, exploring you with the precision that only he had. His hands held your thighs open, pinning you to the bed as if he wouldn’t let you escape for even a second. Your head threw back on the pillow, moans escaping loudly, uninhibited, because you could no longer control anything.

It was too much. Everything was too much. His mouth, the heat, the perfect and cruel rhythm, the feeling of being consumed entirely. Your entire body trembled, and when the orgasm arrived — a third, overwhelming one — he didn’t even give you time to breathe.

“Diluc, please… I… I can’t take it…” You whimpered, almost sobbing, your body contracting as if you were running away and searching for more at the same time.

“Of course you can,” He murmured, his fingers now replacing his mouth. Two firm fingers, thrusting in and out of you at a torturous pace, while his other hand caressed your clit with soft, rhythmic circular strokes. “You’re so good for me… you always give me everything.”

You whimpered fearlessly, shamelessly — your moans mixing with disjointed words, your eyes watering. Each wave of pleasure was more intense than the last, each one stealing a piece of your air, your strength. And yet… you didn’t want him to stop.

Diluc was visibly aroused by your surrender. His eyes were glued to your body, to the way you trembled and moaned and begged. He climbed on top of you, pressing your body against his, and aligned himself with your entrance again — hot, hard, hungry.

“One more,” He whispered against your mouth, his lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. “Just one more for me, love…” And when he entered you, everything went blank for a second. Your body, which already seemed about to collapse. He moved with force, with need, each thrust deep and accurate. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, his moans mixing with yours as he held your face, his eyes fixed on yours. 

Your entire body exploded in pleasure once more, with such intensity that tears escaped your eyes. You moaned loudly, your whole body arching, your hands gripping the sheets as if you were going to come undone.

Diluc hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck when he came too, with a hoarse moan. His body shuddered against yours, and then everything was quiet for a moment — just your hearts beating fast, your breathless, sweaty, and exhausted.

He kissed your forehead gently, running his fingers through your heat-soaked hair.

You smiled against his chest, your body still trembling, but completely sated.

Dottore 

Sleepy sex. (Fem!Reader)

The lab finally fell silent. Vials still pulsed with faint blue glows, remnants of some unstable mixture he had decided to leave for the next day. For the first time in hours — maybe days — Dottore was without his mask and his impenetrable posture. Just a man with heavy eyes and slow breathing, slumped on the couch in the next room, his shirt half open and his hair still a little messy from the last time he ran his hands through it.

You approach him silently. He knows it’s you even before he opens his eyes, and he murmurs something hoarse, low, almost swallowed by fatigue.

“You should be sleeping…” But his arms open anyway, as if his body were defying its own order.

When you lie down next to him, he immediately pulls you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck as if he were trying to hide from the world. There’s something curious there — he seems more fragile than you’re used to seeing. The defenses that always make him so hard to read were now slowly melting away in the heat of your skin.

“You calm me down.” He confesses softly, between warm kisses on your shoulder. His voice is still slurred, half-sleepy, but the desire… that was already starting to boil beneath the surface. His hands slide down your thighs more slowly than usual, as if he were too lazy to let go of his control — but also without the slightest desire to resist you. Each touch of his is a little more needy than technical. You see him without any armor, and yet so sure of himself, even tired.

Your lips meet slowly. It’s a lazy, slurred kiss… but full of that typical Dottore intensity. He murmurs against your mouth:

“Do you want this now?” And when you respond with a whispered yes, he sighs as if he already knows. “Of course you do. You always know how to make me weak…”

The excitement grows between kisses and touches exchanged in silence, almost respecting the tiredness that weighs on both bodies. Still, there is something delicious in losing yourself like this — in bodies intertwined without haste, in moans muffled by the pillow, in panting breaths that mix.

Dottore’s surrendered more than ever. With half-open eyes, he observes your every reaction, even as he moans softly as he feels you mount him with the calm of someone who knows all the shortcuts to your pleasure. His hands hold your hips, sometimes tightly, sometimes just caressing you with his fingertips, as if he wanted to prolong that moment as much as possible.

You move your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him, feeling how his body trembles beneath yours.

“You’re driving me crazy…” He says, his voice deep and broken.

“Then go crazy with me.” You reply. And he does exactly that.

There, between the rumpled sheets and the drowsy smell of experiments and desire, Dottore lets himself go. Cumming with you on top of him is almost cathartic, as if his own body were thanking you for letting him come undone like that — tired, vulnerable, but satisfied.

Then, he keeps you there, lying on his chest, fingers drawing circles on your spine. The drowsiness is now real, deep… but in the midst of the torpor, he still says with an almost choked voice:

“You are the only experiment I never want to end.”

Kaeya Alberich 

You being on top. (Fem!Reader)  

He loves to tease. You know that. Just look at him, with that crooked smile and his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. But behind the sharp words and calculated charm, there is something else — something that only you know.

It is the Kaeya who moans softly when you hold his chin firmly and tell him to stay still and obey. It is the Kaeya who shudders when you push him against the bed and ride him at your own pace, making sure to control every moan, every sigh, every tremor of his body.

“Are you that sensitive already?” You ask, feigning innocence as you move over him, slowly burying his cock deep inside you, staying there for a few seconds, grinding your hips against his, before starting the movements all again. He bites his lip, his eyes moist with pleasure — that pleasure that burns in his chest, that almost hurts because it feels so good.

“You’re going to kill me, love… I can’t take it—”

“Yes, you will. You’ll take it because I want you to.” And he obeys. Always.

He loves seeing you on top — literally and emotionally. He loves when you hold his wrists against the mattress and straddle him with a sweet, dangerous smile on your lips. He loves feeling his entire body begging for release, while you deny it, only to see him begging for more.

“Touch me… Please, just a little—” His voice breaks, choking, and he turns his face away, ashamed of his own weakness. But you hold his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Or else… At least let me touch you…” His hands struggle against yours, winning and lifting one of them to touch your breast, squeezing it devotedly. You pull his hand away, preventing him from touching your body under the threat that you wouldn’t let him cum if he did.

“Look how beautiful you are like this… Whimpering and almost crying just because I’m giving you pleasure in my own way.” The moan that escapes him is almost a sob. A muffled sound, drenched in emotion and desire. You don't need to do anything else — just exist, and he's already surrendered.

“Can I?” He bit his lip, trying to hold your hips only to have you slap his hands away.

“Can you what? Use your words, Alberich.” Heavens, iit was so good to see him like this, escaping his dominant and sharp personality.

“C-Can I cum? I'm so close, p-please…” Your movements became faster and your own hands guided his so that one of them stimulated your clit while the other squeezed one of your breasts, teasing your nipple every now and then. That was your way of saying — without words — that he could cum. And he did, becoming a whimpering mess under you.

“Remind me to tease you more often if you're going to treat me like this.” He murmured, before pulling you off of him so that you two could switch positions. “Now I need some revenge, right?”

Bondage. (Fem!Reader) 

You were there, your wrists tied above your head, your back against the mattress, your body exposed and heated by his voice. Kaeya was an expert at seduction, but with you… he sometimes left a little teasing aside, just to show how much he knew what he was doing.

“Don’t worry, love,” He whispered, adjusting the tie on your wrists with surprising care. “If you want me to stop, just say so. But something tells me you won’t.”

The fabric he used to restrain you was soft, allowing it to be firm enough to impede most of your movements. His kisses spread like slow fire — down your neck, against your collarbone, across the curve of your breasts. Your eyes returned to his for a second, and Kaeya gave you that mischievous and affectionate smile, his fingers sliding between your legs, teasing you just enough to make you gasp.

“Look at you… You’re already so ready, and I barely touched you.” His fingers penetrated your folds, curving to reach your g-spot with ease and mastery. It was almost as if he had memorized your body: every curve, every sensitive spot. Teasing was a game he mastered. 

Then he bent down and devoured you with his mouth while his fingers didn't stop their movements. His tongue lapped at you with a precision that made you writhe, tied up, completely helpless in the face of the pleasure he administered with dedication.

"Stay still for me, darling," He murmured against your sex, his dark blue eyes fixed on yours. "Let me take care of everything." And you let him. 

The world was reduced to his hands, his mouth, the weight of his body on yours. He made you ask — not beg, because he knew the difference. He wanted to see you surrendered, but with pride, surrendered to him because you trusted him, not because you were forced. And that made him crazy with desire. 

When he finally entered you, your moans mingled with his, muffled by deep kisses. The thrusts were firm, constant, followed by sweet and dirty words in equal measure.

"Just like that… You're mine, all mine. I'm going to remind you of that every time you cum around me." And you both came, strong and overwhelming, the waves of pleasure washing over your bodies. He released you afterwards, with gentle hands, worried eyes, covering you with kisses and caresses.

"Did I tie you up too tightly?" He asked, caressing your cheek affectionately.

"No, I like it when you do that." You kissed the corner of his mouth. "Can we go again?"

"Always."

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 

You didn’t know exactly what he had put in that wine — but you knew he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want. Kaeya was a tease, but he loved you. He loved the way you trusted him even when your eyes were clouded with desire, even when your body trembled for more.

“Just a touch of something special,” He whispered against your lips, holding the glass that was still between his fingers. “Something to... ignite what’s already burning.”

The drink tasted sweet, almost fruity, but the effect was immediate: your skin tingled, every heartbeat seemed to echo between your legs, and Kaeya’s presence, with his scent, his smile, and his cool fingers against your warm skin, became unbearably addictive. 

He noticed the effect, of course he did. He sat behind you, pulling you onto his lap calmly, his chest against your back, his hands traveling over your body, mapping it with care and intention.

“It’s hot, hm? It’s the aphrodisiac... But it’s also me.” He chuckled softly, kissing the side of your neck. “Your body knows who it wants.” 

You moaned softly when his hands reached your breasts, squeezing them gently, his thumbs playing with your nipples through your thin clothing. Your hips moved unintentionally, seeking friction, relief — and Kaeya guided you with pleasure.

“You’re sensitive... So beautiful like this. I could make you cum with a touch.” 

He laid you down with all the care in the world, removing each piece of clothing with lingering kisses. His fingers stimulated your sex just enough to make you shiver, and he smiled, fascinated by the intensity of your reaction.

The aphrodisiac pulsed in your blood like fire, and Kaeya enjoyed every second — with patience, with precision, with desire. His touch was the final dose: you came with just his fingers and tongue, your entire body arching in response.

“That’s it...” He whispered, between kisses on your belly, moving up to your lips. “I want to make you come like this again and again.” And he really did.

With his body pressed against yours, his eyes fixed on yours, Kaeya penetrated you slowly, moaning with the pleasure of being inside you — and feeling how hot, tight, desperate you were. You scratched his back, and he moaned back, asking for more.

“It’s my fault,” He murmured with a dirty smile. “I left you like this... and now I’m going to fix it.” 

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 

He had already made you cum once. Then twice. And now your body felt like it was about to collapse under his every new touch.

“Kaeya… P-Please…” You moaned, your voice broken by the excess of pleasure, by the tremors that ran through your open legs, still exposed to him.

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue moved slowly over your clit, as if savoring your every reaction, every involuntary spasm, every breathless sob that escaped your lips.

“You can still take more, can’t you?” He asked in a low voice, his lips wet with your essence, his eyes half-closed and hungry. “Your body is begging me even if your mouth says otherwise.”

You tried to close your legs, but his arms were firm, keeping them apart. Kaeya was gentle, but determined. The pleasure was already unbearable — and yet, you wanted more. 

“You look so beautiful when you crumble like that,” He whispered, before lapping at you again more firmly, his fingers sliding inside you with ease, curling at the exact spot that made you gasp. Your back arched once more, the orgasm ripping through your body with force. He felt it and smiled, because he knew there was more to come.

“How many times can I make you cum before you pass out in my arms?” He murmured against your skin, kissing your inner thigh, his fingers still inside you, moving slowly, as if he was testing the limits of your sensitivity. 

You whimpered, struggling weakly, your body already too sensitive, your clit throbbing, your mind clouded by so much pleasure.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He whispered, moving up to your lips and kissing you tenderly. “You’re doing so well...” Kaeya entered you slowly, feeling how you trembled, how your body pulsed around him, completely surrendered. He moaned against your mouth, pleasure consuming him too. 

“Let me take you to the edge… Just one more time.” He asked, his voice choking with desire and affection. “I’ll take care of you later, I promise.”

And you let him. Because there, even in the midst of the chaos of absolute pleasure, Kaeya was your safe haven — even when he made you forget your own name with yet another orgasm that made you see stars.

Kamisato Ayato 

Bondage. (Fem!Reader)

You had lost count of how many times Ayato had told you that he loved seeing you surrendered to him. But there was something in the way he said it — with that serene smile, his clear eyes fixed on yours — that made everything inside you warm. With him, even submission was wrapped in elegance and reverence. And that night, the touch of the silk tying your wrists only confirmed that.

The softness of the sheets contrasted with the gentle tension of the ribbons that held your arms above your head, firmly on the back of the bed. Your legs, equally spread and immobilized with delicacy, made you feel vulnerable... and deeply desired.

Ayato was kneeling between your legs, impeccable even in that intimate moment. No part of him seemed out of control — everything was calculated, refined, even the way he ran his fingers through the ties to check if they were tight enough without hurting your skin.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He asked softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your lips sweetly.

“Of course I do.” You replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Good girl.” He whispered with a crooked smile that made your stomach turn. “Then let me guide you tonight.” His hands were as gentle as they were firm. He began exploring your skin with light touches, trailing his fingers along the curves of your body, slowly moving downward. He kissed each spot patiently, with a silent adoration that made your skin shiver from head to toe. And then he stopped, observing your bound body as if it were the most precious of works of art.

“You look so beautiful like this... exposed just for me.” He said in a low tone, almost like a prayer. “Every sigh you take, every shiver... it’s all mine.”

You gasped as you felt the tip of his tongue slide down your belly, rising to the base of your breasts, where he stopped to nibble lightly. The restraints made it impossible for you to try to squirm, and that only made each touch intensify. You were surrendered, and he knew it.

Ayato brought his fingers to your intimacy, touching slowly, exploratively. Your hips moved, an involuntary reaction to the growing pleasure, but he held you firmly.

And with that, he bent down, his tongue taking the place of his fingers. Ayato’s tongue was a precision weapon. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck, when to speed up and when to stop just to watch you writhe, begging for more.

The tension of the tapes on your wrists made each sensation even more vivid. Your senses were heightened, your body reacting to each stimulus as if it were the first. Your moans became pleas, and when the first orgasm came, you practically cried out in pleasure, trembling under his touch.

He climbed up your body, his chest pressed against yours, his eyes staring into yours with a glow that was both hungry and calm at the same time. 

"You're not done yet," He whispered, his lips almost touching yours. "Not until I say so."

And then he positioned himself and penetrated you slowly, with an almost cruel slowness. You were so sensitive that the simple act of feeling him inside you drew a loud moan. He moved firmly, controlling each thrust, watching every expression on your face, as if memorizing every nuance of yours.

The silk ribbons held your arms in place, and that only intensified everything. You couldn't touch him, couldn't pull him closer, only feel — and obey.

“You’re mine.” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “So obedient, so perfect for me…” The climax came again, even stronger, making your vision blur for seconds. Your entire body trembled, sweat stuck the strands of hair to your forehead, and all you could do was call his name, as if it were all that mattered in the world.

And when he finally came undone on top of you, with a low, satisfied groan, Ayato wrapped his arms around you, whispering praises, loosening each bond with affection. His kisses were now tender, and he murmured between one touch and another:

“You were wonderful... as always.”

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 

The evening began with a treat. Ayato appeared with a small, ornate wooden box adorned with the Yashiro Commission seal and a delicate silver-blue bow. He handed it to you with a restrained smile, but his eyes — always so serene — gleamed with something more mischievous.

“A special Sumeru delicacy.” He explained, sitting down next to you. “Sweets made from the nectar of a flower called the Nilotpala Lotus. They are known for their… stimulating properties.” You looked at him with a mix of curiosity and amused trepidation. 

“Stimulating how?” Ayato smiled, taking one of the small candies with graceful fingers and bringing it to your mouth. 

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” Your distrust didn’t last long. You always trusted him — and besides, the scent emanating from the little box was sweet, delicate, and enveloping, like jasmine with a hint of honey. When you bit into the first sweet, a warm wave ran through your body. It wasn’t just the taste — melting on your tongue like silk — but the sensation that was slowly spreading through your limbs. Heat. Sensitivity. A silent awakening in every spot of your skin. Ayato watched, enchanted by every expression that took over your face. 

“It’s starting to take effect, isn’t it?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“It’s like… my body is more alive.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

He moved closer, his fingers gliding along your bare thigh with reverence. The contact made you hold your breath — a simple touch sending shivers that seemed to run down your spine. Ayato smiled with silent pleasure, as if appreciating the fruits of a carefully laid plan.

“You’re so sensitive… so receptive.” His lips touched your collarbone, then your neck. “Every part of you is begging for attention.”

Gently, he laid you down on the sheets, pulling the fabric of your robe with slowness. The cool air against your exposed skin contrasted with the heat building inside. Ayato took his time — he explored every inch of you with kisses and caresses that set you on fire. He knew your body like no one else and seemed determined to enjoy every second.

When his mouth found the curve between your legs, you gasped. His tongue was patient, meticulous, eliciting reactions heightened by the sweets. It was as if his every touch was magnified tenfold — and you couldn’t escape the sensation.

“Ayato—!” You moaned, your hands gripping the sheets.

“Yes,” He murmured between kisses, “I want you to say my name like that. I need to hear you come undone for me.” His fingers gripped your thigh more firmly, preventing any movement. Each lick was a delicious torture, each pause a subtle punishment. You felt the muscles in your stomach contract, the heat between your legs growing until it became unbearable.

“Please... more...”

“More?” He teased, looking up with that calm smile. “But I’ve barely begun.” When he finally entered you, with the same careful rhythm, your bodies fit together as they always did — perfectly. But now, with the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins, it was all too much. Too intense. Too pleasurable. Each thrust was deep, calculated, and you whimpered in pleasure, completely surrendered to this man who never lost control — except when he wanted to make you lose yours.

“You’re so beautiful like this... all surrendered, all mine.” He whispered against your ear, the sound of his voice like velvet on your skin.

Your orgasms came in waves, shaking your body with force and he was there, steady, attentive, guiding you through it all, as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. In the end, he held you against his chest, running his fingers through your sweat-dampened hair.

“Maybe we should bring more of those sweets home.” He whispered. “Or maybe… you only react like that to me.”

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 

The night was silent inside the Kamisato residence, and the intimacy of Ayato’s room seemed separated from the rest of the world. Candles in thin holders cast soft shadows on the walls, and the light scent of sakura petals invaded the room through the half-open window. You knew him well — every subtle expression, every restrained gesture. And you knew exactly how to make him lose that control.

Ayato lay on his back on the futon, his hair slightly messed up by the silk pillow. The blue yukata he wore was loose, his chest partially exposed, rising and falling with his already irregular breathing. 

“Are you comfortable?” You asked, your voice soft as you caressed his abdomen with your fingertips.

“Yes,” He replied, his tone low, almost a whisper. “But you… are playing a dangerous game, my dear.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss his collarbone. 

“Maybe I am.” Your fingers slowly moved down, tracing the length of his cock before wrapping your hand around it with precision. The moan that escaped Ayato’s lips was suppressed, but you felt his body shudder.You  started slow, almost lazy, and his eyes closed as his hips lifted, seeking more. 

Your tongue collected the pre-cum that leaked from the tip of his cock, tasting it before taking his length into your mouth, sucking just the tip before sucking him completely — the head of his cock hitting your throat and making you choke on sinful sounds.

“You’re already so sensitive…” You murmured, watching his skin react, his entire body arch in response.

“You… always know how to disarm me, don’t you?” He said with a crooked smile, trying to maintain his composure even though his toes were already twitching.

The first time he came was quick: he’d been on edge since the very first touch of you — hot spurts of cum hitting your throat, and you drank all of him with need. But you didn’t stop. You continued to stimulate him, now with slower, delicately torturous movements from your hand, that stroked his cock with devotion. Ayato gasped, his neck and back arching. 

“Wait… ah! You’re teasing me—”

“I’m taking care of you.” You whispered, caressing the side of his face. “You always take care of everyone and everything. Now it’s your turn to surrender, Ayato.”

The second time came with more difficulty. He groaned your name, his hips shaking as the pleasure coursed through him again, this time more intense, more desperate. His eyes were watering, and you leaned in to kiss away the silent tears that trickled from the corners of his eyes.

“You’re doing so well,” You praised, and he shivered all over at the compliment whispered in his ear. “So beautiful, so obedient.” Ayato smiled, his lips trembling, his cheeks flushed. “You’re cruel, love…” You just laughed softly. 

“Cruel? Never. I am devoted. To your pleasure, at least.” And when he reached his third orgasm — shaking, sobbing, completely lost in the touch, in the words, in the suffocating intimacy of that room — you wrapped your arms around him, kissing his forehead tenderly.

“You were perfect,” You whispered, stroking his hair as he caught his breath. Ayato smiled, tired, satisfied. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your neck.

“And I love seeing you like this… All mine.” 

Ningguang 

Exhibitionism. (GN!Reader) 

It was night in Liyue, and the high moon was shedding its silvery light over the rooftops of the Jade Chamber, making everything even more luxurious and enchanting. You were there, alone with her, after a long day. Ningguang, as always, maintained her impeccable posture, sitting elegantly on the divan in the center of the hall with large windows, which offered a full view of the city below.

"Close the door." She said, her voice like silk, low and sure. "And stay where you are. Don't come any closer yet."

You obeyed, not understanding at first, but soon your eyes fixed on the way she stood up. The soft light illuminated her contours as she slowly dropped the white robe she was wearing, revealing the scarlet lingerie, convenient, tailored. It was delicate, lacy, with small provocative slits on the sides. She turned to the side, purposefully, knowing exactly how the curve of her waist and hips would steal your attention.

“I spend my days being admired by everyone. Desirous glances, restrained suggestions. But tonight,” She walked to the glass windows and stood there, facing the city, “Only you will see me like this... and only you will be able to touch me... When I allow it.”

The position was daring. Anyone with a well-positioned around that building could, in theory, see that enchanting silhouette through the windows. But Ningguang didn’t seem worried. She was in complete control of the situation — and you knew she wanted it that way.

She glanced over her shoulder, her red lipstick contrasting with her pale skin and her steady gaze.

“You like seeing me like this, don’t you?” You nodded, your breath catching in your throat.

Then, with calculated slowness, she reached for the clasp of her bra and unclasped it, letting the garment slide off her shoulders. Her exposed breasts were exposed under the moonlight, and the view was as mesmerizing as it was forbidden. She didn’t cover anything, showing herself with all the naturalness of someone who controls her own desires — and those of others.

“You’re so quiet…” She teased. “Did the image of me undressing for you in front of all of Liyue leave you speechless?” Her hands then went down her own thighs, until she reached her panties. She didn’t take them off right away. She just moved them a little to the side, revealing just enough to drive you crazy with desire. Her fingers slid there, and an almost silent moan escaped her lips. She touched herself in front of you, slowly, with evident pleasure. “Stay there. And just look. I want you to learn... that my lust is a gift I grant you.” 

Little by little, her body began to move more rhythmically, her hips undulating slightly against her hand, her moans becoming more frequent, although muffled by her ladylike composure. She arched her back against the glass, knowing that this accentuated every curve, every tremor, every breath.

You wanted to touch her. You wanted to be part of it, but she hadn’t let you yet. Then she stopped all stimulation abruptly, earning a curious look from you. She turned slowly, her hair fanning out over her bare back as her gaze met yours — steady, warm, with a glow of victory. 

“Come.” She said, holding out a hand. “You’ve endured my teasing well. Now you can worship me up close.” 

Scaramouche (Wanderer) 

BDSM, brat-taming. (AFAB!Reader) 

You teased him. You knew exactly what you were doing — every defiant look, every insolent retort, every cheeky smile. You knew Scaramouche wouldn’t let you off the hook. And that was exactly what you wanted. 

He sat cross-legged, watching you with feigned boredom and a sharp glint in his eyes. The silence was thick in the room, until he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and spoke in a low, harsh voice: 

“Say one more word in that tone, and I’ll make you regret every syllable.” You smiled. Sweet, defiant. 

“What if I want to be punished?” It was too fast. In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet. You barely had time to step back before you were gently pushed back against the bed, your body restrained firmly. His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“You don’t want punishment. You want attention. And you’re begging for it in the most childish way possible.” He growled. “But I’ll give you what you want. Only my way.” He tied you up with leather handcuffs attached to the corners of the bed. There was no rush. He made sure to maintain control over every movement, every touch. The straps tightened just right — security and submission. You bit your lip, already feeling the heat building between your legs, and he laughed mockingly. 

“Look how you look just being restrained... so easy to read. So predictable.” He leaned down to your ear, his voice a whisper full of promise. “And you love it. You love challenging me just so I can bend you.” Scaramouche then slowly removed his blouse, letting you watch — like a small visual punishment. Without being able to touch, without even being able to brush your fingertips. He came closer again, his eyes sparkling, his fingers tracing your exposed body with a sharp caress. 

“You’re going to beg today, you know?” He said, his hand squeezing your thigh firmly. “And I won’t give in until I hear you ask for it. No smiles. No sarcasm. Just you, little  brat, surrendering.” You shivered under his touch, feeling his power wrap around you like an invisible chain. And for the first time that night, you were speechless. He smiled. A victorious smile, dark, hungry. “Good, you finally understand who’s in control here.” 

Scaramouche pulled away just enough to let you feel the emptiness of his absence. The handcuffs forced you to stay exactly where he wanted you — exposed, vulnerable, irritatingly aware of your own arousal. His gaze slid over you like a cruel caress, and the smile that formed on his lips promised no relief, only torment. 

“Did you really think you’d get what you wanted that easily?” He knelt between your legs, his fingertips sliding along the inside of your thigh but never reaching where you needed him most. “Not after all that petulance.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your skin — a touch that was almost chaste, almost pitiful. Almost. You arched your hips, desperate for more, but he pressed his hands against your thighs, keeping you still. 

“Tsk.” His tongue ran a lazy path, too hot and too light at the same time. “So sensitive... Already shaking from that? And you think you’re strong.” You moaned softly, trying to press yourself against him, but the chains wouldn’t let you. And he smiled, cruel and calm. 

“Not until you ask. Not with the boldness from before. I want your real voice. I want your surrender.” He then brought his hand between your legs, running his fingers over your sex without actually touching. Just the heat of the contact hovering there, making you cry out in frustration. Your body begged, throbbed, but he just watched. “Do you really think you’re going to cum before I let you?” He laughed, soft, contempt slipping through every syllable.

“You have no control here. I’m the one who decides when and if you deserve it.” Then he went down again, with his tongue, his fingers. The pleasure flared like fire. You arched, trembling, almost reaching… And he stopped. Nothing. Cold, suddenly. You gasped, desperate. 

“N-no… please, Scara, don’t do this—” He looked at you, and his gaze was pure dominance.

“You’re going to beg for real. You’re going to moan my name and call me master in that sweet little voice. Or you’re going to spend the whole night like this — trembling, wet, and empty.” His finger came back, teasing. Another slow kiss, a warm breath. But it was all superficial. Punishment disguised as affection. And you were already starting to give in. You bit your lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Your entire body ached with need, and yet he hovered there, cruel and serene, as if your suffering was entertainment.

Scaramouche tilted his face, his eyes narrowed in pure delight as he watched you squirm.

“Almost, aren’t you? That cheeky little mouth has lost its power. Where did all that teasing go, hm?”

His fingers slid in again, this time touching exactly where you wanted it most — but only for a second. A warm, lingering touch and then emptiness again. You gasped, sobbing, your hips trying to follow the absent touch. 

“P-Please…”

“Please what?” He murmured, with a satisfied smile. You hesitated, pride throbbing in your chest. But it was useless. You were already defeated.

“Master…” The word escaped in a broken voice. “Please, master… let me cum. I need…”

“Ah…” He sighed with pleasure, as if those words were sweeter than any moan. “Now my little brat knows how to behave.”

He returned with his fingers, his mouth, his body — all at once, without mercy. The touches came fast, intense, too skillful to resist. You moaned loudly, feeling the orgasm build up like a colossal wave. The tension made you tremble, the pleasure bordering on unbearable.

“Cum for me. Now.” He ordered, his voice low and hoarse. “Show me who you belong to.” And you broke: your body buckled, the chains rattling with the force of your climax. A hoarse cry escaped your lips, his name lost between sobs and moans. He held you tightly, whispering praise, guiding each spasm of your body. 

“Look at you… So beautiful, begging and cumming like this, all mine…” When the tremor passed, you could barely breathe. But his smile said he wasn’t done with you yet. “Now that you’ve learned your lesson… let’s see how many more times you can obey.”

Wriothesley 

Breeding kink, praise kink. (Fem!Reader) 

There’s something about the way Wriothesley watches you that goes beyond lust. It’s control, care, and such a genuine desire to see you rendition to him — completely vulnerable — that makes it impossible not to surrender to him.

When he praises you, his voice is low, gravelly, almost a whisper as he explores your body with caresses, touches, and kisses. His cock brushes against the folds of your sex, which is crying out to receive him after so much teasing, but penetration doesn’t happen — he continues using the tip of his cock to stimulate your hard, swollen clit, occasionally putting just the tip inside you, but never penetrating you completely. Your sanity was running out. You needed him, you needed him to fill you, stretch you, mark you as his.

“Wriothesley… please!” You moaned in frustration, your hands gripping his biceps, your nails digging into the skin. “Fuck me already.”

“Patience… Didn’t you say you’d be a good girl for me?” His words silenced your desperation — you wanted his approval, his praise — even if it meant your frustration would only grow. You nodded, biting your lip and leaning your head back against the pillow as you felt your orgasm approaching. It was almost strange how just the act of grinding against each other could completely break you. More moans left your lips and he smiled. 

“You’re perfect.” He murmured, thrusting into you without warning, reaching the deepest point inside you in seconds. That was enough to make you cum, your walls contracting against his cock, milking him. “Fuck, always so tight… and so warm…” He pulled you into an urgent kiss, his orgasm approaching as well. 

“Cum inside me…” You begged against his lips, your nails scratching his back, your body jerking against the sheets with every thrust of his hips. “Please, I’ve been a good girl.” 

“You look so beautiful like this, begging for me… Your body knows you belong to me, can you feel it too? It’s begging me to fill you completely, to plant my seed in your womb.”

“I…” You could barely speak, a second orgasm quickly approaching. “I want to feel you stay in me for hours, I want to feel you dripping out of me just so you can fill me up again.”

“So tight, s-so hot…” He bit his lip, his words failing and his eyebrows furrowing, a clear sign that he was about to cum. And he did: hot and deep. Spurt after spurt of his seed invaded your womb, marking you completely as his. “Good girl... My girl. So obedient, so perfect, so… mine.”

Zhongli 

Edging, use of vibrators. (Fem!Reader) 

The room was calm, silent, as if the world had stopped to watch you both. Zhongli always treated pleasure with reverence, as an art that required patience, study and devotion.

You were lying between the silk sheets, your body already covered in a thin layer of sweat, the sheets messy beneath you. Your legs trembled slightly, and your breathing came in ragged pants. The vibrator in your intimacy vibrated in a soft, continuous rhythm — but never enough.

Zhongli was beside you, on his knees, his golden eyes fixed on each of your reactions. His expression was calm, almost solemn. As if he were praying with his eyes, adoring each sigh that left your lips.

"You're doing so well, darling." He murmured, his voice deep and calm, almost a whisper that touched your core. "So sensitive... so obedient."

The vibrator was lightly pressed against your clitoris, and you gasped, your hips arching reflexively. But, as he had done before, he pulled the toy away before your climax. Again. Once more. You moaned in frustration, almost tearful, feeling your own essence drip down your thighs. 

"Zhongli… Please…" Your voice was a raw, trembling plea. He smiled gently, caressing your face with his fingertips, as if you were made of porcelain.

"Patience, my dear. Pleasure must be built, polished… almost like a rare jewel." He slid the vibrator over you again, this time with a light circular motion, unhurriedly. "When I allow it, it will be the kind of pleasure that will completely break you. Isn't that what you want?"

You whimpered in response, feeling every inch of your body tremble under the touch of the toy and his words. The moans came low, almost desperate, your mind clouded between torment and ecstasy. And he watched, mesmerized by how beautiful you were as you lost control for him. And then he finally whispered those words against your ear. 

“Come for me…” You knew you were lost — and at the same time, exactly where you wanted to be. 

The permission came as a blessing, and you came hard, your body arching in pure bliss. The sounds that escaped your lips were hoarse, beautifully uncontrolled. And Zhongli didn’t look away for a second: he matched every spasm of your body with his firm hands on your thighs, keeping the vibrator gently pressed against your clit even as you shuddered in extreme sensitivity. You gasped, breathless, and yet… yet you wanted more.

“You look so lovely like this.” He murmured, tracing the contour of your belly with his fingertips. “So surrendered… So mine.”

You tried to push the toy away with trembling hands, but he held them easily, his fingers intertwined with yours. His gaze was calm, but there was a spark of raw desire burning behind the gold of his eyes.

“I’m not done with you yet.” And then he turned the vibrator back on — a lower intensity, but focused, insidious, teasing exactly where you were most vulnerable. You let out a sob of pleasure, your body convulsing in immediate response.

“Zhongli… It’s too much, I can’t—”

“Shh…” He leaned down, kissing your lips tenderly. “You can, I know you can. Trust me.”

He knew your body like he knew the stories of every era of Teyvat— deeply, with respect, with adoration. Every pause between moans, every quiver of your muscles, every new limit crossed was memorized by him — memorized with mastery, just like the stories he had once told you.

“You deserve every drop of this pleasure.” He whispered in your ear, as his cock finally replaced the vibrator. “And I will be here to guide you through it.” You whimpered — a beautiful, husky, indecent sound — as your second orgasm came fast, violently, stealing your breath, your strength. But he didn’t stop his thrusts, because Zhongli didn’t love in a hurry. He loved like a god who had all eternity to worship his favorite mortal.

Breeding kink, DD/LG and praise kink. (Fem!Reader)  

The candles cast a soft amber light over the room, dancing over the contours of the antique furniture and heavy curtains. Zhongli was meticulous even in his intimate moments — everything around him seemed carefully prepared to make you feel adored. And it worked.

You lay between the silk sheets, your breath held as he knelt between your legs, his golden eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made your entire body shiver. 

He leaned forward, his hands firm on your thighs, spreading heat wherever he touched. “You’re perfect like this, you know that?” His voice was deep, sweet, enveloping like a balm. “So receptive, so mine… Just like the good little girl you are.” His kisses began softly, almost reverently, on your abdomen, then below your navel, until he was inside you again — slowly, deeply, filling you as if each movement meant more than just physical pleasure. 

“Zhongli, please…” You whimpered, your hands finding their way to his back. 

"You drive me crazy." He murmured against your neck, his thrusts deep and slow, his hips pressed against yours as if he wanted to merge the two of you into one body. "Every time I feel you like this, so hot, so tight... All I can think about is filling you to the last drop." Your moans were interrupted only by the words he whispered in your ear, between kisses and caresses that left your skin on fire. 

"I’ve been thinking about fucking a baby into you…" Zhongli brushed his lips against your ear. “Every single day, every now and then, I catch myself thinking about knocking you up, making you round with my child, tying your soul to mine because of our heir…” His thrusts became more rapid, almost violent as he continued his monologue. “Would you like me to do so, my girl?” Your eyes widened — you suspected he had some kind of breeding kink, but having him finally admit it… it made your heart warm up in adoration.

“I’ll happily nurture your heir inside my womb.” You reassured him. 

"You deserve to be praised, adored… You deserve to be filled with me, like the good girl you are." You felt him grip your waist, keeping you in place, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t disappear. The pleasure was intense, pulsating — and he knew exactly how to handle every second of it. "Atta girl... Just like that, love, you're taking me so good.” 

“Daddy… I’m…” That name slipped from your lips unintentionally, and you felt aroused by it. You had never called him that, even though you fulfilled the role of being his little girl. “I’m so close, please, daddy… Cum inside of me.” 

When he finally reached his limit, his moan was muffled against your skin. His orgasm provoked yours: your cunt convulsing around his cock, milking every last drop of his cum out of him, the contractions of your walls helping his seed reach deep inside of you, invading your womb without warning. 

The silence that followed the climax was thick and full of meaning. Zhongli didn’t pull away immediately — instead, he remained above you, his body still entwined with yours, his fingers slowly tracing your waist, as if he wanted to memorize every curve again.

Your breathing was irregular, your eyes half closed as you felt the heat of his body mixed with yours. There was still the sensation of his semen inside you, hot and abundant, as he had promised.  

The kiss he placed on your forehead was slow, like a seal of care. Zhongli then pulled out of you calmly, carefully observing your reactions, as if any discomfort you felt was a crime he would never forgive himself for committing. He lowered his gaze to where your bodies separated, and the sight made him let out a heavy sigh — satisfied, possessive, enchanted. And even breathless, he still whispered with possessive caress:

“Look at you…” He murmured, his fingers tracing the inside of your thigh, where his cum dripped lazily. “So full of me…”

You moaned softly, shuddering at his touch, and Zhongli smiled. A small smile, but full of tenderness. He rested his forehead on yours, his nose lightly brushing against yours, before murmuring in the softest voice you had ever heard as his fingertips caressed the skin of your lower bell in an instinctive, protective way. 

“You make me want a future.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. “With you. With the two of you.” 

[moonlightwritingf1]

18 Minutes | LN4

۶•ৎ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N is terrible at time management and is chronically late to every event or meetup. She tries to change this habit. Lando and she make a deal: for every minute she is late to an event, he gets to edge her. And he’s clearly enjoying it much more than she is.

۶•ৎ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

۶•ৎ word count ━━━━━━━ 5.7k

۶•ৎ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, accidental creampie, oral sex (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial

Based on this request.

Sitting on the edge of her bed in nothing but a robe, Y/N looked at the clock on her nightstand. She sighed. It was already 7:48 p.m., and they were supposed to leave by 7:30 to meet some of Lando’s friends at a new restaurant in Mayfair. He was in the living room, presumably checking his phone or messing around on social media to kill time. Maybe he was looking at track data or chatting with friends from Monaco—she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that she’d promised him she wouldn’t be late again.

And she’d failed.

Her phone buzzed: a message from Lando, ever the tease even though they were just rooms apart.

Lando: You’re 18 minutes behind schedule. That’s 18 minutes of fun for me, by the way.

She groaned, reading his text. A few weeks ago, in a joking attempt to correct her chronic lateness, Lando proposed a playful deal: for every minute she was late, he’d get to ‘edge’ her for exactly that length of time. When he first suggested it, she’d rolled her eyes. But she also couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that lit beneath her rib cage. She’d agreed, partly amused and partly intrigued.

It turned out the idea was far more torturous (and exhilarating) in practice. The last time she’d been late by ten minutes, she’d ended up with shaky knees and breathy pleas by the end of it. Edging, as Lando was so gleefully discovering, was something that he enjoyed dishing out far too much. She claimed she hated it. She secretly loved it. The anticipation, the pleas, the electricity in the air—it was all so heady.

And it was about to happen again, for a full eighteen minutes if she didn’t hurry.

She hopped around her bedroom, rummaging for a pair of earrings. She quickly threw on her dress—a fitted black one with a modest neckline, long sleeves, and a playful slit up the side. The kind of dress that made her feel both comfortable and alluring. She grabbed her purse, threw on some quick lip gloss, and dashed out of the room.

She found Lando in the living room, leaning back on her couch, legs lazily stretched out, wearing a crisp white button-down and dark jeans. He had that faint smirk that made her stomach flip.

“Finally,” he teased, looking her up and down. “You look stunning.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I know. Sorry. Ready?”

His smirk widened. “Eighteen minutes, love.”

Her eyes darted guiltily to the clock on the wall. “Couldn’t we just… skip it this time?”

He raised his brow. “Mm, absolutely not. A deal is a deal.”

—

Dinner was surprisingly smooth. Y/N smiled politely and answered as briefly as possible, reminding herself that at the end of the day, she was going home with Lando—and she knew how much he genuinely cared for her, far more than any shallow distractions.

A while later, dessert was served, and the conversation turned casual, filled with laughter and a few tipsy exchanges among the group. Y/N reached under the table to gently squeeze Lando’s thigh—a quiet thank-you for his constant support.

He met her eyes with a playful sparkle that seemed to say, “You’re welcome.” Then he nudged her knee with his, and she nudged back. This little silent exchange felt more intimate than anything else all night.

When dinner came to a close, they said their goodbyes, and Y/N felt a sense of relief heading out.

Once outside, Lando guided her back to the car. He started the engine and let it idle, turning to face her with a grin that made her cheeks burn.

She crossed her arms, pretending to be annoyed. “Stop looking at me like that. I know what you’re thinking.”

He laughed, low and warm. “Oh, I’m not sure you really know what I’m thinking. But I can guess you’re thinking about the arrangement.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she sank into the passenger seat. “It’s so unfair.”

“It’s completely fair. You agreed to it,” he countered, his tone playful yet firm.

Biting her lip, she turned her head to stare out the window. The city lights whirled around them. She felt the tension spark in the enclosed space, his presence so near. His hand settled on her thigh. She could almost feel the heat of his gaze on her cheek.

“You can’t back out now,” he said softly, his touch trailing a small circle on the thin fabric of her dress.

Her heart thudded. As much as she dreaded the torturous wait, her body lit up at the thought of his hands, his lips, his voice at her ear drawing out every sensation until she could barely stand it. A shiver raced through her.

She turned and met his gaze. “Let’s go home,” she whispered.

Back at her flat, the moment they stepped through the door, Lando wasted no time. He pressed her against the entryway, one hand braced against the wall near her head, the other tilting her chin toward him. His lips hovered over hers, teasing, not fully claiming her mouth.

“Eighteen minutes,” he recalled, voice husky.

She breathed out shakily, her hands sliding up his chest. “You actually timed me?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Of course. It’s a matter of principle now.”

His breath ghosted over her lips, and she parted hers, expecting a kiss—but he pulled back at the last second. That made her let out a small whine in protest, which only seemed to encourage him more.

Gently, he took her hand and led her down the hallway to her bedroom, which was dimly lit by a small lamp on the dresser. The familiar environment, the hush of the late hour, and the pounding of her own heart made everything feel heightened. She was acutely aware of how close he was, how every subtle shift of his body seemed to radiate warmth.

He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He stayed standing, looking down at her with that signature cocky tilt of his head. “I’m going to set a timer,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Eighteen minutes.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her grin betrayed her excitement.

He bent down, brushing his lips just once, featherlight, over hers. “You love it,” he teased, then reached behind her to place his phone on the nightstand. She heard a soft chime as he presumably set an alarm to go off.

She swallowed hard. “And what if I try to… shorten it?”

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent another wave of warmth through her. “Good luck, love. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten better at making you wait.”

The bedroom seemed smaller than usual, the air thick with anticipation as Lando stood over her, his gaze sharp yet playful. Y/N’s heart raced as she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the sheets nervously. She knew what was coming, and though she’d never admit it out loud, the thought of it sent a thrill through her body.

“Eighteen minutes,” Lando murmured, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushing against her skin. He reached down, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her jaw. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

She huffed, trying to sound annoyed, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “I’m not going to make it easy? You’re the one who came up with this… this torture.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear. “Torture, huh? Funny, because from where I’m standing, you seem to enjoy it just as much as I do.”

Her lips parted to argue, but he silenced her with a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t enough to satisfy her—it never was with him—but it was enough to make her toes curl and her breath hitch. When he pulled away, she instinctively leaned forward, chasing his lips, but he took a deliberate step back, his smirk widening.

“Oh no, love,” he teased, holding up a finger. “You’re not getting off that easy. Eighteen minutes. Every. Single. One.”

She groaned, letting her head fall back in mock exasperation. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are, still with me.” He knelt down in front of her, his hands sliding up her thighs and pushing her dress higher. His touch was deliberate, slow, and Y/N couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her. “Now, let’s get started.”

His lips brushed the inside of her thigh, the contact featherlight but deliberate, the faintest pressure that sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. She sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening in the sheets as he lingered there, his breath warm against her sensitive skin. Slowly, as if savoring every millisecond, he pressed another kiss just slightly higher, his tongue darting out to graze the surface in a way that made her legs quiver. 

His hands moved to her hips, fingers digging in with enough force to keep her grounded but not enough to hurt. He held her still, his grip firm yet controlled, as he dragged his lips farther up her thigh, each kiss a slow, torturous progression. She could feel the dampness between her legs, the ache growing with every passing second, but he was methodical, unhurried, his every movement calculated to keep her on the edge. 

Just when she thought he might finally close the distance, he paused, his lips hovering just above where she wanted him most. He exhaled softly, the warmth of his breath sending another wave of need crashing through her. She arched her back, silently pleading, but he chuckled low, the sound reverberating against her skin. 

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice rough with restrained hunger, before he pressed a lingering kiss to the other thigh, starting the agonizing process all over again. 

Her breath hitched, a frustrated whine slipping past her lips as he pulled back, denying her once more. Heat pooled in her stomach, the fire building to a nearly unbearable level, yet he stayed just out of reach, leaving her trembling and desperate, the promise of release taunting her with every breath he took. His hands shifted, his thumbs brushing in slow circles against her hip bones, and she could feel the tension coiling tighter, tighter, threatened to snap with one more touch, one more kiss—but Lando wouldn’t crack. Not yet. Not while the timer still counted down.

The heat of his mouth pressed against the damp fabric of her underwear, and Y/N gasped, her hips instinctively lifting toward him. His hands held her firmly in place, his grip unyielding, as he kissed her through the thin barrier. 

“Lando,” she whispered, the word trembling on her lips. His name was a plea, a prayer. His lips moved deliberately, each kiss leaving behind a trail of fire, until her underwear was soaked, clinging to her skin, and still, he didn’t stop.

 “Mm, you’re dripping already,” he murmured, his voice rough. He paused to glance up at her, his smirk wicked. “What do you want, love?”

She shook her head, unable to voice it, but her body answered for her: her legs parted wider, her hips arching closer. He chuckled, low and knowing, before sinking his fingers into the sides of her underwear and pulling them down in one slow, torturous motion. The cool air kissed her heated skin, but it was his gaze that burned, his eyes raking over her as if memorizing every detail.

His lips pressed against the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she gasped, her fingers twisting into the sheets. He lingered there, his breath hot, before moving higher, his mouth trailing a slow, deliberate path toward her center. Each kiss was a tease, a promise he wasn’t ready to fulfill just yet. His tongue flicked out, tracing the curve where her thigh met her hip, and she shuddered, her legs trembling beneath him.

He kissed lower, his lips brushing over the delicate crease of her pubic bone, and she let out a sharp, desperate sound, her hips lifting instinctively. But he didn’t stop there. His mouth moved with agonizing slowness, kissing every inch of her, his lips grazing the swollen, aching flesh of her pussy. She could feel the wetness of her arousal coating his lips now, slick and warm, and the sensation made her head spin.

His tongue darted out, teasing her clit with the lightest touch, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed. He chuckled, low and dark, before pulling back, leaving her trembling and desperate. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. His lips returned to her inner thighs, kissing and nipping at the tender skin, as if savoring every second of her torment. The heat between her legs was unbearable, her body begging for release, but he kept her on the edge, his every touch a cruel, delicious reminder of what she couldn’t have—yet.

His tongue finally made contact, a slow, deliberate drag through her slick folds that had her gasping, her body twitching involuntarily. He didn’t rush, didn’t give her the relief she craved. Instead, he let the flat of his tongue glide over her entrance, pressing just enough to make her hips jerk toward him, but not enough to satisfy the ache that had been building since he first knelt between her thighs.

Her breath hitched as he lingered there, his breath hot and wet, the faintest puff of air brushing against her sensitive skin. His tongue teased at her entrance, a soft, insistent dip that made her whimper, her fingers clawing at the sheets as if they could anchor her against the tidal wave of sensation crashing through her. He flicked his tongue against her clit, light and quick, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed, her insides coiling tighter.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles around her clit, each swirl sending jolts of electricity straight to her core. She could feel the heat building, the pressure mounting, her body right on the edge of release. But just as she felt herself tipping over, he pulled back, his lips pressing a soft, torturous kiss to the swollen bundle of nerves instead.

Her hips lifted, desperate, pleading, but he held her down with one firm hand on her stomach, his other gripping her hip to keep her still. His mouth moved lower again, his tongue tracing the outline of her entrance, his lips kissing the slick skin as if savoring every drop of her arousal.

He was relentless, his tongue flicking against her clit in quick, teasing strokes one moment, then flattening against her in slow, languid laps the next. His breath hitched against her, warm and uneven, and she could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he held himself back even as he pushed her closer and closer to the brink.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her chest rising and falling like she’d run a marathon. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, her knees pressing together as if to trap the sensation, to hold onto the fleeting euphoria he denied her.

His tongue circled her clit again, the pressure just enough to make her cry out, her body tightening like a coiled spring. But he stopped, his lips hovering just above her, his breath hot and ragged, leaving her on the edge of release, suspended in a state of agonizing bliss.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice ragged, her nails digging into her own palms. “Please...”

He chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating against her skin. “Not yet,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers again, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.

But the timer wasn’t up, and neither was he.

“Please,” she whimpered again, her voice broken. “Please, I’m so close. Just—just let me—”

Lando leaned back, licking his lips as if savoring her taste, a glint in his eye that was pure mischief. “Not yet, love. Eleven minutes left.”

 “No,” she breathed, her voice unsteady, her body still coiled tight, wavering on the edge. “You can’t—you didn’t let me—“

 “Exactly,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips against her ear. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

She groaned, frustration and arousal warring inside her. Her hands reached for him, but he caught them easily, pinning them back against the bed. “You’re a menace,” she muttered, but the way she said it—breathless, charged—gave her away. 

He grinned. “And you’re mine. Now be patient. I’m not done with you yet.”

She didn’t respond, mostly because she knew he was right. There was something intoxicating about the way he controlled her pleasure, the way he could reduce her to a trembling, begging mess with just a few touches. She hated how much she loved it.

Lando’s lips found hers again, this time more demanding, and she melted into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair. He deepened it, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moaned into his mouth, her hips bucking involuntarily, but he pulled away again, leaving her breathless and desperate.

“Still ten minutes,” he whispered against her lips, his voice rough with desire. “Think you can last?”

She glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He grinned, his hand slipping between her legs and teasing her with featherlight touches. “Guilty. But can you blame me? Look at you—beautiful, writhing, completely at my mercy. How could I not enjoy it?”

Her breath hitched as his fingers found her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. She arched into his touch, her hips moving of their own accord, but he pulled his hand away, leaving her gasping for more. She could see the amusement in his eyes, the way he reveled in her frustration, and it only made her want him more.

“What’s the matter, love?” he teased, his voice laced with mischief. “Can’t handle a little teasing?”

She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her level. “You’re going to pay for this later.”

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Promises, promises.”

Before she could retort, his lips were on hers again, his hands roaming her body with a possessiveness that made her head spin. She let herself get lost in the kiss, in the way his body pressed against hers, but just as she was starting to lose herself, he pulled away again, leaving her panting and frustrated.

“Nine minutes,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck. “Think you can hold out?”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

He chuckled, his breath hot against her skin. “Good girl.”

His lips left her neck, and she felt the shift in his weight as he stood. Her eyes fluttered open, watching as he unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the sound of leather sliding through the loops sending a shiver down her spine. He pushed his trousers down just enough to free himself, and her breath hitched at the sight of him—hard, thick, and already glistening at the tip.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he knelt between her legs again, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself. The head of his cock brushed against her clit, slick with her arousal, and she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

He didn’t push in. Not yet. He dragged the tip of his cock back and forth over her swollen clit, the friction maddeningly light, teasing her until she was squirming beneath him. Her hands fisted the sheets, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he continued to torment her.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please, Lando, I can’t—I need—”

He chuckled, low and dark, his grip tightening on her hips. “You need what, love? Tell me.”

She whimpered, her body trembling with need. “You. Inside me. Now.”

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and finally, finally, he pressed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching her open inch by agonizing inch. She moaned, loud and unrestrained, her nails digging into the mattress as he filled her completely. He paused there, buried deep, and she could feel every pulse of him inside her, the way her walls clenched around him, desperate for more.

“Lando,” she whined, her hips lifting instinctively, trying to coax him into moving. But he stayed still, his hands holding her firmly in place. “Move. Please, move.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Patience, love. We’ve got time.”

She groaned, frustration and arousal warring inside her. “You’re killing me.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against her skin, and finally, finally, he began to move. Slowly. Painfully slowly. He pulled out almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside her before pushing back in with that same torturous pace. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, designed to drive her wild without giving her the release she craved.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with every slow, deep stroke. She could feel every ridge, every vein of him as he moved inside her, stretching her, filling her in ways that made her head spin. Her hands reached for him, clutching at his shoulders, his arms, anything to anchor herself against the overwhelming sensation.

“Faster,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Lando, faster.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk. “Not yet. You’re doing so well, love. Just a little longer.”

She whimpered, her body writhing beneath him, but he held her steady, his pace unchanging. Every thrust was a tease, a promise of what was to come, but not enough to push her over the edge. She was a mess, her mind fogged with pleasure, her body aching for release, but he was relentless, drawing out every second of her torment.

“Lando,” she cried, her voice breaking. “Please, I can’t—I need—”

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her pleas as he continued to move inside her, slow and deep, driving her closer and closer to the brink. And when he finally picked up the pace, it was only to leave her hanging once more, right on the edge of ecstasy, completely at his mercy.

His thrusts deepened, quickened, the rhythm shifting from slow and deliberate to something harder, more urgent. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, her moans rising with every snap of his hips. She was close—so close—her body tightening, her breath hitching as she wobbled on the edge. And then he stopped. Just like that. He froze, buried deep inside her, his cock throbbing against her walls as she clenched around him, desperate for release.

 “No,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Lando, please—don’t stop. I’m so close. Please, just let me—” 

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice low and teasing. “Not yet, love. Five minutes left.” 

She whimpered, frustration bubbling up in her chest, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Forget the deal. Just fuck me. Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and amused, his hands gripping her hips to keep her still. “You know I can’t do that. A deal’s a deal. Besides...” His smirk widened as he stayed buried deep inside her, his cock throbbing against her walls, unmoving. “I love seeing you like this. Begging. Squirming. Completely at my mercy.”

Her eyes flashed with defiance, and before he could react, she squeezed her inner muscles, clenching around him with everything she had. The pressure was sharp, electric, and his cock twitched in response, throbbing hot and heavy within her. She watched his jaw tighten, the amusement in his eyes flickering for a split second.

But he caught himself, his hand darting between her legs, fingertips brushing her swollen clit to stop her. “Nice try,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. He shifted back, kneeling up slightly but keeping himself inside her, his cock still stretching her wide. He gripped the base of himself, stroking slowly, slick with her arousal, as if taunting her with what she couldn’t have. His gaze bore into hers, unrelenting. “You think squeezing around me will make you come? Clever, but not clever enough.”

She glared at him, her body trembling with the effort it took not to buck her hips, but she didn’t respond. Her defiant silence only seemed to amuse him more.

Finally, he pulled out completely, leaving her empty and aching, his cock glistening with her wetness as he knelt between her thighs. “Four minutes,” he said, his voice low and teasing, as he began to stroke himself with agonizing slowness. “Think you can last?”

She groaned, her head falling back against the pillows, her body trembling with need as she closed her legs. "You're impossible."

“And you’re mine,” he said, leaning down but deliberately staying just out of reach. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Now, spread your legs for me. You’re not allowed to cheat your way out of this.”

When she hesitated, his free hand slid to her thigh, pushing it open with firm, deliberate pressure. His cock twitched in his hand, the tip glistening as he stroked himself again, teasing her with the sight.

She glared at him, but her breath hitched—a telltale sign that she was hanging on his every movement.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb flicking over her clit once more before he leaned even closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now, let’s make those last four minutes count.”

She groaned, her head falling back against the pillows, her body trembling with need. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re mine,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, hot and demanding, while his cock pressed against her clit, the friction maddeningly light. She arched into him, her hips lifting off the bed, but he held her steady, his grip unyielding.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips, her voice ragged. “Please, Lando, I can’t—I need—”

He kissed her again, silencing her pleas, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His cock rubbed against her clit in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to make her whimper but not enough to push her over the edge. She was a mess, her mind fogged with pleasure, her body aching for release, but he was relentless, drawing out every second of her torment.

“Three minutes,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Think you can last?”

She shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “No. I can’t. Please, just let me come.”

He chuckled, low and dark, his lips brushing hers again. “Almost there, love. Be patient.”

Her hands fisted the sheets, her body writhing beneath him, but he held her steady, his touch firm and controlled. Every brush of his cock against her clit sent jolts of electricity through her, the sensation building, coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she might explode. But he didn’t let her. Not yet. Not until the timer went off.

He pulled back, his lips leaving hers with a soft, teasing pop. Her eyes fluttered open, confused, as he shifted his weight off her and knelt between her legs. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin flushed and gleaming under the dim light.

Lando’s hand wrapped around his cock, slick and throbbing, and he began to stroke himself slowly, his gaze locked on hers. His eyes raked over her body—the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the way her thighs trembled as they spread wider for him. But it was her pussy that held his attention, glistening and soaked, needy and waiting.

She whimpered, her fingers clawing at the sheets as she watched him. The sight of his cock in his hand, stroking steadily over her dripping core, sent another wave of arousal crashing through her. She could feel the heat building, the ache growing unbearable. “Please,” she begged, her voice shaky, almost hysterical with need.

“Almost there, love,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing, his eyes dropping to where his cock nearly brushed her clit with every slow stroke. He tilted his head slightly as if studying her, his smirk widening at the flush spreading down her chest, the way her legs twitched with every agonizing pass of his hand.

She arched her back, her hips lifting instinctively toward him, desperate for contact. But he held himself just out of reach, his strokes deliberate now as if pushing her closer. “Look at you,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “Soaked. Begging. Mine.”

Her breath hitched, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to stifle another whine. His thumb circled the swollen head of his cock once before dragging it down, the tip brushing against her clit so lightly it was torture. A small cry escaped her, her fingers gripping the sheets tighter. She couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t hold on much longer.

The timer’s chime shattered the heavy silence, loud and sharp. Y/N gasped, relief and anticipation flooding her system. Lando didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her hips firmly, positioning himself at her entrance, and plunged into her in one deep stroke.

She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her walls clenching around him as he filled her completely. He didn’t waste time. His thrusts were hard and merciless, each one driving her higher, sending sparks shooting through her veins. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked her with relentless abandon.

It didn’t take long. Three thrusts in, the pressure inside her snapped, and her orgasm crashed over her in blinding waves. She screamed his name, her body convulsing around him, her legs trembling uncontrollably as pleasure consumed her.

It didn’t take long. The moment he buried himself inside her, the tension that had been coiling in her core for what felt like an eternity snapped. On the third thrust, her body gave in completely, and her orgasm tore through her with a force that left her breathless. She screamed his name, her voice raw and unfiltered, as waves of pleasure crashed over her, one after another, relentless and all-consuming. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, her legs trembling uncontrollably as her walls clenched around him, milking every inch of his cock.

Lando groaned, deep and guttural, his grip on her hips tightening to the point of pain as he felt her convulse around him. His rhythm faltered for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of her release, but then he surged forward again, driving into her with renewed urgency. Four, five, six thrusts—each one deeper, harder, more desperate than the last—and he came with a growl that seemed to rumble from the very depths of his chest. His release spilled into her in hot, pulsing waves, filling her completely as his hips jerked against hers, prolonging the sensation for both of them.

He collapsed onto her chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his skin slick with sweat as it pressed against hers. Their heartbeats pounded in unison, a chaotic rhythm that slowly began to steady as the aftershocks of their shared climax ebbed away. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling together in the aftermath of the cruel, delicious game they had just played.

Her breath was still ragged, her chest rising and falling like she’d just run a marathon. Lando’s weight pressed into her, his skin hot against hers, but the tension had melted into something softer, more intimate. Her fingers absently traced the curve of his shoulder, her body still trembling with the remnants of her release. He lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing her shoulder in a slow, lingering kiss that made her shiver.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, her voice uneven, throat raw. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

He chuckled, the sound low and self-satisfied, his breath warm against her skin. “Good to know I’m still capable of surprising you.”

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a half-hearted glare. “Don’t get too cocky. I’m low-key annoyed at you for making me wait that long. Like, genuinely. Didn’t think you’d actually go full eighteen minutes. Torture much?”

He grinned, unapologetic, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, come on, love. You knew exactly what you were signing up for when you agreed to the deal. And let’s be honest—you loved every second of it.”

She groaned, swatting at his chest weakly. “I’m never admitting that out loud.”

His smirk widened as he shifted slightly, nudging her legs apart to rest more comfortably between them. “You don’t have to say it. I can feel it.” His hand trailed down her side, fingertips brushing over her ribs in a way that made her shiver. “Maybe this’ll be the motivation you need to stop being late to everything. Because, trust me, if you keep testing me like this, I’ll only get better at edging you.”

She rolled her eyes, but the flush creeping up her neck gave her away. “Oh, so now you’re threatening me? Classy.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a teasing kiss. “Not a threat, love. A promise. So, what’s it gonna be? On time from now on? Or... more of this?” He punctuated his words with a slow roll of his hips, his cock still buried deep inside her, and she gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders instinctively.

“You,” she said breathlessly, “are the worst.”

“And yet,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear, “you’re not saying no.”

She let out a laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained, and he pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling. “Fine,” she said finally, her tone mock-defeated. “I’ll try to be on time. But if I’m late again, you better be ready to deliver. That was... intense.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and warm. “Oh, I’m always ready, love. And next time, we’ll make it even better.”

She groaned, but her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss that was less teasing and more heated. He smiled into it, his body pressing into hers as he murmured, “Eighteen minutes very well spent.”

[guliexe]

━━━EXTRA HELP 18+

Hirota Riki/Maki x Tutor!Female!Reader — University AU

.ᐟwarnings/tags: enemies to lovers (kinda), slow burn, angst, tutor!reader, dom!maki, reader is kinda dramatic, bad boy!maki, texting, making out, dry humping, praising, oral (m & f receiving), face fucking, dacryphilia, cum eating, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, finger sucking, bulge kink kinda, multiple orgasms

♡ you agreed to tutor the campus bad boy—now you're tangled in his sheets, and maybe his heart too.

.ᐟwc: 12.5k (no proofread)

There were a few things everyone on campus knew about Riki. First, he didn’t care about school. Second, he didn’t care about girls. And third, he definitely didn’t care about you. He was the kind of guy who never showed up to lectures but still had his name shouted across the quad. The kind of guy who could be seen with a new girl every weekend, yet never seemed attached to any of them. You’d catch glimpses of him outside the dorms, leaning against his black car, hands in his pockets, always smirking at something like he was in on a secret the rest of the world had missed. His reputation wasn’t subtle either. Everyone knew he smoked and partied. Everyone knew he fucked. And everyone knew he didn’t try—at anything. Especially not uni. You, on the other hand, were practically invisible compared to him. You were a normal student. Smart, yeah—but not some overachiever robot. You had friends, you went out every now and then. But you didn’t play around when it came to school. You worked hard for your grades. You showed up and gave a shit.

The only time Riki ever acknowledged you was to throw a lazy smirk your way during a lecture—usually after interrupting the class with some half-assed question or sarcastic comment. You didn’t know if he did it to get under your skin, or if he even knew who you were. Either way, it worked. You hated him. His cockiness, his stupid pretty face, the way he acted like the world owed him something. You hated the way he stretched his legs out under the desk, the way he always leaned back in his chair just enough to make you pray it’d finally tip over. You hated how his voice always carried—low, rough, lazy—like nothing ever really demanded his full attention. But most of all, you hated how aware of him you’d become. It wasn’t on purpose. You didn’t mean to notice the way his sleeves were always pushed up just enough to show the veins in his arms, or how he had a habit of playing with his hair when he was bored. It didn’t matter. You noticed anyway. Just like you noticed the way girls always giggled when he passed, how they looked at him like he was something dangerous they wanted to touch anyway. And he let them. All of them. Because Riki didn’t care about anyone.

Which is why it made absolutely no sense when your professor sat you down after class and said, with complete seriousness,“I’m assigning you as Riki’s tutor.” You blinked. “Wait—what?” “He’s failing. If he doesn’t pass the next exam, he’ll be dropped from the course.” You stared. “And you think I’m going to save him?” “I think you’re capable. You’re sharp, patient, and you don’t fall for bullshit. He might actually learn something.” You huffed. “He doesn’t even bring a pen to class.” “Then bring two.”And just like that, you were stuck. After what your professor told you, you knew better. If Riki was gonna pass anything, he needed more than a miracle, he needed someone to drag his lazy ass to a table and force information into his head. And apparently, that someone was you. So after your last class, you went looking for him. You heard loud laughter coming from behind the law building—that kind of laughter, the kind that usually surrounded him like secondhand smoke. You followed the sound, and sure enough, there he was. Leaning against the wall with a few of his friends, half a joint in between his fingers, wearing a loose hoodie, baggy jeans sagging, like he hadn’t just missed another full day of lectures. He was mid-convo when he spotted you walking up, and his smile deepened. “Well, well,” he drawled. “Didn’t think I was on your hunt list.” You ignored the chorus of curious glances from his friends and came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed.

“We need to talk,” you said. “Sounds serious.” He didn’t move, just tilted his head and looked you up and down like you were something unexpected. “Should I be scared?” “Only if you like failing.” That made his smirk twitch. “Cute.” You sighed. “Professor told me to tutor you.” “Cool.” He shoved his hands in his hoodie. “Tell her thanks, but no thanks.” “She said you’re going to fail if you don’t.” “And?” “And,” you said sharply, “she’s giving you one chance. Me. You either take it or get dropped from the class.” He stared at you for a second, then leaned off the wall just enough to step closer. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You came here to give me homework?” he says, taking a hit of his joint. “I came because I actually care about this class. Unlike you. And i had no other choice.” “Aw,” he cooed. “You care about me.” You gave him a look so flat it could kill. “This isn’t a joke.” “No, but you are,” he said with a little grin. “You think I’m gonna suddenly turn into a straight-A student because some stupid girl from the front row gives me lessons?”

You froze. Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, slow and sour. Stupid girl. The phrase echoed in your head like it was meant to bruise. You didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at him, arms crossed tighter, a bitter fire creeping up your spine. Riki took another drag, watching you through the smoke. Then you spoke. “Say that again,” you said quietly. Not weak quiet—sharp quiet. Dangerous quiet even. “Call me stupid one more time.” His smirk faltered. Just a little. “I didn’t mean it like—” “Yes, you did,” you snapped. “You meant it exactly like that. Because it’s easier to act like this doesn’t matter than admit you’re scared you’ll fail.” His brows lifted slightly. “Scared?” “You think no one notices, but we all do. You never stay in one place. You never try. You’re so busy pretending nothing matters just in case something actually does.” Riki blinked. You stepped forward, chin lifted. “So go ahead. Keep acting like you’re too cool to care. But don’t waste my time if you’re not going to show up.” There was silence. His friends were watching now, but you didn’t even glance at them. Your eyes were locked on him, and for once, Riki didn’t have a snarky comeback. He just stared at you like you’d taken all the wind out of him. He dropped his joint and stepped on it. “Damn,” he muttered, glancing away. “You’ve got a mouth on you.” You turned to go. “Forget it. I’ll tell professor you refused.”But before you could take another step, his voice stopped you. “Library,” he said. You turned your head just enough to see him scratch the back of his neck, eyes half-lidded. “I’ll be there.” You narrowed your eyes. “When?” “Tuesday,” he muttered. “Four.” You didn’t smile. Didn’t thank him. You just nodded once, “Don’t be late.” Riki rolled his eyes. “Can’t wait.” And as you walked away, you didn’t look back, though if you had, you might’ve seen the way he watched you go. Like you weren’t stupid at all. Like you were the first person who’d ever actually told him the truth.

Tuesday came, and he was twelve minutes late. You’d already found a spot in the far corner of the library, tucked away behind tall shelves and low lighting, where you could actually focus without distractions. Except he was the distraction. And he wasn’t even here yet. You were just about to give up and text your professor when you heard it—The soft creak of shoes and the low scrape of a chair being pulled out behind you. “Relax, I’m here.” You turned. There he was, backpack slung over one shoulder, black tank top, tousled hair falling messily into his eyes. He dropped into the seat across from you, one leg sprawled out under the table, arms resting lazily on either side. He looked…good. And you hated that you noticed. “You’re late,” you said, crossing your arms. He gave a slow shrug. “Only by a little.” “Twelve minutes is not ‘a little.’ “Wasn’t gonna show at all, honestly,” he muttered, pulling out a notebook that looked barely touched. “Consider this progress.” You bit back a comment and opened your textbook instead. “Fine. We’ll start with the basics. What do you remember from last lecture?” Riki blinked at you. “…We had a lecture?” You inhaled sharply. “Okay. Great. Starting from zero.” He smirked at your expression, leaning forward slightly. “You’re kinda cute when you’re stressed.” You didn’t dignify that with a response, just shoved the textbook closer to him. “Read this. Then answer the first two questions.”

He groaned but leaned in anyway, eyes skimming the text like it personally offended him. You watched him from the corner of your eye—how he chewed his bottom lip when he concentrated, how his fingers tapped idly against the table. After a few minutes, he spoke. “This is so boring,” he said. “How do you not fall asleep doing this?” You sighed. “Because I care about my grades. And my future.” He leaned back again, chair creaking. “Mm. Nerd.” “Degenerate.” He grinned at that. “Big words, tutor girl.” You rolled your eyes, but your mouth twitched anyway. Despite everything, his attitude, his laziness, he was at least here. And somehow, that was already more than you expected. You tried to focus. Tried to walk him through the basic concepts, tried to be patient when he interrupted with sarcastic questions or dramatic sighs. But as time passed, something shifted. He started paying attention—really paying attention. His posture changed, and his jokes softened. Every once in a while, he’d ask a real question. And you’d answer. And for a second, it almost felt normal. Like he wasn’t the guy you used to hate and glare at across the classroom.

You were just mid-sentence, pointing out something in the textbook, when you realized how close he’d leaned in—his shoulder brushing yours ever so lightly, his scent suddenly very real. Warm. Clean, with a hint of something smoky underneath. You cleared your throat, “…Anyway, that’s why the theory matters.” “Mhm,” he murmured. But he wasn’t looking at the page anymore. He was looking at you. You tried to ignore it—his eyes on you. Tried to focus on the text, on the notes you’d scribbled in the margins earlier, but it was hard to concentrate with Riki that close. His knee brushed yours under the table and neither of you moved. Not right away. “You’re not as boring as I thought,” he said suddenly. You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?” “Not a compliment.” But he was smiling, a little softer than usual. You rolled your eyes again, looking down at the book. “Well, you’re exactly as frustrating as I thought.” “Hot and frustrating,” he said, leaning back just enough to throw you a cocky grin. Your face heated before you could stop it. “Focus.” “I am focused.” You gave him a flat look. “Fine.” He leaned in again, this time closer than before, the air between you thinning by the second. “But you have to admit something.” You blinked. “What?” “That you think I’m hot.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I literally never said that.” “You didn’t have to,” he said, smug. “You’re blushing.” “I’m not—” you fight back. “You are.” You looked down, closing the book in frustration. “This is impossible.” “Relax,” he said, voice lower now, amused. “I’m just messing with you.” But there was something in his eyes. Something that made your stomach twist a little. You stood up quickly, grabbing your pen and textbook, stuffing them back into your bag with a little too much force. “I think we’re done for today,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “You should go over that again on your own.” “Wait, what?” he sat up straighter. “Why—” “I’ll email you the practice sheet later.” You turned too fast, one hand still shoving your notebook into the bag—so fast you didn’t see the chair leg sticking out from the side of the table, or the way your foot caught on it. Your balance slipped before you could catch yourself. “Shit—!” A pair of hands grabbed your waist instantly, pulling you forward with a sudden jolt of strength, and the next thing you knew, your palms were planted on the table, on either side of him. He’d caught you. Except now, he was half-seated on the edge of the table, and you were leaning over him—face inches from his, chest almost pressed to his, breath caught in your throat. You froze completely.

So did he. One of his hands was still on your waist. The other had found the small of your back, fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater like he’d done it without thinking. His mouth was slightly parted, and up close, you could see everything—his frowned brows, the slow rise of his chest under his hoodie, the flicker of something behind his eyes that made your skin burn. “You good?” he asked quietly. You nodded. You thought you nodded. It was hard to tell with the way your heart was pounding in your ears. “Didn’t know you wanted me that bad,” he said, the smirk returning. You exhaled a sharp breath and pushed yourself off him fast, standing up straight, smoothing your hair back like that somehow made things less awkward. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, flustered. But he didn’t move. He just stayed there, eyes still on you, lips curving up at the edges like he was holding back something else. “You always this clumsy?” he asked. “Shut up Maus.” He chuckled warmly and leaned back against the table like he hadn’t just caught you in the most intimate, accidental moment of your life. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked, like none of it had happened. You grabbed your bag and turned away, hoping he couldn’t see the heat rising in your cheeks. “We’ll see.”

You didn’t even want to go, but your friends insisted. Said you’d been cooped up too long with your nose in textbooks. That you needed to “unclench” for one night. That you were too pretty to waste another Friday night at home. So here you were, packed into someone’s dimly lit house, music thumping through the floorboards, cheap liquor in your cup, and the smell of weed floating through the halls. You weren’t even three steps in before you saw him. Riki. He was leaning back against the kitchen island like he owned the place, black denim slung low on his hips, showing the band of his boxers, silver earring catching the light. A red Solo cup dangled lazily from his fingers as he laughed at something the girl next to him said. She was blonde, pretty, definitely more his type than you. She said something, and he smirked, the kind of smirk that tugged at one corner of his mouth and made your stomach flip. You told yourself not to look. You told yourself not to care. But it was hard not to notice the way her hand was already on his arm. Or the way she was leaning in like she knew he’d let her. Your chest tightened. “C’mon,” your friend tugged your sleeve. “Let’s get drinks.” You followed numbly, the burn of jealousy hot in your throat. You just needed to get away from that view. Grab a drink, breathe, pretend Riki wasn’t the only thing on your mind even here, in a room full of people you didn’t know or like. You reached the kitchen just as that same girl turned, laughing at something he said, and crashed straight into you.

Cold, sticky liquid splashed across your chest and soaked into your top. The drink hit your skin with a sudden shock. You gasped, stumbling back as your friend cursed under her breath. “Oh my god,” the girl said, blinking wide eyes at you. “I didn’t see you. Shit, I’m—” She cut off when she recognized you. Her lips twitched, like she almost smiled. Of course she knew who you were. The nerd. The tutor. The girl Riki had to be paired with. You could see it all click behind her eyes. “I didn’t mean to,” she said again, too casual. “Hope that wasn’t, like… expensive.” You stood there frozen, drenched and embarrassed, your cup long gone and your pride somewhere under the sink. Riki finally turned around, eyes narrowing the second he saw you. You weren’t sure what expression crossed your face, but whatever it was, his changed too. The lazy smirk was gone. He looked almost…irritated. “You good?” he asked, directing it at you but stepping away from her. You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Your friend was already trying to dab your shirt dry with a crumpled napkin, but the damage was done—the fabric clung to your chest, translucent in the worst places. “I need to go change,” you mumbled.“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” Riki said, already moving to lead the way. You hesitated, then followed. You didn’t miss the way the other girl watched him go, arms crossed tight.

The hallway was quieter than you’d expected. The bass from the party thudded faintly below, muffled by the walls, and the air up here felt cooler, calmer. You followed a few steps behind Riki, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to focus on the way your shirt clung to your skin. He stopped at the end of the hall, tapping the door beside him. “You can clean up here.” You reached for the handle, but he didn’t step away—just looked down at you, quiet. His eyes flicked briefly to your shirt, then back to your face, unreadable. “You good?” he asked, voice low. You nodded, too fast. “Yeah. Just cold.” He blinked slowly, like he didn’t believe you but wasn’t going to say it. Then he pulled his hoodie off over his head—some black oversized thing with faint white lettering on the chest—and held it out. You hesitated. “You don’t have to—” “Just take it,” he said.

You took it. His fingers brushed yours for a second, and your stomach flipped. You ducked into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind you before facing the mirror. The damage was worse than you thought. Pink drink soaked through your top and dried in a sticky pattern across your chest. Your bra showed clearly through the fabric, and your skin was flushed, not just from embarrassment, but…something else. Something about the way Riki had looked at you downstairs. The way his eyes narrowed when that girl leaned in. The way he didn’t say anything—but still didn’t look away from you either. You exhaled, peeled off your shirt, and pulled his hoodie over your head. It was soft, loose, and smelled faintly like him—cologne and laundry detergent. Then, a knock. “Still okay in there?” You cracked the door open and peeked out. He was still there, leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets. His eyes slid over you slowly, landing on the hoodie. “Looks better on you.” You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “You’re so annoying.” He tilted his head.

“You say that a lot.” “That’s because it’s always true.” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “Mm.” His eyes flicked down to where the sleeves hung past your hands. “You kinda look cute like that though.” You froze. The hallway suddenly felt too warm. “I—I just didn’t want to walk around soaked, that’s all.” “Didn’t say you did.”His voice was different now, lower, like he was playing with you. Teasing, but not in a way that begged for a fight. Just enough to make you want to look away. You didn’t, though. You kept your chin up, even as your heart pounded. Then he stepped even closer, slightly closing the door. There was barely any space between you now. You could feel the warmth of him, see the little mole on his cheek, the slight curve of his mouth like he was holding something back. “You’re quieter when you’re embarrassed,” he said softly. “I’m not embarrassed.” “You keep lying to me.” You huffed and tried to look away, but his hand came up to brush your jaw, guiding your gaze back to him. Your breath caught. He didn’t say anything else. Just looked at you for a moment too long, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips. It was like something cracked in the air. Like gravity shifted and pulled the two of you closer. Then— Knock knock knock. “Hey! You in there?” your friend’s voice. “Everything okay?” You both jumped slightly. Riki blinked, then let out a quiet breath and took a step back. You swallowed hard. Your heart still hadn’t settled. “I’m fine,” you called out. Your friend’s voice faded as she wandered off, muttering something about looking for the snacks. Riki glanced at you, then gave a soft laugh under his breath—barely audible. “What?” you asked. He shook his head. “Nothing.” You narrowed your eyes. “You think this is funny?” “No,” he said, turning to head back toward the stairs. “I think you’re cute when you’re shy.” You stood frozen for a second before following him. You didn’t know what that almost-kiss was. Or if he even meant it to happen.

The library was quiet in that particular way it always was around exam season. Clicks of keyboards, the occasional squeak of a chair, a cough far off in the distance—nothing loud enough to cut through the silence fully. You walked in with your bag slung over your shoulder, already regretting agreeing to meet so late in the day. The low golden light pouring in through the windows made everything feel softer, more intimate. And he was already there. Riki sat at one of the corner tables, sprawled out like always, one arm resting lazily over the back of the chair, the other flipping through a worn notebook. His hoodie sleeves were pushed to his forearms, earbuds on, and he looked up just as you spotted him. Your heart jumped embarrassingly fast. You looked away just as quickly, trying to act like you hadn’t seen him, hadn’t noticed the way his gaze flicked down briefly before returning to your face. You approached the table, setting your bag down carefully, avoiding his eyes. “You’re late,” he said, voice low, teasing but quiet enough not to draw attention. You sat down, pulling out your notes. “By like three minutes.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Three minutes too long.” You didn’t answer. You couldn’t—not without sounding weird. Not without blushing, and unfortunately, that was already happening anyway. You could feel the heat climbing up your neck, and you kept your eyes glued to your notes, pretending to find something very important on the page. Riki didn’t say anything at first. You could feel him watching you, and it made every movement harder, flipping pages, uncapping your pen, sitting still.

“So,” he finally said, dragging the word out a little. “You’re gonna look at me today, or is this gonna be a tutoring session where you just talk to your highlighter?” You inhaled sharply. “I’m looking at you right now.” You weren’t. He leaned closer over the table, just slightly—just enough for his voice to lower even more. “You’re not,” he murmured. “You haven’t looked at me since Saturday.” You gripped your pen tighter. “I’ve been busy.” His voice was calm. “You’ve been nervous.” That made your eyes snap to his—huge mistake. Because when you finally looked at him, everything you’d been trying to suppress came rushing back. The party. His voice in the hallway. The hoodie. His fingers brushing your face like he’d done it a thousand times. And how close he’d gotten, how close you both were. You blinked and looked away again, this time staring at the desk. “See?” he said, like he’d just won a bet. You crossed your arms. “Can we just study?” A pause. Then a soft chuckle. “Sure,” he said. “Go ahead.” You continued explaining formulas you’d explained before, stumbling through examples you knew by heart. You could feel your ears burning. Every time you tried to focus, you felt his eyes on you. Not in a harsh way—just steady, present, he was listening to more than just your words.

Somewhere between chapter five and question eight, the space between you and Riki had gotten… smaller. Not suddenly. Slowly, gradually. At first, you’d sat across from him, the wide wooden table serving as a comfortable barrier. But then he’d leaned in to point something out in your notes, and you’d shifted a little closer so you could see better, and then somehow—without really realizing it—you were sitting side by side. Close enough to feel the heat off his arm. Close enough that when you leaned in to write something, your knees almost touched. You tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on the numbers, the words, anything but the way your body felt like it was betraying you. Every time he shifted or breathed, you flinched just slightly, like your whole system was on edge. He, of course, looked completely relaxed. Riki leaned back lazily in the chair, hoodie rumpled, one leg stretched out beneath the table. He was listening, sure, but mostly watching. And it didn’t help that every time you stumbled over a word or lost your place mid-sentence, he smirked like he knew exactly why. “You’re better at this than me,” he murmured at one point, tapping your notebook. “But you still sound nervous.” “I’m not nervous,” you said quickly.

He raised a brow. “No?” “No,” you insisted, not looking up. He didn’t press. He didn’t have to. Because a few minutes later, it happened. Your hands had both been resting on the desk for a while—yours still, careful, his loose and spread out like he had no idea what personal space meant. Little by little, as the session stretched on, the distance between your hands started to shrink. Neither of you moved them on purpose, but still, closer…closer… until your pinkies brushed. You barely breathed. And then, very softly, he let his pinky drift back over yours. Just a whisper of a touch. He didn’t look down, didn’t say anything. Just started brushing his finger along the side of yours in slow, lazy strokes. Like it was nothing. You sat completely still, the air suddenly too warm and too thin all at once. You could feel it—his finger, featherlight, brushing against you again and again. And you could feel his eyes on you too, even if you didn’t dare look. Your heart thudded in your ears. “Riki,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head slightly, waiting. You blinked down at your notes. Then back at your hand. You were so warm you could feel your pulse in your fingertips. “Um,” you said quickly, standing up a little too fast. “Okay—that’s it for today. You did good.” He blinked, surprised. “That’s it?” “Yep.” You were already gathering your stuff, heart in your throat. “We’re done.” “Thought we had twenty more minutes.”

You shrugged, trying not to let your voice crack. “Bonus points for finishing early.” Riki didn’t move. Just watched you with that slight smile, soft and unreadable. “…You sure?” You zipped up your bag, cheeks on fire. “Mhm.” You could feel his eyes following you as you adjusted the strap on your bag, willing your hands not to shake. You hadn’t meant to end the session that abruptly, but the second his finger touched yours, you’d short-circuited. You needed air. Distance. Something. “Let me walk you home,” he said suddenly. You looked up. “What?” Riki stood slowly, slinging his bag over his shoulde, “It’s late. I don’t like the idea of you walking alone.” “I—I live like five minutes from here,” you said, voice catching in your throat. “So I’ll walk for five minutes,” he replied easily, already heading toward the library exit. You didn’t know how to argue with that. Not when he held the door for you without another word, stepping into the cool night air like it was completely normal for him to be doing this. The walk was quiet at first. The world around you was still, humming softly with distant streetlights and the sound of your shoes on pavement. He walked close, not quite touching, but near enough to make you hyper-aware of every step, every breath. “I thought I made you nervous,” he said after a beat. You glanced at him. “You do.” His mouth twitched. “Then why’d you let me walk you home?” You hesitated. “Because you insisted.” That made him laugh quietly, under his breath. “Right.” A moment passed. You reached your building, the familiar sight of the front steps making your stomach flip. “Well,” you said, slowing down. “Thanks for, um—”

“You always end things before I’m ready,” Riki said, cutting in. His voice was low, not teasing exactly—just honest. “In the library. Just now.” Your breath caught. “I didn’t mean to.” He stepped in front of you, just a little. Blocking your way, gently. His eyes found yours, and this time, you couldn’t look away. You could feel it—the same current that had been building since the party, since the near-kiss, since today in the library when his pinky brushed yours and it felt like your whole body forgot how to function.

The next thing you knew, he was stepping forward—slow, like he was giving you time to stop him—and then his hand brushed yours again, gently. His fingers slipped between yours, warm and steady. You froze. And then, slowly, you looked up at him. He was closer now, so close you could see the shadow of his lashes, so close you could smell him. His thumb moved, brushing across your knuckles, barely there. “Don’t run again,” he said, quietly. Your breath caught. “I’m not—” But before you could finish, he leaned down and kissed you. Soft. Warm. His lips pressed to yours like he’d been thinking about it for days—like he’d been holding it back all this time, waiting for the right moment, the right breath, the right look. It wasn’t rushed nor messy. Just his mouth on yours, tender and certain, like he already knew you’d kiss him back, and you did. Your fingers curled into his hoodie. You tilted your chin just slightly. The second your lips moved against his, he sighed, soft and low, and kissed you deeper. Still gentle, but slower now, hungrier. His other hand came up to your waist, not pulling, just there, grounding you while the world tipped sideways. When you finally pulled away, your face was hot. Your whole body was hot. You blinked up at him, breath shaky, lips tingling. He stared at you for a long second, thumb still brushing your waist. “Now you can go.” You wanted to say something. But all that came out was a tiny, flustered sound that made him grin—soft and smug and barely there. You slipped out of his reach, shy all over again. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, pretty.” he said, still watching you. And you were pretty sure you floated all the way to your door. The door clicked softly behind you, but you didn’t move. You just stood there in the quiet of your apartment, blinking into the dark like your brain hadn’t caught up to the fact that yes—he kissed you. For real, this time. Not almost. Not nearly. He kissed you and it didn’t feel like a one-time thing. It felt like a beginning. Your fingers came up to touch your lips. Still warm. You didn’t know how long you stood there before you finally moved, slipping out of your shoes, bag sliding off your shoulder as you made your way toward your room on shaky legs. The silence was deafening now, but your heart was still pounding—like it didn’t want to forget the feel of his mouth on yours. Or the way he looked at you after, like he was proud of himself for getting under your skin. You got ready slowly, almost on autopilot. Changed into a tank top and sleep shorts, washed your face and lied in bed.

Riki

u home safe?

♡

You

yeah :)

it was nice tonight

♡

Riki

yeah

i wanna kiss u again

♡

You

me too :(

wanna see u

can i tutor u tmr?

♡

Riki

yes bby

i’ll see u tmr

have a gn <3

♡

You

goodnight riki :)

You’re five minutes early. The wind bites at your cheeks as you walk toward the library steps, hugging your jacket tighter. You check your phone, scrolling to Riki’s last message—“meet u outside <3”—sent fifteen minutes ago. Your heart’s light. You didn’t even bother to hide the smile on your face the whole way here.But then you look up, and freeze. He’s standing by the stone wall near the entrance, just a few steps away. You see his hoodie, the slight slouch in his posture—familiar and stupidly comforting. But he’s facing someone. A girl. Her hands are on his shoulders. And before you can fully process what’s happening—she leans in and kisses him. And Riki doesn’t push her away. Not right away. Not fast enough. Not before your stomach drops. You don’t realize you’ve made a sound until Riki turns his head sharply, his eyes locking with yours. It takes a split second. Your feet move before your brain does. You turn around and bolt. Down the steps, past the trees, across the yard. Your throat is tight. You hate that your eyes sting already. You blink hard, trying not to cry in the middle of campus like an idiot. “Wait—Y/N!!” His voice slices through the air, panicked, but you ignore it. You keep walking, fast, arms wrapped around yourself like they might hold your chest together. But then you hear it again, closer this time—“Stop—please, wait—” His fingers close around your wrist, gentle but firm. “Y/N, wait—just let me—” You yank your arm away like it burns. He flinches. Your voice comes out thin and raw. “Don’t.” He freezes in front of you, breathing hard, eyes wide. “It wasn’t what it looked like.” You laugh. It sounds broken, bitter. “Right.” “She kissed me,” he says quickly. “I didn’t—she just—” “It’s fine.” You cut him off, voice sharp. Your hands are trembling, and you shove them into your pockets so he doesn’t see. “We weren’t anything anyway.” Riki blinks.

Like he didn’t expect that to come out of your mouth. Like he can’t quite believe you said it. You swallow hard, your throat tight. “You should go back to her.” His face falls. He actually looks hurt. “Don’t say that.” You step back. “Why not? She obviously wants you. You let her kiss you. Maybe she’s more your type.” Riki shakes his head, jaw clenched. “You don’t get it.” “No, I don’t,” you snap. “And I don’t think I want to anymore.” You don’t wait to see the way his expression shatters. You turn and walk off again, fast, ignoring his voice behind you, ignoring the way your chest feels like it might crack open. You just need to be alone before the tears fall for real. You make it home before the tears really start. But once the door shuts behind you, it’s over. You sink down to the floor, your bag still slung over your shoulder, and bury your face in your hands. God. You were so stupid. You knew what kind of guy he was. Riki—the bad boy, the campus heartbreaker, the one who didn’t give a damn about anyone. He skipped class, flirted for fun, kissed girls at parties and it meant nothing. So why did it feel like he meant it with you? Why did it feel real? You curl up on your bed a while later, your throat raw from crying, your pillow damp. Your phone lights up every few minutes—his name over and over.

Riki

calling…

calling…

missed call (8)

missed call (9)

missed call (10)

You ignore every one. Until you can’t anymore. The eleventh time, you finally press accept. You hold the phone up to your ear, but you don’t say anything right away. There’s silence. Then, with your voice hoarse and unsteady, barely more than a whisper, “…what do you want?” There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then a low, broken breath. “Fuck—baby,” Riki says, his voice wrecked. “Please don’t hang up.” You bite your lip hard, trying not to let the tears start again. Your voice shakes anyway.“Why are you calling me?” you whisper. “Didn’t get enough with her?” “No,” he snaps, immediate. Desperate. “It wasn’t like that. She kissed me—I didn’t—I didn’t kiss her back. I pushed her off. I swear to god, baby.” You close your eyes, heart pounding painfully. “I saw you.” “And I saw you walk away with tears in your eyes, and it fucking killed me.” His voice cracks slightly. “I didn’t even get to explain. I—I never wanted her. I only wanted you.” You’re silent. Your breathing’s uneven, and your throat aches. “I know what it looked like,” he says quietly, “but you have to believe me. You’re the only one I’ve been thinking about since that first day. You—fuck, baby, I’m so sorry. I’d never do that to you. Never.” Your fingers curl around the edge of your blanket. “…you don’t get to call me baby right now,” you whisper, trying to sound angry—but it comes out weak. Wounded. Riki breathes in, like he’s trying to steady himself. “Okay. Okay, I won’t. Just…let me talk to you. Please.”

There’s a long pause. You finally speak again, small and broken, “I thought you actually liked me.” “I do.” His voice rises, full of emotion now. “I do like you. You think I’m lying? You think I’d show up to every tutoring session, text you every night, call you ten times just to hurt you? I didn’t even want anyone else to look at me once I had you.” “…then why did she kiss you?” “I don’t know. I don’t care. I was waiting for you.” Another tear slips down your cheek. You press your lips together. “…I need to go.” “No—wait. Please.” His voice is rough. “Don’t hang up. I’ll come over. Just let me see you. Let me explain everything. I’ll wait outside if I have to. Just—don’t shut me out.” You’re quiet. Your heart hurts too much to answer. “…can I come?” he asks again, softer this time. “Just to talk. Please.” You sniffle, wiping your cheek. Your chest aches, your throat thick. “…Fine,” you whisper. “Just to talk.” You can practically hear the relief rush out of him through the phone. “Okay. I’m coming. I’ll be there in ten.” You hang up before you can second guess it.

It’s quiet when you unlock the door for him. You don’t say anything. Just step aside and let him in, eyes puffy and downcast. Riki steps in slowly, eyes locked on you like you might disappear. His expression is tense— jaw tight, hair messier than usual, like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop. There’s something panicked in his eyes, but soft, too—like he’s afraid to break you any further. “Hey,” he says, voice low. You step back and wrap your arms around yourself.

“Talk, Riki.” He swallows and nods. “I didn’t want her to kiss me. I swear.” His voice is quiet, but every word is urgent. “I was waiting for you. I was looking for you. And then she—she just came up out of nowhere and I was shocked. I pushed her off right away. I told her I wasn’t interested. I only wanted you.” You shake your head, looking away. “Why would she even think she could do that?” “I don’t know. I don’t talk to her. She just… she saw me waiting and came over. I swear on everything, I never touched her.” Your bottom lip trembles. Riki steps closer, but not too close. “You can be mad,” he murmurs. “I’ll take it. I’ll take anything. Just—don’t think I didn’t mean everything I said to you. Because I did. Every text. Every time I called you baby. Every time I kissed you. It was all real.” You blink fast, eyes blurring again. “I thought I was just another girl to you,” you whisper. “I thought you were just…playing with me.” His face breaks, jaw clenched like he’s in pain. “You’re not just another girl. Don’t say that,” he breathes. “You’re the only one who ever made me nervous. The only one who made me feel like I actually wanted to try.” You stare at him, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. “…I liked you so much,” you whisper. “I still do.” Riki closes the distance now, carefully. Slowly. His hand lifts, tentative, before he touches your face, wiping your tears gently with the side of his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you.” You nod, lips trembling.

“I was scared,” you admit softly. “I didn’t think someone like you would ever really care about me.” His thumb grazes your cheekbone, and he exhales shakily. “I care about you more than I know what to do with,” he says. “I haven’t even been able to sleep since I saw you cry.” Your eyes finally meet his. His are red-rimmed now too. “Can I hold you?” he asks quietly. You nod. He steps forward and wraps his arms around you—firm and warm, like an anchor—and you bury your face into his chest. He kisses the top of your head. Again and again. And you cry, just a little, into his hoodie. You pull away slowly, your heart thudding so loud you’re sure he hears it, his hands still holding onto your waist like he’s afraid to let go. “…What are we, Riki?” you whisper. He exhales, eyes closed. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice low and honest. “But I know I want you. And only you.” You’re quiet for a moment, lips tugging into a small, shy smile. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you ask, soft and teasing, but there’s something hopeful under it. A little nervous. Like you’re still afraid he might not want that. His eyes open slowly, meeting yours like they never want to look away again. “Yeah,” he says, no hesitation. “You are.” He cups your face and pulls you in for a kiss. So soft and sweet, and you melt from his touch. Riki pulls back slightly, his lips curved in a soft smile but with a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “I should probably go…” he murmurs quietly. You blink, a little disappointed but trying not to show it. “Okay,” you say softly. He steps forward and wraps you in a warm hug, holding you just a moment longer than expected. Then he pulls back gently, brushing his lips against yours in a light, lingering kiss. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispers. With one last look, he turns and leaves you standing there, the quiet night wrapping around you as you watch him go, and then you head inside, alone with your thoughts, ready to sleep.

The morning sun cast a soft glow over campus as you walked side by side with Riki, the usual hum of students around you fading into the background. The tension from last night’s conversation had shifted something between you, something subtle but undeniable. As you both made your way to class, your fingers brushed unintentionally at first. Then, just as casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Riki slipped his hand around yours, intertwining your fingers. Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let yourself fall into the warmth of his touch, feeling the silent declaration it carried. People passing by glanced at you, whispering or maybe just staring, but Riki didn’t care. His grip tightened ever so slightly. The confidence in his stride made you think that maybe, just maybe, he was serious about this—about you. When you settled into class, Riki sat beside you. Not the usual casual distance but close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed. The air between you was thick with unspoken words and nervous excitement. You caught his eyes once or twice, and each time there was a flicker of something soft, something more than the usual teasing smirk. After class, you headed to grab lunch together.

The cafeteria was buzzing with the midday rush, but the two of you found a quiet corner table. The conversation was easy—more natural than you expected. He asked about your plans, your classes, even cracked a few jokes that made you laugh despite yourself. Then, between bites, Riki’s expression shifted to something more serious, though still laced with that effortless charm. He nudged you with his elbow and smirked. “Hey, you never came to my dorm,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear. You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Yeah? I guess you never invited me.” “Well,” he said, tightening his grip on your hand just a little, “how about we do tutoring there today? Change of scenery. I promise it’ll be better than the library.” You hesitated for a moment, the idea stirring something nervous but exciting inside you. But the way he looked at you like he wanted you there, made the decision easy. “Okay,” you said with a small smile, “I’m in.” Riki grinned, his fingers squeezing yours gently as you both stood up and left the cafeteria. The campus felt different today, like the world was shifting just for you two.

You stood outside Riki’s dorm, shifting on your feet as you knocked on the door, and it opened almost instantly. He leaned against the frame in a black tee and sweats, hair messy and a little damp from the shower. His gaze landed on you, and stayed. His eyes dragged down your body, slow and deliberate, to the way your tank top clung perfectly to your body and tits, and your soft thighs exposed for him to see from your shorts. He tilted his head slightly. “You wore this for tutoring?” he asked, voice low, licking his lips without even thinking. Your heart stuttered. You blinked. “This isn’t the library,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual. “I wanted to be comfortable.” But your voice faltered near the end, and your fingers instinctively pulled at the hem of your tank top—smoothing it, adjusting it, anything to distract from how hot his stare was making you feel. Riki grinned a little, like he noticed. He stepped aside, letting you in, but his gaze never left your back as you walked past him into his dorm. “You look good.” he murmured behind you, door clicking shut. His room was a little messy—papers scattered on his desk, a jacket thrown on the chair, sheets pulled halfway off his bed. It smelled like something warm and clean and distinctly him. You turned around slowly to face him, already feeling the tension creep up your spine. “We’re actually going to study this time, right?”

Riki smirked, moving closer and letting his fingers brush against yours as he took the textbook from your hands. “You’re the tutor,” he said softly, “but you’re the one distracting me.” You both sat side by side at the desk in his dorm, the soft scrape of your notebook sliding across the surface breaking the quiet.

Riki had his phone face-down for once, pen in hand, brows pulled together as he tried to focus while you explained the material to him. At first, he did try, really. He nodded when he understood, wrote a few things down, even asked a decent follow-up question. But after about ten minutes, you started to notice the shift. His eyes wandered. You were mid-sentence, pointing to a diagram in the textbook, when you caught him staring—not at the page, but at you. Your tank top had slipped slightly as you leaned forward, and his gaze dipped, slow and deliberate. He didn’t even try to hide it. His eyes trailed over the curve of your chest, down to your exposed thighs where your shorts had bunched up a little from how you were sitting. You shifted, subtly pulling your hem lower, but it didn’t matter. Riki licked his lips. Your voice faltered for a second. “Riki…” “Hm?” he looked up, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just spent the last few seconds undressing you with his eyes. “You’re not listening.” “I am,” he murmured, lips twitching into a grin. “I’m just…multitasking.”You narrowed your eyes. “Multitasking?” “Yeah. Learning,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “And appreciating the view.” Your cheeks burned. “You’re such an ass.” He leaned back in his chair, still staring at you like he was starving. “You wore that to tutor me, and now you expect me to focus?” You crossed your arms, but the movement just made his gaze drop again—and linger.

“I didn’t wear it for you,” you muttered, defensive. He smiled, cocky. “Sure you didn’t.” You grabbed your pen again, trying to return to the material. “We’re not doing this.” But even as you flipped the page, you could feel the weight of his gaze—slow, heavy, like he was touching you without laying a finger on you. And when you dared to glance at him again, he was already leaning closer.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus on the page in front of you—desperately ignoring how close Riki had gotten. “Okay,” you started, voice a little shaky, “so if you look at this equation, the—” His hand slid onto your thigh. You froze. He was still looking at the book, acting completely casual as his fingers brushed over your skin slowly, warm and lazy through the soft fabric of your shorts. His touch was featherlight, almost teasing. You glanced at him, heart stuttering. “Riki…” “Keep going,” he said, voice low. “I’m listening.” But you could barely remember what you were supposed to say. You tried to explain again, stumbling over your words as his hand dragged just a little higher. Your breath hitched. “Y-You need to factor the—uh—the terms that—” “Am i making you nervous, baby?” he murmured, finally looking at you, his lips close to your ear. You tried to pull it together. “You need to focus.” He chuckled, eyes heavy with heat. “Don’t wanna.” Before you could protest again, he leaned in, pressing his lips softly to the side of your neck. You gasped—his hand inching higher, fingers drawing lazy circles over your inner thigh now. “Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely holding steady. “Hmm?” he mumbled against your skin, kissing just under your jaw now. “Thought you wanted to tutor me, baby.” You did. But not like this. Not when his touch made your brain melt and your heart beat out of rhythm.

Your mind blurred, your voice giving out in a breathy stutter as Riki’s lips ghosted over your skin, his fingers inching higher up your thigh. “Yes” you whispered, barely managing to meet his eyes. “This is supposed to be tutoring…” He looked at you slowly, like he already knew you were too far gone to stop him now. His hand slid from your thigh up to your waist, gripping you gently but firmly. “You’re not exactly stopping me.” You opened your mouth to argue, but the words never made it out—because he kissed you. Deep and unhurried, his mouth moved against yours like he’d been craving it all day. You whimpered softly against his lips, your hands clutching at the edge of the desk. He pulled you closer by the waist, tugging you effortlessly toward him until you were sliding off your chair and onto his lap. A surprised gasp escaped you, your hands bracing against his shoulders, your thighs straddling his as he settled you in place. Your heart was racing—every nerve lit up. “Riki…” you murmured, breathless, as he leaned up to kiss you again, slow and deep, like he was trying to make you forget everything but the way he tasted.

His hands slide up your thighs, slow and warm, while his mouth moves against yours like he can’t get enough. You’re straddling his lap, knees on either side of him, and you can feel how hard he is beneath you. His kiss deepens, tongue brushing yours, and when he finally pulls away to catch his breath, his lips don’t go far. They drag down your jaw, toward your neck. You gasp softly when he kisses just below your ear. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin. His hand slips under your tank top, just brushing along your waist—barely touching. “Is it me?” You don’t answer, just whimper softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He chuckles lowly against your throat, the sound smug and warm. His hand slides higher up your back, teasing the hem of your bra. His mouth finds a spot on your neck that makes your hips twitch—he groans. “You were so focused,” he says, kissing down your neck, “and now look at you.” You gasp as he grinds your hips down gently against him, slow and in control.

His mouth moves over yours slow and deep, his tongue coaxing soft whimpers from you between breaths. And then he pulls back just enough to look at you. His voice drops, low and serious, rough at the edges. “Want me to stop?” You’re already trembling a little, lips swollen from his kisses, breath shallow in your throat. But you don’t hesitate. You shake your head, soft and certain. “No,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.” He lets out a low groan, hands flexing around your thighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself, before dragging you into another hungry kiss. Your fingers wind into his hair, tugging gently, making him moan against your mouth. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, underneath your shorts, pulling you closer until your hips press flush against his. You gasp into his mouth, and his fingers tighten on your waist. He starts guiding your hips slowly against him, making you grind right onto his hard-on through his sweats. “Just like that, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your jaw. “You feel that?” Your cheeks burn. You nod, barely holding back the moan that threatens to slip out. You keep moving, grinding softly on him like instinct, heat curling low in your stomach with every roll of your hips. “So cute” he breathes, mouth dipping to slowly kiss your neck again. “You look so good on my lap, princess.”

Your hips roll harder on him now, the friction making your head spin. You whimper into his ear, breathless, and he curses under his breath as your hand slides between your bodies. You palm him over his sweats, slow and uncertain at first, your fingers trailing along the thick shape of him, teasing. His hips twitch up into your touch, jaw clenched as he watches you with fire in his eyes “Fuck, baby—” he groans, head falling back slightly. You feel the way he breathes harder, the way his thighs tense under yours, how his eyes go heavy-lidded every time you grind down just right. Then, with one last soft kiss to his lips, you pull back. Your cheeks are flushed, lips parted, and your voice is a little shaky when you whisper,“Can I…?” You glance down at his lap, then back up at him through your lashes. “I wanna… try.” Your hands slide down his chest as you slip from his lap, sinking onto your knees between his legs before you can second-guess it. The carpet is soft under your bare knees, your hands resting on his thighs, breath shallow. Riki stares at you, stunned. Eyes wide, lips parted. “Wait—” he says quickly, breath catching in his throat. “Are you sure, baby?” You nod, biting your lip. Your fingers toy with the waistband of his sweats, looking up at him with those big, desperate eyes that have always made him weak. “I want to,” you whisper, soft but certain. “wanna make you feel good.” He exhales shakily, like he’s trying to hold himself together, one hand running through his hair as he mutters, “Jesus, baby…you’re killing me.”

Your fingers tremble just slightly as you reach for the hem of your shirt. You pause for a second, nervous but determined, before tugging it up and over your head, baring yourself to him. Your cheeks burn the moment his eyes drop to your chest. The soft blue lace of your bra clings to your skin, delicate and pretty, and Riki looks like he’s about to lose it. His breath catches. “Baby…” he murmurs, voice suddenly lower, rougher. His eyes drag slowly over your figure like he’s trying to memorize the sight. “You wore that for me?” You nod shyly, glancing down, arms folding just a little in front of your body. You’re flustered, nervous, but you want him to like what he sees. You want this to be good for him, unforgettable.

“I just…I wanted to look good,” you admit softly, peeking up at him. “For you.” He leans forward immediately, grabbing your wrists gently and pulling your hands away from your body. “You look perfect,” he says, dead serious. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby.” Your stomach flutters wildly. Slowly, carefully, you bring your hands back down to his lap. You hook your fingers under the waistband of his sweats, heart pounding, and tug them down along with his boxers, just low enough to free him. He’s hard, big, leaking, and your lips part slightly at the sight of him. Riki watches your every move like he’s in a trance, his fingers twitching on his thighs like he’s trying so hard not to grab you. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, eyes searching yours. “You don’t have to do anything—” You nod quickly, still on your knees in front of him, lips brushing softly against his lower abdomen as you glance up at him through your lashes.

Your lips part just slightly as you lower yourself, your breath warm against his tip. You press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to it, delicate, teasing. Then you do it again, and again, letting your tongue flick out for the smallest kitten licks. Riki groans low in his throat, his hips twitching. “Fuck…” he breathes, eyes locked on you like you’re the most unreal thing he’s ever seen. His hand goes straight to your hair, fingers threading into it with a firm grip. “You’re such a tease, baby.” You let your lips wrap around him fully, just the tip, sucking softly, slow and sweet. His hand tightens in your hair, and you hear the shift in his breath—rougher, needier. “You look so good like this,” he mutters, his voice dark and low. “My little tutor girl taking my cock in her pretty mouth.” You whimper softly around him, cheeks flushed. You hollow your cheeks and take a little more, your tongue swirling around him, and his grip tightens just slightly. “Shit, baby—doing so good for me,” he groans, watching you bob your head just a little. “You like this? Like makin’ me feel good, hm?” You hum around him, eyes fluttering shut for a second before looking back up at him through your lashes—submissive, eager, needy for his praise. His other hand comes up, fingers gently cupping your jaw to guide your pace as he breathes hard, watching every slow movement of your lips. “You gonna take more for me, baby?” he asks, voice gravelly. “Gonna let me fuck that sweet mouth a little?” And the way he says it, low and filthy, makes your thighs clench together as you nod, obedient and breathless, letting him guide you deeper.

His grip in your hair tightens just slightly, and he watches with hooded eyes as you take more of him in. You feel the gentle pressure as he begins guiding your head, slowly at first, pushing you down, then letting you come up for air, only to press you back down again. “Just like that, baby,” he breathes, voice rough and low. Your lips stretch around him as he slowly builds a rhythm, hips barely moving, letting your mouth do the work, guided by his hands. You moan softly, the vibrations making him hiss through his teeth. Tears prick at your eyes from the effort, trailing down your cheeks as your jaw strains, your tongue flattening against the underside of his cock. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking what you can’t fit, trying to keep up with the pace he’s setting. “Fuck—look at you,” he groans, breath catching. “Crying on my cock like that. Letting me fuck your mouth.” His voice sends a pulse of heat through your entire body. His thumb wipes a tear off your cheek almost sweetly, his other hand never loosening from your hair. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice dark and full of heat. “Doing so good for me.” His hips stutter as your hand works him faster, your warm breath ghosting over his tip. “Fuck, baby—” he gasps, hips twitching forward as his cock throbs against your hand. “You’re gonna make me cum… shit—”

You look up at him with those big, glassy eyes, tongue out and waiting, so eager, so needy. “Holy fuck—” Riki growls, head tipping back. “You really want it, don’t you, baby?” You nod, whining softly as you stick your tongue out further, your other hand bracing against his thigh. That’s all it takes. With a low, guttural moan, he finishes—hot spurts painting your tongue, your lips, and spilling down onto your chest. He watches, completely wrecked, as you keep still for him, letting him make a mess of you. When it’s done, you slowly close your mouth and swallow with a soft gulp, then open up again and poke your tongue out to show him—empty now. His breath catches. “Fuck,” he mutters, eyes dark as he cups your jaw in his palm. “You swallowed all of it?” You nod shyly, cheeks flushed, tongue still out just a little as you blink up at him. He lets out a low, breathless laugh, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “My good fuckin’ girl,” he murmurs. “Look at you…” He leans down and kisses you—slow, filthy, and deep, tasting himself on your tongue. “It’s my turn to make you feel good now, yeah?” he whispers against your lips. You’re still catching your breath when he pulls you up gently, his hands firm on your waist as he helps you sit on the edge of the desk. Your legs dangle, a little shaky, but Riki steps between them, caging you in with his arms as he leans down to kiss you, slowly and hungrily. His hands slide up your sides, over the soft fabric of your bra, cupping your breasts as he groans into your mouth. “You’re unreal,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look down at you. “Bend over for me, baby.” You blink up at him, heart fluttering. “Here?” He just smirks, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You heard me.”

Your cheeks flush, but you nod, sliding off the desk slowly, turning around. You lean over it, bracing your hands flat on the surface, your breathing already unsteady. You feel his eyes on you, burning hot as you reach down and slowly start tugging your shorts and panties down together, baring yourself inch by inch. A soft sound leaves his throat behind you, low and rough. “Fuck…” You hear the rustle of his clothes behind you, his hands moving to gently push your legs further apart. His palms ghosts over your ass, then down your thighs, teasing. He leans down, lips brushing the back of your neck. “So cute, bent over my desk like that…” You gasp softly as you feel him bend down behind you, one hand sliding up your thigh, the other gently gripping your hip to keep you steady. Your bare core clenches at the thought of how close he is, how exposed you are. “Riki—” you whisper, voice shaky, head turning over your shoulder. “You’re…really close…” He hums, amused, lips brushing your inner thigh. “That’s the point, baby.” You bite your lip, face burning as you hide it in the crook of your elbow. It’s so intimate, his breath on your bare skin, his fingers teasing the softness of your inner thighs. He leaves sweet kisses on your ass and thighs, before bringing his fingers on your folds, making you whine. He moves them slowly, gathering your wetness, from your hole to your clit and you can’t help but moan. Then you feel it—his tongue. A soft, slow lick up your folds, warm and deliberate. You let out a whimper, legs trembling as your knees almost buckle. His grip tightens on your hips. “Stay still, princess.” he murmurs, low and commanding.

You nod, helplessly, barely able to breathe as he buries his face between your thighs. His tongue moves with devastating skill, licking, sucking, flicking against your clit until your thighs start to shake. You let out soft, desperate moans, biting into your forearm to stay quiet, but he hears them. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he mutters into your heat, tongue diving deeper. “This all mine now, yeah?” “Y-Yes,” you whimper, gripping the edge of the desk. “Riki…oh my god…”

He groans into you, clearly turned on by your reaction, and his hands squeeze your hips tighter as his tongue flicks again and again against your sensitive clit. His hand slides between your legs, and you gasp when you feel two fingers press against your entrance, slick and slow as they slide in deep. Your back arches, mouth falling open as a moan escapes. “R-Riki—” He groans, thumb coming up to press soft circles against your clit as his fingers curl inside you, stretching you open. “Fuck…so warm” he mutters, mouth hot on your inner thigh again. Your legs are shaking, your hands gripping the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The combination of his fingers and mouth has your brain melting, every movement making you whimper, every moan just making him move rougher, deeper. “You gonna come on my fingers, baby?“ he murmurs, voice teasing now, cocky. You let out a broken moan, unsure if you can even speak, and that just makes him smirk. “Too dumb already?” he coos. “My smart little tutor girl can’t even think straight anymore.” He pumps his fingers a little faster, curling them just right, and you nearly collapse against the desk.

Your body tightens, every nerve on fire as his fingers work magic inside you. Warmth spreads fast, rushing through your core like wildfire. A broken moan escapes your lips, and you shudder, trembling against the desk as your release crashes over you—hard and sudden, stealing your breath away. Riki’s tongue flicks up eagerly, licking every drop of your juices with deliberate care, his eyes dark with hunger and satisfaction. When he pulls back, he wipes his mouth, voice low and rough.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He stands, towering over you, already hard again. His hands move quickly, slipping off his shirt, then lowering his sweats, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. Without breaking eye contact, he lifts you up with ease, carrying you toward the bed. He lays you down slowly, lips trailing over yours in a heated kiss that melts the space between you. His mouth moves down to your neck, leaving soft, urgent kisses that make your breath hitch. His hands roam boldly, cupping your breasts firmly, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “Off.” he murmurs low and commanding. You fumble shyly but obey, sliding the straps down your arms until your bra is discarded. Almost immediately, he’s sucking on your bare skin, his mouth teasing and claiming your breasts, while his hips grind hard against your heat. The friction sends a jolt straight through you, making your body arch toward him, hungry for more. He trails his mouth over your breasts and collarbones, leaving dark, bruising hickeys that bloom deliciously against your skin. You reach down, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his abs, feeling the heat and strength beneath your touch. Then your hand slips lower, cupping the hard length pressing against his boxers. “Please, Riki,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “need you now.”

“Fuck..” He slowly lowers his boxers, freeing himself as his eyes never leave yours. His hand wraps around his thick length, pumping a slow, steady rhythm. He carefully spreads your legs further , his fingers grazing your inner thighs, sending shivers racing through your body. A soft whimper escapes your lips as he slides his length up and down your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Slowly, he moves lower, and enters you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you out so deliciously. The stretch makes you cling instinctively to his neck, a low whine slipping from your throat as your body adjusts to the fullness when he bottoms out. His hands keep caressing your thighs, steady and reassuring, as he begins to slowly move. He starts slow, each thrust deliberate and measured, watching you closely as your soft moans and whimpers fill the room. The way your body reacts to him, the way you cling to him, only fuels his desire. “Doing so good, baby—fuck,” he growls, his voice low and possessive. “Such a good girl for me.”

His hands grip your hips firmly, steadying you as he picks up the pace, moving deeper and faster now, the intensity rising with every stroke. Without breaking rhythm, he lifts one of your legs and rests it over his shoulder, giving him better leverage and letting him reach places that make you gasp uncontrollably. “So tight and warm for me, so perfect.” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing your neck. His praise sends a heat rushing through you, mixing with the pleasure and making your breath hitch as he drives into you harder. The stretch still making your body tremble with every push. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, and without breaking pace, he reached up, bringing two fingers to your lips. “Open,” he murmured, voice rough.

You parted your lips obediently, shy but too far gone to resist. He slid his fingers onto your tongue and you immediately began to suck, lashes fluttering as your gaze lifted to meet his. The sight of you like that, lips wrapped around his fingers, eyes wide and watering, making his skin all wet and slick with your spit, made him groan low in his chest. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed. “Look at you.” You whined around his fingers, his pace quickening slightly, hips snapping harder into yours. The new angle made your body jolt, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. He pressed his palm to your tummy, just above where he was buried deep inside you, and you gasped when you felt the pressure. “That’s me, huh? You feel me here?” he gritted through clenched teeth, pressing down just a little more. You nodded frantically, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth around his fingers. The feeling, the pressure, the fullness, it was overwhelming in the best way. Your free hand moved up into his hair, tugging gently, grounding yourself. His fingers slipped from your mouth and your lips chased after them, your breath shaky and desperate. Pressing firmly on your tummy, you choke on a moan, your entire body tightening around him “There, baby?” he murmurs huskily. You nod, heart pounding in your chest, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. Slowly, shy but full of trust, you reach up, one hand brushing against his jawline, the other still entwined in his hair. Your touch is gentle, almost worshipful as you caress his face and run your fingers through his hair.

“My smart boy,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. Something snaps in him when he hears that. His pupils dilate, breath hitches, and the rough edge to his expression softens for a split second before darkening with raw hunger. He groans low in his throat, voice rough and desperate “Holy fuck” he breathes softly, tugging you impossibly closer, fingers tightening their grip on your body. “Say it again, baby. Say it—tell me I’m your smart boy.” Your heart races, the power of your words sinking deep into him. He buries his face in your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, marking you with his need and possessiveness as he pounds harder, deeper. You’re a moaning mess, breath shaky and heart hammering as you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes. Your fingers brush tenderly along his jaw and cheek, tracing every sharp line of his face. “You’re my smart boy, baby,” you whisper, voice thick with need and affection, the words tumbling out soft and shaky. He groans low in response, dick twitching inside you as he pulls you impossibly close, his voice rough and ragged. “I’m so close,” he pants, every thrust hitting deeper and harder. You bite your lip, desperate and breathless. “Me too, Riki…g’na cum,” you manage to say, voice barely audible. He brings his fingers down to your clit, moving them in slow circles, as you whine. Your body clenches around him, trembling as you finally reach your peak, a shuddering wave that makes you cry out softly.

He holds you tight through every pulse, never slowing, until with a final, guttural groan, he pulls out and spills himself over your heat, watching intently as it drips and glistens, messy and sticky. His hand gently cupped the back of your leg as he lowered it from his shoulder, eyes never leaving you. You whimpered softly at the emptiness, the overstimulation making your thighs twitch. Riki leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, then another to your tummy, and finally your lips. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice much softer now, low, raspy, but sweet. You nodded, but your lashes fluttered tiredly and your bottom lip trembled just a bit. It had been a lot. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “You did so good, baby.” Riki sat back on the bed, chest rising and falling with every breath, hair messy. His eyes traveled over you, slowly, like couldn’t believe you were real. You lay there catching your breath, hair a messy halo on the pillow, lips kiss-swollen and parted, your skin kissed red with hickeys across your collarbones and tits. The soft sheen of sweat clung to you, and remnants of his cum still lingered on your chest and cunt, glistening faintly in the low light. His eyes trailed lower and he groaned, running a hand through his hair as a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Shit,” he muttered, voice rough but amused, eyes locked on you. “I’m gonna get hard again.” You giggled, still breathless, hiding your face behind your hands, and he leaned forward, pulling them gently away so he could see you. “Don’t hide from me, princess,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek. “You’re so fucking cute.”

my other works ➵ masterlist

@0403s

© guliexe

[snoopyracing]

somebody else — ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader word count: 12k warnings: swearing, smut (18+) (p in v, no protection, oral, multiple orgasms, and a little praise kink if you squint) includes: toxic!lando, prior relationship issues, cheating, angst, drama, and an arthurtv cameo summary: when you finally decide to stop waiting around for lando and find someone new he doesn't take it very well. relationships are tested, hearts are broken, tears are shed, and it seems like things will never work out like you want. a/n: this is messy af and lando is such an asshole in this. anyways this is loosely based off of 'somebody else' by the 1975. enjoy!!

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Canadian Grand Prix 2025

Only Lando Norris could be miserable in a five star hotel. The Egyptian cotton four hundred count thread sheets were too scratchy. The air vents were too noisy. The bed was too hard. He could hear every noise from outside. If there was something to complain about or be dissatisfied with– Lando could name it.

The alarm clock on the nightstand kept taunting him– the minutes constantly passing while he tossed and turned. Which– who even really uses a physical alarm clock anymore? He blamed the ‘shitty’ hotel and nerves for the race tomorrow on his restlessness, but the real culprit was a combination of his undiagnosed insomnia and the electronic device that laid on the bed beside him.

The TV, which had horrible channels, played quietly in the background. The screen illuminated the room, yet he couldn’t even tell you what was playing. There’s the option of watching Netflix on his phone, but he was avoiding that thing like the plague. His eyes flickered over to it every minute, or at least that’s what it seemed. Every time the screen lit up or he felt a vibration his heart skipped a beat. Hell, he’d even considered locking it up in the hotel room safe for the night just to be able to try and get some shut eye, but the slight possibility of your name popping back up on his screen again deterred him.

In all honesty Lando knew he was being dramatic, but god the power you held over him just by sending him a single text had him sick to his stomach. 

The text in question had been sent right before qualifying earlier today. Lando was getting ready to leave his driver’s room when a ding echoing through the tiny room stopped him in his tracks. A smile stretched across his face when he saw your name pop up on the screen. He figured it was your usual good luck text so he quickly tapped the notification, but when the message opened his smile faltered and the feeling of giddiness was immediately replaced with dread. 

y/n: hey lan. i know silverstone is coming up and i was wondering if there was any way you could get two extra passes for arthur and me? he’s a big fan and i’d love to give him the full experience!! 

Lando locked his phone and tossed it on the little sofa against the wall, not even caring if it bounced off and shattered. A little part of him hopes it does so then maybe he wouldn’t have to see that guy's name in his phone and in a conversation with you again. His stomach hurts and his mind is in every mode but qualifying mode. God did you just send that to him to fuck with him? To rub your happy and loving relationship in his face? 

He’s not sure why you’re making it seem like you don’t already have a pass for Silverstone. You were in the garage every year and if there was one thing Lando knew was certain it was that there would always be a pass with your name on it and he thought he’d made that clear to you years ago. Not even just for Silverstone though, any race you wanted to go to all you had to do was tell him and there’d be a shiny pass with your name on it.

For your boyfriend though, now that would be a different story. Lando could say the garage would be too full, which in all honesty it will be pretty full. But then he knows if he says that then you’ll just sit in the grandstands with Arthur and not in the garage where you belong. His family will ask where you’re at and then he’ll get that look from his Mother that makes him want to crawl inside his own body. If Lando had it his way your boyfriend wouldn’t even be allowed at the race, let alone in his side of the garage.

Lando truthfully had no reason to hate your boyfriend and Lando wouldn’t say he actually hates him. It’s just that he can’t stand him. Arthur has never been anything but friendly the couple of times Lando has been around him, but Lando can’t stomach thinking of the two of you together, let alone see you with his own two eyes.

It didn’t help that Lando had technically been the one to introduce you guys and if he could do it all over again he would have never invited you to that Quadrant shoot last year. At that point in time it was nothing out of the ordinary for you to tag along with Lando to things and that even included the occasional Quadrant shoot. When you guys pulled up to Buckmore Park that day Lando had no idea he’d at least from his perspective, be losing you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

August 2024

It was a karting race video with a handful of some popular UK Youtubers, some of whom had already worked with Quadrant in the past. It seemed like it would be a fun filled day and you were excited to ultimately see the chaos that was about to ensue on the track shortly. While everything was being set up you chatted with some of the guys you already knew from previous shoots or events. Invites were thrown around for you to do some videos with them, claiming that you’d fit in well with their group of friends. You replied with a i’ll think about it, fully knowing how rowdy they get in their videos.

As the guys got suited up you made your way outside to find Lando– who wasn’t hard to find at all, with his fluro helmet sticking out like a sore thumb near the pits. “Do you need a good luck before this race?” You teased him as you approached. 

His race suit, which had been swapped out from papaya orange to LN blue and fluro, hung loosely around his hips, the arms flapping in the wind as he turned around at the sound of your voice. “God I hope not. If I don’t win this think I might retire from racing.” He jokes as he does up his race suit. 

“A couple of these guys have their own racing suits. You might have some competition here Lan.” He playfully rolls his eyes at you and you try to keep up the act by simply shrugging your shoulders at him, but the smile on your face cancels out any possibility of you being serious. 

You notice him fidgeting with the collar of his race suit, constantly doing an undoing the velcro. He’d never ask you, but it was an unspoken thing between you two for you to do it for him. He claims he can never get it situated like you do, you beg to differ. Either way you do it when you’re able to and it’s also in your own weird way a comfort thing for you, for you to be able to do one of the last things he does before getting into his car. It’s almost like a little send off and when you smooth your hand over that collar every time, you put every ounce of hope prayers and love– anything you can think of to get him safe and sound back to you. 

Though this time when you go to fix his collar you notice it’s quite tight. “Jeez Lan, been training your neck a little hard recently?” You had perhaps maybe noticed that he had beefed up over the course of the season.

“What can I say, I'm a beast.” He states with a big ole grin on his face. 

Your hands movement halts and you internally cringe over hearing him call himself that. Grabbing one side of the collar you forcefully pull it over and slap it down on the velcro, earning an exaggerated choking sound from Lando. 

“Alrighty then you beast. Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

As the qualifying laps start you watch from the viewing deck with the other guys who are waiting their turn. Cameras seem to be everywhere you turn, the crew not wanting to miss any possible content, some of the guys have go pros and you’re thankful someone hasn’t handed you one yet.

Lando had decided to do his qualifying laps first, to quote on quote show everyone how it’s done. You leaned against the wooden railing, watching intently as he flies by on each lap. The sound of kart engines and the smell of the exhaust bringing you back to simpler times, back to when things weren’t so complicated. 

Before your mind dives any deeper into the topic you’d rather keep locked away, a guy with fluffy brown hair and big brown eyes settles in next to you. Your brain rattles off a list of names, but none of them ring a bell. You’d met a handful of new people today and you’re not afraid to admit your memory can be dodgy at times, but you know you’d remember him. 

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Y/N.” You turn your body towards him, and when he turns to look at you the sun hits his eyes just right and their like pools of honey staring back at you. 

“I’m Arthur. It’s nice to meet you.” He extends his hand like a gentleman and you gladly take it in yours. “I do have to admit I knew who you were before you introduced yourself. I hope that doesn’t sound stalkerish.” 

Your head tilts in question. “Not stalkerish, but I am curious how you know me.” 

He kind of laughs like he thinks you’re joking, but when you stare blankly at him he clears his throat and straightens his posture. “Oh well, you know because Lando and you are together.” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh– an awkward forced laugh that you pray Arthur doesn’t catch on to. Many moons ago there was such a thing as Lando and you, but there wasn’t time to dwell on that at the moment. “Oh– we aren’t together.” 

“I’m sorry I assumed since you guys are always seen together.” 

You wave him off, simply wanting to put this part of the conversation in the past as quickly as possible. “It’s fine. It happens all the time. We’ve just been friends for a really long time.” Friends to very brief lovers then back to friends, but Arthur didn’t need to know that. “Anyways, have you ever karted before?” 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that talking to Arthur is easy and that he actually can hold a conversation, unlike the various guys you’ve talked to before. He’s easy going and smart and you two get so lost in the conversation that you forget that you’re on a video shoot. It’s not until someone forcibly tears Arthur away do you realize just how long you two have been talking. 

The rest of the shoot seems to go by in a whirlwind, yet you made sure to find Arthur before everyone packed up and left. “Hey, I was hoping to see you again before I left.” Arthur states as he sees you approaching him. 

Even though you wanted to see him again, it makes you somewhat giddy to know he felt the same. “Oh is that so?” 

A shy smile stretches across Arthur’s face as he nods at you. “It is and I was hoping to get your number or at least your Instagram?” 

That simple question is what changes your life and inherently changes your relationship with Lando over the course of the year. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The hour or so drive back to your apartment in London is quiet. You’re too absorbed in your phone to notice how tightly Lando’s gripping the steering wheel or how the only sound that does fill the car is that of the radio. You get annoyed by the constant commercials and it’s an unspoken rule that you play the music in the car, yet the UK’s Top 100 plays softly through the speakers. 

Lando acts like you smiling at your phone and hearing you giggle ever so often at it doesn’t bother him, but it totally does. It bothers him to no end and he’s not stupid, he knows exactly what or he guesses he should say who has you acting like this, yet he still does the one thing that he knows will make how he’s feeling worse. 

“Who’s got you so hypnotized by your phone?” 

You barely pay Lando any mind, not even bothering to look up from your phone as you mumble out a huh. You being so nonchalant only makes Lando’s jealousy (he won’t admit that he’s jealous or even internally admit that he is) that much worse. He grips the leather steering wheel of his Lamborghini Urus till his knuckles turn white and ponders if he should even try to continue the conversation, you clearly weren’t in this car with him at the moment.

“You’ve not said a word since we left Buckmore, you’ve been too engrossed in your phone.” He knows he’s probably coming across as a dick right now, but it must have worked because for the first time the whole car ride your eyes leave your phone and now gaze upon him. 

“Sorry, I was texting Arthur. What’s up?” You lock your phone and focus on the Brit next to you, who seemed to be bothered by something, probably the fact that Fewtrell beat him in the race. 

“You guys just met today didn’t you?” Lando pries for information, fully knowing the answers are going to hurt him. 

You feel your phone vibrate in your lap and it takes every ounce of willpower you have to ignore it and keep your attention on Lando. “Yeah, he’s super nice and funny. We’re gonna go out for drinks tomorrow night.” 

Lando feels like his stomach is about ready to fall out of his ass and all he can seem to do is force a smile towards you. “That’s nice.” Is all he can choke out before you’re picking up that damn phone again. He knows he has no right to be like this, to be so bent out of shape over you texting some guy. You’ve dated other guys in the past and technically he was the one to break things off before, but something was different now and god was this driving him insane. 

It’s no use in trying to continue the conversation and so Lando tries to distract himself with other things, but he’s heard the same ad for some injury lawyer five times during this car ride and when it comes up the sixth time he angrily swipes the volume dial to zero.

So now all that he’s left with is his thoughts and you, which just so happen to coincide. The constant buzzing of your phone will surely haunt his dreams tonight and when he drops you off at your apartment and you don’t ask him to hang out he knows things are going to change, if they haven’t already. 

It doesn’t take long for Lando to realize that he’s quickly being replaced in your life. Perhaps it was always destined to happen, it was rare for two young people to remain so close after a breakup, so maybe this was the universe restoring its natural order? But Lando always claimed that you two were different, you had a special bond that not many understood.

Childhood best friends, karting kids, two teenagers who had feelings bigger than themselves that eventually made things messy. Self preservation and self doubt ultimately made those feelings be pushed aside and the love you had for one another was put on the back burner. You both had relationships after whatever you two wanted to call what you had, none of them lasting long enough to actually be considered anything, but hell you weren’t even official with Arthur yet and he felt like he was on the edge of spiraling every time you mentioned him or were seen with him. 

It also didn’t take long for you to be integrated into Arthur’s friend group and for you to start appearing in videos. There were many nights, especially when he was thousands of miles away from home in some foreign country that he would go on a hate watch spree. It would be late at night, his insomnia kicking in, tucked away in his luxurious hotel room with his phone being the only source of light as the Youtube videos play.

He remembers the first time he saw you in a video (thanks to Twitter) and it was like a sucker punch to the gut. He hadn’t seen you in weeks or even really talked to you and when he saw you practically glued to Arthur’s side and with all these random people it was like he didn’t even know you. It hurt because Lando could tell you fit into their world– like you belonged. You always claimed to not like the theatrics and somewhat fakeness or materialistic sides of his life– the things that came with his job. You loved racing and it was the thing that brought Lando and you together, but you hated just about every other aspect of it. 

Lando couldn’t help but feel jealous as he watched more videos. He was living his dream, traveling the globe, living a lavish lifestyle, being known as one of the best racers in the world, and he was jealous of you. Jealous over you going out for drinks and having fun. For being in your twenties and finding a new group of friends to go out with freely. To be able to post some dumb video of you having a good time or being drunk, not caring about the public fallout or what people on the internet had to say about you. There was no public image for you to uphold or a clause in a contract that you had to abide by. 

As time passed Lando tried to focus all his time and energy into racing, trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t seen you in months or that hadn’t had a proper conversation with you in weeks. It’s pitiful to him that the only way he can seem to get an update from you is through Youtube videos or your social media, which you seem to be using way more frequently now. Guess you can freely post about what you’re up to or where you’re at now since you’re not with Lando all the time. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

February 2025 

When Arthur and you finally decided to make it official to the world, Lando just so happened to be back in London. He was at dinner with Max and his girlfriend and to no one’s surprise the topic quickly gravitated towards you. 

“Have you talked to Y/N lately?” Lando asks as nonchalantly as he can while skimming over the menu. 

Max eyes him from across the table, trying to gauge just how much his answer would affect his best friend. He could lie and say he hasn’t talked to you and that you guys didn’t go out on a double date last week or he could tell the truth. If he knows his best friend, which he thinks he does pretty well– he knows what decision to make.

So he decides to lie. 

“Uh I think she texted me a couple weeks ago, but it was just her asking if I had any extra hoodies from the latest Quadrant drop. I haven’t really spoken to her in some time.” Max hopes Lando doesn’t realize he just pulled that straight out of his ass and the topic of conversation can move to something else. 

Thankfully the waiter comes over to take their orders before Lando can respond, but as soon as they leave Lando’s sitting there with the most pathetic look on his face– just waiting for someone to ask him if he’s talked to you. 

“Have you talked to her?” Max finally asks after having enough of Lando’s melancholy state. 

Lando sighs a big long sigh and Max can’t help but give a little side eye over to his girlfriend. “Actually no I haven’t. I’ve barely talked to her or seen her since she became friends with Arthur.” 

Max internally cringes hearing him refer to Arthur and you as friends. The poor guy didn’t even know you two were together, but he wasn’t going to be the one to drop that bomb. In fact he was instructed to not tell Lando that you were in a relationship– it was a secret he’d been harboring for a couple months now.

Unfortunately for Max he had found himself in the middle of whatever the hell was going on with Lando and you. You claimed he never reached out anymore and Lando claimed that you never did. It didn’t help matters that he was the only one who knew about what happened with you guys years ago. 

“You do know the phone works both ways right? You could reach out to her.” Max loves Lando like a brother and so it didn’t bother him any to give him a little tough love. 

Lando just kind of stares at Max, not having expected him to take your side. “Well, I’ve been busy. The season is getting ready to start up.” 

“You didn’t think to try and make plans with her over winter break?” 

No. Lando didn’t think to make plans over winter break because it meant he’d have to undoubtedly hear you talk about Arthur and the thought of it already put him into a bad mood. “She’s got a new group of friends and seems to be doing well. It’s whatever.” Lando says with a shrug. 

Max wanted to reach across the table and strangle Lando. Yes you had made new friends, but you still hung out with Max and your other old friends. He knew your past with Lando always made things complicated and that you never let on just how much the breakup affected you, but he also knew how Lando could be.

“You’re really gonna let your oldest friendship fizzle out because she’s got some new friends? Because she’s entered a new chapter in her life? She’s known you longer than me and I know there’s other things going on in that big head of yours that I surely could guess, but if you continue on with this petty nonsense you’ll lose her entirely.” 

When Lando accepted Max’s invitation for dinner tonight he didn’t think he’d be getting a talking to, yet here he was, and he couldn’t even deny that what Max was saying wasn’t true. Technically you weren’t with Arthur, so perhaps Lando could get some time to talk to you before the season started.

Lando doesn’t bother to respond to Max’s rant, his silence is a sufficient enough answer for everyone at the moment. 

The food had just arrived at the table and Lando had barely gotten two bites in before his whole night came crashing down. His phone that was face down on the table vibrated, but he chose to ignore it, trying to practice better table manners.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Max’s girlfriend pick up her phone around the same time his went off and he wasn’t trying to be nosy, but he couldn’t help but notice how big her eyes got at whatever she was looking at and how she quickly elbowed Max to get his attention. His attention was really piqued when Max mumbled oh fuck under his breath with a distressed look on his face. 

“What? Is Verstappen going to Mercedes or something?” Lando jokes. Max and Pietra’s eyes snap towards their friend, but before they can try and stop him he’s already picking up his phone. 

y/ninstagram just made a post 

Is the only notification on his lock screen when Lando looks at his phone and of course he’s going to click on it, but as soon as it loads he wishes he hadn’t. It’s the one thing he didn’t want to be true staring back at him. A whole photo dump of pictures of Arthur and you publicly announcing your relationship. 

Lando feels like he’s going to be sick, the couple bites of food he took moments ago already trying to come back up. An incessant ringing starts in his ears and his peripheral vision blurs as he seems to laser focus on the photos. You look happy and in love and it makes him fucking sick. It should be him that you’re posting, yet he’s sat here in some Italian restaurant with his best mate and his girlfriend looking at him like he’s some injured puppy.

Deep down Lando knows this is all his own fault, but he doesn’t want to admit it. He knows you two would probably be engaged by now if he hadn’t been the worlds biggest fuck up and dumbass years ago. Instead you’re with some other guy who shows you off like you should be and unapologetically loves you. Who doesn’t put his career before the woman he loves. 

“Mate.” Max finally snaps Lando out of his trance and when he locks eyes with him he can’t help but feel sorry for him. Sure he was tough on him earlier and yes he was keeping your relationship a secret from him, but the look of absolute heartbreak on his friends face was horrible.

Max had been there through every fling or other relationship the both of you had after your breakup and Lando didn’t seem to be that bothered back then, but if Max had any inkling as to why Arthur bothered him so much it was because he realized just how happy he makes you and how much Lando himself actually needs you. “Lando mate, I still think you should talk to her.” 

This stuffy restaurant was the last place Lando wanted to be right now, he felt like every pair of eyes were on him and he didn’t need another Max lecture at the moment. He grabs his wallet from his back pocket and throws a couple hundred on the table. “Yeah I don’t think so anymore. I’ll see you guys later.” 

He rushes out of the restaurant and the cool air hits him like a ton of bricks, the bustling sounds of London overstimulating his senses and all he wants at the moment is you, but he can’t have you and it’s driving him crazy. London reminds him too much of you and instead of spending the rest of the week here like he planned he books a red eye back to Monaco that night. 

When he’s finally back in his apartment that overlooks the sea he realizes that it’s not just London that reminds him of you, it’s Monaco too. Pictures of you guys in his apartment, your hoodie you left from the last time you visited, the wine you like a little too much in his cabinets. There’s pieces of you in his life everywhere he seems to go. He doesn’t think there’s a part of him that you haven’t infiltrated and it makes him want to scream. He’d never been more ready for the season to start, praying that he could distract himself with racing, yet racing was the reason he was in the mental state he was in now.

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

That was four months ago and now Lando sat in his hotel room in Montreal, stomach in knots over a simple text message from you. 

You two hadn’t physically seen each other in a long time, but you had started texting more and to Lando that was fine because through text he could pretend that Arthur didn’t exist. You had stupidly sent him a congratulations text after he won the first race of the season and when he drunkenly texted you that he missed you so much that it hurt that night you knew you’d made the wrong decision.

Yet, Lando had his ways of sucking you back in so you began texting regularly again. You guys began to reconnect, good luck texts became a regular thing and you’d fill each other in on your days. It somewhat felt like things were back to normal or how things were pre-Arthur. Lando couldn’t actually remember the last time he actually saw you, ever since you came into Arthur’s life your roots had seemed to be firmly planted in London. Your trips to see Lando in Monaco no longer happened, he didn’t come and see you in London either, and you coming to random races when you had a free weekend had come to a halt. He missed you more than imaginable, your laugh and the way you sang way too loudly in the car.

This time apart had been rough and he knows it’s majorly his fault, but god his heart feels like it’s being ripped right out of his chest every time he sees Arthur and you together and he hates to think what he’d feel like if he actually saw you two in person. Yet, against his better judgement he grabs his phone from the the fluffy white bedding, your text message still pulled up when he unlocks his phone. He needed to see you, needed to talk to you, and if that meant he had to see Arthur, then he guess that’s how it had to be. 

With shaky hands and a heart rate of 130– he sends a reply. 

lando: they’ll be mailed out first thing tomorrow. 

He immediately turns off his phone, messes with the old alarm clock on the nightstand to hopefully be waking him up in four short hours, and then quickly climbs under the covers. He prays sleep comes quickly and that maybe when he wakes up these past six months will have been a nightmare.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

British Grand Prix 2025 

The sun seemed to beat down on Lando as he briskly walked through the paddock towards McLaren’s hospitality. The slight sweat on his brow was a rare occurrence, considering he always ran cold, often seen sporting a hoodie and jeans at even the hottest races on the calendar.

It wasn’t even that warm out, yet Lando felt like it was sweltering, his stomach starting to hurt from how overheated he was getting. His heart was racing faster than he would be on Sunday and he started to wonder if something was actually wrong with him. Heart attack? Food poisoning? None of the above. The real culprit was anxiety. It seemed to be getting worse the closer he got to hospitality, and he knew the reason why, but he’d just use the excuse of being nervous about this weekend. 

As soon as he passed through the doors of the hospitality unit his anxiety heightened. The place was bustling, as per usual during Silverstone, people everywhere and anywhere. His eyes scan the room, the excessive amount of papaya makes the people blend into one big orange blob, but then he hears the one thing that he swears he could hear in a crowd full of a million people. 

Your laugh. 

He feels his heart tighten and a small smile start to spread across his face as his eyes lock onto you. Tucked away into a corner you’re sat there with his family, laughing about something with his sisters and for the first time in almost a year it feels like how things were before. This is how it always should be, you here with him– with his family.

Then suddenly his daydream is immediately ruined when his eyes glance slightly to the right and he sees the one person he wasn’t looking forward to seeing. Lando had secretly hoped that Arthur would get sick or something would come up and he wouldn’t be able to make it, but of course Lando’s luck has never been that great. 

His anxiety was still there, afraid that when he eventually makes his way over to you that things are going to be awkward, that Arthur and you are engaged, or that you’re pregnant. Worst case scenario was overtaking his brain and the longer he stood there the worse it got. He didn’t want to see you two together and he’s regretting sending that text message weeks ago. He’s snapped out his anxiety induced pity party by his Mother spotting him and hollering for him to come join them. 

He pretends to not notice how your eyes seem to practically burn holes through him as you watch him walk over and when the only seat open is one directly across from you and Arthur, Lando knows the universe is out to get him. 

“We were just catching up with Y/N. It’s been ages since we’ve seen her!” Cisca says to her son, with an emphasis on the fact that they haven’t seen you in over a year. You were like a bonus daughter to her, an unofficial member of the family. She’d always thought Lando and you would end up together, hell his whole family thought it, yet here you were with a new guy on your arm and a very obvious tension between her son and you. Arthur was a darling and you were clearly happy with him, but she couldn’t help but silently root for Lando and you. 

“Yeah we were telling Arthur about when we were kids and you cried when Y/N beat you for the first time in karting.” Lando’s sister laughs again as she retells the story, like it hadn’t been told a hundred times before. 

“You always were a sore loser.” The first words out of your mouth towards Lando and it’s a dig towards him? Sad part was that it was kind of the truth, he never seemed to take it well when you did better than him when you guys raced together and even now he struggles with being a poor loser, especially after getting a real taste of what winning is like. 

Lando doesn’t bother responding, just a simple nod as the conversation quickly moves on to something else. It’s all background noise now to him anyways, he’s too focused on watching how Arthur and you interact. It’s probably obvious that he’s staring down Arthur or that he looked away as soon as Arthur reached for your hand and you intertwined your fingers like a natural reflex. Or that as soon as you lean into Arthur’s side Lando’s immediately standing up, loudly announcing that practice starts soon and that he better get going. 

“Isn’t practice in like another two hours?” Flo asks as she watches her brother make a mad dash out of hospitality. You glance down at your phone to check the time, confirming what Flo said was true. “He’s been acting so weird for a while now. Did you know in February he was supposed to come visit everyone before the season started. Was in London for like two days and then calls us and says he got sick and that he was back in Monaco. He’s just been acting so strange.” 

You get one last quick look at Lando before he’s through the doors and back out into the paddock. A deep sigh escapes past your lips as the realization of what you’d been avoiding finally washes over you. You grip Arthur’s hand tighter as you face Lando’s family, a tight lipped smile adorning your face. “Probably just stressed about the season, championship fight and all that stuff.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Later that night your hotel room is eerily quiet. No TV, no music, just the sound of the AC and the hustle and bustle still going on outside. You’re in the bathroom doing your night-time routine when Arthur waltzes in, grabbing his toothbrush from his side of the double vanity. He’s been quiet for a big part of the day and you’re not sure if it’s because today’s been busy and overwhelming at times, causing his social battery to be dead or if something else is going on. 

You watch him as he brushes his teeth and consider asking him if everything’s alright, but he beats you to it before you can open your mouth. “I don’t think Lando likes me.” He states as he puts his toothbrush back in its spot. 

Your actions halt for a moment, your face half moisturized. You’d had your inklings that Lando didn’t care for Arthur, it was actually a big reason that you figured Lando stopped reaching out for some time. His behavior today somewhat confirmed what you had been thinking, but you weren’t going to tell Arthur that. You guys were here for a good weekend and you weren’t going to let Lando ruin that. 

“What makes you say that?” You ask as you continue to rub in your moisturizer. 

Arthur sighs as he leans against the vanity, his back to the mirror. “You didn’t notice the glares he was sending my way the whole time he was sitting there in hospitality? It was ridiculous. I’ve only been around him like three times and each time he’s not been very welcoming.” 

“He’s just stressed about the season and sometimes he can just be a little off putting with new people. He just needs to be around you more.” 

Arthur scoffs, not believing a word you’ve said. “I know when I’m not liked or wanted around Y/N.” 

You’re trying your best to reassure him, but you’ve never been a great liar. “Baby I promise he doesn’t hate you.” You make your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you stare into his big brown eyes. “I like you– like a lot. So I think that matters more than someone who doesn't even know you.” 

Arthur messes with the strings on your hoodie as he contemplates his next words. “But– he’s one of your closest friends and a huge part of your life. I mean hell meeting Lando’s family today was more like meeting your biological family. I just want to be accepted by your people. You fit in so well with my friends and family so I only feel like I should with yours.” 

“Lando’s family loved you, so did my family and my other friends. Hell, even Fewtrell likes you and really that says a lot.” Arthur’s face is still showing no signs of being convinced. “Listen, Lando can be moody and difficult sometimes. It really has nothing to do with you and really even if he doesn’t like you I don’t care. Who he likes and doesn’t like doesn’t dictate my life any. I like you and that’s all that matters to me.” 

Your hands move up to cup the face of the man in front of you and when he leans into your touch and pulls you closer into him you know you’ve at least reassured him a little. “You’re my person you know that?” His voice is low and he’s looking at you like you’re the love of his life and it’s all consuming yet terrifying at the same time, mainly because of the other brown haired Brit in your life.

So you distract yourself by pressing your lips against his, they’re soft and plump and you find yourself easily getting lost in him. The both of you are quickly tangled up in the white hotel sheets and when you wake up the next morning, bare limbs twisted together, you know you have to actually talk to Lando today. 

y/n: can we talk today? like actually have a conversation? 

Is the text you quickly send while getting ready and in what seems like record time Lando replies. 

lando: yeah, but it will have to be after qualifying. i’ll text you when i’m back at my room its number 251 

You just send a thumbs up and prepare yourself for what you know is going to be the world’s longest day ever. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The sun is just starting to set when your phone dings, the text notification from Lando lighting up your screen. Arthur had gone off to hang out with some of his friends who were here courtesy of big brands or companies, so you didn’t have to worry about what to tell him. As you walk down the long hallway you realize Lando’s room is on the same floor as you, because why wouldn’t it be? The big 251 on the door stares back at you, taunting you almost, and it takes every ounce of courage in you to knock on that door. 

The door swings open and there stands a freshly showered Lando, hair still dripping wet as he motions for you to come in. “Sorry, didn’t think you’d be here so fast.” 

At least he’s dressed you think as you awkwardly stand in the middle of his hotel room. It’s weird that nothing had even really happened between you two, there was no fight or anything like that, yet going almost half a year without seeing each other is a big adjustment. Add in past feelings and codependency and that’s what you’ve got going on in this hotel room right now. “Congrats on pole.” You’re hoping maybe starting off with something good won’t make this conversation turn south, but it’s highly unlikely. 

“Thanks.” He says as he stands there with his hands in his pockets, teetering back and forth on his feet. There’s a long stretch of silence of you two just standing there staring at each other before Lando breaks the ice once again. “I’ve missed you. I know I haven’t been the best friend when it comes to communication, but I have missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” You weren’t lying, but you weren’t necessarily telling the truth either. 

Then again there’s a long stretch of awkward silence and it’s like you two aren’t yourselves, like two people who look like you guys have just been placed in this room, like you’re strangers that know everything about one another. 

Finally you decide to address the elephant in the room. “Alright, I’m just gonna ask it. What’s up with you? Do you not like Arthur or something? Because you’ve made this weekend so awkward and I’m tired of having to lie to my boyfriend.” 

Lando thinks about lying, but what’s the point? You’ll just leave here and go back to your own little bubble again so he might as well tell the truth. “Actually I can’t stand him.” His answer doesn’t surprise you and you don’t even want to ask why because deep down you know the reason why. But Lando doesn’t even give you the chance to, something’s ignited in him and he’s ready to lay everything out there on the table. “I can’t stand him because he took you from me. Do you know how lonely I was? It was like you just fucked off and made a new life for yourself and it killed me. It killed me to see you with him and see this version of you that I didn’t even know existed.” 

And there it was. Lando was never the sharing type, especially when it came to you, yet when it came to actually laying claim to you, he could barely do it for three months. 

“I’m not your property Lando. Arthur didn’t take anything from you. You made it clear six years ago that we weren’t together anymore. Also the phone goes both ways, you could have reached out if you were that lonely.” 

Lando sat down on the bed, his hands gripping the white duvet in frustration. “I didn’t want to hear you talk about Arthur, see him, or see you two together. It drove me absolutely crazy and still does. So no, I didn't reach out. What’s your excuse?” 

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth at his counter. Your excuse was a little less forward than his. See, the thing about Lando Norris was that the more you were around him the deeper your connection. 

You two were twin flames. 

Childhood friends who raced together, inseparable on and off the track. Then still conjoined at the hip as you grew up and eventually you both realized you had feelings for one another, so you decided to test the waters and get into a relationship. It was going great and then he got a seat in Formula 1– his dream since a young boy and you were ecstatic for him.

You were ready to support him through this new chapter in his life as his girlfriend, but a week before he was due to fly out for the first race of the season he decided to break up with you. Lando claimed that he really needed to focus on his career and that it wouldn’t be fair to you that he was gone all the time. That he couldn’t be a good boyfriend and racer at the same time. So you broke up, but he was adamant that you two would still be friends. That nothing would change other than the fact that you aren’t together.

Looking back now, that somehow made things worse. You two became so codependent on each other that it was a little concerning. You both were still clearly in love and you were going to races and still spending an excessive amount of time with him, yet there was no label. He never showed any interest in getting back together, but you stayed around just in case. There would be periods where you’d be separated for a while and your heart would ache, but then after some time you’d feel free. Like your soul and heart wasn’t so intertwined with Lando’s, but the second you two would reunite it was like you were back under his spell. 

Then when you met Arthur, it felt different than the other little flings you’d had. He was everything you wanted in a guy and you knew if you wanted to actually try and make this work with him, then you’d have to separate yourself from Lando. And at first it hurt and you missed him, but then the ache surpassed and you felt free and this new life you’d made was one you could see yourself living. But then your dumbass goes and texts Lando and when the texting started to become more frequent you started to feel that twinge in your heart again. And as you stand here in front of that man your stomach is in knots because you don’t think you’ll ever be able to escape this toxic cycle. 

“I didn’t reach out to you because I knew if I did then you’d suck me right back in. I’m happy with Arthur and it’s not fair what you do to me.” 

Lando pushes himself up off the bed and moves to stand directly in front of you. “What I do to you? More like what you do to me? God, you’ve ruined every other girl for me Y/N.” 

Your anger starts to bubble over, he always wants to play the victim. “I’ve done nothing but stand by your side and be still so utterly in love with you for the past six years even after you chose your career over me. But I guess it was worth it in the end wasn’t it? Winning all these races now. I just hope this argument doesn’t do your head in and your teammate takes the championship lead back from you again tomorrow.” 

Lando grabs your arm, his grip tight and his jaw clenched. “Don’t play these fucking games with me right now.” 

“I’m not playing any games. I’m telling you the truth. You can’t handle both me and racing, remember?” His eyes are dark as they bore into yours, he’s intimidating, but you’re not backing down. “You’re just jealous that a different man was finally able to make me happy and treat me right. He’s not afraid of what the media might say or afraid to show me off.” 

He can feel himself getting ready to snap, his self control thinning by the second. “Stop being such a brat.” 

“I’m not-” You don’t even get to finish your sentence before Lando’s pushing you up against the wall, your faces inches apart. Your stomach flips and you feel one of his hands on your waist, the other coming up to cup your face.

“Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this as much as I do and I’ll leave you alone.” His voice is barely above a whisper, yet it feels like he’s yelling. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest, yet the feeling of him is so exhilarating that you can’t stop him.

When you don’t answer Lando wastes no time in crashing his lips against yours and it’s intoxicating. The way you two move so perfectly in sync, you know every part of one another and he still knows how to kiss you in the way that makes you weak in the knees. He starts to get handsy and part of you wants to continue, but then the small part of you that isn’t infected by Lando flashes an image of Arthur in your mind and guilt immediately washes over you. 

“No no no. Lando, I can't do this.” You push him away, tears already starting to form in your eyes. “Fuck you always do this to me. Why can’t I quit you? It’s not fair. It’s not fair to Arthur, it’s not fair to me. All I wanted was to be loved and Arthur gave that to me and what am I doing right now? Betraying that because you’ve made yourself a permanent part of me.” You snatch your phone off Lando’s bed and head towards the door. “Don’t text me, don’t call me, this is it Lando. I love you, but we can’t do this.” 

The door slams shut behind you and Lando’s left standing there wondering what the hell just happened. 

The next morning both Lando and you clearly aren’t at your peak performance as humans. You’re riddled with guilt for kissing Lando and cheating on Arthur. While Lando’s trying to figure out what the hell he actually feels and if this is really the end of you and him. 

Lando knows you won’t want to talk to him today, but that doesn’t stop him from looking for you in the garage. He keeps checking the viewing area every little bit, but you’re not there, and he wonders if you’ll even show up today.

Just when he’d lost all hope he spots you sneaking in with Arthur right before he’s set to get into the car. You two make eye contact briefly and he may be a little delusional, but he can still feel that connection between you two. Especially when he sees that you’ve got on his merch, the number four big and bold on your shirt. A smug smirk can’t help but stretch across his face as he shoves his helmet over his head. You clearly didn’t feel that guilty about last night, who else would be standing there with their current boyfriend on their arm, and the guy you kissed last night racing numbers on them? 

Lando does end up fucking up his race and it does make you feel a little better about last night, but you know you’ll carry this guilt with you forever. It’s just how you’ll continue on with things is what you’re uncertain about. The opposite side of the McLaren garage is roaring with cheers while Lando’s side claps for a modest P5. When he returns to the garage and sees the majority of the team out there celebrating Oscar’s win he knows that maybe it is karma for what happened last night. He can’t even confide in you right now about the shit race, he’d kill to feel your arms wrap around him and hear your sweet voice in his ear, but instead you’re staring at him like you hate him, which you probably do. But he knows deep down you’ll never actually get rid of him– your souls are intertwined. 

There’s no getting rid of that. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The week after Silverstone Lando decides to stay in London for a multitude of reasons. He’d carved out some time to make the trek back to his childhood home to visit with his family for a couple days and he also had duties to fulfill over in Woking at headquarters. But the main reason he was staying instead of flying back to Monaco was because he’d hoped to get to talk to you again, try and smooth things over.

It’s a rainy summer night in London when things escalate even further between Lando and you. He’s in his old apartment that he’s not even sure why he still pays for when it sits empty for the majority of the year. Rain drops slide down the floor to ceiling windows and thunder rumbles in the far distance as he sits on the couch, phone in hand. He’d been in the same spot for a good hour now contemplating if he should try and reach out so soon, but he was leaving for Monaco in a couple days and he felt like it was now or never. 

He’s just about ready to hit send on the text to you that he’d been retyping for what seems like forever when a very loud knock at his door makes him jump. He wasn’t expecting any company and not to mention the rain that seemed to be coming down in buckets at the moment, so he wasn’t sure who was on the other side of that door. The one knock quickly turns into pounding when he doesn’t immediately answer the door and then he hears your voice from the hallway. 

“Lando open the door! I know you’re in there!” 

His eyes widen and he swiftly unlocks the door only to find you standing there sopping wet, eyes bloodshot, and a look of hatred plastered on your face. He can already tell it's going to be a long night. 

“I fucking hate you Lando Norris.” You state as you push your way past him and into the apartment you used to call home for a while. 

“Well hello to you too.” He sasses back as he shuts the door. 

You turn on your heel to face him and when he actually gets a good look at you he realizes it’s not raindrops on your face– instead it’s teardrops. Yes you’re still sopping wet from the rain, but your quivering bottom lip and bloodshot eyes tell him those are tears. “What’s wrong love?” His voice is soft as he shuffles over towards you. 

You immediately put your hands up to stop him from coming any closer, the way he was acting was making you sick, like he didn’t just ruin the best thing that had ever happened to you last week. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. I really do because after tonight I’m never talking to you again.” 

Lando’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, he’s not sure what’s really going on at the moment. “What are you even talking about?” 

You give a look that surely makes you look insane, but that’s how you were feeling at the moment. “The guilt was eating me alive, consuming me. I couldn’t even sleep in the same bed as Arthur that night, I slept on the couch. I felt so guilty after kissing you and this whole week I’d been trying to figure out how to live with it, but I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t. Arthur deserves someone much better than me, someone who isn’t in some fucked up thing with their best friend. So tonight I made the decision to break up with him and it killed me to see the look of hurt and betrayal on his face. God he was everything I ever wanted and I ruined it– you ruined it.”

You take a deep breath, the tears streaming down your face like the rain on the windows.

“And the worst part of all of this is that I can’t get the stupid kiss out of my head. Ever since it happened I’ve been craving the feeling of your lips and it makes me hate you even more.” 

Lando stands there, not even sure of what he should say. When you showed up he wasn’t expecting to be hearing that you and Arthur broke up, let alone that you'd been thinking about the kiss you two shared. Because honestly it had been consuming Lando’s brain too. 

“Y/N I nev–” 

You quickly shake your head at the curly haired Brit. “No, I’m not done yet. You know I shouldn’t even be here right now. I really thought I had finally gotten rid of that part of you in me that never seemed to go away over the course of this past year, but god Lando you just dig your claws in don’t you? I made a good life with Arthur and I really liked him. I think if we stayed together long enough I might have found room in my heart to love him. But the way I felt about Arthur doesn’t compare to what I feel for you and it drives me nuts. When I come back around you it’s like you make it impossible to ignore the way you’re just ingrained in me. You’ve planted yourself in my heart and taken root and they’ve intertwined through every part of me. I think the only way I could get rid of you is if I ripped my own heart out. It’s not fair Lando– how am I supposed to go on with my life when you just keep pulling me back in?” 

“I don’t want you to go on with your life.” It’s selfish and Lando knows it, but he can’t help but be selfish when it comes to you. 

A bitter laugh emits from you as you shake your head in annoyance, of course he would say that. “Yeah you don’t want me to go on, but you don’t want to actually be with me. I know how this works Lando. I’m not a toy that you only want to play with when someone else has me.”

Lando just stares at you and the fact that he isn’t trying to butt in allows you to just open the floodgates, a chance to get everything off your chest.

“I should have never agreed to stay friends with you after we broke up. I should have moved on and made a name for myself. Found out who I was outside of you, outside of this fucked up world of Formula 1. Instead I latched on to anything I could get from you, hoping and praying that once you found your footing that we’d get back together, but I was dumb and naive, and god it's been six years Lando and nothing has changed. I guess even now at twenty-five you’re still that same nineteen year old boy.”

Lando doesn’t know what to say, his heart wants to say one thing while his brain is telling him to say another. The wind howls outside and the rain beats against the windows while another storm is brewing inside his barren apartment. 

“You don’t think I didn’t want us to get back together these past six years? When I broke up with you I immediately regretted it, but then you stuck around I thought ok this could work. I still had you and my doubts about being able to be a good boyfriend and a good driver at the same time suddenly didn’t matter. But then after a while when you started to explore the idea of seeing other guys I hated it every time I saw you with them or you brought them around. Yet somehow I always knew you’d come back to me, so I was able to conceal how I felt better back then. When Arthur came into your life I knew something was different with him and it scared me to death that he was going to be the reason I lost you forever.” 

Lando was so fucking oblivious it made your head spin. “The only reason I came back to you was because you weren’t as great at hiding how you felt back then as you thought. You’d show me a little interest in maybe getting back together and I’d drop those guys in a heartbeat. Arthur was different because I was able to isolate myself from you, but I guess maybe it wasn’t because look where I’m at right now. It always ends the same doesn’t it?” 

There’s a beat of silence for the first time tonight and you can feel the adrenaline wearing off and exhaustion starting to settle in as you lean against the back of the leather couch. “Do you really love me Lando? Do you really want me or do you just hate to think about me with somebody else? If I asked you to be my boyfriend– to get back together right now. What would you say?” 

Lando’s heart wants to say yes so badly, it’s screaming out for him to allow him to love with his whole being, but his brain can’t seem to allow it. “I–um-I’m not sure.”

An almost sinister smile stretches across your face as you stare back at him, so fucking predictable.

“It’s just that it’s always been you and me. We know each other inside and out and there’s never been another person who I could imagine myself with. I do love you Y/N. I’ve loved you since we were kids, and there’s been countless times where I’d thought about giving us another try and then my self doubt creeps in and I’m still so afraid that I can’t be the man you need me to be–” 

“I don’t need for you to be some picture perfect unbelievable fairy tale boyfriend or something. I just need you to be you Lando. I felt that way six years ago and you didn’t get it back then. I would have hoped that you would have gotten it by now, but you clearly don’t.” 

The tears continue to stream down your face in frustration more than sadness.

Lando starts to talk with his hands, his voice raising slightly. “Everyone expects more of me now. My racing career is going so well at the moment and I don’t want you to be an afterthought in my life.” 

“I understand your job Lando. I get the demands and the stress and you being away sometimes. I’ve still been a part of your world for these past six years in case you forgot.” 

“I’m scared that if we give it a try again and I fuck things up then I’ll loose you forever.” He wishes he wasn’t like this, yet he can’t seem to get his brain and heart to work together.

“Am I meant to just stick around until you retire or something?” 

Lando shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “No, that’s not what I meant.” 

“There’s drivers out there with wives and families, clearly they learned how to manage their job and personal life. Why can’t you?” You’re pleading with him at this point and he still continues to give you the same bullshit answers.

“I don’t know. I know I love you though.” 

The ache in your chest only seems to worsen, his words seem to mean nothing to you anymore. “Well, I hate that I love you.” 

“You don’t mean that.” His eyes soften as he stands directly in front of you and you think that maybe you’ve hurt him a little, but that doesn’t stop you from unloading the assault you throw at him next.

“Yes I do. I hate it. You’ve made me look like a fool all these years. A girl desperate enough to wait on you until you’re ready and just when I thought I’d actually made it out of your chains you pull me right back in. I wasted six years of my life waiting for you and I’m not gonna waste another six.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest and you want to resist him, push him away, but you can’t and you hate yourself that much more. You hate that after saying everything you did, your actions make those words useless. You hate that it feels nice to be in his arms and that his soft kisses to your head feel even nicer.

“I think it would be wise if we continued this conversation in the morning. You’re exhausted and I think we can really discuss this better when you have a clearer head.”

He pulls back, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears as his blue eyes stare back at you. How they have that sparkle in them even in this dimly lit apartment you’ll never know, but that sparkle is what inevitably gets you in even more trouble. His eyes were always one of your biggest weaknesses, he knew that and you knew he was using them to his advantage. 

“I do love you, and maybe I’m not the best with words or explaining how I feel, but let me show you how I feel.” You see him leaning in and you know you shouldn’t, you know how this is going to end, yet you meet him in the middle anyways.

Kissing Lando is an intoxicating experience, one you’ll never get used to or get enough of and then when his hands start to roam you just let it happen and you know in this moment that you’ve fully surrendered yourself to him, like always. 

The old bed creaks as your back falls flat against it, the sheets are cold against your back, your shirt and pants discarded somewhere along the journey from the living room to his bedroom. His kisses are sloppy as they travel down your body and when they get to your thighs you’re embarrassingly already bucking your hips up towards him, yet he doesn’t say anything, just flashes you a smirk and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties. 

His hands are planted firmly on your knees as he spreads you open, the cool air directly hitting your core, yet your whole body already felt like it was on fire. You were desperate for him, so sensitive to his touch, and when he swipes a single digit through your folds to find you absolutely drenched he feels his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

He feels conflicted because he really wants to take his time with you, but on the other hand he wants to make you come so many times that you’re seeing stars. From the little whines emitting from you he knows him trying to tease you will only make you more mad at him and he was only about pleasing you tonight. The decision no longer a hard one.

“What do you want, baby? My fingers or my mouth.” He asks, his voice low, heart pounding. 

You’re so unbelievably desperate and you waste no time in telling him what you want. “Both.” 

The grin on his face makes you roll your eyes at him and that somehow makes his cock even harder. You always were a greedy girl. 

He uses his mouth first, his tongue making work to have you breathless. His nose brushes against your clit as his tongue fucks your hole, your hands finding their way into his curls and tugging as the pleasure begins to build. He moves his mouth to focus solely on your clit while he slides two of his thick fingers into your soaking cunt. Your moans are like music to his ears as he brings you close and closer to the edge. 

Curse words echo through the room when he curls his fingers just right to hit that spot that has your toes curling in pleasure. He knows you’re close, he can feel it, the way your walls clench down around his fingers and how your chest heaves. He detaches his mouth from you long enough to give you some encouragement, his face glistening in your wetness. “Come on baby, let go, be a good girl for me.” 

His mouth is barely back to work before that tight coil in you snaps and your hips are rising up off the bed, pleasure surging through every nerve in your body. Lando’s free hand comes up to force your hips back down, pinning you onto the bed as his mouth continues it’s assault on your cunt, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm. 

He doesn’t seem to let up, a man deranged it seems. You’re trying to catch your breath as you come down from your first mind blowing orgasm, but the pleasure is already starting to build for a second one. “Fucking hell Lan.” You manage to choke out as he continues to give you everything he can. He’s determined to make you feel good. 

Your second orgasm sneaks up on you fast and hard. The pleasure is overwhelming and you think you start speaking in tongues as it hits its peak. Lando’s name is said like a prayer, echoing through the room, bouncing off the walls, and it goes straight to his head. 

He’s pussy drunk, face glistening, and eyes wide as he finally comes up for air. The sight of you below him has his dick twitching and his mind clouded. You have an ethereal glow to you even after he’s just absolutely exhausted you with back to back orgasms. “Can my girl take another one?” 

For the first time since his lips touched yours tonight does your mind finally uncloud for a brief second, the use of my girl making your heart ache, because you know this won’t change anything. You two sharing a bed, sharing this intimate moment won’t change how he feels about actually committing to you. You’ll never actually be his girl. 

You’d been too in your head, still trying to come down from your orgasms and then facing the reality of the situation Lando and you find yourselves in to notice that he’d stripped himself of his sweatpants. His dick was painfully hard– the tip bright red and throbbing. It’s embarrassing how your body instantly reacts to him, your pussy clenching around nothing at the sight of his cock. 

He grabs it at the base slowly dragging it through your folds a few times before slowly pushing the tip in. Gasps come from both of you at the sensation of his thick cock stretching you out, the feeling of your velvety walls around him makes him shudder.

Once he’d completely bottomed out he stills for a moment, one hand coming up to caress your face, his eyes piercing into yours as you lay beneath him. “Let me show you how much you mean to me, yeah?” His voice is soft and meaningful and once you gently nod at him he slowly starts to move.

He wanted to be slow and passionate this round, but the sight of your pussy engulfing his dick each time makes his head spin and he starts to pick up the pace. He wastes no time in grabbing your legs and hiking them up over his shoulders, the new position allowing him to be even deeper, hitting the spot that makes you see stars. 

His thrusts were relentless and the sound of him fucking you was downright sinful. You close your eyes feeling the pleasure build for the third time tonight, but a gentle tap to your cheek has you opening them. “Eyes open pretty girl, I want you looking at me when you fall apart.” His free hand that isn’t holding himself up travels down and his thumb starts to rub tight little circles on your clit.

The feeling of Lando staring at you makes this whole experience even more intense, it’s like you’re in a pleasure induced trance. You can feel your orgasm building and with one last thrust from Lando you’re toppling over the edge. Your whole body feels like it’s vibrating and for a second you feel like you’re out of your own body, the pleasure so intense.

Lando nearly comes at the sight of you coming undone beneath him, the way your eyes pierced into his, your jaw slack, tits bouncing in his face as he still pounds into you. Then he does something unexpected– his hand comes back up and intertwines with one of yours and it makes your heart flutter, an act so simple, yet so meaningful in the moment. 

You feel him squeeze your hand tighter and his thrusts start to get a little sloppy. “You gonna come for me? Come on baby let go.” 

Your words are the only thing he needs to hear before profanities are slipping past his lips, your name being chanted like you’re his savior. His hips stutter as ropes of his hot sticky cum paint your velvet walls, his chest heaves as he milks every last ounce of his orgasm. “Fuck I love you so much.” He doesn’t think he’s ever came this hard in his life, his hand still gripping yours like his life depended on it. 

You’re still blissed out from getting properly fucked and the words tumble right out of your mouth back at him. “I love you too.” 

He leans down and kisses you like he never has before, it’s deep and passionate and you think he’s trying to convey his feelings through that kiss, but this isn’t the action you really needed from him right now. Once he catches his breath he slowly pulls out of you, a groan emitting from him at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and a whimper from you at the feeling of emptiness that washes over you. 

He gets you cleaned up and climbs back into bed with you, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he presses chaste kisses to your bare shoulder. And as you watch the lightning flash across the night sky through the rain streaked windows you pray that maybe this time would be different. 

As morning arrives the sun shines in the sky, a bright new day compared to the stormy night, yet there’s nothing bright and sunny about how you feel. You knew when you showed up at Lando’s door last night that this is how it would end, it’s how it always ends. You love him with every fiber of your being and deep down you think he feels as deeply about you as you do him, but only time will tell.

There’s still a storm between Lando and you and for the moment it’s calmed, but it’s still unstable. You know you two won’t talk about last night, you'll act like it didn’t happen and you’ll be back in the endless toxic cycle that is Lando and you. 

[sakuravalenp]

Don't eat anything else - Part 3 - DP X DC

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Masterpost

Sam had somehow fallen asleep after hours of rolling in her bed, so of course, when her phone started ringing, she was just about ready to send the thing flying across the room. She covered her ears with her pillow, hoping the thing would shut up soon enough, and cursed her past self for leaving the phone in her desk instead of plugging it to the socket that was just behind her bed. She could have already shut the thing off then, but no, she’ll have to get out of bed to do it. She was going to maul whoever decided it was a good idea to call in the middle of the night.

With a resigned huff, she got out of bed and went to the desk, stumbling over the chair because of course she hadn’t pushed it back into the space the desk left for it, and snatched the phone roughly, pulling the charger and making her pencil case fall off the desk. The clattering sounds let her know she had also left that open. She groans, and squints at her phone screen, her eyes complaining at the sudden light, she takes a look at the insistent caller: Tucker. She answers while letting herself fall into the chair.

“Tucker, it’s like two am. You better be dying, or I swear to the ancients I’m throwing your beloved PDA into a natural portal to never be seen again!”

“Check the Phantom chat.” Sam blinked. She was expecting some sort of dramatic response. Then her mind caught up to what her friend had just asked.

“Did Danny text anything!?” The call was already being placed on speaker as she took her phone off her ear and started looking for their chat server.

“You’ll have to check yourself, it’s a full text wall, I’ve just read like- the first paragraph. Just- check it out and call me back when you’ve read it all.”

Sam frowned at the beep of the call being ended. She had never hated so much that their server took so long to load. She understood why; a hidden server that went through the infinite realms? Tucker was a genius for creating it. Still, in times like this the waiting was excruciating.

Danny didn’t tell them anything about his life with Vlad. She would say it screamed red flags, but it was Vlad. The moment the man had gotten custody of Danny all the fire alarms were going off in Sam’s head, and they hadn’t stopped since.

They tried not to push much at the start. The Fentons and Jazz’s death was too fresh, so they just checked in, asking how things were going, trying not to prod. But weeks turned to months, and they hadn’t been able to see Danny, and he was not telling them anything.

They had been keeping tabs of what they could get. Danny checked in at least once a day, until he didn’t. There would be days without response, and then Danny would check in again with some vague excuse. When that became common enough, Danny stopped making up excuses and just directly checking in without explaining the absence.

His texts were useless to understand his situation, other than he was well enough to text them, so their next focus was his public appearance. There weren’t a lot of those, but they would be happy with any scraps they could get. 

Vlad had taken Danny to more than a couple of galas and some political events, proudly flaunting his heir, and yet, there were barely any photos of Danny at said events. It was up in the air whether it was due to Vlad avoiding the pictures getting out or due to how difficult it was to get a clear photo of Danny.

Nevertheless, the few pictures they did get weren’t great. He looked emaciated, lost so much weight, lost any brightness in his eyes. Still, Sam had almost cried from relief the first time they got a picture. The mind can be cruel when there's nothing to hold it back, and Sam had about a thousand terrible thoughts of what Vlad could be doing to Danny. At least he was in one piece. 

Her phone vibrated, letting her know the server had finally loaded. There was a bubble beside the Phantom group chat letting her know there were new texts. She pressed on the group chat and was indeed greeted by a wall of text. She scrolled back to find the beginning.

Hey guys, you’ll probably won’t see this until tomorrow but I needed to write this right away before I started doubting. Not that that’s really a choice at this point, not when the Waynes already left with those notes.

The Waynes? Oh, yeah, Danny had mentioned Vlad had invited them to dinner once. First visitors they would be getting. Sam had idly wondered if she would have gotten a chance to see Danny if her parents were more influential. She had never wished for her parents to be richer before. 

So anyway, the Waynes visiting kind of changed things here a bit. I may not have been really honest about how things were going here with Vlad. Though, you probably already knew that, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can tell you guys. I just don’t think I can get myself to tell you, and I’m so sorry, because you’re always there and deserve the truth, but I can’t. So, let’s just leave as things hadn’t been great, and Vlad was more of a monster than we ever thought he could be. 

Sam didn’t like that, it was terribly vague. What had Vlad done to Danny that he didn’t feel he could tell them? Sure they had been dealing with Danny’s silence, but now he was straight up telling them he couldn’t get himself to talk about it. The fact that he couldn’t even explain what Vlad had done meant it was probably worse than what she imagined.

They’d faced their fair share of horrors over the years while combating the rogues, and there had never been a problem verbalizing it. Something horrible had happened. Sam was going to kill Vlad. She didn’t care what the full story was, if it was bad enough that Danny actively refused to tell them, it was bad enough to revoke Vlad’s right to existence. 

The thing is, I can’t keep this up. The Wayne’s came in, and Vlad's plans for dinner made me realize I couldn’t let this keep going. I managed to sneak a note to Timothy Drake-Wayne. Everyone knows the Waynes have connections to the Justice league.

Sam frowned. The Justice League had been shining for their absence from everything involving Amity. That absence still burned like acid. They’d begged for help. Pleaded. Amity had become a warzone more than once, and no one had come. Would they really show up just because the Waynes got involved?

I know they hadn’t been answering our calls, but now it affected the Waynes. Again, I can’t explain how it affected them, but I’m pretty sure the Waynes will make sure the Justice League gets involved. I had to tell them that Vlad isn’t human. It would only end in an apocalypse if they came looking for Vlad without being prepared. They’ll look for you guys. I told them you had the means to combat him. 

Oh shit. Was she really meeting with the Justice League? In friendly terms? After all the ignored calls, Sam had swore it would be on sight if she ever met the assholes. And if they really showed up just because the Waynes were the ones to call, Sam wasn’t sure if she could keep it civil.

I didn’t reveal myself to the Waynes, I don’t know what the Justice League stand on ghosts is, all this is already a big risk, the GIW are bad enough on their own, there’s no way we would survive the Justice League hunting us, but Vlad needs to be stopped. I need you guys to give them what they need to not be possessed, and the ectoguns that I modified, maybe an ectoshield. Nothing more, they have a good history with non-humans, but I don’t know if we can trust them to not start a hunting campaign after Vlad. Try making it clear that this is a Vlad problem, not a ghost problem. I’m sorry I’m leaving everything to you guys, I can’t do anything from this side.

Her breath trembled. If the Waynes were really able to convince the Justice league to finally intervene, they might have days. She and Tucker needed to prep everything.

Ghost attacks had become rare since the portal was destroyed, but sometimes ghosts still came through naturally forming ones. There couldn’t be a ghost attack while the Justice League was there. Not when they needed to convince them that Vlad was the exception, not the rule.

They needed to get the gear and figure out how to lie to the Justice League convincingly enough that they wouldn’t turn every ghost into collateral damage.

Because Vlad might be the monster. But the League could still be the executioners.

Still, despite all the anxiety running through her veins, Sam felt hopeful. Danny had reached for help, after months of silence he had finally reached for help, and for once there seemed to be a chance they'd see Danny again. 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

They couldn’t continue reading the paper right away. There was no way to do it. Cass was more sensitive to people's deaths than anyone else in her family, and Bruce had focused on supporting her so he wouldn’t have to think about what he had just eaten. He had helped Cass to the bathroom like he hadn’t vomited as well. Tim had mumbled something about needing a shower, a really long shower, and left. Jason had forgotten the pretender had been bathed in that cursed soup.

He did think about taking the paper and finishing reading it himself, but green edged his vision, rage bursting under the skin, and he needed an outlet, which he didn’t have here. The punch he had thrown onto the wall had already left a mark, and this was a house they rented as Waynes, he couldn’t just trash it all.

He had worked through some breathing exercises Dick had introduced to him. He’ll never tell Dick, but they did work somewhat. It wasn’t really a surprise, Jason knew Dick had anger issues. The bastard seemed like the perfect young adult holding it together these days, but Jason was there for his teenage rebellion, and that was supposedly an improvement from how he had been as Robin. So of course the breathing exercises helped, but it wasn’t enough.

He felt like giving the wall another punch from the frustration, but he had been trying to “redirect his anger” in less violent ways lately, and this was the kind of situation where it would be better to clear his head instead of exploding. He could save the explosion for when they had that reprobate on their hands. 

His phone was pinging and Jason knew it was probably the rest of the family asking for an update. The sudden silence probably got them worried the supposed poison had been something serious, and as the only one in commission at the moment, he should be the one reporting, but he was pretty sure he would crack his phone if he used it right then. His helmet took his attention where it resided on the desk, and he made a decision.

You’re not supposed to ride while you're angry, that’s how accidents happen, but that didn’t apply to people like him. Red Hood spent most of the night in his motorcycle while absolutely furious; they knew how to ride without becoming a public safety issue. 

He grabbed his helmet and screamed before putting it on. “You better don’t read the damn note before I’m back!” And then he was on the road once again. 

He rode around the small city, making the same circle over and over again at maximum speed. Harsh changes in direction that made the adrenaline pump in his veins. It was a good outlet. At some point the green receded enough for him to think clearer. He lowered the speed a bit, and connected his helmet to the comms. The questioning screams from everyone on comms came instantly.

“Shut the fuck up. I can’t understand a single thing you are saying.” As expected, that didn’t have any effect, but a minute later the line went dead silent. Babs must have muted everyone's lines. 

“Hood, what’s the situation? Did the antidote work without problem?” Babs asked.

Jason almost laughed. Antidote. They wished it had just been some stupid poison. “It wasn’t poison, or drugs, Batman and Orphan are… physically fine.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jason could hear the crackle of a line joining the comms again. “What does that mean Todd?” Damian finally asked.

Jason could feel the rage try to creep back at the thought of what really was in the food, he pushed it back. He didn’t want to really talk about what really was in the food. Another crackle. “Little wing? What was in the food?” 

Jason sighed. Why should he be the only one in commission to report back? No, he was glad to not have been anywhere close to that hideous concoction that didn’t have a right to be called food. He turned the speed back up.

“Apparently, Vlad Masters is a cannibal. One in the habit of sharing his taste with others.” The silence in the other line was about what he expected, so was the new explosion of voices that came afterward. 

Yeah, no. Report given. They could deal with the news themselves. Jason disconnected from comms and started riding back to the house. Checking the time on the edge of his helmet screen, he saw he had been riding for quite some time. How has two hours already passed? 

He left the motorcycle in the garage. There was no one there, so Jason wandered inside. He found Tim was sitting on the sofa with his laptop in the living room, the note folded beside him. Bruce sat on a chair beside him still looking pained. Jason talked from the door.

“Did you actually wait for me?”

Tim shrugged and without taking his eye off. “Figured it would be better to read once we were all here.”

“Where’s Cass?” He asked, walking to the opposite side of the couch.

“She asked to be filled in later.” Bruce answered. “It’s better we read the rest of the note already. I can’t imagine what else Danny would like us to know.”

Tim sighed, like someone had asked him to be the one to read the letter instead of him being the one to take it upon himself. He took the note, unfolding it again, and Jason could see he was making an effort to ignore the first line.

“I don’t know who the victims are, or where Vlad gets them, but they’re recently deceased. So somewhere there must be people disappearing constantly. It may not be the same place all the time, or it may not even be the same city. Vlad isn’t human.”

“Fucking great. Just what we were missing. What is it this time? A vampire? He definitely has the aesthetic going for him.” The pretender glared at him for the interruption, but Jason thinks the situation fully justifies his reaction.

Bruce sighed. “Language. Please, go on, Tim.”

“He’s a kind of ghost.” Tim raised an eyebrow but continued reading. “I know it may be hard to believe for outsiders, but ghosts are pretty much a common occurrence in Amity Park.”

“I thought that was just a tourist trap.” Jason commented, which gained him another glare from Tim. Jason didn’t bother to acknowledge it, though, inside, he was quite enjoying getting the little shit annoyed.

Tim huffed, and lowered the note a bit before commenting. “There are quite a few claims of ghost sightings, but we couldn’t find any proof of them when we took a look at Amity while searching for a house to rent.” He turned to the computer and started typing something.

“Even then, those reports were not of great importance, mentions of seeing a figure for a couple a seconds in the corner of a room, of a shadow following them around the city, or a pale little kid running around in the cemetery.” Bruce added. “The whole city works around the theme.The biggest school is called Casper High, and most attractions are named after ghost-related puns. We concluded it was, in fact, a tourist trap.”

“So what, the kid is imagining his guardian isn’t human? Making things up to cope with the fact that he is a cannibal? That-”

“Um. Bruce, you might want to see this.” Tim interrupted him.

His eyes were wide, scanning quickly through a webpage. Jason moved close to see the screen, and so did Bruce, standing up from his chair to lean over the back of the sofa. Tim started reading titles while he passed the mouse over them. 

“Octo-Ghost Assists Kindergarten Party and Almost Becomes The Birthday Girl's Pet. First Ghost Attack of the Week in Casper High, Red huntress Captures It Before It Can Disrupt Class. Ghost Known as Lunch Lady Visits Local Restaurant and Asks for a Cooking Battle With the Owner: See the Unexpected Results. Don’t You Miss When Ghosts Would Interrupt Class at Least Once a Day? A ranting blog by Phan_number1. None of this existed when we were checking Amity!”

“How is that even possible? The Batcomputer should have pinged something if there was anything blocking the information,” Bruce says in what sounded like a monotone voice, but any of his kids could tell he’s alarmed by the fact that so much information was successfully hidden from the Batcomputer. “Try sending a link to Babs.”

Tim goes ahead to do that with the ranting blog, but honestly, Jason couldn’t care less if the oh-so-great Batcomputer missed this.

“So the kid isn’t making things up, great. Can you both have your freak-out about the information blockage after we finish reading the note?” If Tim were a super, Jason would have a hole on his front, he’s sure of it.

Babs: Why are you sending me a recipe for making ghost-themed pie?

Tim looks at the message in disbelief, and clicks on the link he had sent. The ranting blog opens, no pie recipe to be seen. Tim takes a screenshot and tries sending it, but a warning message appears, saying the file is corrupted. He tries to send an image of his gallery, it goes without any problems.

“This is weird. It’s not like any kind of blockage we had seen before. It even redirects links to a page that matches the city's theme.”

“Try sending the image through the Bat server.” Bruce says with a voice that it was more serious than Jason expected, which makes him glance back at the man. 

Bruce is glaring at the computer with a dark expression. Realization hits Tim, and he quickly tries to send the image through the Bat server. It goes through, and even Jason feels relieved at the received checkmark. 

“Okay… okay. So they’re monitoring private conversations, but the Bat server is still safe.” Tim murmurs. Then goes ahead and tries sending the link once more, with a message saying it should open the website shown in the image. 

Oracle: All that link opens is the pie recipe Red Robin. If this is some kind of joke, you know the Bat server is not for that.

Tim rolls his eyes at the response and starts writing down a response, explaining the situation to Babs.

“The link must be blocked by IP Address. Tell her to try using a residential proxy.”

“Already on it.”

Jason hates when the old man understands more about technology than he does. Damn his time in the grave. He had been working on getting up to date, and he can do some basic hacking and whatnot. Enough that he doesn’t need external help for every little thing. But he’s still so far behind. 

Oracle: I’m in. You’re also seeing all these things about ghosts?

Red Robin: Yes. 

Red Robin: Somehow they have the city under a blockage that the Batcomputer wasn’t able to detect.

“Okay. Babs can take care of investigating that. We have a note to finish reading, remember?” Jason says, reaching for the paper Tim had left beside the computer, which Tim promptly snatches back. “Hey!”

“You won’t read it outloud for everyone.”

“According to whom!?”

“Kids…” Bruce sighed, “Continue reading, please, Tim.”

The little shit looked smug for a second before going back to the note.

“Please understand that in general ghosts aren’t bad, it’s just Vlad. But ghosts are powerful, and Vlad is really powerful. This can’t be resolved through normal means. I know the Waynes have contact with the Justice League, so I ask you to please get in contact with them, and don’t get anymore involved. I doubt the Justice league is equipped for the type of ghosts we have in Amity park. My friends Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley know where to find specialized weaponry and protective devices. Please, convince the Justice League to go for them first, it would be a disaster if one of the Justice League was overshadowed by Vlad.” That’s where the letter ended.

“Overshadow?” Bruce echoed.

Tim wasted no time putting the word into Google, which, now that Jason noticed, was decorated with little ghosts. Did Amity have its own Google doodle? The definition of the word popped like any other word would, and Jason wondered if that was something else that was blocked outside the city.

“It seems to be how Amity Parkers refer to possession.” Tim said after skimming the definition.

“What do we know about Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley?” Bruce asked, already in work mode.

“Not much, outside of being known friends of Danny. The Masons are a well positioned family in Amity; they’re new money. Izzy Manson, Samantha's great grandfather, invented a machine that twirled cellophane around deli toothpicks, the patent and inheritance placed the family where it is today. Pamela Manson owns a jewelry brand that’s grown in popularity in the Midwestern elite, while Jeremy Manson is a real estate developer. They often attend galas in Wisconsin, and sometimes in other big cities. Samantha Mason is a known teen activist, and has had her fair share of incidents at galas.” Tim said, as he opened the report he had made before coming to Amity.

“Incidents?” Jason asked.

“She has a sharp tongue and doesn’t seem interested in keeping appearances. It’s well known she isn’t fond of the styles her mother gives her for the galas. In any photo she posted on her personal accounts in the last two years, she has a gothic aesthetic.”

“Ah.”

“There’s less about Tucker Foley. His mother, Angela Foley, works as a chef at a local restaurant called “A Ghost's Secret Recipe.” His father, Maurice Foley, is an IT technician for the city government. Tucker seems to take after his father in his interest in technology, and has a history of winning local programming contests.”

“There’s nothing that really screams “I know how to fight ghosts and have ghost weaponry” is there?” Jason comments.

“Well, this is the information we have while searching with the city's information being blocked. Search for Daniel Fenton on the web,” Bruce says, and when Tim enters the name, a lot of news articles come to light. “We should have suspected something when there weren’t a lot of news articles talking about an explosion taking the life of a whole family.” Tim nods to that.

Jason frowns at the screen. “Are you seeing these titles? Local ghost hunters die from mysterious explosions? Something tells me that the access to weaponry has more to do with Danny’s parents than anything about Samantha and Tucker.” 

“What did we have about the Fentons from the investigation in Gotham?”

“They were supposedly part of the tourist industry, “entertaining tourists with street shows about ghost hunting.” We were literally blocked from one of the most important details of Danny’s life.” Tim groaned. 

Bruce sighed. “Let’s try getting some sleep. We’ll try meeting Samantha and Tucker tomorrow in the late afternoon.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Late afternoon?”

“They’re teenagers. I would prefer to interrupt their class time or disturb them too late. They might not even know we plan to meet with them.”

Tim nodded, already starting with the new background check. “I doubt Masters lets Danny have his own phone.”

Jason unceremoniously closed Tims laptop, putting it aside and carrying the kid in a firefighter carry.

“Trying to rest applies to you too.”

Tim protested as he trashed, trying to get him to let go, and if the pretender had actually been serious about it, Jason may have not been able to keep a hold of him.

“I’ll tell Babs to leave the investigation for tomorrow as well. You’ll have time before we go meet Danny’s friends, so let’s rest for some time first, okay?” Bruce said with that voice he always used when he was treating them like little kids. And if Jason found it soothing, that was between his mind and himself.

Tim groans, but relaxes, accepting defeat, and the kid is asleep before Jason even makes it out the living room. Jason wonders, not for the first time, if Tims ability to basically sleep anywhere, anyway, anytime, would go away if the kid actually followed the sleeping schedule Bruce and Alfred tried imposing, instead of taking random naps around the clock. 

He’s sure the little shit will be back in front of the computer in 30 minutes. Whatever. He already did his mandatory older sibling duty by getting him to stop for a nap. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Next part

[strawberry-nugget]

notion | k. bakugo | 3

M.list | prev

Summary: Katsuki drove all the way to Tokyo just for you to comfort him. But will you? Even when you learn that the fight with his mother ended up being about you?

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors do not interact, oral (f&mreceiving), throat fucking, cunnilingus, facesitting, spitting, fingering, fwb, part , jealousy, slight angst, looooooads of comfort, endless mutual pining, p in v sex, creampies, cumflation, extreme sex marathons, mating press, missionarry, Scissors position (m&f), multiple orgasms, bakugo fucks the feminism out of us-really, slight somno???(they fall asleep during sex), cockwarming, rough sex, sloppy kissing, hair pulling, biting, reader is absolutely cockdrunk / bakugo is pussydurnk, overstimulation. All characters are 20+

Paring: Bakugo Katsuki x reader

Katsuki arrives at 5.22am. Just a bit before you come bursting out of a cab, trying to hide your stumbling as you close the car door carefully. You’re startled by him, clearly not expecting him at this hour tonight, or even at all. 

You freeze for half a second, debating whether to acknowledge him or pretend you didn’t see him. But it’s pointless—his red eyes are already locked on you, scanning, assessing, narrowing slightly as he takes in the state you’re in. The wrinkled clothes, the faint smell of alcohol clinging to your jacket, the unsteady way you shift your weight.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue, pushing off the wall. “The hell is this?”

You exhale with a sigh, steadying yourself. “What are you doing here, Katsuki?”

“Waiting for your dumbass, apparently.” He jerks his chin toward you. “You’re late.”

Late for what? You don’t remember agreeing to meet him at the crack of dawn. You don’t even remember texting to meet him in the first place. The night is a blur of drinks and conversation. You’d ended up getting another drink, then another, then somehow ended up in a cab back home without fully processing how.

You rub at your temple. “Did I… say I’d meet you?”

He’s leaning against the entrance of your building, arms crossed, looking irritated. But there’s something else there, too, beneath the usual scowl. Something that makes your already-clouded mind sharpen just a little.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask, voice low, like you’re afraid of showing him a sign that you’re fed up with such schemes.

He scoffs. “What, I need a reason?”

You let out a slow breath, trying to steady yourself again as you wobble on your heels. Your head is still buzzing from the drinks, your limbs heavy with exhaustion, but Katsuki standing here—at this hour, in this place—demands your full attention.

“You came all the way to Tokyo in the middle of the night, so yeah a reasoning would be good”

He hasn’t seen you in two months. Not since you started skipping your usual weekend trips back to Musutafu. Not since you started making excuses, too tired, too busy, too something to go home. But he knows the truth. He's so fed up with feelings and excuses—And now he’s here.

You look at him more closely, and it clicks. He’s not in his hero gear. He’s in sweatpants and a hoodie, hands shoved into the pockets. He came here like this—just got up and left, like he didn’t care where he was going, just that he had to go.

“Did you fight with your mom?” you ask, the answer already obvious.

His jaw tightens. “Tch. Who gives a shit?”

You do.

But you don’t say that. You just nod, glancing toward your building. “You wanna come up?”

He exhales sharply, like he wants to argue, like this isn’t exactly what he came for—but he follows you inside anyway.

The elevator ride is quiet, except for the hum of the machinery. You don’t say anything, and neither does he. It’s been four years since you stopped being more than this—whatever “this” is—but somehow, the silence between you still feels the same.

When you reach your apartment, you kick off your shoes and toss your jacket onto the nearest chair. Katsuki lingers near the door for a second before sighing and dropping onto the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees, face finding awkward comfort between his palms.

“You been avoiding me?” he asks.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t know the answer, but because you don’t know if you want to tell him the truth.

Instead, you deflect. “You drove all the way to Tokyo in the middle of the night to ask me that?”

Katsuki exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before glaring at you like you’re the problem here. “Obviously.”

You stare. “That’s like three hours.”

“An hour and a half.”

You blink. “You were speeding?”

“Not the point,” he snaps, leaning back against your bed frame, eyes flickering away. He’s tense in a way that has nothing to do with you. His fingers flex where they rest against his thighs, and there’s something off in his posture—something you only recognize because you used to know him better than anyone.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “What happened?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just tugs at the hem of his hoodie, like he’s considering whether he even wants to say it. Finally, he mutters, “Dumbass fight.”

“With your mom?”

A scoff. “Who else?”

You don’t press, letting the quiet sit between you. He’s always been like this—reluctant with his words, like saying them out loud makes them harder to handle. But you’ve also always been good at waiting.

After a moment, he exhales, tilting his head back against the wall. “She said I work too much,” he mumbles, voice gruff. “Said I never communicate, never come home unless she drags me back.” He clicks his tongue, eyes flickering toward you. “Sound familiar?”

You shift under his gaze, but he doesn’t let you deflect this time. He doesn’t let you ask about the bruise on his face, when you notice it, when you open your mouth with your gaze burning on it. And you decide to keep the thought to your head. Ask him some other time. Bruises and wounds and scars are on the cv when you’re applying to be a hero anyway.

“Told her” he continues, after a long pause “I didn’t have time for stupid shit like that. She said I was just making excuses. That I didn’t wanna be around her, or my friends” He scoffs again, quieter this time. “Like I don’t already know that.”

Your chest tightens. Mitsuki Bakugo has never been a quiet woman. You can imagine the fight easily—her sharp words, his explosive temper, both of them too stubborn to back down. He probably stormed out the second the shouting turned personal, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled. But instead of going to Kirishima’s or driving around Musutafu to clear his head, he came here.

To you.

To fucking To-ky-o.

You don’t know what to do with that.

“So you drove all the way to Tokyo,” you murmur, shaking your head. “For what, exactly?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer right away. He’s deliberately skipped the part of the fight that included you, not wanting to put that weight on your shoulders. 

He doesn’t think it’s your fault, no, he could never blame you for a thing, despite anything you should be taking accountability for, he thinks that everything that has happened and shattered between the two of you is just him.

So, his initial response would be something like ‘so no one sets you up with Izuku’

Instead, he shifts, pulling his hood up, tagging at the strings until only his nose is visible, like he’s trying to disappear inside it. Then, barely above a grumble, he mutters, “Dunno. Just didn’t wanna be alone.”

And—Oh.

Oh.

Oh—The realization hits like a punch to the gut. You’ve seen him tired before, frustrated, even overwhelmed—but this is something else. Something softer that is buried under all his usual rough edges. He’s exhausted, and angry, and maybe just a little lost.

And for some reason, he came to you.

You, who’s stupid enough to not think Katsuki could ever fall in love with you. You, who is scared of doing something wrong because you don’t want to lose him only to end up pushing him away.

You're stupid, insane. It should have been over. A year ago. He shouldn’t be driving to see you in the monsoon. You should have gotten over it by now, but my god it’s been ten years already that you’re in love with this fucking guy.

You exhale, dragging a hand down your face before moving toward the bed. Without thinking too hard about it, you sit beside him, close enough that your legs brush. He doesn’t flinch away, but you don’t push further either. Solemnly, you notice the sweats he’s wearing were your gift from two years ago and something in your heart softens. Your eyebrows don’t hurt from thinking anymore.

“You could’ve called” you say, nudging him lightly.

He huffs. “Yeah pffft, right. And you would’ve answered?”

You wouldn’t. 

You don’t have an excuse for that.

Silence settles between you again, heavier this time. He’s tense, his shoulders wound tight like he’s waiting for you to tell him to leave. Bark at him like he’s a stray dog invading your house. Instead, you sigh and shift, leaning back against the bedframe before tilting your head onto his shoulder.

His breath catches.

He doesn’t move right away, but you feel it—the way his muscles lose some of their tension, the way his hands clench, then relax. Slowly, cautiously, he leans into you, just enough that you can tell he needs it.

Needs this. Needs you. Whatever. The lines are so blurred.

You should say something. Should probably ask him if this is a bad idea, if he’s sure. But you don’t. You just let your head rest against his shoulder, letting the quiet say everything neither of you know how to.

In this tranquility he smells divine. Like your own detergent that you know his mother uses too, mixed with the sweet scent of his skin and Argan oil shampoo.

His fingers brush against yours, hesitantly and slow, like he’s waiting for permission and you don’t pull away.

It’s been four years since you stopped being more than this. More than friends. That one year ago doesn’t even matter. Because right now, at 5:30 in the morning, after a fight that drove him across prefectures just to see you; You can’t run from this anymore.

Not with the way he’s looking at you—eyes dark, jaw clenched, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s physically holding himself back. Feeling like he’s the softest thing to graze this earth, smelling like absolute heaven.

Your pulse is a drumbeat in your throat, and fuck if this isn’t just how safety should feel. This is why he’s a hero. This is what people feel when they’re around him and you’re glad. Glad he’s fixed his temper, glad he’s worked on his attitude, you're glad he’s still himself but a part of you had always just wanted that just for yourself. 

It’s all you wanna have from him. That quiet little notion that even if whatever he’s making you feel has your heart begging to burst out of its seams, he’s not going to let it happen.

“Katsuki—”

“Why?” he cuts you off, leaning in closer.

The shift he’s making is intentional, heavy and straddling and it’s almost enough to push your legs to open so he can fill out the space between them like a perfect puzzle piece.

You shift back instinctively, but there’s nowhere to go. The bed frame is against your spine, and Katsuki is in front of you, blocking out everything else.

“I—” Your breath stumbles. “I got busy.”

“Bullshit.”

His voice is low, rough. Not loud, just firm. Accusing.Your fingers grip the blanket beneath you. 

“You don’t get to ask me that.”

“The hell I don’t.”

Another push.

Your knees nearly brush.

You should push him away. Should remind him that whatever you were to each other—it ended. Should tell him to leave, because this is dangerous, because your head is still foggy from the drinks, because if you let him any closer, you won’t be able to stop.

But you don’t. Not because you pity that he has nowhere to go. Because the truth is—You don’t want to stop him. And he knows it all too well.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, demanding. “Say you didn’t wanna see me. Because I tried to kiss you”

“That’s not the truth”

“Then it was the old hag, trying to set you up with—” he cuts his words, growling at his own self

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because you can’t say it. You can’t just casually say that you’re in love with him and everything that isn't him, hurts. Not when he’s right here, looking at you like this, like the space you desperately tried to put between you means nothing at all. Like he could burn straight through it if he wanted to.

The truth is, you wanted to protect his friendship with Izuku, you wanted to be nice, not mingle between them. And you were tired, oh so very tired when everyone, even his own mother would pester you about what they thought was best for you, like they knew better. Like you’d choose Izuku, or anyone to treat you right.

All you’ve ever wanted was to have Katsuki to yourself. Not stolen nights and neediness for sexual humanity. You want him to treat you right. You're so tired of pretending. You want him to want to fight for you. Grab you by your shoulders and smooch your lips like he’s trying to make you crazy. 

And then, like he can hear your inner thoughts he—

“Fuck this.”

Katsuki moves.

It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. It’s everything pent-up between you, everything unsaid, everything ignored for years too long. His hands are on you before you can process it—gripping your jaw, tilting your face up, his fingers rough and warm, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

His breath fans across your lips. And he stops. Just for a second too long, he’s giving you a chance to pull away. Like he’s actually waiting, expecting for you to stop him.

You don’t stop him, you just utter “we shouldn’t” subconsciously hoping he’s going to deny your words.

“Says who? Us?”

You can’t even form a response to counter attack him. He's right. So when his lips finally crash into yours again, you meet him halfway.

It’s desperate. It’s unsteady. It’s Katsuki, and it’s you, and it’s four active years of history unraveling all at once.

His grip tightens, fingers sliding into your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. He groans into your mouth, like he’s starving, like he’s been holding this back for too damn long and he’s finally letting himself have it.

You fist your hands into his hoodie, dragging him closer, and he follows without hesitation, pressing against you, against the bed, against everything.

It’s overwhelming. It’s intoxicating. It’s everything you shouldn’t want—everything you tried to leave behind—And it’s him. Your entire being aches for him.

Katsuki breaks away just enough to breathe, forehead pressing against yours, eyes half-lidded and burning vermillion.

“You’re a fuckin’ liar,” he rasps, voice wrecked, breath uneven. “‘We should be friends’ my ass”

You swallow hard, chest heaving.

“I know.”

And when you pull him back in, you're lost in him.

Lost in the heat, the weight, the impossible pull that’s been dragging you back to him thats been coiling in your belly since the moment he showed up at your door.

But even as you drown in the intensity of his kiss, a flash of thought, an assumption, cuts through the haze.

Katsuki’s fight with his mother wasn’t just about work. It was about you. About Izuku. And god, it hits you like a cold wave crashing over fire. And fuck, you’ve been wanting to avoid this.

You pull back slightly, breathless, eyes searching his. “Katsuki—”

He doesn’t let you go far. His hands grip your waist tighter, pulling you back in, but you manage to keep enough distance to meet his gaze. “What?” he asks, voice low, but there’s just an edge of impatience threading through it.

“Why you’re really here,” you say, voice trembling just a little. “It’s about Izuku, isn’t it?”

His expression hardens instantly, the fire in his eyes flickering dangerously. “What the hell does he have to do with this?”

Your heart races, the air between you now thick with so, so much tension. 

“You’re jealous” you blurt out, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Katsuki’s grip goes rigid, his expression darkening further, further, further until his eyes are the same dark color as his bruised cheekbone.

“Yes!!” You can’t help the edge of desperation in your voice. “Katsuki we’ve talked about this. We’re friends, you don’t get to claim me because Izuku—”

“Stop.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife and he kisses you then, because he doesn’t even fucking need to claim you, because you’ve been his. “We’re not friends” and a kiss is planted on your lips with the loudest smooching sound, as if he’s proving a point here “You don’t get to say his name right now.”

You stare at him, pulling back, only ever to land his forehead to yours, confusion mixing with frustration. “But Katsuki, you can’t just ignore it! You can’t pretend it doesn’t matter.”

“Pretend?” He pulls back, running a hand through his hair, frustration, unlike yours, etched on his face. “I’m not pretending. I’m fucking furious!”

“Why?” you challenge, heart racing. “Because you’re jealous?”

He flinches at the use of the word again, eyes flashing with something too raw and fierce to name “You don’t get it!” he growls, taking a step closer, invading your space again. “It’s not just that! It’s everything!”

“Then tell me!” you demand, feeling the heat rise between you, like the air is electrified. This time it’s you who traps his lips into your mouth “Tell me why you’re here, why you care so much.”

He hesitates, breathing heavily, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull away again. But instead, he leans in, forehead pressing against yours, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Because I don’t want you to be with him.” Your lips… they brush “I can’t stand the thought of it.”

The admission hangs in the air, heavy and charged. Your heart races, and suddenly everything shifts in the snap of a second. You can see the truth behind his anger—the jealousy, the frustration, the need. It’s written all over your face too. Has been written all over your face for years.

“Then why did you fight with your mom?” you whisper. “Because she was trying to set us up?”

“Because she thinks I don’t care!” He pulls back again, hands tightening into fists. “And it’s bullshit! I came here for you, not him!”

The truth of his words washes over you, filling the cracks of doubt that had formed between you, like liquid gold on broken china. He’s here. He’s always been here, despite everything—despite the distance, the silence, the walls you put up.

“God, Katsuki,” you breathe, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on you now. It’s one thing to know he fought with his mother again and another to be explicitly told your name was involved in this fight “You didn’t have to come all the way to Tokyo. I’m not worth this fight.”

He takes another leap forward, and suddenly, he’s right in front of you, even when you don’t realise when he ever broke apart from your lips, chest heaving, eyes ablaze with emotion. “You’re wrong,” he murmurs, voice fierce. “You’re worth every damn fight. I want us to be together, normally. Not this fuck shit we’ve been doing”

And then, without warning, he crushes his lips to yours again, and this time it’s more than desperation. It’s raw and unfiltered—like he’s pouring everything he’s been holding back into this single moment that forms this kiss.

You melt against him, feeling the heat flare back to life, your body arching toward him instinctively. His hands roam over you, pulling you in, wrapping around you like he’s trying to keep you tethered to him.

It’s too much, too intense, and you know there’s no going back. Not now. Not when he’s fighting for you like this. With split lips and teeth.

When he pulls away this time, his eyes are dark and wild, breathless, and you can see the flicker of vulnerability beneath his anger. 

“I thought you didn’t want any commitment?” You accuse

“No babe, you didn’t want any commitment” he states, like it’s the truth.

“And when did I ever say that?”

“Back when I ate the fuck out of you on your couch. You said it’s weird”

You shake your head in disbelief, and even though you’re shocked by the lewdness you can feel your core clench ever so subtly by the remembrance of that night. 

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to be taught to do it to someone else? I had a big fat crush on you since high school. How was I supposed to trust that you wanted me and not my body after that?”

Katsuki stills.

His expression shifts—slightly, but enough for you to catch it. Like he’s just now realizing the weight of what you said. Like all the bravado, the jealousy, the impulsive drive across prefectures was a smokescreen to avoid this very conversation.

“That’s what you thought?” he says after a moment, voice quieter now, hoarse.

You swallow, suddenly unsure of what to make for what he said “You said you wanted practice. What was I supposed to think?”

He runs both hands through his hair, dragging them down his face like the weight of the past is finally pressing down hard on him. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Thanks,” you snap “Real comforting.”

“No—not you,” he growls, standing too, closing the gap between you in one long push. “Me.”

You stop breathing. He never, ever puts blame on you. Never.

And yet— He’s so close again, eyes burning, but this time not with anger; it’s regret. Fucking. Regret. Frustration that wants to claw out of his stomach. Something fragile that's breaking open behind his stare.

“You think I would ask anyone else for that?” he says. Voice low, deliberate. “You think I’d let anyone else teach me somethin’ that…intimate? You think I’ve ever had sex with anyone else other than you?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing back then,” he says. “I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted. Didn’t even know I was already wantin’ you that bad until I had you like that. But you said it was weird and then we just—fucked off like it didn’t happen. Kept fucking too.”

“Katsuki…”

“I thought it meant nothin’ to you,” he says, and now his voice really does waver. “So I shut up. Pretended it meant nothin’ to me too. But it wasn’t just your body I wanted. I wanted all of you, and I didn’t know how to say it without screwin’ it up, because I’m an asshole and instead of speaking up I kept demanding you give me your body, when I just wanted the after. But I never stayed after. You never stayed after. You didn’t even talk about it with our friends or…anyone.”

Your heart stutters, a pulse of heat and ache tightening in your chest.

“I didn’t want anyone else. I still don’t. I want you.”

You don’t know who moves first this time—maybe it’s both of you—but suddenly you’re wrapped around each other like the world is tilting and this is the only steady thing left. His mouth finds yours again, slower now, like he’s asking instead of just fiercely taking. Like this kiss is a promise and not a question.

You break away only long enough to whisper against his lips, “Say it again.”

He presses his forehead to yours, breath shaky. “I want you.”

Your hands tremble where they rest against his chest, just softly keeping a distance between you. “Not just tonight? Or Fridays when I come to Musutafu? Or—”

Your words are taken out of your lungs with a kiss that feels like a punch to the gut. 

It’s a Delaware smash, the full press of his body on yours that you can’t help shake off. He kisses you like he’s starved, like he hasn’t been kissing you since you landed onto the bed to talk and you’re kissing him back like you haven’t kissed anyone before.

His teeth are clashing with yours, drool is everywhere on both your cheeks and you’re not even sure if it’s his, yours— you just want him to shove his tongue down your throat like it’s even humanly possible and fuck fuck fuck you could gargle him right now. Your hands are clawing his face onto yours like you can only breathe for air against his mouth and it’s only his lungs that make him pull away for air.

Panting. He’s panting like a dog and you can’t even think.

“No.” He says, kissing the corner of your mouth, hips grinding against yours, too desperate for friction. Something, anything to slow down the fire that's consuming both of you right now.

His eyes meet yours, full of fire and something that looks such an awful, painful lot like devotion. 

“I want” he kisses your chin, then the base of your ear. It seems like an eternity away from your mouth and still, your hero manages to save your lonely mouth in time “All” kiss “the fucking” kiss “nights.”

You don’t know who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but there’s a blur of movement, and suddenly you’re underneath him, wrapped around him, mouths colliding like something violent and utterly holy. There’s nothing slow about it now. No build-up. Just heat, frantic and immediate.

He kisses you like you’re air and he’s drowning. Like this is survival, and nothing else matters. His mouth crushes yours, open and messy, tongue sliding over your teeth, sucking your bottom lip between his like he’s trying to bruise it there—brand you. You gasp into him, and it only eggs him on. He groans low in his throat, grinding his hips against yours like he can’t fucking help it and shoves his tongue in your mouth, the same time you try to do it to him yourself.

Your fingers claw into his hair, yanking, anchoring him to your mouth like if you pull hard enough, you can fuse your mouths together. He answers with his own hands—rough, searching, greedy. Palming your hips, tugging the hem of your dress up halfway before abandoning the fabric altogether to shove a hand under it, scorching skin and all.

His fingers dig into your thighs like they want to draw blood and your back arches, hips digging into the mattress but he just won’t allow that. One big palm scoops under your ass and bucks you upwards. You clench as he furiously shoves the skirt of your dress out of the way and grinds into you with absolutely zero grace.

You don’t even want to look at how his sweatpants look after being in contact with what you know are your wet, ruined panties.

You can’t tell whose breath is whose, whose spit, whose moan. It’s a mess—wet, frantic, teeth bumping and lips bruising but clothes shift, slide and disappear, discarded onto the floor of your apartment in a pile, exposing skin you never meant to expose just yet but you don’t care. Couldn’t care less if anyone asks you.

And that’s about how you end up in your underwear. Katsuki’s tongue licks into your mouth like he’s trying to carve space for himself there and there’s no time to think of a next move anymore. There’s no name being called out— no words. You’re clawing at his shoulders, his jaw, his neck, like maybe if you hold him tight enough you’ll convince yourself that you’re not just dreaming of this right now.

He kisses you hard enough to make your lip sting, and when he pulls back just a fraction to breathe, his pupils are blown wide, eyes glazed over with something that borders on animalistic. His forehead drops to yours, but he doesn’t slow down—his hand cups your jaw, guiding your mouth back to his like he’s addicted to your sweet taste.

Your legs wrap around his waist without thinking, because you're so desperate for more. Core aching and your clit is fucking twitching like if he doesn’t touch it immediately you’ll drop dead. So you buck into him, into his furiously throbbing cock and he twitches, flinches into your mouth.

And then he bites. Not hard enough to break skin—but it’s not gentle either. He sinks his teeth into the curve of your jaw, then your shoulder, lips trailing open-mouthed, feverish kisses in between each graze of teeth. You cry out—more shock than pain—and he smirks against your neck, lips curling before he goes back in and sucks hard, dragging the edge of his teeth over your collarbone until your whole body shudders.

You bite him back. Shoulder. Neck. Jaw. Ears. Whatever you can reach.

Then, finally, you push him back, using all the hero strength that's still left in you that's just enough to climb over him, so that you can free him from the prison that his boxers are.

His dick springs free, bouncing on his abdomen with a loud thud, boxers still hanging over his thighs as you glide onto him once. Your panties are so wet that they might as well not exist. He can feel every bit of your folds onto his tip as you grind onto him again.

“F-fuck”

He groans, low in his throat, like the sound’s been buried in him for years. He grabs your chin as if you're some villain he wants to take completely off the map and kisses you again—deeper this time, tongue stroking against yours, hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips with just enough pressure to make your knees go soft. 

Katsuki’s hands slide over your breasts, squeezing impossibly hard, to the point it hurts so good that you have to cling onto him for leverage.

He makes a move to unclasp your bra, but he pulls down the straps first, too desperate even for that little part of skin that they hide and then he pops it open from your back. Like a maniac, he tosses it in a corner far, far away and manages to cup your breasts before they even manage to bounce. One hand slides down your back and you groan, for a second, before he latches onto your collarbone, your chest; biting, sucking, bleeding your skin. 

You have to grasp his head and pop your nipple into his mouth and he follows you ferally, one hand gnawing the plush skin of your ass through your panties, rushing you, bucking you onto him feverishly.

You kiss the top of his head once, twice, but he doesn’t seem to want to let go and so you force him, pushing him back with brute force until his back collides with the bed and you’re kissing all over his chest. All over the scar on his heart, the one on his stomach, over and over until there’s no place on his abdomen you haven’t put your mouth on, before you even dare reach for his cock.

Drool catches at the side of your lip at the sight of his dick, red and puffy at the tip, twitching in your fist as you hammer it twice in an up and down motion. 

Katsuki’s hands tangle in the bangs of your hair and his breathing catches—it pauses for a second and his heart skips a beat and dips when you take him into your mouth, giving him one hard and slow long suck till his tip smacks the back of your throat. 

“Love y’r cock” you slur, mouth still placing hot, smooching, kisses all over his tip.

He squirms when you pull back, eyes slant, with determination as you look at him, grind down on his leg and spit on his cock, shaking the base just enough for the glob of saliva to start dripping down his length. You aim for his balls next, sucking them into your mouth, licking them too, while you’re pumping him in a hammering motion, until your spit drips into the crooks of your fingers—so wet, that when you go to flip the slit of his tip with your thumb he slips right off your grip and his cock slaps over your face.

Katsuki watches you ferally, eyes blown out staring into yours, hips bucking in the air as his dick stays glued to your face, precum running in rivers, mixing with your spit. It’s impossible to hold still, or hold back from cumming just yet. You work him like you want him to cry for it. Hammering strokes beneath your lips, your tongue drawing lewd patterns around the base, then up—up—until you’re choking again, wet sounds echoing in the room like sin.

But you push forward, parting from his balls, you grab his cock again and smear the tip over your glossed out lips like it’s fucking lips gloss, before popping him into your mouth again. 

He screams. Screams, when your tongue runs over the veins of his dick, over his slit, even the crevices of and under his foreskin while occasionally giving him the meanest suck, just so he reaches the top of your throat. 

You hammer one hand in swirling motions right under your mouth and you don’t even know if you’re sucking, licking, you just know that he’s squirming and muttering prayers that no god wants to hear. Grabbing the covers, then your head; his legs are twitching, holding you in place like this is a fight, like you can’t just do all that and not expect him to grab you by the top of your hair and kiss you.

You don’t even breathe, you’ve forgotten how to by now, and even if you're kissing him there’s still a sticky string of precum that runs from his cock to your lips that he tastes and it does wonders to make him go absolutely feral.

He pulls you back, just so you can catch your breath as he runs his hands over your nipples and pulls, until he shoves you down again, smearing your face over his face, his abs, and pops his cock sleazily into your mouth until he’s bottoming out.

Your eyes tear up and you choke momentarily. Your roots hurt from how rough he’s gripping you. And you are sleazy too, when you grab his balls, fiddling your thumb to press on the spot right under them.

Just when you think you’re winning this battle, with the rhythm of his thrusts in your throat and your licking on the underside of his cock, he pulls you away and brings you to his lips again.

Everything on the skin of his abdomen is ruined by your spit and drool and it’s just so so hot at the sight that you moan about it.

When you kiss, Katsuki groans at his taste, at the loss of your mouth on him, and the air in the room makes his wet cock hurt from how hard it is.

You don’t even manage to realise when he has you sat on his chest, panties ripped and torn off completely, thrown carelessly across the room, but he’s trying to slide you towards his face. With the buck of his hips, his knees and then finally, his hands grab your hips and sprawls you right onto his collarbones.

Katsuki’s fingers itch across your thighs, thumbs massaging the plum skin as he glides them—both of them— over your folds. Opening you right up, to shove a finger inside you, twisting it as you hiss and pulling it out, sleeky gooey string attached and all, and into his mouth, moaning around his finger, slurping it, swirling it around his tongue.

Your pussy is drooling even more at the action, your clit twitching again as he moans at your taste. You don’t dare to move, just back your ass further up, until your whole pussy is spread open in his face. 

You’ve got no shame, not a single shameful bone in you as you try to shove his head onto you. And the worst part is, he’s not even pretending to be patient. With his big hands around your thighs, he pulls you forward until your pussy is hovering over his mouth, thighs trembling, folds spread and dripping onto his chin before he’s even touched you.

Your hands spread across him; on on his cock to pump it lazily—keep him hard for you, while the other tries to fight for leverage onto the bed.

For a moment, only one phrase escapes him. “Your pussy’s so fucking wet f’me baby”

And then, another “friends, my ass” right before he dives in you.

He sticks his tongue out, licking from your poor drooling hole to your clit then swirling around it, drawing soft eights with every little swirl.

You moan all the indecent ‘fucks’ in the whole world when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks—swirls his hot tongue around again now that he’s got you trapped like this.

You can’t move your body on command, just buck your hips into his mouth in desperation as his thumb comes to push the hood of your clit back, tapping it towards his tongue as he licks and licks away, alternating between kitten licks and soft tongue movements like you’ve taught him.

Katsuki flips the top of his tongue relentlessly on your clit and you’re pouring sinful wetness onto his lips, his face, down his neck. It’s like you’ve never been this wet in your entire life.

And his face, oh his face, sweet and hazy, eyes staring right into yours as he’s devouring your honey tasting pussy. His upper lip twitches, setting comfortably over the hood of your clit, over your puffy folds and you make a sound that’s similar to screeching, being drunk, sunk into how he can look so hellishly pretty while eating you out.

You tell him your piece of mind— only because there’s no fucking point in keeping it in “I love how y’r upper lip is bigger, fffuck”

Fuck, you want to be the one to get to fuck his face like this forever.

His tongue moves with the kind of precision that comes from obsession, from memorization. He knows your body, every twitch, every gasp. He maps it again and again with his mouth like he hasn’t eaten you out since that December night four years ago.

The way he moans into you sounds like he’s starving. The way his hands, his thick fingers dig into your thighs to keep you spread wide, trembling above him. It’s messy, it’s obscene, it’s exactly what’s why you are so drunk on him.

You rock your hips forward again, his nose pressing against your clit just right. His eyes flutter, lashes wet, lips swollen, and the sound he makes; needy, helpless is enough to send a fresh wave of slick rolling down his chin.

And just when you get frenzied about it he pulls back to breathe. 

You whine— you want his tongue on you until he chokes. Yet, you settle for two of his fingers running up the sides of your swollen folds, the tips giving you a soft rub.

His cheek softly grazes your thigh, his lips parted ever so slightly before diving back in ever so sweetly. He doesn’t suck this time. He just licks, short kitten flicks of his tongue across your clit and moans, face contorting into an almost painful expression when your thighs start trembling. Like he’s trying to tell you that he knows. Knows how good he’s making you feel.

But when he tries to tease your entrance with a finger again, you groan animalistically. All the pent up fuel in the depths of your tummy bursts and yet you have no control of it. You're only encouraged to ride it out, by Katsuki’s hands slapping and grabbing your ass, making you ride his face until you’re breathless, twitching and he’s making lewd slurping and moaning sounds at your taste.

Your whole body convulses in spasms, back bowed, voice raw as you scream his name.

He holds you through it, gentle now. Reverent. He kisses your thighs, your trembling hips, the skin just above your clit like he’s giving thanks.

It takes one look into his eyes for him to grab you, flip you, tousle you into the mattress. His lips find your own desperately, wet with your juices and you spend so agonisingly long kissing him, tasting yourself, grinding your chin to his.

It’s a mess. Sloppy and slow. Lips sliding, tongues tangling, your taste smeared between his jaw and yours. You moan into it, overwhelmed from the unbearable tenderness in the way he holds your face like he can’t believe you’re real.

You don’t even know where his hands go first. It’s all a blur—your hair, your neck, your chest, like he needs to touch every inch of you to remind himself you’re his. His body slots over yours, big and bruised and burning, hips cradled between your thighs like they were made for him.

And when his oozing tip lines up with your fluttering entrance, sliding twice across your slit to catch some more wetness, your hands run down his back, fingernails crawl into his skin.

But oh, oh when he bullies his fat tip into you and he hisses, when his jaw goes slack and you suck and bite down his chin, everything in both your bodies goes absolutely numb.

It’s such a blur what he does after he bottoms out completely. One moment he’s sinking his teeth into your chin too, hard enough to draw blood, he pants, his hips stutter into yours. Your palm goes to shove his face into the space where your shoulder meets your neck, away from your face because it fucking hurts to be bitten down like that. And yet it does nothing to calm him or you down. He just turns his head and bites your palm, your fingers.

It looks like a physical fight. Like those sick and twisted sex orientated hipster films that you can’t get through without cringing. You’ve never thought you’d have this type of sex in your entire life.

And fuck it, you can’t stay stil.

The position isn't going to work if you don’t stay still but you can’t– you can’t just do that and fuck—he ducks down, licks a strip across your whole chest before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and bites. How can you ever stay still after this?

His hand comes to wrap around your throat to keep you down, keep you in place so he can continue kissing you. His tongue fights inside every crevice of your mouth so hard that you could just choke on his own drool.

Katsuki picks up his pace and the sound of skin slapping on wet skin is so loud, louder than your screams as his tip kisses all the way to your cervix. And at the feeling he chokes—fucks into you even rougher than before.

Your voice has officially died in your throat amidst being violently thrusted in. You’re in the most delirious state as you cling onto Katsuki for dear life, legs securely trapping him against you, coaxing him to keep thrusting and never stop.

His cock feels delicious inside you; every thrust, every catch of his veins on your stupidly tight cunt as it flutters around him and sucks him feels like pure torture. You try to buck into him too, with a broken rhythm and a stutter of your own hips as your back arches and your hips lift off the bed.

It’s then that Katsuki decides that this body to body battle can be no more. He needs to win.

Rough calloused hands grip on your prone bone with the intention to fucking bruise, slamming you into the bed with brute force, then pressing your stomach down. Down, down, down and in, till his thumb catches your twitching clit and flicks.

He’s fast, rough; hands prying your legs open, grabbing you by the calves and pushing them over his head. Your knees almost touch your ears.

You don’t break eye contact, not even for a second, you don't whine, don’t beg, you just sit there and take it. The impossibly rough rhythm of his hips as his cock completely dives into your pussy.

And you throb, fucking hell you throb around him, so insanely tight for his cock, milking him of any precum that dares spill out of his slit. His chest bumps into yours, making him groan.

You feel so, so good around him that he gets careless with his thrusting, one second he's pistoning inside you and the next he’s slamming you down on the creaking bed so hard that you’re sure you are going to break it in two.

But oh holy fuck, this mating press has you delusional, delirious, your brain is fucked by your own lust and at this breaking point, your words slur out of you, like you can’t keep them inside anymore.

“I’ll quit my job for you” you scream, voice so broken “I’ll be a housewife, in the fucking kitchen Kats-Katsuki”

“The fuck ya-ah saying?”

“‘ll be in the kitchen, cleaning, anything, anything, i’ll quit my fucking job, ill quit it, i swear. fah- for- you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he grits out, voice wrecked, like he’s dragging the sentence through gravel. His hips stutter, grind deeper. “Sayin’ that shit when I got you like this—fuck—you don’t mean it.”

But you do.

You do, and that’s the worst part. Your voice is ugly with honesty, cracked and too loud, tears mixing with sweat and spit. “I’ll do anything. I don’t want anyone else looking at me—I don’t want you looking at anyone else—I’ll be yours, forever, Katsuki.”

His name breaks in your throat like a sob, and he snarls something unintelligible, grabbing your thigh so hard you swear it bruises. He slams back into you, like he can fuck the insanity out of you—or worse, like he’s trying to carve his name so deep into you that you never say anything like that to anyone else.

Not Izuku, not fucking Shindou from all those years ago, but him.

Him. Him. Him

“You’re not thinkin’ straight,” he spits, but his voice is ragged, strained—like maybe he’s the one who’s delirious, like his belly is even more white and hot with lust than yours. “You say that again—I’ll fuckin’ take you up on it. I swear to god. Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

But you’re gone. Your body’s shaking, your fingers clawing at his big, strong arms like you’ll float away if you don’t anchor yourself to him.

“I m-mean it. ‘Be in the k-kitchen cooking and shit–shit, just d-don’t leave me.”

“M fucking you out of your brain—shit”

You kiss him, whining your hips against him as he hammers inside you.

Katsuki growls into your mouth like you’ve just punched him in the ribs—like your kiss stole the last of his breath. He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t even hesitate.

He kisses you back like a man possessed.

Teeth and tongue and heat—like he’s trying to shove everything he’s never said down your throat, until your lungs burn with it. Like if he keeps kissing you, he won’t have to say anything at all.

But your words won’t stop echoing. ‘Just don’t leave me’

And something in him cracks.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your lips, over and over again. “Fuck—fuck, baby—fuck.”

His rhythm turns punishing, relentless, like he’s trying to prove something to both of you. Like he’s desperate to make you understand what he can’t put into words—how long he’s wanted this. Wanted you. Not just under him. Not just screaming his name.

But yours.

“Don’t say that if you don’t fuckin’ mean it,” he says again, but softer this time, like the words are slipping out from under a rib cracked open. “I’ll ruin you. You get that?”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks, open and honest and raw. “I love you. I’d—ah do anything for you”

Katsuki freezes. His hand slides up your body—calloused fingers around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, like he’s anchoring himself to your heartbeat. Like the feeling of your heartbeat catching through his chest is enough to ruin him.

A growl rips out of him—real, animalistic, guttural. His whole weight crashes into you, and you don’t know if you’re being worshiped or punished by the mean drilling of his cock inside you, but either way, you’re not walking tomorrow.

Maybe that’s exactly what you want. Maybe this is how you end up spent, bent in literal two chasing friction on your clit by bumping it into his pelvis until your legs go numb and the voice is fucking finally back in your throat.

“I love you too” he whines and that’s probably it. You could die so happy right now.

Your heart skips several beats. You cum so hard there’s an echo ringing in your ears.

And then, without a single voice of warning Katsuki cums too, deep inside you, yelping a broken yearning scream of your name and his lips find your mouth and catch your lips in a sloppy, lazy kiss as he paints your walls white with sticky cum. And you take it upon you to not have him pull out.

He ruts into you so slowly, riding down his and your orgasm into overstimulation but even more he doesn’t want to pull out yet—cock still throbbing and angry, eyes not even catching the cracks of sunlight that peak through the cracks of your windows.

You moan from the depths of your throat, pussy twitching around him, only ever making an effort to wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. But your faces are so wet with spit you slip against his face, catching his nose.

Without a care in the whole world, you kiss there and pull back slightly when he cups your chin, softly.

He shoots you a look of desperation. No smile, no teeth showing.

There’s sweat dripping down his hair onto his face and he’s flushed and red, like he got a rash. One hand keeps him steady on the bed as the other comes to wipe his face then your own.

His palm is huge, engulfing your whole face and shaking it left and right; you peak with the cracks of his fingers how he sucks his lips into his mouth and scrunches his nose in a fucked out pleasured expression. One finger slips in slow motion after another tracing your lips, taking a swirl inside your mouth.

The next shift in positions is insane. Slow and deliberate. You're still both trying to catch a breath as his right leg comes over your hips—one hand sliding under your back to press you impossibly closer, like he could slip into your skin if you’d just let him and your right leg crosses over his left one.

His hands work you onto him, marking new bruises over your hips.

And by now, his heart might as well not exist anymore. It’s beating so loud, so incredibly loud that he can’t even hear it in his ears anymore.

Your pussy clenches around him again—soaked, raw, dripping with both of you—and it makes him twitch, makes him groan from somewhere in his chest like the sound’s been buried there for years. Katsuki’s cock is still hard. Not as wild and frenzied as before, but still heavy, throbbing, stubborn.

Still deep inside you. Still not done.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, voice shot, like gravel soaked in whiskey. “You’re still squeezin’ me like that—what the fuck, baby…”

You can’t speak. You just whimper, a hot, wrecked sound from your throat as your hips hitch up against him, begging without words. It’s obscene, the squelch of him sliding just barely out and back in. Every inch still drags, still catches on that swollen, desperate spot inside you that screams for more.

“Don’t want you in the f-fucking kitchen” he slurs “want you in the fucking bed, like this”

His hand tightens on your hip, the other sliding between you again, like he can’t stand not having you come apart. Like one orgasm wasn’t enough. Like the words you both said—I love you—weren’t enough.

And maybe they weren’t. Maybe he needs to carve it into you with every thrust, every drag of his thumb over your clit, every bite of his teeth against your jaw that makes your skin and muscles fuzzy and numb.

“Gonna make you come again,” he growls, low and brutal, grinding into you now with short, controlled thrusts. Purposeful. Focused. His eyes are locked on yours, and he’s breathing hard through his nose like he’s holding himself back from going feral all over again. “Not stoppin’ till you’re fuckin’ ruined.”

You nod frantically, mouth parted, spit-slick and needy. “Please,” you gasp, pleading with him from the depths of your chest. “Katsuki, please, just—keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. Acting purely out of command.

He fucks you slow, deliberate, deep enough that your legs tremble with every stroke. The kind of fucking that hurts because it means something. Because he’s not just chasing a high anymore.

With the way one of his hands comes to brush some hair away from your face, you know—He’s staking a claim.

Every time he presses in, your bodies meet in a mess of sweat and slick, skin slapping wet and rough, his name slipping out of your mouth in shattered moans. His fingers work your clit in tight, fast circles, and the pressure builds again like a scream that tries to claw under your skin.

You sob, arching into him like your body’s trying to climb him, even the underside of your ass claps on his skin in this interlinked position “I c-can’t—it’s too—Katsuki, I’m—”

“I know, baby,” he pants, pressing his forehead to yours. “S too much. Can’t fucking stop”

You come again, harder than the preview ones, body locking around him like a venus trap. Your pussy pulses around his cock, gushing, making a filthy, sticky mess between your thighs that he can feel and hear. His whole body jerks and then—

“Shit—fuck, fuck—you’re fucking mine,” he snarls, voice breaking, and then he’s coming again. For the second time. It’s almost too much—his cock twitching, spilling hot and thick rivers of sticky cum deep inside you again, his face buried in your neck as he growls out your name like it’s the only word he’s ever known.

You both stay there, locked together, shaking. Cum oozing from your entrance down your ass and to the bed.

You don’t even know how long it’s been. Minutes. Hours. Maybe days. Time doesn’t exist in this bed. In this room. In this reality. 

In this body, Katsuki is feeling his heart pulse and palp in shapes of your name that are unknown to man and he wants to fade into you.

In this body you’re ruined and claimed and filled over and over again and your head has turned into a juice that imitates the color of Katsuki’s eyes and tastes like the scar on his shoulder.

Katsuki’s cock is still inside you. Hard, twitching, moving just enough to make you so crazy that you come to your senses. His hips have slowed to these small, deep thrusts—so slow that it’s torture. Not enough friction but too much stretch. Every inch of you aches, your clit swollen and slick, your poor, glistening pussy so wet and fucked-through it makes the filthiest squelching sounds with every little roll of his hips.

But you can’t stop.

Neither of you can stop.

You’re not even kissing anymore—just breathing into each other’s mouths. Lips brushing, open and parted, exhaling into shared heat. His forehead rests against yours, heavy and damp, and his hand never left your thigh. It’s still holding you open, forcing you to take him deeper than deep.

You can feel everything. Every vein, every twitch, every beat of his heart in his cock as he pulses inside you like he belongs there.

“Still f-fuckin’ wet,” he mutters, voice hoarse and dazed like he’s been punched in the throat. “Still suckin’ me in. Baby, you’re—fuck—you’re–”

You’re ruined. Fucked open. Body raw and strung out and still begging for more. You can feel his cum leaking out around his cock, sticky and hot, smeared across your thighs and drying on your sheets. It’s everywhere. He’s everywhere.

You sob his name, voice soft and fucked-out, and it makes him moan—deep and wrecked.

He kisses you, finally. Sloppy and wet. Tongue barely moving, just licking into your mouth like he’s tasting how far gone you are. He’s addicted to it.

“Gonna come again,” you whisper, almost shocked. “Katsuki, I—fuck—I c-can’t—”

“You can,” he breathes against your lips. “You’re g-gonna.” he struggles “Just keep takin’ it, baby. Just—fuck—keep lettin’ me feel you.”

You bite your lip even though you’re trembling. Every nerve ending is fried. You are so fucking cock drunk. Your body is all sensation and no thought. He was right. He literally fucked your brain out of you.

He presses his palm to your lower stomach, right where his cock is, and you wail—a helpless, broken sound as your pussy clamps around him so tight he almost chokes on a moan.

“That’s it,” he groans, like he’s in pain. “Feel me right here? I’m in so fuckin’ deep, baby. Gonna make you cum just from this. Don’t even need to touch you.”

You don’t. You really, really don’t.

Your body is curling in on itself, trembling as heat coils deep inside you again, sharp and unbearable. Your legs kick, your hands scrabble weakly at his back. You’re so close it feels like dying.

“Katsuki,” you sob. “Katsuki, I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Cum?” he whispers, and it’s not a command. It’s a plea. A desperate beg. “Please…. Cum for me, baby. Do it. I need it—need to feel you lose it on my cock again. Pleasepleaseplease.”

That breaks you like a stick. You fall apart around him with a scream muffled against his throat, your cunt spasming so hard it forces a choked cry out of him. His name—your name—it all blurs together in the wet heat between you as you tremble and clench and throb.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t dare stop, not even for a second.

He keeps fucking you through it, fucking you into it, and your body jerks with every aftershock as you sob and shake and whimper his name like a prayer.

And then—like his body was just waiting for yours, he groans. Deep, guttural whining, teeth bared as his hips slam into you one last time before he spills.

He cums so hard his eyes go blind for a moment and his head is dizzy. His whole body locks, muscles taut as a bowstring, and he makes this noise—half growl, half gasp, some more of a cracked whine—as he paints your walls milky white again, cock pulsing deep inside your soaking cunt.

You can feel every spurt. Every thick, hot rope. It’s too much. It’s perfect. You are so perfectly full.

He slumps over you, shuddering, burying his face in your neck as he moans through the overstimulation. And still, he doesn’t pull out.

Katsuki just stays there. Wrapped around you. Still twitching. Still inside. Still trying to catch his breath against the sweat-slick skin of your throat.

You’re both wrecked. Sticky and sore and trembling. But neither of you speak. Not yet. Not while your bodies are still knotted together, still connected, still pulsing with afterglow.

His hand finds yours, fingers lacing. He brings them to his mouth and kisses them, slow and reverent. Katsuki exhales something soft against your collarbone—maybe your name, maybe just a broken breath—and his body finally gives out.

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t clean up. Doesn’t even bat an eyelid.

He just presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight, lashes tickling your skin, chest rising and falling against your tits as he holds your hips and fucks you through it—one slow, filthy stroke at a time. The wet sounds between your bodies are soft, slick and eternally endless.

You’re crying again. Maybe? You even don’t know when you first cried. But he kisses every salty tear away like it’s holy. And even as your thighs start to shake and your breath starts to hitch and the wave builds again, neither of you speak.

The two of you are fucking against each other in an almost commatose state, drool spilling from your mouth and into the bed, eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back slack and arched. Katsuki doesn’t even have enough strength to hold you anymore. He just fucks his dick inside you in slow ruts even if his tip is twitching in anger by his sleepiness.

Drool is starting to drop to the corner of his mouth too, his eyes are beginning to lose color, his eyelids are so heavy with sleep, tiredness. Fuck its too much.

Katsuki collapses on top of you, heavy and warm and still buried so deep inside you it feels like he might stay there forever. And you’ll just let him.

Your arms circle his shoulders, fingertips barely twitching with the last flickers of energy left in your limbs. Your legs are still hooked over his hips, limp and useless. You’re leaking his cum, sore everywhere, and there’s a wet sound when he shifts slightly—but it doesn’t matter.

He’s still here. He’s still inside. Still yours. And you, still his. Neither of you say it, but the silence is a language all on its own.

Your eyes fall closed. His breathing slows against your throat. And mingled together, like animals too worn out to do anything but cling to warmth— you both pass out.

There’s no real moment where you wake up.

You just drift—lifted from one depth to another, from heat to haze. The sky outside the window glows a soft slate blue, bleeding into pale grey, barely beginning to kiss the edges of the room, but it’s violent against your eyes. Your tiny apartment—It’s still, warm with yours and Katsuki’s shared body heat, and quiet.

Katsuki’s chest rises and falls against yours, a soft rhythm. His hand’s still on your hip, where it must’ve landed in the mess of sleep. Your legs are tangled. Your sheets are crumpled and damp and clinging. The air smells like sex, sweat, and skin.

You shift just slightly, groaning low under your breath, thighs slick, sticky and sore. You feel Katsuki immediately. Still half-hard where he rests inside you, not fully softened even in sleep, kept in place by the swollen aftermath of everything you gave each other a while ago.

You can’t help it. You tighten. It’s that kind of soft little squeeze. A twitch. Reflexive and curious. Not quite conscious. And it earns you a sleepy sound from him that makes you go still.

A low, throaty grunt from the depths of his chest.

He stirs. His hand tightens around your hip. And then, slowly, he rolls into you. A lazy, wet grind that drags his cock deeper and makes your eyes flutter shut, heavy with sleep still.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice so wrecked it’s hardly a word. His breath fans against your cheek. How the fuck did he even wake up by just you clenching around him? “You’re still fuckin’ warm.”

You can’t answer. You can barely think. All you can do is exhale his name like a secret. He honestly doesn’t even need more.

Because then he starts moving—no urgency, no rhythm. Just slow, shallow thrusts once in a while. Rolling his hips with a low growl every time your body flutters around him. He kisses your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Not with heat this time. With that shallow laziness of sleep or lack thereof.

Katsuki is so sleepy, his face is pouty with tiredness, making that silly expression where jaw nunches and his lower lip pokes out. His eyes are so heavy, everything weighs down on him.

The late night villain, the fight with his mother, the drive to Tokyo in half the time of what he should have done it. The way he just can't stop acting with his dick.

His knees hurt so bad by his lack of sleep and his eyes are so so heavy, maybe he could sleep for a second right now, juuuust rest his eyes.

Through your sleepy eyes and lips, you moan softly into his mouth, your body opening to him all over again. He licks into you, tongue warm and slow. One of his hands slides down to your thigh, hooking it up and over his waist, and then he’s rutting into you just a little harder. Still sleepy. Still extremely slow. But so deep you feel him in your ribs.

Your fingers curl into his hair. Nails scratching through his scalp soothingly and a little snore comes out his softly parted lips. You feel so soft, so cuddly, so, so, so nice.

So warm, so–

His head falls slack to the crook of your neck again. You hold him close. Let the ache build again, dulled by sleep and softened by something much more gentler now.

“I love you,” he slurs against your neck, trying to suck in some of the drool that slides from his lips. Like it’s a confession made to the dark, to your skin, to your pulse. “Shit, baby—I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“Love yah too” you snort, nuzzling into his hair, cheek pressed to his wet tufts of blond hair.

And when you come again, wrung out and trembling only slightly, he follows seconds later, shooting blanks inside of you. Buried deep. Held tight. Eyes shut. Falling in and out of sleep. Chest pressed to yours like he’d die if he let you go.

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

Taglist: @littlebignoona @cielito--lindo @hopingforgoodblogs @sexylexy12 @bestyouveevermet @dreamingoftomorrow @2elusional @meeeepsworld @psicotropicwanderlust @katsucookies @xxkay15xx @drabby-abby @ryuucollapse @jennatollsthings @ihatethis222 @katsukiswifeyy @gethexxed @leaario

pssssst, there will be a bonus small part 4, let me know if you want to be tagged but please make sure your age is stated in your bio or pinned post! thnak you so much for reading!

Let me know your thoughts on this- you can even ask in universe questions for clarification!

byeeeee <3

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 18

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, hints at jjpope, cursed chat pics, mention of abusive household (aka rafe's), hints at reader getting turned on lmao, gentleman!rafe, reader one sec away from hyperventilating, slightly jealous!reader, awkward!rafe (um.. you'll see why), also FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ after rafe dropped you off at the beach, cara dragged you to meet sarah, kiara and cleo. everyone was nice, though kiara questioned what was going on with you and rafe. in the restroom of bob's iceshack, cara admitted she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hook up with jj. your conclusion: she was torn between him and topper. later, rafe texted saying he saw sarah’s story and wanted to pick you up an hour later. after some back and forth, you agreed on 7:30pm. still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was suddenly so eager. after hanging out with the pogues for a while, you dipped. john b offered a ride for tomorrow’s open air movie night. back in rafe’s car, he called them losers but backed off when you questioned it. after some pushing, he finally admitted he felt like everyone was choosing sarah over him. you tried to reassure him and concluded (internally) that ward cameron was the root for his issues. during your late night drive you got mcdonald’s, and finally, he dropped you off with a surprise: a my little pony bracelet from a gas station to prove he wasn’t playing you. in bed, you showed the bracelet to the girls in the new group chat. last surprise of the day: the mirror selfie from rafe aka the same one you’d stared at earlier.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 13.5k+ (longest chapter yet help + max use of chat screenshots so prepare for a LONG reading session)

✿ A / N ✿ GUYS I TRIED WITH THIS ONE BUT i kinda feel like the second half sucks, and also it feels extremely rushed if we take the pace of the other days of the week into consideration but well guess it wouldn't have made sense to drag out sunday for no reason. i also feel like i fucked up the ending by the direction i've chosen but i kinda gave up lmao. i probably could've explored the full potential of this setting and, IDK AHHHH. dw there's gonna be a part 2 of the event. anyway, have fun reading and PLEASE lmk what you think, this chapter gave me sm anxiety <3

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a little warning: avoid the comment section bc of spoilers 🤣

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W E E K O N E // S U N D A Y 1 1 : 1 7 A M

"Okay, where did we leave off again?" you asked Cara as you made yourself comfortable in your little windowsill nook. "My brain is so full, I can’t keep track of anything anymore."

Cara chuckled. "Oh, I know exactly what it’s full of. Mr. ‘Let me give the girl I like a friendship bracelet so it’s not too obvious that I’m completely down bad for her.’"

A giggle slipped out and your cheeks instantly flushed. "You're gonna lose it when I tell you this next part."

“She’s already losing it,” came a voice, and your heart dropped to your stomach.

OH MY GOD, now that you saw the wall behind Cara… NO WAY. GIRL ACTUALLY SPENT THE NIGHT IN JJS WONDERLAND OMGGGG.

Cara scoffed, amused, and turned her phone to show JJ pulling a shirt over his very bare chest. You were so glad he at least had boxers on.

“Say hi and get out,” she said.

JJ looked up with a “Hey, my room,” and winked into the camera with a big-ass grin when he spotted you. “She’s even louder in bed.”

Too. Much. Information.

You just stared, stunned, and gave him an awkward little smile.

Cara rolled her eyes and turned the phone back to her face. “Chop chop, Dig’s waiting for his morning walk.”

“Not sure the leash’s even usable anymore.”

GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Cara stared flatly into the camera. “He's joking.”

OKAY THEN.

“Okay, okay. The leash only almost came into play,” JJ called out, followed by a loud “Hey!” as Cara threw a pillow at him.

“Out. Now. This is a girl-to-girl talk,” she said. “Village idiots not allowed.”

JJ chuckled. “More of a jester anyway.”

Then came a soft thud, which you took as him finally leaving the room.

“Okay, where were we?” Cara looked into the camera with a blinking smile.

You blinked back. “So, I guess, you don’t wanna—”

“Nope.”

“Aight.”

Cara cleared her throat. “Sooo, the last update I got from you and Loverboy is basically just what you'd said in your voice memo last night. He brought your bag back, then you guys spent the afternoon together. He dropped you off, picked you back up later, and by the end of the night practically proposed, right?”

Um… something like that.

You’d obviously left out a lot in that memo. As sweet and welcoming as the Pogue girls were, you’d literally only known them for a day, and you didn’t exactly feel comfy going full overshare just yet. And considering one of them was Rafe’s sister, you weren’t gonna bring up his little hate-rant about her or start gossiping about him behind his back.

But Cara was different. She was your best friend. You could tell her everything.

And you did. You told her about lunch with your parents, your trip to Bulk & Bloom and Barry’s pawn shop, your full-on spiral that you and Rafe had talked through in the car, and of course your evening trip to McDonald's and how he'd walked you to the front door like a freaking gentleman.

You did leave out his angsty little moment in the car, though. He’d opened up to you so honestly, you didn’t want to betray that trust. Plus, it felt… special. Like something just for the two of you.

But the important stuff? Oh, you shared that.

Your parents basically already adopting him, Barry’s well-meant warning, OH and obviously the insanely awkward moment when Rafe had caught you scrolling through his chat with Kelce.

AND OF COURSE, the most insane, messed-up, crazy thing he’d said: that you were a cute chick and he’d (quote) bend you over in the backseat of his car if you said the word.

“WHAT!?”

Your phone speaker peaked just a little.

You chuckled, cheeks flushed. “Well, yeah, he—”

“WHAT?”

Another laugh escaped your mouth. Cara stared at you, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you’d just told her Harry Styles invited you to his private villa.

“GIRL, I—” She exhaled like she’d just sprinted a marathon. “I don’t even… holy fucking shit, like, oh my Jesus Christ, good Lord and all the heavens above.”

When Cara started praying, you knew shit was actually insane.

You giggled. “Now imagine what was going on in my head. The fact I managed to function after that is honestly one of the seven wonders of the world.”

"The fact that you didn’t immediately jump him and rip his clothes off—that is the miracle," she shot back, still staring at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. "I MEAN WHAT? Like, my kitty would’ve gone straight to—"

“OKAY!”

Cara shook her head like a madwoman. “Y/N! That boy is so down bad for you, how do you not see it?” She sighed, shaking her phone. “Like HELLO? Rafe Cameron said out loud that he’s into you.”

"Sexual attraction and having a crush are two completely different things," you argued.

Cara frowned dramatically. “How oblivious do you wanna be? Yes.” You heard frantic tapping sounds as she smashed at her screen. “He gifted you a fucking bracelet. Rafe Cameron. The guy who’s known for doing absolutely nothing for any girl, like, ever. What more do you need? He said you’re cute. He said he likes you. He said he ENJOYS spending time with you. And what else? OH RIGHT, that he wants to hang out even after your little project dates are over AND THAT HE WANTS TO CLAP YOUR CHEEKS.” She shook her head like she was malfunctioning. “THIS SCREAMS GET READY TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND.”

Did it?

UM, YEAH, KINDA DID.

Fucking hell, Cara could really make even the most chaotic shit sound like it followed cold, hard logic.

But here's the thing: Rafe was a direct guy. If he had no problem saying he’d sleep with you, surely he wouldn’t have a problem saying he was into you like that (hypothetically speaking, of course).

Which kind of threw her whole argument out the window again.

You shook your head. “This sounds more like, ‘I’ve never had a female friend before, and now that I do, guess I’m gonna keep her around.’”

“So you do realize he wants you,” Cara replied.

You let out a tired sigh. “Yeah, I guess, but not like that. I don’t know how to explain it… I just think he likes the idea of having a girl around.” You tilted your head. “Like with Topper and Kelce, he’s this kinda toxic-bro-masculine-alpha type. And I guess he misses the fun flirty energy." Then you remembered his emotional outburst last night. “And I feel like with me, he also doesn’t put on a front. I don’t know.”

Cara stared you down, deadpan. “That is literally the ideal foundation for a relationship.”

“Or for a really good friendship,” you countered.

How were you supposed to explain to her that this poor boy probably just wanted someone to see him for who he really was? Like, the frustration he let out last night—the way he basically admitted, without saying it directly, that he was scared of being abandoned.

And that could always happen in a relationship. In a short-term hookup? Inevitable. But a good friend? Ideally, that was someone you could have for life. And the fact you were a girl—just a side note in the whole equation.

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.” Cara rolled her eyes. “So what you’re telling me is, he puts in all this effort just so he can call you his friend and still flirt for fun? Make it make sense.”

"Yeah, but, C," you said with a chuckle. "That's literally how our friendship works too. We both put effort into each other, that’s what friends do, and don’t even get me started on the flirting. Like according to your logic, I should question your intentions as well."

Cara curled her lips. "... okay, you kinda have a point there."

You nodded with a See? look on your face.

"But," she continued, "we’re girl best friends. You and him? That’s a whole different thing."

You raised an amused brow. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that a guy and a girl can’t have a platonic relationship?"

Cara scowled. "No, of course not, but—"

"But I’m okay with the way it is," you said with a soft smile. "I have no problem with just being friends with Rafe. Honestly, it might even be better this way. I don’t have to worry about screwing it up, or God," you chuckled nervously, "all my other insecurities."

Cara let out a sigh. “You really are the biggest mystery to me, girl. You’ve been crushing on this guy since fifth grade. And now, when you finally have the chance to actually make something happen, like, he’s literally offering you the perfect foundation, you just settle for the easiest option.”

Less risk of being disappointed. Less chance of embarrassing yourself. Less chance to lose whatever it was you two had built in just a few days. Accepting Rafe as a friend was the easy choice, yeah, but it was also the safest.

But you knew exactly what Cara would say to that: she’d start pushing you to take a chance, make a move, break out of your shell for once.

"Okay, look at it this way," you said with a playful eye roll. "A relationship can always grow from a friendship. Does that help?"

You doubted that would actually happen, but at least it would shut Cara up for now.

She chuckled and wiggled her shoulders. "Friends to lovers? Uhh, now you got me." She raised her eyebrows with a lopsided grin. "So… does that also apply to us, orrrr…?"

You quickly steered the conversation back to her. More specifically her evening with the Pogues, dinner at the Chateau later on, and eventually the magical night she had with JJ. Kiara, Pope, and Cleo had left at some point, leaving just Cara, John B, Sarah, and JJ behind.

The exact details and noises from that night, however, Cara could gladly keep to herself.

Anyway, her dad called a little later to tell her to come home—her grandparents were visiting to celebrate her mom’s birthday belatedly. With a quick "Oh shit, we’ll text later", your little call came to an end.

You’d barely touched the ground with your feet, just getting off your windowsill corner and ready to change out of your sleepwear into something actually wearable, when your phone buzzed again.

And what greeted you? Yeah…

Geez, it wasn’t even noon and your pulse was already at 180.

First Cara fueling your delusions, then Rafe and his newfound hobby (or more like obsession) with your reaction pics (UM THE FACT THAT HE'D DOWNLOADED PINTEREST FOR IT???) and how he instantly went into full-attack mode just at the mention of you being in the girlies’ group chat, like bro, we get it, you’re terrified of abandonment but PLEASE CALM DOWN I AIN'T GOING NOWHERE. And then back to Cara, aka the fact that you’d now have to endure the drive to the open air event without her.

Honestly, that last part was the least of your worries because if you'd managed to survive half of Kelce’s party solo (okay, with Topper, Molly, and Rob), then you could totally handle a short car ride.

No, what really had you spiraling was how comfortable Rafe had gotten with you in just one day. Like, hello? First the mirror selfie last night, and then those reaction pics this morning (okay, more like noon, oops), AND THEN THE FACT THAT HE STRAIGHT UP ADMITTED (or hopefully joked) that he'd had a little private session this morning, DUDE COME ON.

HELP AND THE FACT THAT THAT SENT YOU INTO INSTANT BRAIN CINEMA MODE OF A HALF NAKED, HEAVY BREATHING RAFE, BOXERS AROUND HIS ANKLES, EYES CLOSED, HEAD PRESSED BACK INTO THE PILLOW OR DESK CHAIR (WHO KNEW), HAND AROUND HIS—NOPENOPENOPENOPEHELPPP

Jesus Christ, suddenly there was a tingling sensation in your lower body and the urgent need to open the windows to cool your body down because your cheeks? On fucking fire. Not even mentioning the heart rate and that warm, funny feeling between your—OKAY ENOUGH HOLY SHIT.

You gotta be ovulating or something because that? What the actual fuck.

HAHAHAHHAA ANYWAY.

Lunch.

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"How's Rafe?" That was one of the first questions your dad asked once you all sat down in the dining room.

Great. Not even here you could escape the topic.

To make things worse, both your mom and dad were giving you this smirky look that screamed You were out late last night: Should we be getting excited about our future son-in-law?

UGHHH. It was so awkward, and if you even dared to give a shy smile or deflect it, it would only make everything ten times worse.

So you just shrugged and poured yourself a glass of water. “He’s doing okay, I think.”

Your dad let out an amused breath. “And his cheek? That looked pretty nasty yesterday. He should’ve iced it right away, then it wouldn’t have swollen like that.”

Trust me, I told him.

“Yeah, it looks worse than it is,” you said, adding, “he popped an ibuprofen yesterday.”

He had, actually. Swallowed it right in the McDonald’s parking lot with a Coke Zero. Like seriously, how was this guy even still alive?

You half expected them to hit you with a “You two were gone a long time—what exactly were you doing?” or some other nosy questions. But instead, the energy at the table shifted.

Your mom raised her brows slightly, concern (???) flickering in her expression. “And… at home? Is everything okay there too?”

um… what.

Your dad seemed to catch the confusion on your face. “It’s just, we've been wondering...” he let out a dry chuckle, “I’ve seen bruises, cracked ribs, busted faces—pretty much everything—my whole career. And that bruise? If he’d actually been hit with a golf club, I probably would've been patching him up in the ER Friday night.”

Oh. So your dad had seen right through Rafe's lie.

Well, of course, he had. Taking care of people was his job. He had to know the difference between different kinds of wounds and bruises.

But from the way your parents were hinting at it… did they actually think Rafe was getting hit at home? That was… wow.

But telling them what really happened aka Rafe almost starting a fight—you really didn’t want to paint him in that light. Didn’t matter that he’d stood up for you.

“No idea,” you said, furrowing your brows as you poked around your plate. “I think things are fine at home too.”

Your mom tilted her head with a soft smile. “But you don’t know for sure?”

Your overthinking, spiraling, constantly-needing-answers issue? Mhm, yeah, you definitely got that from her.

“No, I mean, I barely know him,” you replied. “Are you seriously thinking he’s getting abused at home or something?”

Then again… okay, you didn’t know Ward personally, but something in your gut told you there was something off about him. Especially after the realization you'd had last night: Him probably being the root of Rafe’s issues.

Your dad leaned back. “Well, speaking as a dad, I’ve got a feeling there’s tension at home. I’m not accusing Ward of hitting his kids, I’m just guessing Rafe’s relationship with him is… strained.” He shifted in his seat. “And my gut? It’s never been wrong.”

O-kay. So apparently your parents had picked up on the same thing after interacting with Rafe once. Wow.

“Ward’s always been a difficult person,” your mom added. “Back in college, he was super ambitious, driven, competitive. Always pushing. Expecting the best results from himself and everyone around him. And anyone who held him back or got in his way? Didn’t stay in his way for long.”

Obviously he hadn’t killed anyone, so you just assumed he either threatened, manipulated, or schemed his way around people.

Your mom sighed. “And truth is, I know Rafe’s not exactly an easy kid. Rose told me he often takes off for hours and doesn’t come home until midnight. And school? Apparently not going so great either.”

Something about talking about Rafe behind his back like this… it just didn’t feel right.

“Rose isn’t his mother, though.” Shit. What a dumb thing to say.

Your mom furrowed her brows. “She tries to be. It’s not easy for someone like her to reach someone like Rafe.”

"Someone like him? "You raised your brows.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? And why were you suddenly feeling so defensive, HELP.

“Y/n,” your dad’s voice was gentle but firm. “Rafe seems like a good boy, I’m not doubting that. But it just feels like… something’s off. And the most likely explanation is that things at home aren’t exactly stable.”

He pressed his lips together, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “I’m not trying to accuse Ward of anything or scare you, but… when I wanted to check the skin on Rafe’s cheek, he flinched when I raised my hand to do so. Not a dramatic reaction, just this quick startled blink, but in my head, every alarm bell went off.”

And that made your heart clench in the worst, most painful way.

Sure, maybe your dad had misread a harmless blink or twitch but deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. And the thought that Rafe might actually be getting hit by his own dad… GOSH, THIS BOY.

Drug problems, anger issues, and a toxic household? This guy didn’t need a girlfriend, he needed a loving family.

No. He needed a real dad.

“That doesn’t mean the bruise had to have come from home,” your dad continued, and his tone softened a little. “Honestly, I just assume he got into some testosterone-fueled fight at whatever party you were at.” He chuckled. “Thinking back to the way I used to look after I boxed with the guys from the 44th… that bruise is practically a scratch.”

Not your dad just casually dropping new lore.

Your mom rolled her eyes, mock-annoyed, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile. “I was the one who had to play nurse back then.”

OKAY NOPE YOU DID NOT LIKE THAT SMILEY LOOK ON HER FACE. DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT.

Luckily, your dad circled back to the actual point: “We’re just concerned. We’re both parents—we notice when something’s off with a kid. As a doctor who’s seen lots of children with seemingly perfect parents, I can tell you: eyes never lie. And Ward may be a great family man, but that doesn’t automatically make him a great father.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Abuse can show up in so many ways, not just physically. So if you ever notice anything, please don’t hesitate to come to us, okay?”

Well, this sunny Sunday just got very not sunny, very fast. Like… how did we go from “How’s your hopefully-soon-to-be boyfriend?” to child abuse—HELLO??

You didn’t even know what to say.

You were touched by their concern, the way they weren’t judging Rafe in the slightest. But also overwhelmed by how heavy the topic had just gotten. Sure, your parents did always notice this kind of thing right away but now that your suspicions had basically been confirmed by them...

Yeah, that didn’t sit well with you at all.

Of course, none of you really knew what was going on in the Cameron household. But if all of you had arrived at roughly the same conclusion, then either you were all operating on the same overthinking, assume-the-worst type of brain…

Or something was actually going on.

Both, you thought bitterly.

So all you did was nod with a somewhat forced smile and said, “Okay.”

Your parents nodded, seemingly relieved. And of course, since you were already on the topic of Rafe, they circled back to yesterday. Asking questions like, “So where did you guys go afterward?”, “How’s your school project coming along?”, “Did Cara give you that cute bracelet?” and dropping comments like, “He seemed very smiley around you,” and “Feel free to invite him over for dinner again.”

And just when the conversation was dangerously close to veering into the Safe Sex territory, you excused yourself from the table, mentioned that you’d be going to the Open Air tonight, brought your plate to the kitchen, and thanked Mary for the food.

Back in your room, you exhaled.

Wow. Apparently, there was no such thing as a break this week. But the fact that your parents thought you and Rafe would look cute together? AKCKKANFALJKD.

Also, the whole thing about how you both apparently glowed around each other? If Cara had said that? Yeah well, no, delusional queen just back again with her delusions. But your parents? Who were basically professionals when it came to reading people—your dad being a literal doctor, and your mom a CEO in sales, aka someone who had to be good with people—If they said Rafe liked you?

Fuck, then it had to be true.

Okay okay, he had kinda already said it twice himself—once just yesterday in the car—but STILL OMGMGM.

Okay okay, calm the fuck down.

You just became friends, no need to start building your wedding Pinterest board.

You played with the bracelet around your wrist as you sat down at your desk, smiling to yourself like a damn idiot at the soft rustling sound.

The way it fit just right around your wrist and how FUCKING CUTE IT LOOKED. Gosh, the fact that Rafe had thought of you when he'd spotted it, and then actually bought it for you and gave it to you AHHHHHH. AND JESUS, THEN HE'D BEEN ALL CUTE AND AWKWARD AND NERVOUS WHEN HE'D HANDED IT TO YOU.

HELLO??? Rafe fucking Cameron being awkward AND nervous around you??? As much as that made the butterflies in your stomach go into full freak-out mode, more than anything, it made you feel like a total winner lol.

I’m fine. I’m cool. Completely chill.

SMNJXWNDVHSJDKMXOIASJCDAVLSAÖ.

You would never get over this.

Well, you had to at least try for the next few hours. Because more important than giggling to yourself in your room like some hopelessly lovesick little girl was actually getting ready for tonight.

Okay, it was barely past 1 PM, buuuut you’d gladly take all the time you could get.

Sooo, Cara was probably busy with family stuff right now—spending the day with her grandparents and parents and all—so yeah, no chance of calling her.

Molly maybe? You knew she was also coming tonight because you’d heard her talking about it at Kelce’s party. AND HOLY SHIT YOU DESPERATELY NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT WENT DOWN BETWEEN HER AND KELCE OGMGMGM.

Never mind. Her little Bitmoji was currently chilling at Kelce’s place on the map, so there was your answer.

So Molly was out too. Sure, she’d probably be happy to chat with you—hell, Kelce too probably—but you didn’t want to interrupt these lovebirds (hookup partners??? soon-to-be-married??? WHO KNEW).

Hm. Okay.

Six hours until the boys were picking you up.

Well, you could always sit out on your balcony and sketch a little. You hadn’t really had the chance lately. The past few days had kept you on your toes so much that you'd barely had the energy to sketch a stick figure. And on top of that, the art project with Rafe had kinda sucked most of your creative brain juice dry too.

Senior Year was already a lot and it had barely even started yet. And now The Gloaming was right around the corner—next Friday, to be exact—and well, you were really not looking forward to that.

Midsummers was at least really nice, casual and fun. Dressing up in cute summery dresses, getting tipsy on overpriced prosecco and wine, giggling over boys in suits, and it just had this soft, fairycore kind of vibe to it.

The Gloaming, on the other hand? A school event.

Unlike Midsummers, it wasn’t held at the Cameron Estate, but at a big event venue on the North Side near the beach. One the mayor himself dubbed “Garden Eden.”

It was purely a Kook event, which… yeah, made sense, since it was organized by the Kildare Academy, which was technically a Kook school. But like, couldn’t they have at least teamed up with the South Side High School?

Sure, some Pogues would show up but only as workers. Bartenders, cooks, waiters, janitors who had to clean up everyone’s mess the next morning.

Anyway, this whole class division thing was deeply rooted in the Outer Banks. No point in getting all worked up about it.

And the worst part about The Gloaming? The absolutely RIDICULOUS amount of GOSSIP surrounding it. Gossip at KA was always present, but for some reason, this event turned everyone into real-life Gossip Girl contestants or whatever.

Who went with whom, who cheated on who, who wore the cheapest dress, whose parents were getting divorced, which guy bagged the most girls, and a bunch of other completely braindead nonsense you honestly wanted to stay far, far, far away from.

Unfortunately, your parents loved going. Catching up with old classmates, schmoozing, socializing, and Cara did too. So yeah, they always dragged you along. Plus, it was basically an unofficially mandatory high school event. No way you were risking a dip in your GPA just because you skipped it.

SPEAKING OF GPA.

SHIT.

Shitshitshitshitshit. THE MATH TEST TOMORROW.

Fuck.

You’d completely forgotten. Mrs. Richman had even given your class a friendly reminder last Monday.

Shit.

Well yeah, of course you’d blocked it out. Right before that class, Mr. Smith had put you in a project group with Rafe, and that had basically hijacked your entire brain.

Okay, okay, okay. No panic.

You’d sit down now, study a bit for the next five hours and thirty minutes, and then you’d still have half an hour to get ready for the Open Air.

HAHAHAHAHA TOTALLY DOABLE.

That was, if Rafe wasn’t constantly sending you random reaction pics slash memes slash kinda very suggestive fairycore-slash-emo-wolf pics.

Apparently, Pinterest was his new hobby.

Good for him (and honestly, kinda cute), but not for you. You had a math test to prep for.

And as much as you wanted to send stuff back because RAFE USING THOSE PICS IN THE FIRST PLACE AHHHHHH, you really couldn’t afford to fail math.

So you decided it was time to shut down his spamming.

With a laugh, you switched your phone to airplane mode and set it on the edge of your desk. No reply, because this would go on forever if you didn’t put a stop to it yourself.

This seriously required your maximum amount of self-control not to keep texting him, because GOSH, this felt like some kind of cute little silly version of Rafe.

You basically had the privilege of witnessing firsthand how he discovered Pinterest for himself—or, well, the cursed side of it—and all that just because of you. It was kinda wholesome. Like a dumb little boy realizing for the first time that dinosaurs were cool.

GIRL, STOP DRIFTING OFF.

You seriously needed to focus now. (Well, not your fault Rafe kept spamming your phone hihihihi.)

So you kinda half-focused, somehow managed to study your math book, worked through a few exercises, and even half a practice test until you finally gave up around 5:30—because, in the back of your mind, Rafe and the Open Air event kept spinning in loops.

You’d totally have some more time to study later tonight or tomorrow morning.

Hahahaha. Yes. Definitely.

You turned the airplane mode off again and—Jesus Christ. 200+ messages from the girls' chat and 33 from Rafe.

You quickly skimmed through both.

The girls were just discussing plans, departure times, pre-drinks yes or no, who should be picked up first, some opinions on the movie choice for tonight (Barbie), and other stuff you kinda just skimmed past (sorry girlies, I'm in a rush).

And Rafe? A bunch of cursed and weird-ass pics that just got progressively worse, him complaining about not being able to get rid of them, plus some teasing about you being a nerd because you were studying on a Sunday, bla bla. You left those on read too. (Not sorry about it.)

You jumped in the shower, dried off fast, and dumped a whole load of clothes onto your bed. Because—

WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO WEAR TONIGHT AHHH.

Okay okay, the basic facts:

Occasion: Open Air Movie Festival When: Evening/night Movie: Barbie (main movie) and then Transformers Weather: Actually nice, sunny, warm, but a little breezy People: Both Kooks and Pogues, maybe even some Tourons

Conclusion: I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

Something casual and chill would be the smart move, considering you’d probably be sitting or lying most of the time. Best to throw on a jacket too, just in case. There’d probably be blankets, but still.

And of course, no sweatpants look.

You kinda wanted to dress up a bit, but still keep the vibe right. OKAY NO YOU JUST WANTED TO LOOK PRETTY. With Rafe being there and... yeah. Just Rafe.

Shit.

Now it’s official. You were picking your outfit based on a guy.

A guy you didn’t even need to impress, because, well, technically you were friends now. And you didn’t dress up for friends… right?

Okay, maybe you did it for special occasions. But you didn’t hope that said friend liked your outfit and maybe... MAYBE gave you a compliment.

NOOOOOO I’M FALLING BACK INTO MY DELUSION HOLE AHHHH.

HOW COULD YOU NOT? HIM SAYING HE’D BE DOWN TO BEND YOU OVER KIND OF IMPLIED HE’S ATTRACTED TO YOU AT LEAST A LITTLE SO…

…SO WHAT NOW?

Were you the one sending mixed signals now by dressing up a little even though you’d made it clear you weren’t into short-term hookups?

...maybe.

Anyway. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA (i’m going crazy.)

You tried on some different outfits, scattering your clothes all over the room, and in the end, narrowed it down to two options—both of which included a dress. Because YEAH WHY NOT.

One was more chill and the other a little cuter, but both showed some leg hihihi.

You took pics of both and were just about to send them to Cara for input when Sarah beat you to it:

These girls, dude. Feeding into your delusions without a single shred of shame.

Also, holy shit, they all looked so fucking gorgeous in the outfits they’d picked out. Now you had an even harder time choosing which one you should go with.

Okay, no time left. It was already almost 6:30.

So, a coin toss it would be.

You assigned each outfit to one side of the coin, then flicked that thing up into the air, nearly smacked yourself in the forehead trying to catch it, but managed to trap it between your hands and…

That should do.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Shiiii, look at you." Kelce was the first to speak as you opened the door of the white Range Rover parked outside your house.

Rafe had called you 10 minutes earlier to say they were on their way. You’d thrown your things together in a rush, said goodbye to your parents (who wished you a fun night), and waited in the driveway because no way were you risking one of them ringing the bell and getting wrapped into some awkward parent chat.

You smiled shyly and gave them a soft “Hey” as you slid into the seat behind Topper’s, next to Molly. Kelce was next to her, and Rafe sat in the passenger seat up front (of course, sitting in the back would’ve probably bruised his ego).

"That dress suits you so well," Molly said with a warm smile, and you chuckled.

She looked so unbelievably sweet herself. Her red curls hung wildly on her shoulders, and her red lipstick made the whole color pop even more. She was wearing the cutest pastel green skirt and a white corset blouse you'd ever seen and KELCE’S HAND WAS RESTING ON HER THIGH AJDNJKWNJDKW

And Kelce? Wearing a pink shirt, probably to match the Barbie movie but honestly, they looked like COSMO AND WANDA and it was just SO SWEET.

"Thank you," you said, unable to hide your grin. "I love your outfit too."

Kelce squeezed her thigh (AND SHE CHUCKLED) and added, "I deserve half the credit, I helped her pick it."

You could practically feel how much Rafe wanted to gag. Also… you felt a little (a lot) disappointed that he'd only turned his head once to glance at you without saying a word, BUT NOT GONNA LET THAT RUIN YOUR MOOD RIGHT :))))))

"So, Cara’s already gotten a ride, I heard," Topper said, the bitterness in his voice slicing straight through the mood.

You fiddled with your bag strap and nodded. "Well, yeah, she’s..." Shit. You didn’t actually know what excuse she’d given Topper, considering she was riding with John B.

"She prefers hanging out with little Pogue rats now," Rafe finished for you, dry amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help but frown. If it was already starting like this…

"Ayo, bro," Kelce said with a chuckle, kicking Rafe’s seat. "You better behave tonight. Keep going like that and you’ll end up with a Dalmatian face full of bruises."

Wow, how was Kelce the voice of reason here? Internally, you were thankful because it meant you didn’t have to address it yourself.

Rafe scoffed and shook his head. "Not holding back if one of those fuckers starts provoking me."

Are we sure you’re not the one starting things, boy?

“Dude, don’t make me play peacemaker tonight,” Kelce shot back. “Gotta concentrate on my date.”

Molly chuckled, and you did too. THEY WERE SO CUTE.

Then your heart sank as Kelce leaned forward, pointing toward Rafe with his thumb while looking at you. "Your job tonight."

…What?

You blinked and smiled awkwardly.

“It’s not hard,” Kelce went on with a grin full of white teeth. “Keep him hydrated, stop him from talking to people, and bring up golf every now and then. That usually distracts him.”

Topper and Molly both laughed, and oh god, it was so hard not to laugh too as Rafe turned around with a scowl—first looking at you, then at Kelce.

"You’re gonna be the first fucker I beat up tonight," Rafe said, crooked grin on his lips.

Kinda cute how he always acted like Kelce pissed him off when in reality they had this weirdly wholesome friendship behind the scenes.

Kelce held up his hands as Rafe turned back around. "Ayy, thought you might appreciate the company of a pretty lady."

PLEASE.

Your cheeks heated up because that sounded dangerously like Kelce trying to play wingman or matchmaker, and somehow that made the whole situation SO FREAKING AWKWARD.

"I'd appreciate if you shut the fuck up," Rafe said, still frowning as he looked straight ahead.

This boy was so dramatic, holy shit.

THEN AGAIN, HE HADN’T DENIED WHAT KELCE HAD SAID, SO CLINGING TO THAT FACT HAHAHAAH #goingmoreinsanebytheday.

Topper cleared his throat. "So, uh, back to Cara..."

That earned a round of groans from everyone.

After some teasing of Kelce and Rafe, and some attempts at cheering Topper up by Molly and you, you all got tired of that topic (thank god because you just felt so bad for Topper), and a few minutes later you arrived at your destination anyway.

The huge gravel parking lot was already filled with cars. Some girl was directing Topper in and assigning him a spot for his big-ass Range Rover, which, as you’d found out, happened to be his mother’s.

As the engine shut off, everyone got out. Kelce helped Molly out of the car, and Topper held the door open for you while you struggled a little with your dress.

"Thanks," you said with a polite smile and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Topper looked like he was about to say something (judging by his expression, probably trying to get a moment alone with you to talk about Cara), but Rafe suddenly appeared at his side, grabbing his shoulder with a crooked grin.

"Aight, enough whining about Hall," he said, nodding toward the entrance. "Cheer the fuck up and go find another chick inside. Or go annoy Kelce and Molly, I don't give a shit, but stop dragging us into it."

Such tact. Truly award-worthy. Though, to be fair, that actually sounded like Rafe’s version of wanting his friend to feel better.

Topper pressed his lips together, clearly debating whether to argue, but in the end, he just sighed and nodded. "I'll go join the others."

With that, he walked off.

As much as you felt sorry for him, it wasn’t your place to speak for Cara’s feelings, so you were actually kinda thankful for Rafe’s little lifeline.

SPEAKING OF RAFE.

Dude was eyeing you with the smuggest grin ever, blue eyes locked on yours before letting his gaze drop down your outfit (and soul, the way his stares always felt so intense) for a second.

And the way he just nodded, his eyes landing back on yours, DUDE WHAT.

"What?" Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled sheepishly.

Rafe shook his head, lips tugging into a downward smile. "Nothing. Just curious who you dressed up for."

HUH. NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT LIKE THIS. THIS WAS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING BYE.

You let out a nervous chuckle and shook your head too. "Myself?"

Somehow, you both seemed to know that was bullshit, and now you just kinda wanted to curl up into fetal position and stay there for the next one billion years.

"Bold choice for a self-date," Rafe said with a shit-eating grin.

You couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or a smooth way of saying, “Next time, pick something else.”

Hey, I kinda wanna die right now.

"Shit, don’t look at me like that." Rafe chuckled boyishly. "You look good, alright? That dress suits you."

...

:)

EDNCSKJDXCHNFEWJSKLFCHNVDLAKGSNJVSÖKLFDHXUVWDIUEOPSAXM;POSWLSCKUCJGFKD

Cheeks hotter than the sun, but you didn’t care because OH MY GOD. You couldn’t even hide your smile, and you also didn’t care that you probably looked like some stupid fucking idiot while doing it, but WHO CARED.

"Thank you," you said, gripping the strap of your bag.

AND THEN you mustered up the courage to look him over as well. Not as obviously as he had, because that guy just seemed to have zero shame, but well, you did appreciate the view.

Even if he was wearing one of his probably thousand polo shirt variations again, it suited him just as well as the other 999. Paired with some more or less basic white shorts that really showed off the tan on his legs and some matching white Dior B57 sneakers.

Kinda low effort but that guy pulled it off like crazy. And him deciding to wear his hair as curtain bangs again BECAUSE OF YOU (yes, you'd never forget how he’d admitted that yesterday) kinda made your heart rate shoot up even higher.

Rafe raised his brows when you met his eyes again, and you felt caught and awkward, but still, you managed to say, "Looking fresh yourself."

That made the cutest laugh escape his lips, and you could literally feel the butterflies in your stomach dancing to that soft sound.

"I'm just gonna assume that’s a weirdly executed compliment and you're not just making fun of me," Rafe said with a lopsided smile.

You shrugged. "Maybe it’s both."

"Aight." Rafe then eyed your jacket. "Might wanna take that off though. They’ve got blankets and stuff in there, you know."

You let out a soft laugh, raising your brows. "And I’m just gonna assume this is your weird way of caring about me being comfortable and not just a way to get me undressed."

DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST SAY THAT OMMGMFMMF.

Rafe himself was the biggest confidence boost you could get, and his boldness kinda rubbed off on you.

He chuckled. "It’s both."

ALRIGHT, DUDE.

Okay, honestly, you were kinda starting to sweat under the jacket. First, it was still super warm despite the time, and second, Rafe’s flirty comments (yes, let’s just call them that) were turning your entire body into a heatwave.

With flushed cheeks, you let out a soft giggle and awkwardly tried to take off your jacket while still holding onto your purse without dropping both.

"Jesus, give that shit to me," Rafe said, grabbing your purse with one hand while helping you out of your jacket with the other.

"Ayo, you lovebirds coming?" Kelce’s voice boomed from a few steps ahead. "Seats are filling up, you’ll have to share one soon!"

UGHHH PLEASEEEE DON'T MAKE THIS EVEN MORE AWKWARD.

"Gonna kill that fucker someday," Rafe muttered as he handed you your purse back, eyeing the bracelet on your wrist with a silent smile.

You chuckled sheepishly and slung your bag back over your shoulder, blinking in confusion when he kept holding onto your jacket.

Rafe's gaze drifted over your now-exposed upper half for a second before he looked back at you with a smug grin, tilting his head toward the others. "Come on, before I lose interest in the movie altogether."

DUDE. You REALLY had to get used to this kind of apparently harmless flirting without immediately spiraling into that one very specific overthinking rabbit hole. Like—he couldn’t just make comments like that and then--

The sudden touch of his hand on your back yanked you out of your thoughts, a buzzing warmth settling over your whole body. He gave you a gentle nudge forward and you fell into step beside him, already missing the heat of his hand the second he let it fall away.

As soon as you reached the ticket booth, it found its place again as Rafe softly guided you past the grumpy-looking line toward Kelce, Topper, and Molly.

"Finally," Kelce said with a wide grin as he took two tickets. "Thought you—"

"Shut your ass and keep moving," Rafe cut in, softer than usual.

Topper was up next and followed the other two through the archway. Muffled voices and soft music already drifted from inside.

You reached for your wallet automatically, but Rafe had already stepped in front of you, placing your jacket on the counter. "Two tickets, and this to coat check."

You blinked. "You don't have to—"

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe said, eyes focused on his wallet as he handed the cashier forty dollars. "Keep the change."

No way. He was paying for you again AND tipping the kid behind the counter twenty-five dollars?? First the McDonald’s food and now this? What, why, how.

Plus, um ... you kinda needed that jacket later…

Rafe took two pink tickets and a tag with the number 69, grinning like a five-year-old (grow up please), and handed you one. "Just shut up and take it."

And you did (with a "Thank you" nonetheless) while your heart practically exploded in all directions. Then you followed him through the archway onto the event space.

Dozens of people were already scattered across the area—locals and even some tourons—chit-chatting, laughing, lounging in groups or pairs. Some had already claimed a spot in front of the massive screen on floor cushions or deck chairs. A few had even brought their own blankets and pillows.

To the side were the restrooms and food stalls selling popcorn, nachos, and other snacks, plus all kinds of drinks from water to vodka-energy, and a variety of rental blankets and pillows.

And strung up between trees and posts were dozens of fairy lights and pink paper lanterns (clearly Barbie was the more anticipated movie tonight). It looked gorgeous, and cozy, especially now with the sun halfway down the horizon.

Which, as a matter of fact, made the whole setting feel... a little too intimate.

The others were nowhere to be seen, and it was just you and Rafe now, standing near the entrance. And the fact that he'd been all gentlemanly earlier didn’t help—THIS ALMOST FELT LIKE A FUCKING DATE, JESUS CHRIST.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK CALM DOWN. JUST LOOK AROUND, MAYBE I CAN SPOT--

"I guess you'll want some snacks and shit like that."

Your head snapped back to him, suddenly very aware of how exposed you felt without your jacket, without Topper, Kelce, or Molly AROUND AND AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH.

The only thing grounding you was the bag on your shoulder, which you were now holding onto like your life depended on it.

"Um, yeah, sure," you said, internally begging your brain to chill the fuck out.

WHY DIDN’T HE CARE WHERE THE OTHERS WERE THOUGH??? HELLOOO YOUR FRIENDS ARE GONE, PLEASE LOOK FOR THEM.

With a simple "Aight, come on" from Rafe, you followed him toward one of the snack stands, trying to maintain a respectful distance.

This time, there was no one for Rafe to cut in front of, so the two of you just stood there AND YOUR BRAIN COMPLETELY BLANKED ON EVERY TOPIC KNOWN TO MAN.

How was he so chill while you almost debated asking him what brand of microwave he’d recommend because you LITERALLY had nothing else to think of HELP.

Nervously, you hugged yourself, trying to ground yourself by gently pinching the skin on your upper arm.

"You cold?"

You met his raised eyebrows and instinctively dropped your hands, giving him a small, smiley shake of your head. "Wh—no. No."

Rafe eyed you for a long second before saying, "You're being weird."

NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT OH MY GOD.

"You're always weird, but this is weird-weird," he added, dry amusement in his tone.

You let out a strained chuckle. "Okay, maybe I am kind of cold."

ughhhhhhhhhhhh. Please believe me, please believe me, please—

"Well, then we’ll buy a fucking blanket. Jesus Christ, you gotta chill."

oKAY.

WAIT—WE?!?!?!?!?!

You had zero time to spiral over that because suddenly, you two were up. WAIT—YOU TWO??? NO. RAFE. RAFE WAS NEXT. HELP. WHAT’S GOING ON.

He ordered some nachos with salsa dip and a large diet coke and then turned to you with an expectant expression.

WHAT. NO FUCKING WAY.

No no no no no no. Him paying AGAIN felt so insanely weird for no reason. You stepped forward and grabbed your wallet, and he looked at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

"That's some disrespect," he said, raising an eyebrow, though the amusement in his tone was undeniable.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "I just... you really don’t have to—"

"Shit, only thing I wanna hear right now is your order," he cut you off, and the cashier's barely hidden smile just made the whole thing ten times more awkward.

And because you really didn’t want to drag this painfully awkward situation out any longer, you just told her your snack and drink choice.

Rafe placed two twenty-dollar bills on the counter and added, "And a blanket. Large."

The pretty cashier girl glanced between the two of you, lifting a brow with clear amusement. "We only have small ones left."

YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

PLEASE ASK FOR TWO. PLEASE FUCKING ASK FOR TWO.

"Yeah, well, one of those then."

[Insert brain explosion sound here.]

You could literally feel the adrenaline flooding your body, nerves tingling and buzzing, butterflies flying around all confused and bumping into each other like WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONE.

You kinda felt like hyperventilating but all you did was smile with the most strained expression because what :) else :) were :) you :) supposed :) to :) do :)?????!?!??!!

Rafe took the change and shouldered the blanket bag over one strap, then reached for his snack order.

You grabbed yours too and followed him, your nerves shot to hell. You honestly felt like some helpless prey knowing it was about to get devoured but having no idea when.

Your cheeks burned hot and you were pretty sure your blood pressure was sky-high, except you had no idea why you were freaking out so much. All you could hear was your own heart pounding in your chest and ears.

You almost didn’t even notice that Rafe had stopped, or rather, that he’d been stopped.

Wait, no. Rafe had stopped because you’d been stopped.

Cara had grabbed your arm, halting you in your tracks, a huge grin on her face as she greeted you both.

Shit. And JJ was next to her, waving with a smile.

Your half-panic attack vanished instantly, now replaced with a new, different anxiety: Rafe freaking out, saying some dumb shit, or worse, starting actual shit with JJ. Or JJ not keeping his mouth shut. Or even worse, the other Pogues showing up.

But they didn’t. And all Rafe did was...stay quiet, other than giving Cara a casual "'Sup."

WHICH MADE YOU ALL THE MORE CONFUSED BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH HIM TODAY.

"Already said hi to Kelce and Molly," Cara said, eyeing you with a grin that basically screamed I-see-one-blanket-and-your-jacket’s-missing-soooo-wink-wink. "Also spotted Topper, but didn’t wanna interrupt his chit-chat with Ruthie."

RUTHIE’S HERE? OF COURSE SHE’S HERE.

Rafe scoffed. "He’s salty 'cause you turned him down."

Cara blinked, genuinely looking a little guilty. "I didn’t turn him down. I just already promised someone else I’d join their group. And last I checked, his car only has five seats anyway."

"Could’ve thrown Kelce in the trunk," Rafe shrugged.

Dude.

"Or someone could’ve gotten cozy on a lap," JJ added with a smirk. Directed at you.

DUDE.

Rafe finally tensed and you found yourself relaxing (girl, are you okay???) because that was a sign he wasn’t some polite and gentleman-programmed clone of himself.

But before he could snap at JJ, Cara stepped in. "Or Topper could stop acting like a drama queen just because I turned down his invite," she said with a frown, though you knew better. She felt bad.

Rafe tilted his head, and the air shifted in a way you did not like. Great. Now you had to de-escalate this?

"I’m sure he’d still appreciate it if you say hi later," you said with a smile that was clearly meant to signal pls-this-is-getting-weird-fast.

Cara, thank god, got the message and sighed dramatically. "Guess you’re right." Then she looked at her wrist like there was a watch. "Oh no, movie’s starting soon. Gotta grab our snacks before we miss out."

Oscar goes to her for sure.

You just nodded, smile still strained. "Right."

"Okay, see you two later!" she grinned at both of you, then grabbed JJ by the arm and dragged him off toward the food stalls.

Bomb successfully defused.

You turned back to Rafe and he looked at you with a boyish grin. "Didn’t know she had piercings."

Wh—OH. WHAT.

You stared at him blankly.

Had he seriously checked out her tits? Okay, no judgment, like Cara had gone braless today and her boobs looked legitimately perfect—like GODDESS-LEVEL—in that pink dress of hers, and even you couldn’t help but notice the second she'd walked up but...

You didn’t like that Rafe had.

Of course, of course he could look. He was a guy after all, and what else did they ever see beyond tits and ass, and yeah, Cara was an absolute bombshell, but…

Hm.

HM.

A weird feeling spread through your stomach and the butterflies just kinda sat there now, not sure what to do or how to feel.

"Well, yeah, I guess," you said, and it was so painfully obvious how the slight bitterness in your voice still came through. So you tried to compensate with a smile, but you probably looked like someone being held at gunpoint. "She got them a few weeks ago."

Rafe seemed way too entertained by that and just nodded with a wide grin. "Bet that hurt."

"It’s a sensitive area, so... yeah," you replied, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

An awkward silence started creeping in, adding to the sudden clenching in your chest, and you felt huge secondhand embarrassment for yourself. For being JEALOUS of your own best friend, especially when you and Rafe weren’t even a couple in ANY WAY and just UGHHHH.

Can I be normal for ONE FUCKING SECOND, please.

"Ayo, Rafe!" Kelce’s voice suddenly echoed from somewhere deeper inside the event space.

You and Rafe both looked up and spotted him somewhere between the seating area in front of the screen, waving with both arms.

Relief washed over you, and without waiting for any comment from Rafe, you started walking toward Kelce through the rows of bean bags, lounge chairs, and picnic blankets.

You found Kelce sitting on one of the lounge beds in the back rows… and Molly on a different one (?). A second later, you felt Rafe’s presence beside you.

Kelce patted the spot next to him, a huge grin on his face. "We saved you one of the best spots. Didn't want you sitting on some uncomfortable floor pillows. Bad for the spine, you know."

...no. Just. NO.

NONONONONONONONO.

There was no way you were gonna lie down on a damn shared lounge bed with RAFE, barely wide enough for two people. NOPE. NO. NO THANK YOU.

OKAY YES HOLY SHIT YES, BUT ALSO NO NO NO.

And Rafe—this NONCHALANT FUCKING GUY—didn’t give a single fuck. After Kelce had gotten up and moved over to sit with Molly, Rafe just dropped the blanket bag onto the bed and placed his nachos and Coke on the holder on the left side like this was the most normal thing ever.

You just stood there frozen, your heart SCREAMING AT YOU TO JUST SIT DOWN while your brain was spiraling, throwing thoughts and questions around, with the two big monsters called fear and anxiety looming over everything like a cold storm—

“Come on, Y/n.”

Molly. Her voice was soft and quiet next to you. “Enjoy yourself a little.”

She looked up at you with her sweet smile and kind eyes. There was a gentle understanding in her expression, and beneath it, this warm encouragement—like she got it. Like she really understood what was happening inside your head. The panic, the confusion, and mostly the sheer anxiety about this whole... situation.

And somehow, just that little sentence and her sweet smile were enough to bring a tiny bit of quiet to your brain.

YOU COMPLETELY UNDERSTOOD WHY KELCE HAD IMMEDIATELY FALLEN FOR HER BECAUSE DUDE.

“You waiting for an invitation or what?” And then there was Rafe with his passive-aggressive bullshit, already lying back with his legs up, shoes off, sipping his stupid Coke Zero.

Remember: he’s just a dumbass. Sure, he might be the biggest crush you've ever had, but deep down he's just a dumb little stupid boy. You had absolutely no reason to feel intimidated or nervous around him.

WELL YOU HADN’T—UNTIL HE'D DECIDED TO BE A GODDAMN GENTLEMAN TODAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Okokokok whatever, I’m gonna move now and just sit down. Yeah, yeah, a little smile, mm-hmm, that’s it. And now I’ll set my stuff down on my side. Okay, done. Oh shit, my drink nearly slipped hahah. Whatever, it’s fine. Now I’ll hang my bag on the hook at the side and then I'MGONNATAKEAPLACEJUSTINCHESAWAYFROMRAFEOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

DONE.

KJDEWFBGVJKWRBGFVWSJKBHFCSKWHBFESQHRL.

You smoothed out the fabric of your dress, let your hands fall into your lap, and leaned not at all tensely against the pillow backrest, staring straight ahead like a normal person because everything about this was completely normal.

:) yes, normal :)

Oh, wait. Your shoes.

You kicked them off and tossed them into the grass, and because you could feel Rafe’s burning gaze on you the whole time, you finally met his eyes—and he looked so fucking done with you it was almost hilarious.

He didn’t even look pissed. Just straight-up The-Office-style deadpan, like he was staring directly into some invisible camera, and that camera was your eyes.

"You know, at this point, you might as well just sit in the grass," he said, walking that fine line between annoyance and amusement.

And okay, he kind of had a point. You were sitting so far to the right your right leg was basically hanging off the edge of the bed.

I’m so fucking embarrassing holy shit.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and your heart sank when his brows furrowed.

"Are you seriously scared I might try some shit?" He actually sounded hurt beneath all that faux offense, and now you felt like the biggest idiot alive.

You shook your head instantly, heart racing. "No, no, of course not." An embarrassed smile crept onto your face. "I just—"

"Some minion fucker said shit to you," he stated, voice and expression softening just a little now.

Nodding at that painfully accurate guess felt humiliating. Sure, by now he knew your brain was a little fucked up, but not being able to just sit next to him? So fucking ridiculous.

You forced yourself to scoot a little closer, away from the edge, feeling like the most embarrassing human being on earth.

“Okay, stop,” he said, clearly trying to keep his frustration in check. He motioned to his chest. “I’m not gonna sit here with you acting like I’m holding you at gunpoint, alright? So if you’d rather go join Hall and her lapdog,” he made a shooing motion with his hand, “go for it.”

Your heart clenched at how disappointed and lowkey sad he sounded rather than mad or annoyed. And he’d been so nice today anyway, all smiley and chill, and now he looked like someone had popped his favorite balloon. Or, more accurately: like you had.

Of course you WEREN’T scared he’d try anything. Not in the slightest, oh my god, no, it was just…

NOTHING. There wasn’t a single damn problem except you and your own damn head.

Fuck that. Seriously, fuck your brain and every thought it ever created. Just—fuck it.

Shaking your head, you said, “What? No. No! I’m fine here. It’s… I’m just being stupid, okay?”

Rafe gave you a look like he was considering getting up and sitting somewhere else, but his gaze softened into a smile. He tapped his head. “Nah, it’s your fucking asshole brain feeding you stupid shit.” He sighed, then shook his head again. “Can’t believe I even have to say this shit, but if it helps you chill the fuck out: I’m gonna keep my hands to myself, alright?” He picked up the blanket bag and moved it toward you. “And this was meant for you anyway. I don’t need it.”

Okay no.

You did NOT want him feeling like he needed to explain himself just to not be seen as a creep because YOU KNEW DAMN WELL HE WASN’T.

JESUS CHRIST. You were the one putting people into shitty situations like this. And Rafe, of all people—this guy probably had to put up with your bullshit more than anyone else these past few days.

Furrowing your brows, you scooted closer and grabbed the blanket bag, opening it up and tossing that stupid thing to the side. You tried spreading the fluffy pink blanket across both your legs, but it was so awkwardly rolled together you kinda failed and a giant ball of fluff just landed squarely on both your laps.

“The fuck are you trying to achieve here?” Rafe said, half annoyed, half amused, watching you struggle with the small-ass blanket.

You leaned forward, trying to figure out which side was up. “Proving to you that I’m not uncomfortable around you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, letting out a strained breath as he gently slapped your hand away from awkwardly fumbling with the blanket. In one smooth motion, he spread it lengthwise across both your laps.

Then you realized—it was still too warm for a blanket, especially a fluffy one like this, and you could already feel sweat creeping onto your skin. Thank god, Rafe felt it too.

“Okay, point proven,” he said with a soft scoff. “Now can we ditch this thing before I get a fucking heatstroke?”

You let out a chuckle and nodded, pulling the blanket off and tossing it to the foot of your seat.

As you shifted positions, the background music faded and the sound of the movie started. Wait, no, just some commercials. The voices around you gradually died down anyway, and the last people were finding their seats.

The air between you and Rafe finally settled. Back to as normal as it could get. And so fast too, like, you never really had to be afraid of anything with him, because even if you got into a dumb little argument, you two always somehow figured it out right away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head toward you, hands resting on his stomach. “Have you seen the movie before?”

You tilted your head toward him too, adrenaline spiking the second you realized how close you were. Elbows just a few inches apart, his face still at a respectful formal distance but close enough for you to see the blue pattern in his stupidly pretty eyes.

And god, his cologne in the air between you.

You smiled and shook your head softly. “You?”

“Nah,” he said, and Jesus, his gaze was always so intense. “Didn’t even wanna see this crap, but Wheezie insisted I come.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “She seems more and more likeable every time you talk about her.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he scratched his jaw. “She says the same about you.”

OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD. HE TALKED TO HIS LITTLE SISTER ABOUT YOU???? AHUJCHDNSKCHNKEHVBSFD WHAT.

His gaze drifted back to the screen as the actual intro to the movie started playing. A woman’s voice narrated something over the scene of girls playing with dolls, but you weren’t really listening.

You were too aware of Rafe sitting right there, the scent of his cologne, how relaxed he seemed—and still thinking about that almost hurt expression he had earlier.

You stared blankly at the screen, biting the inside of your cheek. He’s actually trying to make me feel comfortable, and I made him feel like I was grossed out or scared of him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tilted your head toward him, eyeing his calm profile for a second. The softness of his skin, his cute little lashes, the focused look in his eyes—and the violet-tinted bruise on his cheek that almost looked like a blossom.

“Rafe,” you said quietly.

You almost melted at how soft he looked when he turned his head toward you. Big blue eyes staring at you, almost scared of what you were about to say.

"I’m sorry about earlier," you said with a soft look. "I acted like an idiot. Probably made you feel like one, too."

Rafe shook his head and waved it off. “Nah, it’s alright. I’m used to your shit by now.”

Nope. That didn’t sit right with you.

You pressed your lips together, turning your body to face him in a sideways position, legs pulled up toward you. His eyes flicked briefly to the curve of your hip before meeting your gaze again, clearly trying not to smile.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, but you kept your gaze steady, your expression serious. “Still. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to explain yourself.”

Rafe let out an amused breath. "Chill, okay? Seriously, I didn’t mind."

How was he sometimes so chill, and other times made a whole issue out of something that wasn’t even one?

"Or do you need me to shut up the asshole minion in your head?" he said, lips tugging into a downward smile.

You let out a quiet chuckle and fidgeted with the bracelet on your wrist. "I think I managed that myself, but thanks."

He pulled a mock-pained face. "Sucks. Would’ve loved to smash that guy’s face in."

Another soft giggle slipped from your lips, and with that conversation wrapped up, you turned back to your original position. The fabric of your dress had ridden up slightly, giving a peak at your thighs and you quickly tugged it back down with an awkward motion.

Barbieland was now being introduced on the screen, showcasing all the different Barbie variants.

And then it was Rafe who shifted, leaning forward to grab the blanket.

You eyed him with a confused smile as he pulled it back over both your legs. “So you are in fact cold” you said, amused, heart racing at the sweet gesture.

Rafe looked up, almost startled, as he pulled the blanket over his lap as well. “What? Yeah, no, just... feels more comfy.”

…

Oh.

You just stared at him in slight disbelief, then amusement, then full-on embarrassment, knowing exactly what the two of you were now sharing under that blanket.

"What," he said quietly, brows furrowed with an almost accusatory tone. “It’s not like I control that shit.”

You should probably be weirded out. No, actually—FREAK OUT, PANIC, stand up and leave. But instead, you just pressed your lips together, trying not to chuckle at how genuinely awkward he looked. And probably felt.

Shit, you actually felt sorry for him.

So, in a weak attempt to make him feel better, you mirrored his movement, pulling your side of the blanket over your lap too and quietly shifting your gaze back to the screen, where the stereotypical Barbie was just being introduced.

Your heart was racing nonetheless, because like... not Rafe getting hard at the most random-ass moment during a Barbie movie. And not you lying just a few inches away from him and OKAY MAYBE KINDA PANICKING A LITTLE.

nONONONONO. Stuff like that happens all the time. He probably felt just as embarrassed as you did. Honestly, maybe even more.

Okay. Just ignore it. It'll probably go away soon, right?

Keeping your focus on the movie was kinda hard though, with how uncomfortable you felt in your current position, neck all tense because you were lying too low, and being on your back felt awkward in general.

So now you had two options: either turn on your side, facing Rafe, or turn your back to him. And given his current…situation, you weren’t really sure which one was worse.

Shit, but you really couldn’t lie like that anymore, and you didn’t wanna risk a cramp or something just because you were too scared to move. So you decided to turn onto your side—facing him—because, well… you didn’t wanna make him feel bad by turning away.

Grabbing the pillow behind you, you slid one hand underneath it and rested the other next to your face. There. Much better.

"You doing that shit on purpose now?" Rafe asked, and your head snapped toward him, catching him glancing at the curve of your hip again, now hidden under the blanket.

You let out a baffled little laugh, shaking your head. "What? No. This is just more comfortable."

“Yeah, shit. Not for me,” he muttered, and poor boy actually looked like he was suffering.

Nerves buzzing, you just stared at him cluelessly, your heart racing at the possibility that you were the reason for his current situation. "I... what do you want me to do?"

"I don’t know, stop moving." He looked so genuinely embarrassed, wearing that little scowl, that somehow it didn’t feel that weird. Okay, it did, but not as much as you'd expected. And honestly, right now, you just wanted to make him feel a little less awkward.

"Well... maybe turning on your side might help," you said quietly, with a barely hidden smile. "Might ease the pressure, considering—"

"Please just shut the fuck up," Rafe muttered, his face contorted in the most dramatic frown possible. On screen, stereotypical Barbie was now getting ready for her day. Then, after a beat, he did in fact shift downward a bit and turned to face you, mirroring your position.

For a moment, you just stared at each other. A respectful distance between you, but still close enough to feel his breath on your hand. He looked at you like he might actually murder you if you dared open your mouth, and you tried your absolute best not to laugh.

“Did you know,” you whispered, trying to keep a straight face, “Mr. Martin’s buttcrack always peeks out when he tries to write on the upper half of the board.”

Rafe stared at you, deadpan, very obviously trying to suppress a smile. You decided to go one further: “Looks like a dark hairy caterpillar from afar.”

His features softened almost immediately as a baffled chuckle escaped him, the blanket on your side lifting a little as his body shifted onto his back. He dragged a hand over his face in annoyed amusement, letting out a quiet, "What the fuck."

You held back a smile, glancing up at him with raised brows, feeling a little proud for getting those soft chuckles out of him from time to time. “Did that help?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Shit, yeah, it did. I’ll probably never get hard again with that cursed image now burned into my brain."

“Imagine him in a tankini, that should do the trick,” you offered, and Rafe’s face twisted in disgust.

He tapped a finger against his temple. “That weird-ass minion in your head is worse than the shit-talking one.”

You let out a soft giggle, and your heart did a little jump when you saw him smiling along too.

Rafe then fully shifted onto his back again and tried adjusting the blanket higher up, but since it was stretched lengthwise over both of you, your feet ended up exposed. A soft breeze hit them, now that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon.

"Okay, you gotta scoot closer if we both wanna fit under here," he said, scoffing at your expression. "Shit, relax. Thanks to your overly detailed description of Martin’s wrinkly, hairy caterpillar buttcrack, I'm probably gonna be impotent for the next few weeks."

NOT RELAXING IN THE SLIGHTEST RIGHT NOW.

“But I can get up and grab my own blanket if you want,” he added more seriously, catching your baffled look.

WHY WAS HE SO SWEET TONIGHT OH MY GOD.

Okay. This is your chance for SOME CLOSENESS WITH HIM. He might’ve had a boner just now HAHAHAHAHA and you were still kind of shocked at yourself for how weirdly chill you'd reacted, BUT LET’S JUST IGNORE THAT AND USE THIS FUCKING CHANCE GIRLLLLL LET’S GOOOO.

Quietly, you shook your head with a nervous smile, grabbed your pillow, and scooted closer to him. While you kind of struggled to figure out how exactly you were supposed to lie next to him that close, Rafe grabbed the blanket and turned it so that the long side actually covered the length of your bodies.

Okay, lying on your side wasn’t really possible here, so you turned onto your back. But now your upper arms were awkwardly pressed together, both of you with your hands resting on your stomach, and your hips were touching, too, AND JESUS CHRIST HIS BODY FELT SO WARM.

But hey, at least you were both covered now, even if you were pretty sure he could hear your heartbeat, with how loud it was pounding in your chest.

Barbie was now at the beach with her friends, the Kens were doing some beach stuff or whatever BUT YOU COULDN’T REALLY FOCUS.

Also, his elbow was digging uncomfortably into yours, so you tried adjusting yours, which made him move again AND JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS AWKWARD.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe said with a quiet scoff and leaned forward. “This isn’t working.”

You just blinked at him, afraid he’d actually get up now to grab his own blanket.

Instead, he gently grabbed your shoulder, signaling you to lean forward for a second. Which you did—letting him take the lead because your brain had gone completely blank at THIS ABSURDLY CLOSE PROXIMITY.

Rafe grabbed your pillow, scooted into a more upright position, then leaned back again, his right arm now resting on the low backrest, his head supported by his hand. With the other, he placed the pillow in the now empty space, half on his shoulder and under his armpit, and gestured to it.

GUYS.

“There,” he said. “You okay with that?”

JUST SAY YES AND LIE DOWN, NO SECOND GUESSING.

So you did. Heart hammering so loud you didn’t even hear yourself speak. You smiled—half anxious, half excited—and leaned back again.

Since he was lying slightly elevated on his back, you had to scoot down a little, your head pressing against the pillow, your left shoulder half resting on his chest, and you folded your hands comfortably on your stomach. Your elbow ended up resting against the side of his hip because of that, and you expected him to shift away...but he didn’t. And NEITHER DID YOU because acknowledging it would just make it worse and—

GIRL. RELAX.

Your body was relaxed. Rafe’s warmth helped you ease into it, and the fact that he was so chill made it even easier. BUT YOUR MIND? YOUR MIND WAS SCREAMING, RUNNING IN CIRCLES, SETTING EVERYTHING ON FIRE BECAUSE YOU WERE BASICALLY HALF-CUDDLING WITH RAFE RIGHT NOW.

It’s fine. It’s cool.

Everything’s completely chill.

Actually, yeah, literally chill. Your skin had goosebumps, both from the situation and the drop in temperature over the past half hour.

And then a whole firework erupted on your upper right arm as you felt Rafe’s arm behind you shift, to pull up the blanket on your side and cover the rest of your upper body, AND HIS FINGERS BRUSHED YOUR SKIN AS HE DID SO AND—

You held your breath.

Because.

THIS FUCKER just left his arm there. Not back on the armrest, not casually elsewhere—no, right there, lightly resting on your right shoulder, his fingers playing with the sleeve of your dress.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood because WAS THIS EVEN REAL?! WAS THIS ON PURPOSE OR WAS HE JUST SO FOCUSED ON THE MOVIE HE DIDN’T NOTICE? AHHHHHHHHH

But you let him.

You let him because you wanted this. Being close to him, feeling the warmth of his body, all cozied up. Your heart was racing, fluttering like it didn’t know whether to panic or melt. Every brush of his arm sent little sparks down your spine, too much and not enough all at once.

Because, as a matter of fact, it wasn't enough. Now that you’d had a taste of this feeling—of how it felt being so close to him—it was like something inside you had been lit up. There was this deep urge and longing to completely turn toward him, fully cuddle up, put your hand on his chest, drape a leg over his, bury your head in his chest and just inhale his scent and UGHHHH.

But you were a coward. A scaredy cat, too afraid he’d push you away. Especially because this right here? It was toeing a fine line between “we’re just cold and sharing a blanket so obviously we scoot closer” and “considering we’re just project partners who happened to agree on being friends, this was way more intimate than necessary.”

Hey, funny thought here: what if you just did it? :)

Because HE clearly never gave much thought to how his little flirtations affected you. He made it damn clear it was all just for fun. So maybe you could just… cuddle with him. For fun.

Worst case? He’d say something like “You wanna get into it now or what?” and then you’d just awkwardly laugh and go “Sorry, just felt more comfy like this” and scoot back into your old position.

Remember? With Rafe, you never had to be afraid of doing some dumb shit or embarrassing yourself.

FUCK IT.

You pressed your lips together and pushed yourself up on your elbow, ignoring the pang of disappointment as his arm slipped back onto the backrest, his expression confused. DOESN’T MATTER, PUSH THROUGH GIRL. Adrenaline shot up as you grabbed the pillow that had been under his arm and silently placed it across his ribs, READY TO LAY DOWN—

—only for him to stop you with a crooked smile, your heart dropping straight through the floor.

You froze. Completely. Like your body had hit an invisible wall. Eyes wide, breath hitched, you just… stared at him. You didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move, afraid that even the smallest word might expose you in the worst way possible.

“Shit, you're gonna suffocate me with that thing,” Rafe said with amusement and moved the pillow to the side. Then he gestured toward the now free space on the side of his chest. “There.”

Your whole body buzzed as his right arm returned to your upper arm, now gently nudging you toward him.

Ignoring every voice of reason and panic in your head, letting yourself be guided into him, turning your body toward his, resting your head against the side of his chest, your shoulder naturally tilting in, your arm daring to settle on his upper stomach.

Every nerve lit up, hyperaware of the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into yours through his shirt. It was terrifying and euphoric, like stepping off a ledge and realizing, just for a second, that maybe you liked the adrenaline you felt while looking downward.

And then you almost exploded, because this guy took it a step further. His left hand remained casually on his thigh, but his other arm wrapped around your back, HIS HAND NOW RESTING ON YOUR BLANKET-COVERED WAIST.

Okay. You were officially done for :)))))))

Your heart was racing, pounding so loud it felt like drums in your ears, pulse probably skyrocketing, and let’s not even talk about the adrenaline—you’d probably need the ER in the next few seconds.

And the craziest thing was how he'd just accepted it. He'd let you do this. Hadn’t said anything dumb, hadn’t made a joke. Instead, he just laid there, snacking on his nachos and sipping his Coke Zero occasionally, the only things he said being how stupid Ken looked and acted and how weird his rivalry with the other Ken was.

But you didn’t have the heart to tell him that, actually, that was exactly how you saw him and Kelce. So you just stayed quiet, chuckled softly whenever he made another snarky remark, and soaked in this surreal moment that would be over again in about 60 minutes.

And when his left hand absentmindedly started playing with the bracelet dangling from your wrist, you didn’t say anything either—too afraid to ruin whatever this was.

Because somehow, it felt like the little agreement of friendship you made just yesterday was already, very slowly, starting to slip away into something you were too afraid to name.

Or maybe. Maybe, this was just what it looked like when two people, thrown together by coincidence, trusted each other enough to get this comfortable without needing to put it into words.

Little did you two know—it was both.

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✿ A / N ✿ imma be real, i feel like i fucked up their whole dynamic with the last scene aka them lying on the bed and cuddling and ughhh, and i also feel like you can feel through the writing how impatient i grew with the ending of this ch. idk maybe i should've postponed this and actually think it through but i kinda lost my mind with this one and now it seems like i skipped over some steps. idk maybe i'm just tired or biased bc of how long this chapter is so what do you guys think? bc i'm srsly considering reworking the last part HAHAHAHAH #heart'sactuallyracingrn

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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[honeyroots]

— keep it on the down low, ft. DEAN WINCHESTER

☆ SYNOPSIS: You're Sam’s best friend, but Dean just can’t keep his hands off of you.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.6k ☆ WARNINGS: NSFW (18+) / fem!reader / p in v / mentions of alcohol / reader is sam’s best friend / college au / frat!dean / praise (f receiving) / lowkey sam is pining for reader / reader and dean are sneaking around ☆ PAIRING: stanford!dean x reader

“You have to bounce the ball on the table and then make it into one of the solo cups,” DEAN WINCHESTER was laying the rules of beer-pong out flat. As a champion in his frat house, he was serious about playing doubles and determined to drill the rules into you prior to the start of the game. 

Your first day at Stanford, you met Sam Winchester in an introduction to psychology class. He somehow forgot a pen and leaned over toward you, cheeks red as he asked to borrow any sort of writing utensil. Naturally, a friendship formed between you and Sam, and the first time you met his older brother Dean, who was the president of Alpha Delta Phi (apparently Dean rushing the frat it started as a joke), your mouth watered and your knees went a little weak. He was too perfect, his jawline sharp, lips full, and eyes the prettiest color of green. The worst part? He knew he was beautiful, always weaponizing his pretty privilege to his advantage, and you hated to say that it worked on you.

Dean was directly behind you, one hand pressed against your waist as you aimed for the red solo cup. It was merely practice, training you up for some end-of-the-year frat party that was coming up. His chin rested on your shoulder as you threw one of the ping-pong balls toward the red solo cups positioned at the other end of the table.

Whenever Dean got too close, Sam would huff and puff, telling Dean to get his grubby hands off of his best friend. But today Sam wasn’t here, it was just you and Dean, in an empty frat house. When he texted you this morning to come over, you blinked a few times thinking maybe you were still in the middle of a dream, but when reality set in and you realized you were reading his message correctly, you nearly ran to his house.

The ball bounced off the rim of the cup, falling to the floor, the bounces echoing off the walls as you sighed in defeat. There was something about the alignment of the cups that was throwing you off.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it,” Dean encouraged, pulling one of the balls from the pile in his right and shoving it into the palm of your hand. His chin was still nestled on your shoulder, eyes fixated on the flex of your hand as you released the next ball from the tips of your fingers. The ball landed in the front cup, earning a large smile from you.

“I did it!” You cheered, turning around to face Dean. Chests pressed together, your bodies were so close, you could be considered one entity. Dean dropped the ping pong balls, curving one of his fingers into your belt loop and pulling your lower half closer to him. As the rest of your body collided with his, you felt the halfie he was sporting against you.

With his other hand, not paying any mind to the ping pong balls bouncing awry, he grasped your chin. The room felt like it was spinning, your mind in a daze as Dean dipped his face forward. With his lips so close, they were grazing against yours as he spoke, “I’ve been wanting to do this.”

His lips were on yours in a matter of moments— gentle at first, with soft nips from his teeth tugging at your bottom lip. His hand found its way to the small of your back, fingers toying with the hem as he lifted just enough of the fabric for his calloused hands to run against the bare skin of your back.

“Fuck, tastes so good,” he hummed against your lips, jutting his tongue out to lick a stripe along the roof of your mouth. The way your lips moved together, tongues crashing against one another was natural like two puzzle pieces fitting together. “I’ve got a real sweet tooth, did you know that?”

The whole thing was a blur. How you ended up in his bedroom, and how you ended up in between his sheets, you weren’t really sure. The feel of his hands on your body, his lips against your skin created a mind fog like no other. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about Dean Winchester. Like you hadn’t thought about the lines of his face and the calluses on his fingers in depth, or how they might feel against you.

Dean peeled the comforter back, his mouth still on yours as he pushed you against the bed. Completely clothed, he fell on top of you, wrapping his arms over your head as his mouth pressed chaste kisses against the corner of your mouth, then down your neck until he reached the collar of your shirt. The way Dean laid into you was like he would never be able to have you again, exploring every inch of your skin as he peeled your clothes off was enough to have your skin heating.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, using one hand to reach behind and unclasp your bra; it was almost a red flag how quickly he unhooked the clasp. His lips ran down your chest, pressing kisses to (what felt like) every inch of your skin. With his teeth, he unzipped your pants, tugging your jeans off of your body at a slow speed. As soon as you were splayed across his bed, your body on full display for him, Dean stripped himself of his clothing. Rushed, like he couldn’t wait to be inside of you, he removed his shirt and jeans. Everything about him was so gorgeous, the dips in his abdomen, even the oddly shaped tattoo on his left pectoral was beautiful.

It didn’t take long for Dean to position himself in between your legs, his hand reaching down to toy with your clit. His middle finger connected with the sensitive bud, rubbing a few circles to prep you for what was to come. His face hovered above yours, eyes watching your facial expressions as he dragged his finger up and down your slit. He wanted to memorize the way your face contorted, to find the face you make when you’re experiencing the most pleasure so he could engrave the image into his mind and replay it for himself when he was alone.

“Just trying to warm you up, baby,” Dean spoke in a low voice, his eyes searching yours. Moving his fingers from your core, he brought them to his mouth to taste you. Humming in pleasure, Dean smiled against the tips of his fingers. Heat rushed through your body at the sight of him tasting you, collecting your slick like it was honey and running it against his tongue. “Tastes so sweet.”

“I’ve thought about this,” you admitted, small gasps pulling from the depths of your throat as Dean lined up the tip of his cock with your slit. Slowly, he pushed in, but not all the way, getting you used to the stretch of him. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes screwing shut as you felt him enter, the stimulation of his fingers and the girth of him almost too stimulating.

“I know,” Dean breathed against you, his lips only inches away from yours. “I’ve thought about it too. I’m a slimy guy, huh? Thinking of my brother’s best friend. You’re just so pretty, like a doll.”

Dean pushed more of his shaft inside as he spoke, a soft groan coming from him as he felt the warmth of your core clench around him. Your body was responding to him in a way you didn’t expect, just the feeling of him bringing you to a place you had never experienced, and he wasn’t even rocking into you yet. When he began thrusting, the movements gentle against you, you couldn’t help but squeeze his shoulder in pleasure. With your head thrown back against the pillow that smelled of his aftershave, you let out soft whimpers. 

“You’re doing so good,” Dean praised, rocking his hips in and out of you. It took him a second to get to know the ins and outs of your body, trying to find your g-spot, but as soon as he located it, he doubled down. In just a few thrusts, he had you squirming beneath him, begging for more as he stimulated your core.

You felt your orgasm approaching, and before you could even give Dean a warning, you were spurting around him. Whining against his shoulder, you felt the peak of your orgasm spill over. With care, Dean continued to thrust in and out of you, riding you down from the high of your climax as he reached his own. Groans that sounded like a symphony sprang from Dean’s mouth. Collapsing on top of you with your bodies still connected, you both heavily breathed in unison. Interlocking your hands, Dean pressed his head against your chest. He cleared his throat, his lips gently pecking your collarbone. “We shouldn’t tell Sam about this.”

“No,” you agreed, guilt festering in the pit of your gut as you thought of your best friend. Was this a betrayal? Hooking up with his older brother? Squeezing Dean’s hand, your fingers brushed against the hardened skin of his index finger.

“Why are your hands so calloused?” You questioned, not necessarily meaning for the question to be spoken out loud.

“From my job. It’s the family business.” Dean let go of your fingers, and with a gasp from overstimulation, he pulled himself out of your core. Using his t-shirt, he wiped the insides of your thighs, finding solace in cleaning you up. 

“What do you do?” You hadn’t realized Dean worked outside of being a full-time student and full-time frat boy. It seemed that every time you spoke to Dean, you were unlocking buried lore, and one day you were determined to put the puzzle pieces together.

He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Call it community work.”

[eddiesxangel]

The Nanny | E.M x f!reader

Anon requested :I have an idea for a smut for Eddie. Okay, so the reader is like a babysitter for Eddie, so the reader takes a video of playing with Eddie’s kid and sends it to him. When Eddie watches the video, however, Eventually, his eyes are only on the reader; he becomes attracted to the reader and gets stiff. But the reader did this on purpose for that reason, and so when Eddie gets home, his kid is asleep, and it’s just him and the reader, and they start to get intimate, and one thing leads to another …

Wc: 2.9k

Cw: smut, oral (f&m receving), p in v, unprotected sex, pull and pray

When you got the job about a year ago, you were out of school and desperate for a full-time job to pay the bills. You saw his ad for a live-in Nanny in the paper and jumped at the opportunity.

When you started this nannying business, you never thought you would fall for the handsome dad who hired you.

The family you learned was a father and daughter. Eddie was a widower. His wife had died five years previously, and he had a seven-year-old little girl.

Eddie was a dedicated manager and owner of a construction company in town. His hours were unpredictable, so he asked for your help getting his daughter, Charlotte, ready for school in the early mornings and picking her up. To accommodate your assistance, Eddie has constructed a small house in his backyard for you to stay in, providing you with your own space.

During the year you spent with Charlotte, you formed a deep bond with her, and she became your favourite person. You both shared numerous activities, such as shopping, getting your nails done, having sleepovers, and attending her dance classes.

You supported her at every recital and never missed her soccer games, even when Eddie couldn't attend. Your time with Charlotte became an irreplaceable part of your life.

Your relationship with Eddie grew as the year went on. You became more attracted to him. He was so charming, funny, and handsome. He made you feel welcomed like you were part of the family—the family you wished was real.

Eddie has been away for the last few days; he will be home this evening, but you still wanted to send him some updates about Charlotte. You sent him a video of you guys at the community pool. She loved swimming, and you couldn’t help but want to flirt. Did you wear this specific bathing suit so he would see it? Yes. You can’t help but want to get his attention, to have him look at you the way you look at him.

You were on the splash pad, and thought it would be cute to show a video of you and Charlotte running through the sprinkler. You set up your phone against the wall for balance and click record. You and her squealed as the water was cold on your bare skin. You were smiling and laughing together the whole time. You hoped Eddie found it cute…

Eddie was in the airport lounge when he received a notification on his phone. He smiled when he saw that your contact had disrupted his podcast.

He paused his show and swiped to see what you had sent him. The video began with a scene of Charlotte, soaked and jumping up and down, with her two missing front teeth visible. Eddie smirked at the sight. He loved his baby; he missed her so much. The video continues, and when you come into the shot, his eyes widen as he watches you run toward Charlotte. His eyes can't help but stare. Your ass bounced as you ran back towards his daughter; your tight bathing suit clung to your every curve. The sight of your body so exposed, your wet skin glistening in the sun, Eddie couldn’t help but feel his excitement start to grow.

You giggled and laughed as you picked her up and ran with her through the water. Your smile was so genuine, and Eddie hated that he had developed an attraction to you other than liking your personality.

When the video finished, you sent another text, but this time, it was not what Eddie had expected. When he clicked back to the chat, he almost dropped his phone because he was so shocked. Right under the wholesome video of you and Charlotte was a picture of you lying on your bed, hand draped across your naked chest.

He was looking around. To make sure nobody else saw what he was looking at, he opened the photo, and he could see more of your bare skin than he ever thought possible.

Flustered and confused, Eddie didn’t know what to make of this. Did you mean to send it by accident? Was this meant for someone else? The thought of it supposed to be for someone else sent a pang of jealousy through Eddie’s chest.

The overhead speaker saying the fight Eddie was supposed to be boarding was what snapped him out of his thoughts. The whole flight would feel extra long now that this would be all Eddie would think about. He couldn’t get home fast enough.

Eddie never replied to your video and didn’t respond to the picture you decided to take for him. You’re unsure what came over you, but you wanted a clear message. You didn’t think the video would do anything, so you got bold.

You started to regret your decision about the picture. Maybe you will lose your job. Perhaps you could play it off as an accident, pretending you didn’t know you had sent it to him.

It didn’t matter because it had been hours, and Eddie would be home any minute.

Trying to ignore the feeling of panic by distracting yourself by cooking dinner, you hear the front door click open.

“Honey, I’m home,” Eddie’s deep voice rings through the front hallway. Your stomach turns upside down at the sound of his voice.

“In here,” you try to keep your voice calm. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet.

“Daddy!” Charlotte leaps off the kitchen chair and charges her way to her father. He’s been gone three days, the longest he has ever been away.

“Hi, handsome.” You smile as Eddie makes an appearance with Charlotte in his arms.

“H-hi,” he stutters, and his cheeks are a rose pink. He totally saw the photos.

“Dinner is almost ready,” you say, turning back to the stove, trying to hide your awkwardness about what you’ve done.

Eddie cleared his throat and took a seat as though nothing had happened. However, his mind was racing. He wanted to discuss it with you but didn’t know how to approach the situation.

Dinner was okay. You both tried to ignore the elephant in the room for Charlotte’s sake. You asked him questions about the trip, and he asked what you guys got up to. You let Charlotte do most of the talking. She eventually got bored and asked to watch a movie with both of you.

The tension could be cut with a knife as you and Eddie stole glances at one another while Charlotte was obviously enthralled by the princess singing about love in the big flatscreen.

After another hour and a half of torture, Charlotte passed out on her father’s shoulder. He smirks and says he’s putting her to bed and you stand to clean up the mess that was left in the kitchen after dinner.

A few minutes after watching the dishes, Eddie returns to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to clean; you’ve been on the clock for three days straight; I can take over. You sit and have a drink, relax.” He approaches you from behind.

“I don’t mind; youve been travelling all day; it’s my job to take care of you.” You look over your shoulder to see Eddie much closer than you thought.

“No, it’s your job to take care of Charlotte.” He raises a brow.

“What if I like taking care of you?” you drop the clean fork into the right side of the sink with all the other clean dishes.

“Sweetheart, about that…”

“Yes?” You turn excitedly.

“I um-you- I saw something.” Eddie didn’t know how to approach this. He sees you looking at him with hopeful eyes as you bite your lip. His heart fluttered in his chest when he saw the look on your face.

“I wanted you to see it.” You boldly admit.

“You- uh? What sweetheart?.” He asked, dumbfounded.

“Did you like it?” You take a small step forward, testing the waters.

Eddie visibly tenses. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t be attracted to his kids’ nanny, but he’s also only a man—a man who has been crushing on you like he was back in high school.

“This is wrong”

“Why? It didn’t have to be?” You trail a flirtatious finger down his chest.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he can’t help his attraction to you take over.

“Because you’re you, and I’m your boss-“

“Charlotte is my boss,” you giggle and bat your eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs.

“Eddie, I don’t want to keep pretending that there isn’t something between us. I can’t pretend any longer.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Please tell me it’s not just all in my head. All those late nights after we put Charlotte to bed, how we seek one another out even if Charlotte is not around, I see the way you look at me.”

Your face and Eddie’s were mere inches apart. Your lips were so close that Eddie was leaning in against his better judgment, but he wanted you so badly. You were right; there was an undeniable connection between the two of you, and Eddie didn’t want to ignore it either.

“Please, tell me I’m not crazy,” you whispered.

“You’re anything but sweetheart,” Eddie whispered back before closing the gap between you.

His soft lips formed with yours like they were made to be together.

You wrapped your hands around Eddie’s neck, pulling him in closer.

The sensation of his mouth on you went straight to your core. You needed him so badly.

Naturally, you slid your hands down his torso, up under his shirt, signalling for him to take it off; you needed to feel his skin; you kissed him like it was the last time you ever would kiss him.

You slid your hands down to his belt buckle, undoing it at a speed that wasn’t fast enough.

“Please, Eddie, I need you; let me make you feel good.”

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like that to me.” Eddie groans.

“Please, I need this; I’ve wanted this for so long, I can’t-” You both were so desperate, his pants couldn’t come off fast enough.

With a soft thwap, his jeans hit the kitchen floor, and you sink down to your knees.

“Fuck sweetheart, you look so beautiful like this.” he grips your chin before slipping his thumb in your mouth for you to suck on.

You slide your tongue along his rough, working hands, and he watches with lust burning in his eyes. You pop his thumb out of your mouth and replace it with the head of his cock. His thick shaft was heavy in your grip as you took more of him while not breaking eye contact. The weight of his cock resting in your mouth made you drool.

“Fuuuuuck, good girl.” Eddie’s breath became erratic.

Your eyes started watering as you tried taking him all the way down your throat, but Eddie was big.

Your breathing became shallow, but you were in heaven.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He’s looking down at you, a hand cupped on the back of your head, trying to resist the urge to thrust into your mouth as he hits the back of your throat.

You bob your head back slowly as you nod yes. You were finally able to catch your breath, drool coming out of your mouth as you pumped his cock in and out of your slick mouth.

Eddie couldn’t believe this was happening; not twelve hours ago, he was in a different state, jacking off to this fantasy of you on your knees.

He pulled you back up to kiss him, your pussy was throbbing, and the pulse that went directly to your clit was screaming for attention.

Moaning your name Eddie pushed you back so your ass was against the kitchen island, and you saw the hunger in his eyes.

He helps you jump onto the white marble countertop with quick hands.

“Baby, please.” An involuntary whimper came from your mouth, and he went in for another kiss, hands roaming from your inner thigh up until it reached your pussy.

“Oh baby,” he said the second he truly felt how wet you were for him.

Kissing down your neck, leaving purple bruises in his wake, not giving a care in the world right now about visible hickeys, he crept lower and lower until he was kneeling between your legs, forcing your knees open.

He stared into your heat.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He spoke, not breaking eye contact with your wet pussy.

He leaned in; he started with soft kitten licks to your clit with the tip of his tongue, gentle and delicate, before he took long deep strokes off his tongue, tasting every inch of you. Eddie moaned at your tase; he wanted to consume you, to make you feel so good you forget about every man before him.

The tickle of his beard was grounding you. This was actually happening.

“Oh!” You cry but quickly cup your hand over your mouth, remembering Char was upstairs.

With Eddie’s face pressed into your cunt your orgasm was quickly approaching. You couldn’t resist it anymore; your hips started gyrating into his face, and you needed more.

“Eddie, please,” you whimpered.

“You want more, sweetheart?” he pulls away and replaced his mouth with his index finger, slowly stroking up and down your weeping slit.

“Yes, Eddie, please.”

“That’s my good girl, asking so nicely,” he said, grinning up at you before standing.

With his hard cock in hand, he rubbed his tip up and down your slit gathering your juices so he could split into you nice and easy.

At this point, you were so turned on you couldn’t think, moaning out as he slowly stretched you open, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Inch by inch, the pleasure mixed with the burn of the stretch was so good, too good.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuckin’ taking me so well.” He slipped inside of you until you felt the tickle of his pubes against your clit.

You hadn’t even realized he was talking to you, cock drunk off the feeling you were so close, and he hardly started.

Incoherent muffled moans filled the empty kitchen as Eddie's cock quickly started to pump in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot on each thrust.

You didn’t stand a chance, as he had your legs over your shoulders, ankles rolling. He gripped the backs of your calves to hold your legs as wide as they could go.

With each thrust, the pleasure became more and more, your back arching up into the feeling of him filling you up.

The feeling in your belly started to build until he unexpectedly pulled you off the counter, walked you over to the couch, and flipped you so you were on all fours.

Once you were spread open for him, he started thrusting harder.

“Oh god! There! Please don’t stop!” You screamed into the couch cushions.

It was so good your hands gave out, your cheek pressing into the brown leather, only making your ass stick out more for him.

He spreads your cheeks to watch how your greedy pussy swollen his cock each time.

A slap comes down hard on your ass as he pounds into you; you moan out with pleasure. Another smack on the other cheek to even things out.

He’s going at a pace that makes your head spin; his fingers gripped into your hips so rough you’re sure there will be bruising tomorrow.

The noises that are coming out of you are inhuman; you don’t even recognize yourself; he was so big, you were so full, it was too good. 

“shhhhhh, sweetheart, we need to be quiet.” He wraps a hand around your face to cup your mouth to muffle the moans, but that only makes it hotter, so you cry about again. You couldn’t talk; each thrust was getting deeper and deeper at the angle he was holding you in.

Each thrust was building up the coil in your stomach. You were so close when he started rubbing your clit, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m close,” you seethe through gritted teeth.

“Come, sweetheart, come on my cock.” You were already seeing stars before he finished talking; your body shook, clenching down so tight on his cock while your orgasm filled your body.

“Oh god, yes, baby, milk this cock so good” Your pussy gripped down so hard on his cock that he almost wasn’t able to pull out in time.

You feel his warm seed on your back as his orgasm shoots through him.

Dazed and all fucked out, you roll over to see Eddie beaming down at you after he cleaned you up a little bit.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Eyes glazed over, you manage a

“Hi,” you giggle.

You curled into his neck, leaving soft kisses and kitten licks; you couldn’t help yourself; your boyfriend was just so hot. 

“I think we have a lot of catching up to do,” he throws you over his shoulder. “Eddie, put me down,” you giggle, getting a full view of his bare ass in front of your face. He runs you to his bedroom; you know it is going to be a long night. 

[goldfades]

𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "paige x iowa!reader (pre-relationship) on game day where maybe r is mic'd up the whole time so fans hear how they flirt, joke around, etc so they start shipping them? the other uconn/iowa girlies always tease them abt it and one night they all go out to a bar tg and someones on live and accidentally catches p and r against a wall kissing or smthn 🫣" for my lovely disco nonnie!

─ word count | 2.6k

─ warnings | teasing, lots and LOTS of teasing, mention of injuries, so much flirting, teasing, slightly suggestive, kissing.... oh and did i mention teasing????

─ taglist | guys idk why my taglist isn't working pls help me and lmk

─ ev's notes | okay so i want to know if yall like the little comment section i put in some of the posts, because i love doing them and i wanna know what ur thoughts are.

"OKAY, HEY LADIES and gents. It's your favorite, me. Y/N L/N," you tried to whisper into the mic secretively as you looked around. Before you could continue talking, you felt Caitlin grab your shoulders and shake you, eliciting a yelp from you.

You sent her a glare as she giggled and walked away, causing you to roll your eyes. "Anyways, sorry for that stupid interruption. It's game day here at Iowa and we're going against... I don't even remember their names."

You were obviously joking, you had plenty of friends on the UConn basketball team and it was running joke that you didn't like them. You smirked into the camera, knowing full well that your faux ignorance would rile up some competition.

"But hey, who needs names when we've got game, am I right?" You grinned, your enthusiasm showing. "So, while we prepare to show those other guys what real basketball looks like, let's talk strategy."

Leaning in closer to the microphone, you adopted a more serious tone, though the mischievous glint in your eye remained. "First off, we gotta dominate the boards. Rebounds win games, folks. Then, we'll run those fast breaks like there's no tomorrow. Speed kills, baby."

You paused for dramatic effect, pretending to adjust an imaginary headset. "And of course, let's not forget about defense. Lock 'em down, make 'em work for every shot. That's how we do it here at Iowa."

You turned around to see some of your teammates giggling at you, causing you to roll your eyes. "I'm getting bullied again, guys. Remember amazing, hot and very cool players have feelings too, okay?"

"Can you shut the hell up and come stretch with us?" You heard Caitlin shout from the court, causing you to sigh dramatically.

With a playful wink at the camera, you turned away, joining your teammates on the court for the pre-game warm-up. As you stretched and bantered with them, you saw the opponents walk in. You couldn't help but bit your lower lip as you averted your gaze from a particular blonde whom you've gotten close to these last couple of months.

After last year's game, Paige followed you on Instagram and you began talking more. However when you two got injured around the same time, it caused you two to talk more and form a closer bond. Eventually, it turned into Paige texting and calling you every single day and now, it's like you two have known each other your entire lives despite you guys seeing each other face to face three times.

You couldn't help but steal glances at her as you stretched, a small smile playing on your lips whenever your eyes met. The familiar banter and teasing between your teams seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn to her presence.

But amidst the closeness, there lingered an unspoken tension ─ a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach whenever Paige's eyes met yours, or the way your heart raced whenever she flashed you a smile.

Caitlin's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. "Yo, Y/N! Focus up, we've got a game to win!"

"Oh my gosh, look it's serious Caitlin I'm so scared," you spoke into the mic quietly, hoping that she wouldn't hear you. Unfortunately, she did and she got up, holding up her hand as you put your hands over your head. "No, I'm sorry!"

Caitlin laughed at your antics, her laughter infectious as she waved off your dramatic apology. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, Y/N," she teased, giving you a playful shove before turning back to the team. "But seriously, let's focus up. We've got a game to win, and I don't plan on losing to those guys."

"Yeah, me neither." She helped you get up from the floor as you walked to the bench. "Thanks, Cait," you said with a grin, falling into step beside her as you made your way to the bench.

As you settled onto the bench, you took a moment to mentally prepare yourself for the game ahead. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the echoing noise of the crowd, and the anticipation building in the air all served to fuel your determination.

You rose to your feet, eyes fixed on the court ahead. With a quick glance at the UConn's lineup, you immediately spotted Paige among their starting players. Your heart rate quickened slightly as you realized the task at hand — you needed to guard Paige and shut down her scoring opportunities.

In any other situation, it would be easy. Even if the person you were guarding was someone you were friends with, you always made sure to stay professional but this was slightly different. Paige had been the theoretical shoulder you'd been crying on for the last year about your injury that you'd just healed from.

As you stepped onto the court, Caitlin's words from earlier echoed in your mind. You couldn't afford to let Paige get the better of you, not today. You made your way toward Paige and as she met your eyes, she gave you a small smile. You could still talk to her, right? She held out her hand for a quick dap-up and you accepted it gratefully.

"Bro, me and Nika were just talking about how your hair is probably gonna be perfect. You have the best game day hair," Paige spoke finally as you laughed nervously, your gaze momentarily averting to the floor then back to her.

You felt yourself blush under her gaze as you playfully brushed off the compliment. "Oh, you think so, huh?" you smiled, trying to keep the mood light despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Well, what can I say? Gotta look good for the cameras,"

Paige smirked in response. "Oh, trust me, you always do," she teased, her words laced with a playful flirtation that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked into Paige's eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that washed over you. There was something about her presence, her easy smile, that made you feel at ease, even in the midst of a game.

"Says you, with your cute braids. You gotta teach me how to do those one day, you know." You playfully nudged Paige's shoulder, a smile spreading across your face."Now you're just showing off," you teased, your tone light and playful as you admired the braids that framed Paige's face.

Paige chuckled, a soft sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Or I can just do them for you once you actually visit Connecticut, like you promised."

You just realized that you were mic'd up, as you glanced down at the mic. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Alright, alright, you've got yourself a deal," you replied with a playful wink.

You then felt Kate's hand tap on your shoulder, motioning for you to come to the bench with her. Paige gave you a small smile as she did the same, your heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. With one last glance at Paige, filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you followed Kate to the bench.

"Are you gonna lock in, Y/N?" Caitlin's voice rang out as you glanced up at the tall brunette. You saw the slight smirk on her lips as she gazed at you, teasing you without saying anything. She was practically screaming "you're whipped!" as she did.

"Yeah, I'm locked in," you responded as you averted your gaze, laughter echoing in between your teammates as a blush covered your cheeks.

"You know, cus if you're not, I can guard Paige while you go shoot-"

"Oh shut up, Caitlin I hate you." You groaned, causing her to laugh along with the rest of the team. Caitlin's teasing banter was a familiar part of the pre-game ritual, and despite your protest, you couldn't help but smile at her antics.

"Hey, just looking out for you, Y/N," she teased, her tone lighthearted as she flashed you a grin.

As the referee's whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, you shook off any lingering distractions and locked into the moment. This was it the moment you had been waiting for. With a deep breath, you blocked out the noise of the crowd and zeroed in on the game plan.

At one point, as you and Paige push for position under the basket, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Paige jokingly accused you of stealing her post moves. "Hey, imitation is a form of flattery, right?" you quipped, earning a playful shove from Paige in response.

But perhaps the most memorable moment came when you and Paige found yourselves face-to-face during a heated confrontation for the ball. With the game hanging in the balance, you couldn't help but exchange a playful smirk with Paige, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.

Iowa had ultimately won the game but there was no bad blood between the two teams (thankfully), players from both teams exchanged handshakes and congratulatory words, acknowledging the hard-fought battle that had unfolded on the court.

Sure, some of the players were a little hurt but it wasn't like it was the end of the world. However, you knew at some point the two teams would have to play against each other during play-offs but you didn't let yourself get too worried right now. Right now, it was important to savor the moment, to celebrate the hard-fought victory with your teammates and bask in the camaraderie of the game.

──

"You looked good," Paige spoke as she leaned against the wall of the bar. Some of the girls on the team wanted to go out and celebrate and the UConn girls wanted to join. And that was how you found yourself standing next to Paige, a little tipsy as you leaned against the wall beside her, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks at her compliment.

"Thanks, you too," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. You felt yourself shy away from her gaze, a stark contrast to how you usually were ─ teasing and outgoing.

Paige noticed that quickly, a small smirk appearing on her lips as she took a tip of her drink. "Aw, look at you, all flustered," she teased, her tone light and teasing as she nudged your shoulder gently.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you replied, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Gotta stay humble, right?"

Paige laughed, the sound sweet and infectious as she leaned closer to you. "Don't worry, I think you can handle it," she said with a smirk, her words sending a shiver down your spine.

She gazed at you for a little longer as you looked away, only for her to grab your chin and hold it so that you kept looking at her. With a soft chuckle, Paige leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You're cute when you're flustered,"

"I never thought that you could be shy, you know... with all that shit-talking on and off the court." Paige remarked as she let go of your chin, her gaze still heavy on you. "It's kinda giving me an ego boost,"

"Oh shut up," you mumbled as you took a sip from your own drink, Paige's gaze following your lips. There was something about the way she looked at you, the way her eyes seemed to linger on your lips, that made your heart race.

As you lowered your drink, you met Paige's gaze once more, a playful glint in your eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, you know," you replied with a smirk.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I know," she teased, her voice low and teasing as she leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in her eye.

She wasn't usually ever this cocky, sure she's had her moments but never to this extent ─ she didn't know if it was the alcohol or just you. There was something about her self-assured demeanor that was both enticing and captivating, drawing you in with each exchanged word and shared laugh.

"Well, aren't you just full of yourself tonight?" you teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in closer to her.

"Can you blame me?" Paige replied with a grin, her confidence unwavering as she met your gaze. "I mean, if you had a pretty girl getting flustered over every word you say, even after her beat team yours, you'd be feeling pretty confident too," she continued, her playful tone tinged with a hint of desire as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath grazing your skin.

"Well, I guess I can't argue with that," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing as you leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in your eye. "But just remember, I'm not one to stay flustered for long."

With a playful smile, she leaned in closer to you. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to enjoy a challenge."

Her eyes kept flickering down to your lips as she downed her drink, putting it down on the table next to you. She leaned in closer, as if to test the water, grazing her lips against yours as your breath hitched.

She took your reaction as a yes, her hands finding your hips as she pushed you against the wall. She pushed her lips into yours in a hurried kiss, the intensity of her touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

You responded eagerly, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as you pulled her closer, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the moment. With a sense of urgency, Paige deepened the kiss, her hands exploring the contours of your body with hunger.

The taste of her lips was intoxicating, a heady mix of alcohol and longing that left you breathless. You forgot all about your teammates and who might see this and recognize the two of you, because neither of you really cared anymore.

Jada drank her water as she kept skimming through the comments of the live, reading them and chuckling at every remark toward you and Paige. Kate was behind her, momentarily blocking from everyone seeing what you two were currently up to.

Kate heard someone call her name as she quickly got up from her spot, turning to respond to the voice. As she moved away, the brief obstruction she provided from prying eyes was gone, leaving you and Paige momentarily exposed.

As Jada's gaze flickered to the screen, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. "Oh shit- I mean, shoot." She quickly moved her phone as she glanced at the sight, giving the camera a shocked look as she thought about what she should do.

She had basically just outed the two of you but to be completely fair, it was on you two for making out in a very public bar. "Guys, don't worry that wasn't Paige that was just some other blonde. Sorry guys, you know how Y/N has a thing for blondes."

She sighed as she locked eyes with Kate, who gave her a shocked expression as she looked down at her phone. Kate gave her a look before Jada looked down at her phone, laughing as she waved.

"Looks like we are gonna have to end the live, sorry guys. Love you, bye, mwah mwah."

Paige finally broke the kiss, leaving the both of you to catch your breath. She smiled as her finger swiped your bottom lip, tracing the outline of it gently. You couldn't help but catch your breath, the taste of her lingering on your lips like a sweet memory.

"You're fucking beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips again.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[cutvdo]

Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU - summary

When I read a long fanfic I like I do a little summary on what happens each chapter so I can easily reread the parts I want.

So I did one for @kyri45 Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU comic.

Link to comic Master post (from part 1 to 8) Link to Second Master post (with FAQs Q&As) (has the rest of part 8 and part 9) Link to Spin-off Master post

THIS IS SPOILERS, GO READ THE COMIC BEFORE READING THIS!!!!

The way it goes is "summary (characters that show up, by emojis the first time a character shows up it will also have a name, INDEX at the end of the post) extra".

The extra is like if someone is blushing or no-glamour, easier for compilations. and Sun = Sun Wukong.

P.1: First Arc 1) master post 2) we will co-mentor MK (🐒MK ☀️Sun 🌑Mac) 3) MK has shadow powers, Mama!Macaque (🐒☀️🌑) 4) MK has 4 ears, he is perfect (🐒☀️🌑) 5) Don't you know powers are genetic (🔥Redson 🐒) 6) Pigsy phone call (☀️🌑,🐷Pigsy-phone📞) 7) too much noise (🐒☀️🌑) 8) we are related talk (🐒☀️🌑) 9) Pigsy shovel talk (☀️🌑🐷)

P.2: Week 1 and 2 1) MK corner (🐒☀️🌑) 2) new clothes (🐒) bonus) 🪭PIF finds out (🔥🪭PIF 🌑) 🚪Door 3) afraid to apologies (☀️🌑,🐒-sleeping) 4) train Kaiju form with Mac (🐒☀️🌑) Mac-kaiju 5) Mac apologies to MK (🐒☀️🌑) Mac-MK-kaiju 6) MK planed this (🐒☀️) reddit-ing 🔗Fan made a fake MK reddit story 7) Redson and Mei find out (🐒🔥🐉Mei 🪭) 8) Redson gives MK support (🐒🔥)+(☀️🐃DBK)🚪Door 9) Bull gives advice to Sun (☀️🐃)

P.3: Training montage 1) Sun stepping down from an argument (🐒☀️🌑) 2) never gives up (🐒☀️🌑) Sun blush🔴 3) Grooming train (🐒☀️🌑Monkeys) Sun🔴 4) more for MK (☀️🌑👓Tang) bonus) Family dinner (🐒☀️🌑) 5) soft ears (🐒☀️🌑🔥🐉) Mac🔴 6) MK's room (🐒☀️🌑)

P:4: Un-divorce arc 1) APOLOGY (☀️🌑) glamour-less Sun 2) Mac nightmare (☀️🌑 Monkeys) 3) Sun nightmare (☀️🌑 Monkeys) 4) made bed bigger (☀️🌑 Monkeys) 5) 🍼MK is baby now (🐒☀️🌑) 6) Mama Mamacaque (🐒☀️🌑) 7) Mamacaque shadow play (🐒🌑,☀️-watch) 8) Want parenthood talk (☀️🌑) 9) family cuddle (🐒☀️🌑) 10) MK wakes-up to family cuddle (🐒, ☀️-🌑-sleep) bonus) Spicynoodle (🐒🔥🐉)🏳️‍🌈🔴

P.5: More than a successor 1) 2am waiting for Mac (☀️🌑) 2) MK sees past (☀️🌑,🐷-phone📞) 3) giving Pigsy and Tang advice (🐒🐷👓, ☀️-🌑-phone📞) 4) Sun freakout (☀️🌑) 5) not a nightmare (🐒☀️🌑) glamour-less Mac 6) it was the only way (🐒☀️🌑) 7) family hug (🐒☀️🌑) talk 8) Sandy therapy (🐒 🐱Sandy) 9) not a successor anymore (🐒☀️🌑🐱) 10) continue part 9 (🐒☀️🌑) 11) Xiaotian , new weapon (🐒☀️🌑)

P.6: Training Arc 2, Electric Boogaloo 1) ask ⚔️Chiyou [god of war] (🐒☀️🌑 ⚔️Chiyou) 2) making weapon (🐒☀️🌑⚔️) Mac🔴 3) weapon reveal (🐒☀️🌑⚔️) 4) human Sun and Mac (🐒☀️🌑) 5) Lilo and stitch (🐷🐒 ,☀️-phone📞) 6) Sun nightmare: cuddle prison (🐒☀️🌑) 7) Sun nightmare: family cuddle (🐒☀️🌑) 8) 3 monkies clinging (🐒☀️🌑) 9) Red and MK sparring (🐒🔥🐉) MK!🔴🔴🔴 10) puberty talk (🐒☀️🌑) Mac🔴🔴 11) puberty talk + tickle attack (🐒🌑) Mac-MK🔴 12) trans (🐒☀️🌑)

P.7: Full Moon Eclipse 1) Mac's cold, Sun takes to hot springs (☀️🌑) Sun-blush🔴 2) why Mac was cold (☀️🌑) 3) MK goes to Red to clear misunderstanding (🐒🔥 Bob) 4) MK and Red talking, demon etiquette, white hair (🐒🔥) 5) not a freak (🐒🔥🐃☀️) everyone-blush LMAO🔴🔴🔴🔴 6) Mac explaining to MK about white hair (🐒🌑🔥☀️) Sun🔴 🔗What cover text says: link *deleted sorry 7) parents reactions (☀️🐃🌑🪭) 8) 🌑eclipse (🐒🌑☀️ ,🐉-phone📞) glamour-less Mac & MK + white fur 9) fully charged, MK makes a quick call (🐒🌑☀️) glamour-less Mac & MK + white fur 10) MK calls Mei (🐒,🐉-phone📞) 11) Mac, I forgive you (🌑☀️) glamour-less Sun 12) Baba Mama (🐒☀️🌑) Sun-cry bonus) joke comic 4th wall: 🔗LINK reblog 13) Sun's and Mac's reactions, Heaven! (🌑☀️, 🐒-sleep) Mac-Sun-cry Sun🔴

P.8: A Dark, Long Night 1) Nezha you are joking? (🐒 🛞Nezha 👺li-jing) 2) Mac stops Wukong from being impulsive (🌑☀️) 3) MK gets a circlet and a contract (🐒🛞👺 🌿Guanyin) 😭HURT ANGST 4) Family meeting (☀️🌑🐷👓🐉🐱🔥) at FFM 🚪Door 5) Bonding over daddy issues (🐒🛞) Sunset Lotus Duo 6) Tied name contract (🐒🛞🌿🔥) 7) Nezha gives Red and MK space (🐒🛞🔥) 8) Red is upset (🐒🔥) 🔴 + color🎨 🚀History from when the comic was posted: We got a challenge from kyri54 to make the comic tag trending, and this is the result, reblog. Stars, the day of was wild, so many posts. 9) MK self sacrifice did damage to his loved ones part 2, electric bogaloo (🐒🔥) 🔴 🔗What cover text says: link , reblog 10) 🎉KISS!!!!!!!! (🐒🔥) 🔴 color🎨

11) Kissing for 20 panels (🐒🔥) 🔴 12) Nezha walk in on them (🐒🔥🛞) 🔴 13) MK asks for Mac's help (🔥🌑☀️🐷🐒) Red🔴 14) A distraction and a challenge (🔥🌑☀️🐉🐷👓🐒) Red🔴 15) Wukong took the news about MK's circlet very well /j (☀️🌑🐷👓🐉🐱🔥) animation! Sun-kaiju 16) Girl fight! (🌑☀️🐉) kaiju 17) See yourself the way I see you (🌑☀️) 🔗links to the flashbacks from the show: link reblog, link reblog, link reblog 18) you're beautiful (☀️🌑🐷👓🐉🐱) Mac-kaiju🔴 Sun-kaiju 19) Show Them The Real Sun Wukong! (☀️🌑🐷👓🐉🔥) Sun-kaiju🔴 Red🔴 20) Dads to the rescue (🐒🌑🐷👓) hugs 21) Dad council vote: should MK change his name? (🐒🌑🐷👓) 22) The baby is FED! (🐒🌑🐷👓)

23) 𝄞🎤 HIT IT! IT'S SHOWTIME (🐒🌑☀️🐉🛞👺) Sun-kaiju SONG 24) ♪ LET THE DESTRUCTION BEGIN!! (☀️🛞🔥🐉) ☀️-kaiju 25) 🎵 THEY ARE GOING DOWN, BABY! (🐒🌑🐉) SOYSAUCE 26) ♬ BABY CHAOS BEING CHAOTIC (🐒🌑☀️🔥👺) ☀️-kaiju 27) 🎶 NOT THE GUMDROP BUTTON (🐒🌑☀️👺🛞) ☀️-kaiju 28) ♫ END SONG (🐒🌑🌿☀️👺🔥🐉) ☀️-kaiju 🔗fan edit of the whole song in sink with the panels🎸 reblog 🔗fan edit that I can't help but include , reblog 🔗they made a longer version , reblog

29) Napping while scroll hunting (👺☀️🐒🌿) ☀️-kaiju 30) My name is what? (👺☀️🐒🐷 👓🐱🪭🌿) 31) Wake up (👺☀️🐒) 32) Sibling PIF Macaque IRON SHADOW (🌑🪭) * on stream we found out they don't have a pair name so we made one, IRON SHADOW! 33) Nezha MK sibling bonding time (🐒🛞) Sunset Lotus Duo + 🟥▶YouTube video * I realized that there isn't a ship name (platonic) for MK and NeZha, any suggestions? @sypher-moon05 gave the idea for Sunset Lotus Duo, since it's an actual orange lotus. (full name 'Amazon Sunset Lotus'). 34) Did you hear that? (🌑☀️🪭���👓🐱) ☀️-kaiju 35) 🐉MEI EXPRESS! (🌑☀️🪭🐷👓🐉🔥🐱) ☀️-kaiju 🤣 36) Wukong, I forgive you for everything (🌑☀️) ☀️-kaiju 37) 🎉KISS!!!! + 🟥▶YouTube video (🌑☀️) glamour-less 🍑🎨 38) What’s your answer? (🐒🌑☀️🛞👺🐷👓🐉🔥🐱) 🔴 39) MK The Monkie Kid (🐒🌑☀️🛞👺) 🔗Who is in the audience: link, link 40) How did that work? HUG (🐒🌑☀️🐷👓🛞👺🌿) 41) Why did that happen? NAP (🐒🌿🌑☀️🐉🔥🐷👓🐱)  NAME, Red🔴 🔗All the Spirited Away references in Part 8: A Dark Long Night , reblog 🔗About MK’s name

Part 9: A new Dawn (Epilogue) 1) Poor Red Son ❤️💛 (🐒🔥🐃🪭🐷👓)🔴 2) Mildly spicy, noodles❤️💛, which aren't free (🐒🔥🐷👓)🔴 🔗Oh my heaven stars 3) 🙈🙉🙊 Moderate spicy shadowpeach, did it change? (🌑☀️)🔴 4) Immortal, Hey new jacket (🐒🐉)😭😭 5) 🍜cry over a bowl of noodles (🌑☀️🐷👓)😭 🔗 Playlist music from kyri45 🎶 reblog 6) Combine power (🐒🌑☀️?) 7) 🍼baby MK  (🐒🌑☀️🌿) 8) The rest of your story (🐒🌑☀️🌿)😭 🔗 explanation on how chaos magic work by @passiveaggressivebisexualchaos  reblog ( how they reached to me adding them LMAO) 9) Mac know about chaos (🌑☀️) 🔴😘 10) You are invited (🔵Bai He 🌑🐒🔥☀️⚔️🐉🐷🌕) 11)  Coronation Time!👑 (🐒🌑☀️) outfit 🚀We got a Challenge!!!! reblog on March 8th, make #Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU and #Lego Monkie Kid trending. mention of challenge(Feb 6) 🚀 🔗 Road map to the end 12) You look good (🐒🔥🐉🐃🪭☀️🌑⚔️)🔴 Red’s dress color 🔗 Art content winner  reblog 13) MK is collecting parental figures like pokemons (🐒👓🐷🌕⚔️🌿🔥🐉🔵🛞) 🔗Kyri45 story about making this AU   reblog with my own ramblings 14) FINALE 🟥▶YouTube video 🔗 Parallels to part 1  reblog 🔗 Elemental movie    reblog

The End Credits: 15,16) party🎨 17) courtnap (🐒🔥)🎨 18) Pijama party time! (🐒🐉🌑☀️)🎨 19) Father-son bonding experience (🐒🌑☀️)🎨 20) Pride parade! (🐒🐉🔥🌑☀️)🎨 21) Photo Booth (🐒🔥)🎨 22) Shadowpeach Wedding! (🌑☀️🐒🐉🐱👓🐷🔥🪭🐃🔵) 🎨🔴🚪Door 23) Secret Post-Credit Scene (🌑☀️🐒🐉🔥)🎨

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SPIN-OFF 1 Second Star

1) master post (🌑☀️🐒🔵) kaiju hug 2) baby talk (🌑☀️) 3) We are planning a baby (🌑☀️🐒👓🐷) 4) 🥚 the 5 elements (🌑☀️👓⚔️🔵🐱🔥🐒🌿) 5) no egg for you (🌑☀️👓🐷) 😭 🔗 The end. 😎 6) Chinese Mythological shenanigans off-screen (🌑☀️) 7) baby preparation (🌑☀️👓🐷🐒🪭🔥🛞🐱) 8) 🍼baby pictures 📸 (🌑🐒☀️👓🐷🐉) 9) 😭 sleep time (☀️🐒🌑👓🐷🪭) 10) LONG HAIR!MK!! (🐒☀️🌑) 11) 🐣 (☀️🌑⭐baby) 🔗 birthmark 12) ALL THE REVEALS (🐒☀️🌑⭐) ⭐color 🚀BABY SHOWER/TAKEOVER TIME!✨ On June 5th (the finale of the Spin-Off)! 13) baby meets family (⭐☀️🌑🐷🐒🔥🪭🐉🛞🐱👓) 🔗 RedSon's new haircut 14) It's like we don't even exist anymore! (⭐☀️🌑🐒) 🔗What cover text says 15) Non-verbal (⭐☀️🌑🐷🐒) 16) 🦄MLP (⭐☀️🌑🔵🛞🐒) 17) Name party part 1 (⭐☀️and everyone else) 18) Name party part 2 💫 (⭐☀️and everyone else) NAME DROP

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SPIN-OFF 2 Spicynoodles Bio Parents AU Fankid of Spicynoodle is Kai from Ninjago. (Cross Over Time)

1) Family Portrait Link to master post 🐒🔥K 2) This boy is on fire KN 3) let visit ante Mei 🐒K 4) chaos cracks 5) not only human 😈 6) both adopted 🤯 7) July 12th 1PM ET

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INDEX: ☀️Sun = Sun Wukong = Monkey King l🌑Mac = Macaque | 🐒MK 🔥Redson | 🐉Mei | 🐷Pigsy | 👓Tang |🐱Sandy 🐃DBK = Demon Bull King | 🪭PIF = Princess Iron Fan 🛞Nezha |👺li-jing | 🌿Guanyin |🔵Bai He |⚔️Chiyou |🌕Chang'e

What are the "Reblogs"? So Kyri45 sometimes cleans their blog from posts, so I make sure to reblog and add a link to the reblog, so if they ended up deleting the og post there will be my reblog for record keeping.

THE MAIN COMIC ENDED😭😭😭, @kyri45 will continue to draw LMK but it would be much more lightly, without a precise schedule, so go follow them (if you somehow aren't yet). I might add links to those posts but who knows what the future hold.

💛🧡💜

🛒MERCH🛍️

If you liked this kind of summary then here is my AO3 bookmarks, where you can see my other summarys for other fanfics

Extra things: Door compilation, Door ask joke

Fics born from this AU: # right after P.9 part 3 shadowpeach fluff # How does Red Son take MK being immortal # Bad ending What if fic # Sun Wukong gets pregnant instead of the egg # The Desire to Move # Ao3 gift fics for Kyri45 (in ao3 you can gift fanfic, like writing a fic for someone else. so the link goes to all the gift fics)

[channiesbakery]

jealous? —

prompt / request — dumbification with dino

pairing — reader + ex fwb!dino

word count — 1330

genre — smut [dumbification, use of slut, fingering, semi public sex, p in v]

it was supposed to be an easy, simple, no strings attached arrangement. neither you or chan had time for a relationship, nor did you want one.

or at least, that’s what you told yourself. and the no strings arrangement worked out for a couple months. but then the two of you started spending time outside of just in bed.

you knew chan’s reputation when you first started the arrangement. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and at the time, neither were you.

the minute you realized you had started falling for chan, you ended your friends with benefits relationship, giving him a bullshit excuse.

you manage to keep space between the two of you, rarely ever seeing each other despite chan always texting you, asking to meet up.

of course, you wanted to respond to him, to head over to his apartment for one last time. but you knew that if you gave in, it wouldn’t just be one more time and you’d only fall for him harder, risking breaking your own heart.

you do a good job of distracting yourself from chan and keeping your distance. until your mutual friend, seungkwan’s, birthday comes up and you’re both invited.

you manage to avoid him for most of the night, following your friend’s around seungkwan’s place. at one point, you end up talking to yeonjun, who leads you to the makeshift bar in kitchen for a drink.

chan had been looking around the party for you and he finally spots you, wearing his favorite dress of yours while chatting with yeonjun.

“hey man!” yeonjun starts to greet chan when he walks over but chan doesn’t respond to him. “i need to talk to you,” he says to you, not giving you a chance to respond as he grabs your wrist, pulling you away.

“what the hell is your problem?” you scoff as he drags you out onto the balcony. “mine? you’re the one who ended things for no reason then practically ghosted me!” chan snaps.

“I’ve been busy,” you say simply. “didn’t look too busy when you were with yeonjun,” he scowls. “what? you jealous?” you raise an eyebrow. “i thought lee chan doesn’t get jealous,” you point out.

“when it comes to you? i do,” he says, pushing you back up against the wall. his body is close to yours, not quite pressing against you just yet.

“c’mon sweets, what happened? we had a good thing going on. been missing you these past few weeks,” he purrs in your ear.

“I’m sure you could’ve found another girl to keep you company,” you shrug. “they aren’t you,” he mumbles, his lips pressing against your neck.

“why not? i can tell you still want me. the way your breath hitches, your cute little gasps, the fact that you wore this dress,” chan mumbles, his fingertips dipping under the hem of your short dress, dragging up your inner thigh.

“please, i didn’t wear it for you,” you scoff, trying to sound convincing but you knew deep down, maybe you did wear it for him.

“you wore it for yeonjun then?” chan scoffs, pulling back from your neck to look at you. “maybe i did,” you shrug.

“well if you were trying to get me jealous, it worked.” he says, fulling pressing his body against you.

“please, not everything’s about you,” you scoff but chan’s confidence never wavers. “you’re telling me you haven’t thought of me in the past weeks?” he asks, his hand moving further up your thigh as you instinctively part your legs for him.

“cause I’ve been thinking about you. you’ve been on my mind nearly every day sweets,” he says, chuckling when you grab his wrist, pushing it up higher.

“shut up and stop teasing,” you glare at him. “so bossy,” chan chuckles but brushes your clothed pussy lightly before moving your panties to the side.

“gonna let me touch you out here? where anyone can walk out and see? tsk tsk, such a slut hm?” he teases, barely pushing his fingertip inside you.

you whine in response, trying to grind down against his hand. “so needy already? only been a few weeks without my cock and the you’re this needy?” he teases.

he suddenly pushes two fingers in, making you gasp, leaning forward against his chest as you grip his shoulder for stability.

“can feel you squeezing my fingers already, are you that needy? I’ve barely touched you and you’re about to make a mess of my fingers,” he taunts as you bury your face in his neck.

“my pretty slut making a mess for me, hm?” he continues, grinding his palm against your clit. your moans are muffled against his neck as his fingers slow their movements while you ride out your high.

you feel them slipping out of you before his other hand grips your hair, pulling your head back slightly. his fingers tap your bottom lip and you immediately suck on them, your eyes meeting his as you do.

“good girl,” he purrs, pushing his fingers deeper just to make you choke slightly.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, quickly replacing them with his own lips. chan kisses desperately, he might’ve teased you for being needy but deep down, he was probably more desperate than you were.

everything that happens next is a blur. one minute you’re desperately making out on the balcony, the next, you’re face down in someone’s bed as chan pounds into you.

“feels good doesn’t it?” he whispers in your ear, his soft voice a huge contrast to the way his cock pounded into you.

“y-yeah- good-“ you manage to choke out. “yeah? my cock feels good? so good you can’t think of anything else hm?” he continues, sitting up straighter to grip your hips as he thrusts into you even harder.

you can only moan out in response, your brain feeling too fuzzy to come up with words. “that’s okay, sweets. just let me make you feel good. no need to think right now. I’ve got you,” he coos.

your eyes roll back as he pulls your body up so your back presses against his chest as his cock buried deeper inside you. “so pretty like this, sweets. no thoughts in that pretty brain of yours except my cock hm?” he mumbled in your ear.

“just my pretty, dumb baby,” he continues. “y-yours-“ you mumble, not realizing what you’ve said. “that’s right. mine. you’re mine,” he practically growled in your ear.

“fucking love when you’re like this. missed making you feel so good, fucking you dumb, there’s no thoughts left in that pretty head,” he continues, releasing his hold on you so you collapse back down against the mattress.

you cum around his cock but he doesn’t slow down, instead he fucks you even harder. your moans are muffled by the sheets, his fingers digging into your hips and you know you’re going to wake up with bruises.

his cum floods your cunt and he thrusts into you a few more times after releasing before he completely pulls away from you.

“did so good pretty baby,” he leans over, kissing your temple as you lay there, completely spent and limp, while he looked for something to clean you up with.

“this is the last time,” you mumble as he wiped you clean. chan just chuckles at that and you sit up slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“we’re not done,” he shakes his head. “yes we are,” you argue. “did i fuck you too dumb that you haven’t noticed?” chan raises an eyebrow.

“notice what? that you’re still just annoying now as you were three weeks ago?” you scoff. “no, you idiot. that i’ve fallen for you,” he says and when you look in his eyes, you can see that he’s completely serious.

“oh.” you say simply.

“yeah, oh. so when you’re done being a stubborn brat and telling me we’re done, I’m taking you out. on a real date.”

[fushiguhoes]

“ i bet i can take u in a fight “

tw: smut, p in v, unprotected sxx, pet names (dummy, mama, baby), f! reader, and ummmm i think that might be it !

you were suddenly snapped out of your daze with a few playful pats to your face, now subconsciously waking up to a now smirking toji. he gazed down at you with a glint of confidence in his eyes.

“c’mon, mama… you told me- oh fuck- you told me y’can take it…” his husky voice alone made your walls clench hard against his thick length.

“ugh— stop squeezing me like that-“ he groaned quietly through his gritted teeth, and all you could focus on was that tone in his words. god, you could basically cum from it now. you knew he didn’t mean his words though, he would’ve been pulled out. but no, his dick was still stuffed full inside of you.

“toj’… i didn’t mean— i ain’t mean it…” you moaned out desperately, placing your trembling hand against his abdomen like it was gonna stop him from hammering his cock into your squelching hole. your eyes rolled back as you tried to explain, somehow getting hiccups in the process.

“oh? “you ain’t mean it”? you didn’t mean to text- shit- text me an hour ago?” he cooed at you with a tilt in his head and a mocking tone, stopping his hips for a second just to grab his phone, multitasking as he stretched your cunt out and scrolled through his text messages to your pretty lil’ contact.

“read it, dummy.” he mumbled as he shoved his phone in your face, making you squint at the light in your face as you tried to focus on the words in front of you and not the dick that was splitting you apart. your shaky little hands grabbed at his phone, fingertips grazing against his rough knuckles as your eyes slowly but surely read the words on the cracked up screen.

5:30pm - weirdo (gf): i bet i can take you

5:31pm - weirdo (gf): not in a fight btw 😈

5:36pm - toji: Huh?

you felt like a fool as you read your own messages from toji’s phone, letting your head as you realized he knew what you meant by it and wasn’t just confused, he was playing dumb. a groan that slowly turned to a moan left your pretty lips as you felt his tip bump up against a gummy part of your walls, your nails digging into the satin sheets below you and toji.

“nngh— right there— toji, keepgoingkeepgoing—“ you blabbered over and over again, toes curling and back arching off the bed when you looked at him and saw that familiar smug smirk on his face. he tossed his phone somewhere and grabbed both your hips, absolutely demolishing your insides with his fat tip as he smiled, taking in the view of you reaching your climax. so stunning, he thought.

next thing you know you’re creaming all over his dick, a long and satisfied moan leaving your lips as your body trembled. he quietly hummed as he just admired you, all dumb and tired just from his dick. you tried to slide off his dick but was quickly stopped by his large scarred hands on your waist, slamming you back down onto his length. your eyes widened, jaw dropped, and pussy throbbed, a silent moan leaving your lips before you tried to concentrate on his words.

“tch. you thought we were done? unt unt, baby, we still got ‘bout five more rounds. buckle up, ‘cause you’re gonna take allllll of what ‘m gonna give ya.”

a/n: first post/first time writing, i hope whoeva sees this enjoys it :3

[bladeupnred]

hands on the counter

pairing: bestfriend!noah x reader // cw: sexting, unprotected sex p in v, creampie, spit, light light choking, public?ish sex, groping, rough sex, that’s all i think

your best friend noah can’t keep his thoughts or his hands to himself, even if you are at a house party filled with friends and strangers, doesn’t matter to him.

nsfw below. mdni.

Matt’s house was filled with what seemed like everyone you knew, along with strangers and unfamiliar faces sprinkled throughout and into the back yard, where you were having a conversation with a few friends.

Noah was going on and on about some new fantasy game he’d been up all night lately playing—you should know, you share a wall—trying desperately to convince Jolly it was worth his time.

Matt leaned into your ear, cracking a joke about how if he didn’t let up soon Matt was going to make him play the quiet game.

You couldn’t help but giggle in response, half hoping he was serious, throwing your hand up to your mouth as Noah looked across to you. You couldn’t stop laughing though, rendering your hand gesture pointless. Three drinks in and sudden everything was fucking funny.

“Care to share with the class?” he asked, although you’re sure he already knew he was the subject of your whispered conversation.

Matt repeated himself, causing you to laugh again, this time the others joining in alongside you.

“Fine, I’ll just never be excited about anything again.” Noah threw his hands up, his pretend hurt pride only encouraging you all to keep laughing at with him.

Nick quickly switched the now-tired conversation to something else, pulling everyone’s focus to him for the next minute.

You glanced back toward Noah, just to make sure he really wasn’t hurt by anything said, and he was already looking at you, giving you a tiny smile that you could have even sworn was a smirk.

You hated when he looked at you like that, a seemingly tame smile of acknowledgement, but you knew it was so much more than that. That smile was cocky and proud, you’d seen it too many times to mistake it for anything wholesome and sweet.

That was the look he gave you when he’d start to hear you whimper above him, or when a tear would start to fall from your eyes when you’re looking up at him with your mouth full. It was a smile that said he was pleased, with you.

Trying not to get too caught up in your own thoughts, you looked down at your phone to distract you from your filthy brain.

Great, a text from Noah. Well, make that 3. Obviously intrigued by the fact he’d texted you rather than saying something while you’re 3 feet across from each other, you opened your screen to your conversation with him.

noah🦇: I love that little laugh

noah🦇: It’s really cute

noah🦇: It’s probably going to get you fucked at some point

Your eyes dart back up to him, as if to silently scold him for being so bold, especially around everyone.

He was still holding that same smile, only now it was growing wider at the sight of you visibly blushing at his words.

You quickly text him back, trying anything to get that fucking smirk off of his face.

you: NOAH

you: don’t be a tease please. not now 🤧

noah🦇: It’s so fun though. Had me thinking about this afternoon when you were giggling under me

You look up at him again, this time somehow even more embarrassed, but so much more turned on.

He had you pinned underneath him for so long this afternoon the party was just starting when you two idiots realized just how lost you’d been in each other.

Looking around at the other guys just to make sure they hadn’t seen and heard your written conversation, although they couldn’t care less even if they did.

Everyone knew that you and Noah were involved in some capacity more than a platonic friendship, they just didn’t understand why the two of you even tried to hide it from them anymore.

Needing a second to yourself, and maybe a shot, you quickly excused yourself and ran inside with the disguise of about to piss your pants.

The bathroom suddenly sounded like the safest place to be so you headed up, figuring the chances of someone occupying the upstairs bathroom unlikely.

You close the door behind you, not knowing Noah had also excused himself, trailing behind to see where you’d really gone off to. Maybe you had just gone to the bathroom, but he was going to find out either way.

Lost deep in your reflection and deeper with memories of those hands, soft, rough, perfect. And right now you’d give anything to have them on you. You barely even heard him knock, causing him to actually get concerned for the first time.

Luckily for Noah, in your sex flustered haze you’d forgotten all about the lock, allowing him to slowly open it peering in.

You lock eyes with him in the mirror, and this time you’re the one with that knowing, lustful look and he’s doe-eyed.

“Hey, just making sure you’re okay?”

You flip to face him before responding, pulling him into the bathroom, closing the door by pushing him back against it.

“I need you. Now.”

He shoots you that same smile that’s got you so worked up, his assumption that you were just as needy for him as he was for you finally confirmed.

“I figured.” Ugh, he’s so fucking cocky.

That’s all it takes for you to feel yourself getting even wetter through your panties and crash your lips into his.

You’re both frantically kissing one another, running hands up and down and all over any skin you can touch.

His touch is warm, his hands rough but attentive. After another minute of him groping at your breasts, nipping you in between kisses, he pushes you off of him, which could’ve nearly made you slap him.

“Hands on the counter,” you heard him, but stayed put for some reason, “Hands, now.”

When you still don’t move, he takes matters into his own hands, pushing you into the counter, and only then do you collect yourself enough to catch yourself before you completely slammed into it.

Your eyes wandered back to the mirror, and you couldn’t even fight it when a little moan escaped you at what was behind you.

He had his hands on either side of your hips, looking down, and even though his hair was falling into his eyes, you could see how blown his pupils were. Like he just couldn’t wait to be inside of you.

You barely even noticed when he slid your dress up and your panties down your legs and groped your ass.

“I had you all day, and it still wasn’t enough.”

You giggled—you were thinking the same exact thing.

“And that fucking sound,” you could see him fumbling to get his pants and his boxers off in a hurry, “it drives me insane.”

“Oops.” You shrugged up at him.

You felt one of his hands come back to rest on your ass and could see he was pumping himself in his other hand. His eyes trailed from his cock to meet you in the mirror, which only made you hotter.

“I don’t even need your fingers, just fuck me now. Please.”

“I know pretty. Here,” he placed his hand in front of your face, you knew exactly what to do.

You heard him groan as he watched you spit into his hand, and then again when he brought his hand back to coat his cock in your saliva.

You felt him run his tip up and down your folds, not to tease you but just enough to make sure he could slip right in.

Then he did just that.

You leaned further down onto the counter, trying to get even closer to him as he slammed his cock fully into you.

He only gave you a second to adjust to him before he started to slam in and out, falling into a fast rhythm off the bat.

You didn’t mind. It wasn’t like you weren’t stretched out from being used all afternoon.

“N- Noah.”

“Yes pretty girl?” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, but had his head hung low, watching you swallow him completely over and over again.

“Gonna come.”

Now he was the one to laugh.

“Hm? Already?” You nodded, even though he was still focused on his slick cock, and the way your ass bounced so perfectly, every. single. time.

“That’s okay. Kinda surprised you haven’t already.”

Then you felt it. He looked back up at you in the reflection, and gave you that smile, you were done for.

You let go, coating him in your warmth and you knew there’s no way he’d make it long after that.

“Fuck, goooood girl.” His focus went back to where you met.

Despite wanting to fully lose control and just let him keep his own pace, you were feeling eager, and you began to brace yourself on the counter and push back to meet him, harder.

Giving you another groan, he brought a hand around to your throat, instinctually making you push up so you were flush with your back to his chest.

The new angle of him fucking up into you, hand pressed into your throat was enough to bring you right back to the edge again.

“Fuck y/n, I’m gonna cum.”

His movements got faster and once he moved his hand from your hip to palm your clit, you knew you would get to the end together soon.

“Can I cum in you again?”

That reminder was all it took. You nodded to him frantically, ready to explode at the memory of him filling you up earlier, then fucking it into you just to make sure you were full.

“Yeah. Yes, please.”

When he saw your hand fly up to your chest he fucking lost it.

You were so overwhelmed between all of it: your hand grazing your breasts lightly, his palm pressed onto your clit, his other palm hot around your throat, his cum filling you up, his filthy mouth mumbling nothings about how fucking perfect you are.

Your second orgasm crashed over you and you tried your best to keep upright while you rode out your highs together, thankful the hand on your throat was keeping you up.

When you both finally settled, you were quickly reminded of the reality that you’d left very active conversations with friends to fuck each other senseless, and probably for longer than you’d planned.

Noah is quick to tuck himself back into his boxers and get redressed while you check out your face and neck in the mirror.

A little redness around your throat, but who was really paying attention in a dimly lit backyard?

Your dress has smoothed back down into place, and just when you were about to pull your panties back up, you noticed they were in his hand.

You could’ve sworn your feet were firmly planted the whole time but who knows, he had a way of getting things by you pretty easily.

“I’m gonna need those,” you turned to face him with your hand out.

“These?” He held them up to your eye level, then stuffed them into his front pocket. You nodded up at him.

“You don’t want those, they’re dirty.”

You weren’t completely sure you hadn’t just cum, again.

“Come on, we gotta get back out there before someone needs this bathroom.”

When he went to reach for the door handle, it swung open, you both realizing no one ever even locked the door to begin with.

You burst into laughter, a little embarrassed but not even a little bit surprised.

“Finally.”

You both looked up to see a very indifferent Jolly, already moving past you, into the bathroom.

“How long do you think he-” you started to ask Noah before he cut you off.

“Don’t know. Don’t really care.” He smiled at you and shrugged, before heading off to rejoin the party downstairs.

[justageekk]

Jude bellingham nsfw alphabet

IN WHERE: jude nsfw alphabet

THIS ONE SHOT IS: fem!reader x jude bellingham

note: i don't speak english, only spanish n a little portuguese. any errors are the translator's fault.

w: so much smut

request open

A = Aftercare

After sex, Jude helps you clean up and then cuddles with you in bed. He strokes your back, kisses your forehead, whispers “you did amazing”, and runs his fingers through your hair until you fall asleep.

B = Body part

He’s obsessed with your thighs. Completely addicted to how they tremble when he’s eating you out or how you squeeze his head with them. He also bites them, leaves marks, and loves watching his fingers sink into that soft part of you.

C = Cum

He loves finishing inside. Nothing drives him crazier than feeling you clench around him when he cums. But if he can’t, his second favorite spot is your stomach or your tits.

D = Dirty Secret

Jude doesn’t keep secrets — he’s a freak. He likes telling you everything and doing everything to you.

E = Experience

He’s got experience, but with you, he’s really let go. He lets you explore, suggest, play. You can tell he knows what he’s doing, but what makes him so good is how much he enjoys watching you fall apart.

F = Favorite Position

Face to face, with your legs wrapped around his waist. He wants to see you, hear you, have you close.

G = Goofy

Not much during sex, but before and after he’s all cuddly and sweet. Laughs at how nervous you get, cracks dumb jokes to relax you, and sometimes grabs you from behind in the kitchen saying, “mmm, you smell so good… should I fuck you here or on the couch?”

H = Hair

He likes to keep it clean, but natural. No fully shaved look — just trimmed and neat enough to feel good.

I = Intimacy

Very intense. Slow, fast, rough, gentle — however you need it, Jude will give it to you.

J = Jack off

He does it when he hasn’t seen you in days… and he always thinks of you. Your videos, your voice notes, even your texts.

K = Kink

He’s got a control kink. Loves dominating, but never in a rude way, he guides you, orders you, makes you talk. Jude loves hearing dirty things from you, so when you can speak, he’s hooked.

L = Location

He’s obsessed with the couch. Something about having you naked in the middle of the living room, fully exposed, drives him mad. But he’s also into forbidden places: hotel bathrooms, the backseat of a car with tinted windows, even a fitting room.

M = Motivation

He gets off on pleasing you, so when you’re stressed, it turns him on. If he sees you frustrated, his first instinct is to make you forget everything. Hearing you moan after a bad day is his reward.

N = No

He’s not into humiliation or pain. He never wants to see you cry — unless it’s from pleasure. And he would never touch you without consent, especially not if you’re drunk or out of it.

O = Oral

He loves receiving, but going down on you drives him insane. Loves seeing you on your knees, looking up at him with your mouth full. The way you tie your hair back, how you tease with slow licks or take it all to make him moan. He bites his lip while watching, sometimes guiding your head gently with his hand.

If he had to choose, though, he prefers receiving. Nothing turns him on more than your wet, desperate mouth around him. He loves cumming on your tongue, watching you swallow, seeing you wipe the corner of your mouth and ask, “did you like that?” like you don’t know the power you have.

P = Pace

He starts slow, then picks up the speed and gets rough. If you’re on top, he lets you ride at your pace… until he gets impatient and takes over.

Q = Quickie

Yes — and he loves them. Before events, in party bathrooms, when you show up for a visit. He pushes you against the wall, lifts your skirt or pulls your pants down, and doesn’t even undress fully. They’re fast, dirty, desperate.

R = Risk

Very down for it. Gets turned on by risky places, semi-public sex (without being seen, but close). Loves playing with the danger of getting caught, how fast it has to be, how you don’t even have time to think.

S = Stamina

He’s got too much energy. Can go one, two, three rounds — especially if you’re still needy. Sometimes he lets you rest while he keeps touching you until you’re ready for more.

T = Toys

He doesn’t need them, but if you want to use one, he’s in. He’s used vibrators and soft restraints with you — but he’s always the one holding the controls.

U = Unfair

Such a tease sometimes. Loves making you beg, edging you, stopping right when you’re about to come. “Are you ready yet?” “No, not yet… just hold on a little longer…” And he smirks at how desperate you get.

V = Volume

Low moans, but deep. Says your name, growls through his teeth when he cums, sometimes whispers rough things in your ear while thrusting deeper. He’s quieter during quickies, but in long sessions? He doesn’t hold back.

W = Wild Card

One time, right after a fight. Nothing serious, just that tense silence after an argument. You were in the kitchen ignoring him, and he walked up, pushed you against the counter, pulled your panties down, and fucked you right there. No words, just rough, needy sex until neither of you remembered what the fight was about.

X = X-ray

He’s packing and he knows how to use it.

Y = Yearning

He can control himself, he’s not always horny… but if it’s you? He’s always ready in seconds.

Z = Zzz

After sex and after helping you clean up, he waits for you to fall asleep first and then finally lets himself rest.

© justageekk, 2025.