#I hope this person doesn’t regret this ask *crying*

[squidthusiast]

Ok, but why do I imagine Eight being the unofficial child of Pearl x Marina?

Because I imagine Eight was minding their business and all of a sudden, Pearl would slam the paper down and said “You’re adopted now”

Basically OTH at the start of their world tour haha, I love that they took Eight with them.

I have more detailed thoughts under the cut for those interested in my ramblings, analysis and interpretations of the characters.

Disclaimer: This is my own take on it, don’t let it ruin your fun!

I personally don’t really subscribe to the fandom’s ‘pearlina moms’ headcanon.

On the one hand, I am an absolute sucker for the ‘found family’ trope, and I definitely think Agent 8 and OTH fit in it!

On the other hand, I think people immediately put Pearl and Marina into the ‘parenthood’ box, a little too eagerly. Not saying this specific ask is that, btw, it just reminded me of some instances i’ve seen.

I personally think that the relationship between OTH and Agent 8 is a little more nuanced & sibling-esque, for the following reasons:

1. Within canon, we often see 8 being referred to as a friend by both Pearl and Marina.

Pearl does it more explicitly (see that one interview at her house), whereas with Marina it’s more insinuated (ex. In the Side Order dev diaries, she starts calling Agent 8 as ‘Eight’, which is stated to be a name used by their friends).

Pearl seems to be an accidental-duck-parent of sorts who haphazardly collects octoling teenagers & young musical talent. It goes in line with her whole mentor-esque leader personality, and i’m sure these disoriented teens find relief in an idol who seemingly knows what she’s doing (she really doesn’t).

However she doesn’t act in a parental manner. More-so like your estranged gay cousin who hit it big in another country and is down to show your queer little butt the ropes.

Marina on the other hand seems to have a more empathetic approach with Agent 8 (opposite to Pearl’s brashness). Marina clearly connects with Agent 8 through their shared experience as defected octoling soldiers, and probably sees her younger self in them. She’s already caring as it is, but this is accentuated during octo expansion given the circumstances.

I feel however that, unlike Pearl, Marina has a bit of a harder time actually forming a bond with Eight at the beginning. Their similarities (seemingly) end at their shared experience, and probably leaves Marina awkwardly wondering how to approach them further. What we can assume though is that they become closer friends during OTH’s world tour, given the events described in the Memverse Dev Diaries.

Meeting Eight during difficult circumstances (OE) and helping them get out creates a sense of camaraderie between them, which probably devolves into genuine care, established friendship and a strong bond amongst the three overtime.

2. Pearl and Marina are very career-centric both in Splat 2 and 3.

It is reasonable that the two young idols, who see their fame and musical recognition rise spectacularly & fast, are not particularly interested in settling down at this point in their lives.

Now entering her late 20s, Pearl is most definitely still interested in keeping the ball rolling with Off the Hook’s international success. Her character often points towards restlessness, freedom and discovery. There has definitely been character development in regards to her maturity in Splatoon 3, but these aforementioned traits are still ever present in her demeanour & decision-making.

Marina on the other hand can be seen slowly blossoming from a supporting character to being her own person. She definitely develops more self-confidence by Splatoon 3, but is still naturally bashful. It’s clear that she is allowing herself to explore & open up to new things for her own sake. She remains a caring and somewhat nurturing individual, but she is at a stage where she’s learning to live for herself and not for others.

Parenthood (and all the responsibilities and sacrifices it entails) at this moment of their lives would probably freak Pearl out, and stunt Marina’s personal growth.

3. The age gaps between OTH and Agent 8 are too close for it to create a parent/kid bond.

This makes their relationship a little hazy in regards to roles; 8 is still young enough that they may seek out rolemodels and mentors (still relatively influenceable), but they’re also nearing their 20s. By this point they are fairly self sufficient, have a sense of their personal values & identity, and they are relatively responsible & mature.

Pearl and Marina are 8’s seniors by approximately 4-6 years. However, in Splatoon 2 they’re entering their early 20s and their career has just begun to take off.

They are both still relatively youngsters, albeit older & more mature(? glancing at Pearl) youngsters than 8. This places them in a position where they can guide 8 and offer certain support and resources, but lack the maturity and experience of a full-fledged adult. This would approximate their relationship closer to that of siblings in a family setting.

Pearl & Marina are also less likely to feel a duty towards Eight as an adult would with a child. Instead, the latter’s circumstances are more likely to incite feelings of rapport and compassion as a fellow young inkfish.

Now, with all of this said, I will acknowledge that friendship/found family is MUCH more nuanced than a strict binary.

From personal experience in my last years of college, I did find myself caring for my fellow freshmen as though they were my kids, in certain ways. Hell, I called them my kids.

I acted as a proud parent whenever some of them achieved something, attempted to pass down my knowledge to them, and was protective of them to a certain extent.

They also annoyed me sometimes, like younger people do haha. And i’m sure I annoyed them too!

So I wouldn’t put it past OTH to call Eight their kid and have this mentor/parent-esque rapport with them in certain circumstances.

This is all based both on canon & my own interpretations of it, but still closely aligned to what has been shown in-game.

So if you have a different interpretation of Agent 8 and OTH, that’s great! I love to see people’s personal headcanons. Ultimately, Agent 8 is meant to be somewhat of a blank slate for the players to mold, with some hinted-at personality traits of their own.

As long as you have fun with these characters, that’s all that matters. This is just my personal opinion on their relationship in-game.

If you read all of this, you deserve the biggest golden star for listening to my incessant yapping 🤲⭐️

Feel free to bother me about this or other opinions you may have in my inbox, just be kind please!

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[luffington]

hello i love ur works!! i hope ur doing well! :D for law can i request a law with a f!reader who doesn’t like him at all at first but has an uncharacteristic absolute soft spot for cute things (ie bepo) and he uses that to get closer to her? thank u!! ☺️

➤ pairing: trafalgar law x gn!reader

➤ word count: 1.1k

➤ warnings: alcohol use

this is such a cute concept thank you for suggesting it!! i'm exactly like this and i wanna hug bepo so badly ᕦʕ •ᴥ•ʔᕤ

i'm still not confident in the way i write law so i hope you like this!

Law's heart skips a beat the moment he meets you. That’s very unfortunate for him. 

His social skills are adequate at best, since his awkwardness unintentionally comes off as rudeness, but they get infinitely worse around people he’s attracted to.

Plus, you're a Straw Hat, so you're already seeing him out of his element. Luffy's (unintentional) insistence on ruining all of his carefully planned schemes leaves him perpetually frustrated, uncomfortable, and grumpy.

You frown when his voice comes out harsher than he meant it to. Roll your eyes when he gets upset at your crewmates again for doing what they always do. Mumble something snarky under your breath when the man frantically tries to get his plan back on track, somehow still not realizing that everything works out for Luffy. 

Oh, you must hate him. Law knows it. He tries to give you space to avoid making the situation worse, but that only upsets you more.

But Bepo? You’re obsessed. 

Constantly clinging onto him, rubbing your cheeks against his fur, giggling about how soft and round he is until the poor bear's snowy white face is tinted bright red.

His first mate nervously cries out "Captain!!", clearly flustered but secretly enjoying your praise. You pout, wondering why the cutest Mink you'd ever met is sticking around with an asshole like Law.

It’s not just Bepo – you love everything cute. Chopper always ends up in your lap, happily wrapped in your embrace. You feed stray cats, stop to pet every dog you see, and gush over the Tontattas in Dressrosa (especially Princess Mansherry!). Somehow, you cry more than Franky does at heartwarming stories. 

Law doesn’t understand how someone as adorable and kind-hearted as you could become a pirate. He admires your emotional vulnerability and childlike whimsy as much as he’s terrified of it. 

The poor guy can't win. He can barely talk to you like a normal person, much less have a full conversation with you. It leaves him lying awake in bed at night trying to think of something to say that doesn't make him sound like a dick. 

(Maybe he should read that book Chopper gave him �� 'healthy ways to process trauma’ or something stupid like that.)

His crewmates know about his predicament, so Shachi suggests expressing his feelings in a way that doesn’t involve words. 

Law fights off embarrassment and walks into a toy store, looking incredibly out of place. He ends up picking out a black-and-white puppy plushie. (it’s Snoopy hehe)

Anxiety nearly overwhelms him while he waits for the perfect moment to give it to you. When it finally feels appropriate to pull you away from your crewmates, he leads you into an empty room on the Sunny. 

Law can barely look you in the eyes as he hands you the stuffed animal and mumbles, “I got this for you.”

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “Oh, Law…” The long stretch of silence causes him to panic internally, suddenly regretting everything and thinking of ways to explain himself.

Before he can come up with a flimsy excuse, you gladly accept his gift and hug it tightly. “It’s adorable, thank you! It even matches your hat!”

A blush spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. He wasn’t thinking about that, he swears! It’s the same color as Bepo! Yes, he loves black and white, and maybe he subconsciously wanted it to remind you of him, but he didn’t do it on purpose!

At breakfast the next morning, Shachi asks if you like your gift. Deciding not to question why he knows about it, you nod enthusiastically and say it’s so cute that you spent the entire night cuddling it. Law sputters and spills hot coffee on himself.

But now you feel bad. Everything about Law’s behavior made you think he disliked you, but he clearly cares enough to notice your interests. You don't know anything about him.

The next time your combined crews split up, you make it a point to join him and spend alone time together. He’s obviously overjoyed, and he’s already thinking about more gifts to buy you.

Once you get past his awkward exterior, you realize he's actually pretty cute. He has his own nerdy interests, and he genuinely cares about Bepo and the rest of his crew.

He’ll show you his if you show him yours… Obviously that means his limited edition Germa 66 comics box set and your collection of cute trinkets, with the puppy plushie he bought you sitting proudly on your pillow.

When he sees a cute animal or something he knows you’d like, if you’re within Room range, he Shambles you over to him so you won’t miss it.

“Law, what the hell? Why am I three blocks away from where I just was?” With a straight face, he points and says, “Cat.”

Bepo’s also a great wingman. He helps you see his captain’s soft side by telling stories about their adventures together – even embarrassing ones Law wishes he left unsaid. You eagerly listen to everything the Mink has to say and become even more comfortable around Law.

Law realizes you can be soft and strong at the same time. No one doubts Sanji’s strength even though he caves whenever he sees a woman – why shouldn’t that apply to you and your interests?

At one of your crew's famous banquets, you get super drunk and won’t stop clinging to him. Law is completely sober and tries to push you off of him, attempting to prevent you from doing anything you'd regret the next morning. 

But then you tell him you think he's adorable and giggle cutely.

He's stunned into silence for a few moments. "...You think so?" (He'd rather be seen as manly, but he's more than happy with any perception as long as you like him.)

You nod and move to kiss him, and as much as he’s dying to reciprocate, he holds you back. Instead, he half-carries you over to where a group of both of your crews are mingling. You're asleep in Bepo's lap in less than a minute.

Hungover and sleepy the next morning, you timidly apologize for your behavior. Law shakes his head and assures you that it's fine. 

"I still wanna kiss you, though," you murmur quietly. 

So his lips press against yours in a slow and gentle kiss, eventually escalating until your fingers are tangled in his hair and you’re straddling his lap, one tattooed hand gripping your hip and the other holding you tight against him.

Bepo and Shachi’s eyes widen when they see their captain’s flushed state a while later, hair messy and hickies on his neck. In typical Law fashion, he just thanks them with no further explanation.

[maxlarens]

saw that your requests are open! currently moving flats and cities and wow this is utterly exhausting and scary to do alone - would love to read a lil something with Lando where reader is moving and maybe it's pre relationship but they've known each other a long time and he somehow shows up to help reader out, in between races / on break whatever. Tysm!

omg good luck! genuinely moving is the worst and good on you for doing it all on your own that must be so difficult. i hope you enjoy this💝 i did it with best friend!reader, felt very perfect. and apparently i had some personal insecurities to address?

You’re starting to regret listening to Lando.

This isn’t a new feeling— you often regret listening to Lando. When he begs you to come out only to inevitably disappear with a girl. When he says that you look fine, only for you to look in a mirror and find your hair at weird angles or your makeup smudged. When he invites you to a race just for you to have to spend an awkward three hours around one of his flings; inevitably ending in disaster when he hops out of the car and hugs you first.

Lando’s not an idiot. Lando just doesn’t always know how to plan ahead.

Move to Monaco, he’d said. And you had. At the very least you’d had professional movers and your family then. It was hard work but you’d had help. Still, it had been such a nightmare that you’d sworn off moving again, deciding that the next time you did it’d be somewhere more permanent. That had been a nice dream— perhaps unattainable with Lando around.

It had been great, perfect even, or at least until Lando had found out about the vacant flat in his building. Then you’d been subject to a month of pointed sighs and wouldn’t it be awesome if we lived in the same building and we could work out at the same gym and we’d see each other all the time! Wouldn’t that be great?

You’d tried to tell him that you already see each other all the time, and if it really mattered to him you’d come all the way to his gym to work out. But Lando’s Lando and doesn’t know how to let a thing that he wants go. It quickly becomes a point of contention, a reason for him to whinge at dinner and direct his green puppy dog eyes at you. So, y’know, of course you fold.

Of course you do.

You don’t want him to feel unwanted. And you really do like the idea of living in the same building as him, even if moving is the last fucking thing you want to do.

You hire people to move the big things. The couch, the fridge, the bed. But you’re left with everything else and only your hatchback to move it with. You’ve collected truly an insurmountable amount of things— dishware, linens, random trinkets, clothes and books and decorative stuffed animals. You don’t realise how much it is until you’re packing it into cardboard boxes all on your own and nearly crying at how long it’s taking you.

By some cruel twist of fate there’s no one available to help you. All your friends in Monaco are Lando-adjacent, either his friends or people you’ve met through F1. You’ve got a few work buddies, but no one you feel like you can ask to give you a hand. Besides, Lando’s racing at Spa over the same weekend you’ve got to be out of your old flat— so you can’t rope him and his friends into your mess. Even Fewtrell, who would help, is on holiday.

By Monday morning you’re at your wits end. You’d slept on a thin little futon for three hours last night, and are up bubble wrapping dishes before the sun rises. You’ve got noise cancelling headphones on, blasting some house music playlist that Oscar had recommended you and you’re trying to be okay— trying to let the jumpy beat lift the panic in your heart. But you can feel yourself hiccuping, crying rather. You wipe salty tears off the bubble wrap to make sure the sticky tape stays.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

It’s just overwhelming. Doing this all alone, in Monaco, without your Mum, your Dad, without your best friend. It’s not anyone’s fault, not even Lando’s. Just you and this feeling of inadequacy that you harbour. This sense that you’re not grown up enough, that you’re not accomplished enough. Lando’s out there driving a Formula One car, flying in a private jet and partially running a business and you’re here crying over the amount of shit that you’ve accumulated.

It’s just—

You hear a faint thud, muffled by your headphones. Heart racing, thinking something might have fallen or broken, you rip them off and clamber up off the carpeted floor. You’re ready to run into the hallway, your bedroom, every room that’s still got things in it to find the inevitable wreckage.

But it’s just Lando—

Standing at your front door in an old t-shirt and shorts, with cardboard boxes tucked under his arm. He’s frowning at you. You’re not sure why until you remember that you’re still in yesterday’s clothes and there are dark circles carved out under your eyes. Tear tracks down your face as well, probably.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops the cardboard, it goes sliding onto the floor and he has to dodge out of its way as he steps towards you.

You shake your head, sniffing, “I’m fine, Lan.”

You don’t quite reject his attempt at a hug, just dodge it slightly. Force him to give you a one-armed, half-hearted thing, instead of the squeezing, reassuring hug you’re sure he meant to give you. He grumbles something into your hair that you can’t hear then says,

“Well, clearly you’re not fine.”

You sigh, push him away in your anger at yourself, “I’m fine, Lando. I just— I just can’t do anything on my own as per usual.”

You watch his shoulders drop, his eyebrows press into the bridge of his scarred nose, concern flooding his face. He shakes his head minutely, pink lips parting slightly.

“What are you saying?”

You shrug, looking away and feeling shame fill the cavity in your chest at your admittance of weakness, “You know what I’m saying.”

“That’s absolute shit and you know it,” he cuts back, “You’ve done all this by yourself haven’t you?”

He gestures around you and admittedly the room is rather empty of things. The whole flat in fact. You’ve got just the little things left pretty much, and a bunch of cardboard boxes that are ready to be ferried over to your new building. It’s not nothing that you’ve managed to do over the weekend. You sniff again.

“Don’t say that crap,” he manhandles you into a hug, winding an arm around the back of your shoulders, pulling you to him, “I’d have to pay movers a couple grand to move all my shit, you know that. I wouldn’t be able to get any of this done.”

“Yes you would,” you mutter into his chest, “You’re capable of things.”

He shakes you, just a little, like trying to knock some sense into you, like trying to make you hear your own words, “Okay. Then so are you.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess.”

After a moment, he brings a hand up to your face, uses his thumb to tenderly wipe the tears that pool in your tear duct. You don’t think anything of it then— but you do later—

When the sun is setting over the water and you and Lando are watching it and eating takeaway burgers on your new balcony, in your new flat, that has every single bit of your stuff in it. And you’re thinking about the feeling of pad of his finger on your cheek and how he’s just spent his first day of a very well-deserved summer break helping his friend move—

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for Ibiza?”, you cut him a bit of an admonishing look, and scold yourself for not remembering sooner, not urging him to go pack.

He shrugs, turning his green gaze to you, the light of the sunset making him glow, “‘S fine. I can join later.”

You bite your lip, resisting the urge to tell him to go start packing straight away. You won’t change his mind, once he’s got his heart set on something he doesn’t know how to let it go.

“Will you come with me?”, he asks suddenly eager, as your heart skips several beats, “I know you said you had this to deal with. But.”

“But?”

“But. I want you to come. It’ll be no fun without you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Ibiza will be no fun without me?”

He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You’re going to say no. It’s on the tip of your tongue, on the verge of slipping out. You’ve got a million boxes to unpack, all your clothes are in suitcases, this is what your holiday leave is meant to be used for. Not the trip to Ibiza that you’d already said no to—

But, it’s Lando.

Of course you fold.

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Supercorptober 2024 Day 5: Alone

ao3 fic link.

Lena wakes up, and she knows instantly she’s alone. Panic sets in for a moment, because Kara wouldn’t just leave, not after last night.

Lena would though. Lena has, after a one night stand where they did what they needed to do so she left in the early hours of the morning.

But this isn’t like this, this is Kara. Kara who told her she loves her, Kara who kissed her so gently that Lena cried.

This is Kara, her best friend, the person she trusts most, the person she loves the most, and now she knows Kara loves her too.

Lena sits up and looks around, blanket clutched to her chest. She sees her clothes neatly folded in a pile, which is definitely not where she left them last night. She’s pretty sure some didn’t even make it into the room. 

Lena blushes at the memory.

She looks around for her phone, and realises it didn’t make it to the room with them either, that it’s probably still in her purse in the living room.

That’s the first thing she needs, to find Kara. That, and she needs coffee. She debates for a moment putting on her clothes but instead decides to grab a hoodie and pair of Kara’s pants instead.

The hoodie smells like Kara, this whole place does, and for a moment it makes her want to bury herself back in bed and wait for Kara.

Because she knows Kara wouldn’t just leave her, knows Kara will be back.

It’s in the kitchen that Lena figures out where Kara is gone. Or at least that she’ll be back, a scribbled note on the table.

Be back soon. -K x 

It’s still early, and Lena knows she probably should go back to her own apartment, shower and get ready for work. But she’s not going to do that, not yet. Because all she can think about is seeing Kara, kissing her again and making sure that she doesn’t regret what happened.

Lena doesn’t.

Lena hasn’t even had time to consider making herself a coffee when the door clicks open and Kara is walking through the door.

“Oh,” Kara startles, clearly not expecting to see Lena. For a moment, Lena wonders if she should have left, but she doesn’t need to worry when Kara continues. “I was hoping to surprise you in bed.”

Lena had been so focused on Kara, she hadn’t noticed the paper bag and coffee cup holder in her hands.

Lena suddenly doesn’t know what to say. This is all new to her. Not only has their relationship changed overnight, but she doesn’t want to mess this up. Kara is too important to her and she can’t lose her over this. Lena doesn’t have a great track record with relationships and she’s never felt like this about anyone before, never wanted a relationship to work out like she wants this too.

“Are you panicking?” Kara asks, suddenly much closer than before, food no longer in her hands.

“No,” Lena replies. Kara raises her eyebrow and Lena knows she’s been caught. “Ok, maybe a little. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Kara takes her hands, and Lena instantly feels her thoughts settle, the warmth of Kara’s hands seeping into her skin.

“I know, me too. I don’t know what’s going to happen but I do know that you and me? We can do anything together. So, we probably will both mess up, but I know that no matter what happens, we can get through anything, because it’s us.”

Lena smiles. “Thank you.” 

She knows this will be a constant worry but for now it’s quietened down, both because of Kara’s words but also because Kara is smiling now too and it’s hard to focus on anything else when Kara is smiling at her.

Kara leans forward and Lena gets the memo, meeting her halfway in a kiss that feels so much like coming home that Lena feels like crying again.

“Good morning,” Kara mumbles against her mouth, Lena can feel her smile against her own.

“You taste like cinnamon,” Lena replies, and Kara pulls away. Lena would regret her words but Kara is grinning, looking sheepish in a way that’s too cute for words.

“I got hungry.”

Lena laughs. When is Kara not hungry?

“I like this, too,” Kara says, tugging on Lena’s shirt. “You look good in my clothes.” Kara pauses. “You look good out of them too.”

Kara’s blushing as she says the words, it’s adorable.

“Is that so?” Lena asks, and it’s her turn to lift her eyebrow.

Kara leans forward, clearly embarrassed as she hides her face in Lena’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Kara mumbles and Lena laughs, wrapping her arms around her best friend. ...Or girlfriend? She’s not sure, but they’re going to have plenty of time to figure that out.

Lena grins. “Good to know.”

[marvelouslizzie]

You're Stuck with Me - Co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: When you find out your boyfriend's cheating on you with his best friend, you immediately tell Bucky Barnes about the affair and propose revenge sex.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.9K

Warnings: 18+ smut, cheating, revenge fuck, language, oral sex (female receiving), protected and unprotected sex, praise and degradation mix, pet names, teasing, no mention of y/n

A/n: We are getting a little out of our comfort zone with this story. I hope you will enjoy it.

Please give my lovely co-writer @notafunkiller a follow. She's an amazing writer. You should definitely check her Bucky Barnes stories.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

"Are you sure?" Bucky asks, finishing your bottle of sparkling water. "I don't want you to cry and regret it after."

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” You sound so confident that even you are surprised. “It’s just sex.”

"Just sex." He repeats with his eyebrows raised. "You never seemed to me like the type of girl who would go for just sex, doll."

“Maybe you should’ve paid a little more attention. You would’ve realized you might have the wrong kind of impression.”

"Oh, really?" He leans in amused. "Big words."

“They're not. You just aren’t used to talking to me.”

"You're telling me you're not a commitment girl?" He presses the matter, not believing you even a little. You two might not be friends, but he figured out what type of person you are.

“I’m just saying I won’t regret having sex with you. The rest is your assumption.”

His gaze immediately drops to your chest. "You trust my skills that much?"

You roll your eyes. “Do you have to be this arrogant all the time?”

"Do you have to be a brat all the time?" He doesn't wait for your response, though, as he continues. "Oh wait, you can't help it. Totally in your nature."

“So women who don't stroke your ego are brats? Maybe I just don’t care that much about you. Did you consider that?” There’s a hint of anger in your voice but nothing more. He always manages to challenge you and push your buttons. “Maybe you aren’t the only one who didn’t like those double dates. Get off your high horse.” You add without missing a beat. You realized how bored and uninterested he was then. No matter what topic you were bringing up, he wasn’t open. That’s one of the reasons why you believe he thinks he’s better than anyone.

"Fuck." He shakes his head. "You and that mouth of yours. Do you see me going around and calling women brats?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “Those dates were absolutely horrible. Your little boy toy is the biggest loser I've ever met."

“You seem like a guy who would do that. You are not? Ops, wrong assumption I guess.” You make a fake I am sorry face. “He’s not my boy toy but I agree, he’s a big loser.”

He smiles when you finish your sentence, so satisfied. "Why do you enjoy pushing me so much? Does it turn you on?"

“How am I pushing you? Do you think this is pushing?” You don’t budge.

"What is it then?"

“I know you don’t like me and I am just giving you back that same energy.” You tell him the truth. That’s what you always do: you give the same energy people give you. If they are kind, you are kinder. If they are assholes, you are a bigger asshole.

Bucky snorts, running a hand through his hair. "Where was this attitude hidden around him?"

You breathe out loudly, not hiding how bored you are. “Are we gonna talk all night or are we gonna do this?”

He smiles in a way you never saw him smile before he leans in even more, invading your space. "It's been that long, huh?"

You make a face. “You can’t tell me sex with her was great. I saw their little sex tapes.” You can’t deny what he’s just said, but you can deflect.

He gives you the most surprised face. "What?"

“You heard me. If it had been a while for me, then it must have been even longer for you.”

"Indeed." His voice doesn't betray any emotion.

“Then stop belittling me. We both have been having bad sex and we both got cheated on. You aren’t better than me.”

"When did I say that, woman?"

“You always act like you are better than everyone.”

"That's just your assumption." He paraphrases you with the biggest smile on his face

“Prove me wrong then.”

And he does, looking at you for a couple of seconds. When you don't move, he finally grabs you by your chin and kisses you. He's not hesitant or testing, he's literally trying to claim your mouth as he wants to deepen the kiss by licking your bottom lip. When you finally give him access, his hand goes to the back of your neck, the contrast between his soft touch and his passionate way of kissing making you moan.

"Your mouth…"

“What about it?” You ask while still looking at his lips.

He kisses you again, like he's starved, his hand pulling your hair a little more. He tastes like some fresh toothpaste and a little chocolate.

"So sweet, yet so bratty."

“Do you have a thing for brats for something?” You pull him by his collar and kiss him again. He might be an asshole, but he knows how to kiss.

"Maybe just for a special brat."

“What does that mean?” You stop and look into his eyes.

He lets go of your hair and lowers his hands to your waist. "Tell me to stop and I will. Tap me anywhere if you can't talk and I'll stop. Get it?"

“Yeah. Same goes for you. Any lines you don’t wanna cross?”

"Just don't call me by someone else's name." He sighs.

“Fine by me. Don’t use any pet names you used for your ex.”

"I wouldn’t dream of it. What else?" He smirks.

“No degrading.”

"So no my little whore?”

“That doesn’t sound like degrading to me but another rule: Don’t say things you don’t mean. I don’t like that heat-of-the-moment bullshit.”

He seems to like your rules. "God, how did you date that asshole for 5 months?"

“I was just giving that so-called nice guy a chance and it got me here. How did you date that bitch for 8 months?”

"Woah. Bitch? Never heard you referring to a woman like this."

“I never liked her.” You shrug. And she cheated on him. So why not?

"Why?"

“I don’t know. I always thought she was full of herself. Always looking down at people.”

"Like me." He stares at you. "I understand."

“Not like that. She always talks badly about people. Most of the time, behind their backs. She always looks for a way to steal the spotlight. I actually wondered what you saw in her.”

"I won't talk about a woman badly, especially my ex, but I guess we just want to give people a chance."

“That woman cheated on you. With someone she called her best friend after you two decided to move in together. Maybe longer. But sure, make me feel bad about calling her a bitch.”

Bucky seems to think about it for a few seconds. You appreciate his non-talking shit about my ex policy, but in this case? Not deserved. They cheated on you for months. They could have chosen to break up, but they didn't want that. They pretended they are just friends, proposed double dates, lied and hid, and made promises. Your relationships weren't working perfectly well, your sex lives seem very shitty and probably there were signs about this affair, but you cannot blame yourself or Bucky for not seeing them. You deserved the truth. You just can't believe you two are actually in this situation. Giving the wrong people a chance… never again for sure.

"You're right. This is such a fucking shitty thing. I mean, at least fucking break up with me. God, we kissed them, fucked them after they were with each other." He makes a disgusted face.

“So we practically fucked each other already, you know?” You make a joke, trying to change the mood a little. It really is fucked up.

"They didn't see us having sex though." He shakes his head. "They managed to make the lamest sex tapes in history."

“Yeah, I am still traumatized by her fake moans.”

"Fake?" He snorts.

“Yeah, I know how sex is with him. No way those moans are real.”

"Maybe they are. Maybe she enjoys it. She likes him so much they decided this fucking shitty sex is worth it." He leans in and kisses you again suddenly and you don't understand if he's angry because he regrets being with her and getting cheated on or he regrets being betrayed because he wants her so much. You know they fought a lot from your soon-to-be ex, but 8 months are something after all.

You kiss him back nonetheless, enjoying the way his lips and tongue feel. You don't remember the last time you've been kissed this good. If you've ever been with someone like this… he's basically eating you with his mouth.

“It won’t take long for her to regret it. Talking from experience,” you say while kissing him back. You wanna know if he wants her back or not. Not that it matters. You are just curious. Maybe he wants to make her jealous.

"What she wants doesn't matter anymore, doll." He strokes your hair when he stops kissing you so you can take a deep breath. "You called me arrogant, right?"

“Yeah?” You answer hesitantly.

"Do arrogant people ever let themselves be humiliated?" He pauses. "I don't want something like this. Someone like this. I have absolutely no desire to keep a person who does this. I am a patient person, I try to work things out, but this? Never in a fucking million years. Nothing about this relationship was right, I suppose. What about you?"

“I don’t care about him anymore.” Your response comes immediately. You were completely done with him the moment you found out about their affair. There’s no turning back. It was like a switch. That’s why you are here with Bucky. “I tried so hard to make it work, thinking relationships are hard and we gotta put some effort to make it work. All bullshit. I’m done with him. I’m done with lowering my standards. Done with 5-minute sex, and ‘you turn me on so much, I can’t help it’ excuses. There’s no going back for me.”

You see his little smirk and can't help but touch his face. He is really one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

"I never liked him, and you know it. That small dick energy is unbearable. I think he'd have a heart attack if he even heard us. Can you imagine?"

“I… actually can.” You can envision how that would hurt him and his insufferable ego. “God, she would hate me so much.” You smile.

"Oh, she would. She's always been jealous of you anyway."

“And he hates that you don’t even have to be nice to make people like you. Now he would have an extra reason.”

"Fuck, doll." You feel his thumb on your neck and you shiver. "I'm gonna sound crazy, but wouldn't make you feel satisfied if indeed they heard us?"

You blink, trying to understand his offer. That actually would actually give you pleasure… knowing that he suffers just like you did. You also notice the pet name he uses. You never heard him use it with his (ex) girlfriend, so he’s keeping his promise. “I’d… really like that.”

"Yeah?" He leaves a kiss on the corner of your mouth. "A voice message?"

“Sounds better than actually calling.” You turn your face a little and kiss him on the lips.

"Look at you, you ignored me for months." He bites your bottom lip lightly.

“It wasn’t like you were friendly.”

Does he even hear you?

He takes you in his arms. "Bedroom?"

“Bedroom.” You wrap your legs around his torso in agreement as he leads the way.

"Left?"

“Yeah, hurry up.”

He opens the door with his elbow, then doesn't bother to close it as he lets you down. His hands find your blouse and you hear the ripping sound before you can raise your arms.

You’re surprised but not bothered. Truth be told, you find that very hot. But you still unclip your bra.

“Fucking hell.” He manages to whisper before he leans in and grabs your breasts, his tongue licking all the way down from your neck to your nipple.

You tug on his T-shirt and try to take it off while he’s busy exploring your body.

"You hid these from me."

“Not specifically from you. Move your hands up so I can take this off.”

"From who then?" He frowns and lets go for a second so you can take it off.

“From everyone, of course.”

"God, I wanna come all over them. So pretty.”

“Maybe you should make a mental list. Come on her tits. Come inside her mouth. Come inside her pussy.”

His eyes glow, and you giggle. "Who said I didn't?"

“You did?” You sound impressed. “Wanna share?”

"Wanna share my come? Sure." His fingers find your zipper and you gasp when he takes your pants off from one try.

“Oh, you are filthier than I thought.” You say to cover your surprise.

"You thought about how filthy I am?"

“You think I didn’t consider how this would be before offering a revenge fuck?”

"When?" He takes ahold of your underwear, and you're unsure if he wants to rip it off or simply take it off.

“I just told you.”

"I thought…" He blushes, realizing he misunderstood. It's an asshole move to assume that while you were with that prick, the thought of him like this has even passed your mind. "Forget it."

“No, no, tell me.” You pull him closer by his belt. “Let’s get rid of these.”

"Did you ever think about me before today?" He helps you take off his pants while finally getting rid of your panties.

“What if I did? Does it make me a terrible person?”

"Terrible." He nods, letting the pieces of your underwear drop on the floor along with his boxers and pants before he steps out of them. "So terrible." He kisses you, his hands on your hips, bringing you closer to his cock. You didn't even have proper time to look at him. "The worst."

“I knew it.” You play along. “What about you?”

"I thought about this mouth a lot."

“Just my mouth?” You nudge him by moving your hips up.

"Thought about fucking you in the bathroom."

“When?” Did he really want to fuck you before? He never looked at you twice or at least that’s what you thought.

"A few weeks ago… we… the office. You were with your little group. They were smoking and you wore that fucking lipstick that just blew my mind away. I didn't intend to. You didn't even notice me." He kisses you again but doesn't deepen it.

Everything he said takes you by surprise. You didn’t think that he ever paid attention to you, let alone notice your lipstick and get turned on by it.

“I noticed you, but I thought you were bored. You had a grumpy look on your face most of the time. I liked your blue shirt, though. It makes your eyes pop.”

He moans. Is it so easy to make him moan? you wonder.

"I'm always grumpy and arrogant, of course."

“You don’t seem that grumpy and arrogant right now.” You gently bite his neck and then soothe the spot with your tongue.

"Fucking hell, woman." You feel him grabbing your ass. "Tell me you have a condom."

“In that drawer.” You point to it casually. “But just so you know, I’m on the pills.”

He nods, contemplating for a little while before helping you get on bed and taking a condom from your nightstand.

You don’t question why he chooses to reach for it, yet you can’t help but wonder how it would be like to feel him without any barrier. Your mouth waters at the sight of his naked body.

Maybe, maybe you should let him fuck your mouth, too. Why not?

He quickly puts the condom on and before he can climb on bed, he looks at you. "What you said earlier about the voice message, do you still stand by it?"

You realize you actually forgot about them or why you are doing this for a second. “Yeah. I want them to suffer.”

"Good." He takes his pants from the floor and finds his phone quickly. You didn't even realize he had it when you undressed him.

“So what are we doing exactly? Recording a small part and sending it?”

"Ihm." He nods. "Want that asshole to hear what your real moans sound like." He finally sits on the bed and you spread your legs further apart.

“Only my moans?” You ask while he positions himself.

"No video," he says immediately, and you giggle. That wasn’t your question, but it’s okay. You wonder if he’s being possessive with you already or it's something else.

“I meant what about your moans.”

He smiles. "Yeah, of course, but I'm not a loud person." He drops the phone close to your shoulder. "You, on the other hand… I bet you're a fucking screamer."

“I guess we'll find out. Is it recording already?”

"No, uhm, can you… The code is 0478."

“Let’s start and then we can record when it gets really loud.” You try to sound normal, but you are surprised he's just told you his passcode.

"You sure? We can trim it. I don't want to interrupt you."

"Don't worry. I'm good at multitasking." You give him a smile. "But if you wanna record the whole thing, so you can get off to it later, just say that." You can’t help but tease him a little.

"No, no, it's alright. I just want you to feel good, okay?" He smiles, his hands making their way to your thighs.

"Oh, I will. Don't worry about that." You pull him closer by wrapping your legs around his body. As he pushes inside, you start to forget what you were talking about before.

"Oh, fuck me." He groans when he sees the shape of your mouth. Such a perfect O. You feel so good and he's not even halfway inside you. "You're so wet."

"I can do that." You cheekily respond. "But we would need to change the position." You ignore his second comment.

He kisses you as if he needs to taste you again to be able to breathe, his tongue quickly finding yours once you open your mouth. Your hand gets into his hair at the same time he properly gets inside you.

You moan at the fullness. You haven't felt this stretched for so long, but it doesn't hurt. It just makes you crave more.

"Such a brat when you only needed a good cock." You know he's intentionally teasing you, so you try to find a good response.

"We'll see how good it is."

"Brat." He repeats again and moves his hands to your breast. His thrusts are not constant as he tries to test what you like.

"Put your mouth on them already." You know he wants to. He has been looking at them since he stepped inside your apartment. And you want him to do it, too. The thought itself makes you moan.

"Are you ordering me?"

"Depends. Yes, if you like that. No, if you don't."

He takes a handful of your breast in his mouth in response, not only your nipple, his thrusts getting slower, but a little deeper at the same time. The sound of his tongue licking on your skin makes you close your eyes.

The way he sucks your nipple makes you think he likes taking orders. What a great turn of events, you think.

He switches to the other one quickly, giving it the same treatment, while keeping the pace.

"Do you like it?"

“Yeah, yeah.” You quickly respond. “I love it.”

"Faster?"

“Yep, faster.” You gently push his head onto your breast again, loving the double stimulation.

He moans excitedly as he resumes licking and playing with your breasts, carefully trying to leave a hickey around your nipple. "These are mine now."

He doesn’t mean that, does he? Must be the heat of the moment, but you agreed on not doing that. So you decide to remind him. “Don’t say things you don’t actually mean, remember?”

"I didn't forget, brat. Did you?"

He bites on your nipple, gently, but you still feel it.

“So you actually mean that?” You really want to know, so you ignore the fact that he called you a brat again.

"Mean what?" He leaves a kiss on your nipple to soothe any possible pain. "That these are mine?"

“Yeah.” You sound impatient. Why is he acting clueless now?

"They are, they belong to me. So does your bratty mouth." He kisses you shortly.

You can’t deny how his words turn you on even more.

"I imagined fucking you in a bathroom that day at the office." He groans. "So terrible of me, right? Imagining you with come dripping out of you, down to your thighs as you go back to work. Months of petty silence solved."

“If I'd known my silence bothered you that much, I would have been even more silent until it drove you crazy enough to do something about it.” You move your hips up to match his rhythm. “I just thought you just preferred not speaking to me because you didn’t like me.”

"I would have screwed everything up and fucked you, you understand?" He looks you in the eye, making it clear he is honest. "I would have become a horrible person, but not even that thought would have made me reconsider."

“Yet you didn’t do anything, did you? You never acted on it. You were just a grumpy man with terrible thoughts.” You just want him to know he’s not a horrible person, yet you can’t help but tease him a little at the same time.

"And you just needed the cock of that grumpy man with terrible thoughts, huh?" His thrusts are so much faster now. You wonder: how the fuck does he expect you to answer?

All you can do is whine and moan because somehow he manages to hit all the right places.

"My little cock whore." He groans. "Mine, okay? Just like I am yours."

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You can’t help but react. You find it so hot you can barely stay still. The way he talks during sex… They would really die if they heard you two. That makes you remember… You were supposed to hit the record button.

"Just Bucky. Or James."

“Where the fuck is your phone, Bucky?” You ask while trying to find it without actually looking.

He's confused for a split second, but then he remembers what you agreed on. "To your right."

You finally find the phone and unlock it quickly before dropping it without any care as soon as it starts to record.

"Oh, doll, you're too wet for me. So good." The sound of your skin slapping and the whimpers are so loud. You can’t contain yourself even if you try.

“Faster, please,” you say without thinking. It feels like you are already close. You don’t care if you have to beg for it.

"So greedy." He cries out when he feels your hands on his ass, pulling him deeper inside you.

“Fuckk. That feels good!” You moan loudly and arch your back.

"Holy shit."

He suddenly stops, making you open your eyes and giving him an accusatory look, but then you notice the phone in his hands. Oh, you forgot about it for a second and you have no idea why.

"Are you sending it?"

"Ihm." He doesn't just lock his phone after he is done. He freaking turns it off, surprising you. “I don’t want any interruptions. Want to fuck you in peace.”

You just pull him into another kiss, more passionate this time. You feel his right hand on your tummy, tickling you a little, before stopping down, above your clit.

“You close?” You ask him to make sure because you surely are.

"I'm trying not to come," he says honestly.

“Oh, you can. I’m close, too. I just need it a little faster.” His hand on your clit already makes you realize it won’t take much for you to fall apart.

He pulls back, taking his cock almost completely out, and the emptiness makes you whine. Then he thrusts with full force, making you moan so loudly that you can’t recognize your own voice.

"Fuck, look at you. And those sounds…" He brings his thumb to your lips. "Come on, be a good girl and show me how your pretty little mouth would take my cock. The one that's inside your pussy right now, ready to come for you."

“Such a filthy mouth.” You say while moaning. “Come with me so I can take that cock inside my mouth and show you what it can do.”

"God, come, baby. Please come." He is begging you at this point. His voice is so desperate and soft.

His neediness, the way he says those words finally pushes you off the edge.

“Oh god.” You try to breathe as the orgasm takes over your body, making you shake. Your mouth opens, letting out the most unfiltered moan you've ever heard from yourself. It is pure pleasure with no thoughts, no worries. Your heart and your head are on fire, begging for more. You want this feeling to last as long as possible.

He comes shortly after you, but you don't realize it until you hear his loud groan vibrating against your chest. His hips and ass cheeks are trembling under your touch as he seems lost in his world for a few seconds. You run your fingers through his hair, waiting for him to come down from his high.

“Oh god, baby." You feel his breath on your wet skin and you sigh. "Can I live here forever?"

“That good?” You can’t help but ask. He can feel your smile without looking at you.

He looks up. "Ihm. What about you?"

“Wanna get your ego stroked?” You ask genuinely. “Promise that you’re not gonna use it against me.”

He kisses your throat. "I don't make such promises, woman."

“Then you won’t get to hear it.” You expose your throat more while talking.

"What if I eat the truth out of you?"

“Eat the truth out of me?”

"Ihm. You know… when you're under sex spell, you become truthful."

“You are welcome to try.” There’s no way you are gonna turn down another orgasm like this one.

"Perfect." He leaves another kiss on the valley between your breasts and sighs. "Have to take this off first," he says, taking his cock out with a small hiss before standing up near the bed, watching you. "Where can I throw this away?"

“There’s a trashcan in the bathroom.” You point at it while getting more comfortable on the bed.

"Be right back."

You feel something cold on your back and realize it’s his phone. You put it on the nightstand, thinking about how he turned his phone off in the middle of the sex. You make a mental note to ask him to send you that voice message later, so you can remember how good the sex felt.

He comes back with your small semi-wet towel and watches you carefully. "Look, I meant what I said about eating the truth out of you, but only if you are okay with it. I won't ask again. I could always just leave, you know? No big deal." But you can see in his face it would be a big deal. Maybe he likes your company. The sex is amazing.

“Do you wanna leave, Bucky?” You already know his answer.

"No, I don't."

“Then come here and do whatever you wanna do.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. You watch him drop to his knees and, at the same time, drag you closer to the edge of the bed as quickly as he can. You let out a surprised gasp, but it turns into a whole moan when he lifts your legs on his shoulders and starts licking you from your entrance to your clit.

“Fuck, you weren’t joking.”

He acknowledges your words by playing with his tongue around your clit. You move your hips slowly, up and down, just to create a little more friction. Your greed grows while you watch him eagerly lick every bit of your pussy.

You don't expect to feel his fingers at your entrance all of the sudden as you're focused on his tongue. And you especially don't expect him to curl two of his fingers and get them inside you at once. No warnings.

“Oh fuck, yes!” You find yourself grabbing his hair, just needing something to hold on to.

And he moans, buckling his hips in the air at the slight pain. The pace of his fingers matches his tongue, but it's not enough.

“Add the third finger.” You sound desperately close.

He is surprised, you can sense it, but he quickly does what you say, his tongue eagerly toying with your clit faster than before.

“I’m so close!” You warn.

He stops licking for a little and you try to move your hips to meet his mouth. What the fuck is he doing? No time for edging.

"What were you gonna say, doll? What did you think it would stroke my ego?"

“What?” You raise on your elbows, looking like a mess. “Really?”

"If you want my tongue, you give me an answer."

“You are unbelievable!” You sound so betrayed.

"I warned you not to cry, doll."

You really want to keep that thought to yourself, but the ache between your legs doesn’t care about your pride. “I can’t believe you are doing this right now.”

He gives you a small smile, and you see him leaning in again. You think you won, getting more comfortable, ready to come soon, but he only licks you twice, teasingly, and lets your clit go.

"Do what?"

You whine loudly. The feeling of his tongue lingers on your clit. “You wanna play dirty?” Maybe you can’t win this fight, but it doesn’t mean you can’t win others. “Fine.” You sit up a little, looking into his eyes. “It was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Happy now?”

"Delighted. Now was it so hard? You get a reward for being my good and honest girl."

“Yeah, whatever.” You roll your eyes.

"Fucking brat," you hear him whisper right before his tongue finds your clit again, finally licking it in circles properly. He starts to move his fingers, too, and even though they are obviously not even close to the thickness of his cock, they feel incredible.

But you are too annoyed now, at the same time. A part of you just wants to hold back and not give him the pleasure of hearing you come. So he tries harder. You hear him whimpering as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it. And you swallow a moan while your legs are trembling.

"Come on, baby." His fingers move faster, too. "Let it go."

Your whole body starts to shake uncontrollably, but you keep your moans to yourself, pressing your lips together tightly just out of spite. You can see he hates it, but he doesn't stop until you finish coming. And it feels amazing, but you are sure it would have been even better if you had let yourself enjoy it freely.

He sighs into your clit and leaves a kiss there before he stands up. "You're mad."

“No shit, Sherlock.”

"Ah, doll. Nothing can tame that mouth."

“More like actions and consequences. I wasn’t ready to share that, but you forced me to say it for an orgasm, so that’s what you get. An orgasm. Nothing more, nothing less.”

"Forced?" His face shows concern as he sits next to you. "That wasn’t my intention. The last thing I want is to make you feel trapped.” He seems like he’s confused. He looks around and meets your gaze again. “Do you want me to leave?"

“If you wanna leave, just leave, but if that wasn’t really your intention, you can start with apologizing.”

"I am sorry," he immediately says, taking your hands into his. "I was just trying to… be silly I guess."

“You wanted your ego stroked, I get it. We both need it after what happened, but… I don’t know. I just felt exposed.”

"I'm sorry." He kisses your cheek. "I might be a grumpy arrogant son of a bitch, but forcing…"

You start to tear up, hearing him say sorry this quickly. Fucking relationship trauma.

"Oh god, baby, I am sorry, I didn't…" he tries to wipe your tears with his thumbs. "I'm a jackass, but I swear I wasn't trying to force you. I thought it was just a game. My bad."

“No, no. This is on me. Sorry.” You try to take a deep breath. “He just never said sorry no matter how hurt I was. He always had an excuse. This is just… trauma I guess.”

"What a fucking douchebag. I can fuck him up really good, you know?" He suggests. "Just say the words."

“He’s probably already fucked up by the fact that we are fucking.” That thought cheers you up a little.

"His face deserves it, too." Bucky puffs and kisses your wet cheeks. "To be honest, this whole should I leave question comes from my relationship trauma, too. So you’re not alone. She either wanted me to leave or she left every fucking time we disagreed on something. She once threw my shoes out of the window just so I'd go. I don't know why we kept trying…"

“Oh.” You finally understand why he keeps offering to leave. It isn't about you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I thought you were just trying to get out when things get hard.”

"Don't be sorry. I prefer to talk on the spot, to be honest. Letting everything out is healthier. Don't "

“Or take a break whenever it’s needed. Doesn’t mean you have to leave though.”

"Yeah! Exactly."

You laugh a little. You never realized how similar you two are. Today is changing your perspective completely. “Your apology is accepted by the way, but under one condition.”

"What is that?'

“Tell me something about yourself that you don’t want me to know.”

He thinks for a second. "My breath smells like death in the morning. I can make your plants die if you let me."

You shake your head, amused. “That’s not good enough. Everyone’s breath smells bad in the morning.”

"What do you wanna know then?"

“Something on the same level of having your best orgasm.”

"I think you broke me."

“What?”

"You broke me." He repeats as if that is an explanation.

“In what way?”

He kisses you just as desperately as he did in the kitchen, as if this is the first time he kisses you and he can't ever get enough. "I want you for more than one time, do you understand?"

“Oh. Well… That can be arranged.”

"Yeah?" He drags you by your hips, placing you on top of his thighs.

“I would actually like that.”

He kisses you some more, letting his hands wander all over your body, stopping especially on your neck and breasts.

"You like it rough, don't you? Not complaining about me ripping your clothes off, loving the bites." He pulls your hair, just to prove his point in case you deny. You moan.

“Yeah, apparently you like it rough, too.” You don’t deny. Why would you?

"Of course I do, brat." He then turns you around suddenly. "All fours, please."

“Since you asked so nicely,” You stop for the dramatic effect and say as sarcastically as possible: “Boss.”

"Wanna make me your boss?"

“You are already acting like one.” You stand on all fours, pushing your ass back while lowering your head.

"Fuck! You're such a sight, you know?" Bucky's eyes don't leave your body.

“Am I?”

"I wanna look at you like this all day long."

You look at him amused. “I’m afraid I don’t have that much patience.”

You notice him shaking his head. "Of course."

“It’s rude to make me wait like this, you know?”

"Sorry, just wanted to remember this." Bucky feels a little bad for the thoughts he has. He mentally took a picture of you cause he can't ask this from you, right? You're not a couple, and even if you were, it doesn't mean exchanging or keeping photos like this would be okay.

His hips touch your ass as he positions himself at your entrance. "Any limits that come to your mind? I won't ask again."

“We already decided on the rules. I don’t think there’s anything besides them.”

"I'm not gonna hold back this time." Not completely… he grabs a handful of your hair as he thrusts inside you. "I'm gonna pound the fuck out of you and you're gonna take it like a good little girl, understand?"

“I understand. You won’t stop until I say stop.”

"Jesus Christ." He moans halfway inside you at the feel of your extra wet pussy. He feels out of breath just by standing still. "How…"

“Oh, fuck.” You nearly choke. It feels unbelievably good. This position is doing wonders.

"I didn't think-" he says, but at the same time doesn't move an inch. "Fuck, it feels too good, this pussy is driving me crazy. You are driving me crazy." He grips your hair harder without warning and starts to thrusts properly inside you, making sure to squeeze your left breast with his free. The sounds of your wet skin slapping make him curse under his breath.

“You didn’t think what?” You sound out of breath already.

"I cannot fuck you with condoms again." Technically he can, but he doesn’t want to.

You smile widely. “Why is that?”

"Because I am completely fucked."

“You like it that much?”

"Like it?" He puffs, unamused, and starts to finally pound you the way he imagined a few weeks ago. Maybe even harder.

“Oh, fuck!” Yep, he’s right. You are fucked, too.

"You might need to fix me very often, you know?" He drops his hand from your hair just to properly grab your hips. You can barely keep your position like this, his thrusts are so deep.

“Fix you?”

"Yeah. Fix my cock." Oh, that’s what he means.

“We can fix each other then.”

"Ihm." He doesn't say much after this, too focused on kissing your back and keeping the pace at the same time. He's ready to come any minute.

“Harder, Bucky. Please!” You need to come. Really desperately.

"How much harder?" He thrusts a little harder. "More or like this?"

“As hard as you can.”

He doesn't disagree with you, but you know he's holding back even when he pushes harder. And harder. And harder.

"I'm gonna come," he manages to moan. "Fuck I'm gonna come inside you, gonna make a mess. Tell me you… t-tell me you want my come."

“I want your come, Bucky, please. p Please, come with me!” You are already shaking uncontrollably.

"Fuck." That's all you get from him before he's coming, his fingers digging so hard into your skin that you moan again, dizzy from your orgasm.

He keeps moving, making a mess, indeed. It’s already dripping out, you can feel it.

"I came so much." You hear him say suddenly through fogginess.

You smile, resting your head on the bed still, feeling unable to move.

"Not gonna say anything?"

“I died and went to heaven.” You murmur. The orgasm is still running through your veins, making you twitch here and there.

"I've been in heaven for a while."

You finally turn around and look at him. “It was so fucking good.”

"No words." He slowly gets out of you and you notice how happy he is, not taking his eyes off your pussy. "It's gonna start dripping… all over your thighs and sheets. What a nice mark." He even brings a finger to your entrance and pushes back some come.

“Do you have a breeding kink or something?” You smile while asking.

"A breeding kink?"

“Yeah, do you know what it is?”

"Something to do with my come inside you?" He teases. His confusion seems to fade away.

“Yeah, and getting me pregnant.”

He groans, closing his eyes.

“They do that pushing the come back inside thing most of the time.”

"I guess I have a breeding kink." He smiles, accepting it instantly, and finally closes the gap to kiss you. "You might not get rid of me now."

“I knew it!” You point at him with your finger. “I wasn’t gonna get rid of you anyways.”

"Wanna keep me as your boy toy?"

“You wanna be my boy toy?” Your whole face lights up.

"You look quite excited."

“I never had a boy toy before.”

"No?" He shakes his head. "Time to change that. And as your boy toy, I should always make sure you're having a good time." He surprises you by spreading your legs again.

“No, no, no, no. It’s my turn.”

Bucky shakes his head. "Need to get you clean, and then we can do whatever you want, alright?"

“You are really something else.” You sound amazed.

He smirks. "And you're stuck with me. You're all mine now."

You don't get to say anything anymore as you feel his tongue at your entrance. So you just grab his hair, closing your eyes, your exes long forgotten.

“And you are all mine.”

[amakumos]

MEET ME IN MONTE CARLO. — jake sim. (teaser)

SYNOPSIS. As a Formula 1 driver, being competitive is just in Ferrari driver Jake Sim's blood. Perhaps Jake cares about winning too much though, because during his conquest for the world title, he loses you. It isn't until 2 years later when you show up at the Monaco Grand Prix with his main rival, Red Bull driver Park Sunghoon, when Jake finds himself determined to not only fight for the championship, but also to fight for you.

GENRE. fluff, angst, exes to enemies (one-sided ish) to lovers

PAIRING. formula 1 driver! jake x fem! reader

WARNINGS. none in the teaser. in the fic, cursing, mentions of car crashes and accidents

ESTIMATED RELEASE DATE. late march, early april

WORD COUNT. 20k ish, teaser is 883 words

AUTHOR'S NOTE. well... this will be my second to last fic for the meantime! i'm excited to drop this one. i've been working on it for quite a while now. here's a formula 1 fic starring our very own jake sim :) i hope you enjoy this little teaser, and the taglist is open so just pop in an ask if you'd like to be tagged when i post this <3

TAGLIST IS OPEN, send in an ask if you’d like to be added!

You were the first person that Jake Sim ever loved. You were there at his first Formula 1 race, you were there at his first race win, and you were there for his first world title win. A series of firsts. 

But, Jake Sim has first breakup on the list as well. 

He always regrets how things ended between you two – it was messy, it was awful, and it left him crying at 3 in the morning in his apartment. 

Jake isn’t certain about many things in his life. But what Jake is 100% certain of, is that the breakup was all his fault.

You had screamed at him, and he knew that he deserved it. You were slowly slipping away from his grasp, and Jake allowed that to happen as he chased another world title so desperately. So desperately to the point that he would end up neglecting you. 

Forgotten dates, forgotten anniversaries, and forgotten birthdays. Text messages would be left unread for days when he was in some other unfamiliar city, as you walked to your lectures with a heavy heart and the stream of his race playing in the back of your phone as you waited for a response. You wore red every time he had a race, for Ferrari, for him, even as your relationship was crumbling. 

“I’m sorry,” he had choked out. “It is difficult.” 

You looked at him with bloodshot eyes and shaking fists. “It is. And you’re chasing your dreams, but… I can’t be with you if it’s like this. The past few months have been like we weren’t even dating in the first place.” 

Jake gulps. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“I want to try,” you had said with an exasperated sigh, and Jake knows that you’re tired. He’s going at maximum speed, and you’re left trailing behind him. He’s so far ahead, and you know you’ve lost all hope of catching up. But you say those words anyway. “Please tell me you’ll try.” 

Jake doesn’t say a word. Because he knows that he won’t be able to. He wants to say yes, so badly. He wants to hug you, he wants to kiss you, and he wants to commit. Just as he commits to his races, to the championship, to Ferrari. 

But he can’t. Not a single word leaves his lips, and his silence is enough of an answer for you. “Oh,” you say, and Jake doesn’t miss the way your voice quivers, and your lower lip trembles. You’re dressed in red, Ferrari’s colour – his colour. “Okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” he told you. 

“It’s important to you.” you pressed your lips together in a thin line. “I understand.”

You say that, but Jake knows that you don’t. He knows nobody would ever be able to understand choosing to win over choosing someone you love. But Jake is committed to racing. He is committed to win. 

Yet, he’s not committed to you. The one who’s been with him through thick and thin, the one who’d catch red-eye flights to find him in some unfamiliar city to watch him win, the one who’d go through hell and back for him if it meant that he’d be happy. 

He can’t do the same for you, and he hates that. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and you simply shook your head. You don’t have anything more to say to him, so you quietly pack your things. “I’m sorry.” 

Before you opened the door to leave, you took one last look at Jake. “I hope you figure out whatever’s going on in your life.” You don’t say anything more, and that is the last time Jake Sim ever sees you again. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing either, because you’d deleted your Instagram account, starting a new one where none of his fans could keep up to date with you. The only way he knows how you’re doing is updates from Heeseung's girlfriend Yoona, who goes on trips with you often. He sees his fans constantly wondering if you’re doing well, and Jake finds it funny how he’s got the same exact question.

He drowns himself further in training, in racing, in wanting to become the best after the split. He wins, he wins, and he wins again – and that feeling of euphoria when he stands on the podium never leaves. It fills him with a joy like no other, and it reminds Jake why he does this. He wants to win. He wants to be the best – no, he is the best. 

Winning means the world to Jake Sim. Racing is in his blood – he does it to hear the crowds scream his name, he does it to lift that trophy on the top step of the podium, and he does it to feel the overwhelming pride in his chest when he crosses that chequered flag first. 

But he’s been so focused on winning, and he’s lost his everything. 

His everything is the girl who went to his first race. His everything is the girl who would tire herself by studying during the day, and catching long flights to the cities where he’d race in to support him. 

And his everything had left him 2 years ago in his apartment in Monte Carlo, Monaco, with teary eyes and a red dress. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

no more waiting

for @steddielovemonth day four prompt ‘love is being willing to wait for them’

a fix-it for these: steve pov | eddie pov  

rated m | 1,094 words | cw: post breakup, implied sexual content | tags: getting back together, angst with a happy ending, mutual pining

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

Steve should’ve called him Tuesday when the news broke.

And then he should’ve called him Wednesday when he ran into Wayne at the store and he said Eddie was coming home for a bit.

By the time Thursday afternoon came around, he didn’t need to call him. He was standing at Steve’s front door.

“Eddie.”

“Steve.”

It was stilted, more awkward than they’d ever been, even when they “broke up.”

“You just get into town?” Steve asked as if he didn’t know.

“Yeah,” Eddie answered as if he didn’t already find out that Wayne had told Steve his exact travel plans.

“You wanna come in?” Steve asked like he’d die if Eddie said no.

“Yeah, please.” Eddie replied, just short of begging.

Eddie knew where to go, knew how to act like this was his home just like he had for nearly a year before leaving. Before Steve insisted he leave.

He settled on the couch, leaving room for Steve to sit close, but not touching.

Touching would be too much, too painful.

“You saw?” He finally asked, picking at the hole in his jeans.

“Yeah.” Steve reached over to pull Eddie’s fingers away from the string hanging off his pants. He didn’t let go as he spoke. “I’m proud of you.”

Eddie’s eyes bounced between his own, searching for the hint of a lie, jealousy, anything that might give him an excuse to stay away. But as he expected, as he hoped, none of that was in Steve’s eyes.

“It doesn’t mean shit to me,” Eddie admitted.

Steve’s brows furrowed in confusion, his body tensing at the unexpected hostility in Eddie’s tone.

“None of it means a fucking thing to me without you.”

“Eds-“

“I know what we said, I know. But I can’t do it anymore. The first person I wanted to call was you. The first thing I wanted to do was fuck you into the mattress of my bunk on the bus. There’s no world where I can be a rock star without you standing there with me.” Eddie looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t care what it means for me. I don’t care what it means for the band. I don’t care if I have to give it all up tomorrow. I just want you.”

"I won't let you give it up, not now. You finally made it, Eds," Steve pulled one hand away to wipe at his eyes, equal parts happy to hear that Eddie still wanted him and sad that he couldn't have him. "I can't let you live to regret me. I couldn't wake up one day knowing that you blame me for keeping you back."

"Then come with me! Don't keep me back!" Eddie was crying as much as Steve, eyes red like he'd already been crying before he got to Steve's house. "You're keeping yourself back. What are you gonna do when the kids go? They don't wanna stay here, so they'll spread out and you'll still be here. You'll have wasted years being here for them. What about being there for you? What about letting them be there for each other and calling them up once in a while like I do? Like Robin and Nancy do? You don't owe anyone here anything, especially not if it costs you your happiness."

Steve had heard it all before from everyone, even Dustin, even Hopper, but it never really sunk in. It wasn't really now, either, but he was at least trying to think through it.

It made sense, but it always had made sense. It's just that what made the most sense was being here for the people who needed him.

"Do you really think those kids would be upset if you tried to be happy? Do you think they would rather you stay here and be miserable?"

"No." That answer was easy. The kids would never want him to be miserable. Nobody in their group would.

"Then be happy, Stevie. Be happy with me. I'd do anything to keep you happy," Eddie begged, lifting his hands to kiss his knuckles. "I want you to do this with me. I wanna sing to you every night, sweetheart."

"What if you get tired of singing to me every night?"

Eddie shook his head, smiling fondly at the man in front of him. "I can't imagine a life where I'd ever get tired of seeing the way your cheeks turn pink and you get that goofy smile on your face when I look at you from the stage. But if it did, then you can come right back here or go to Robin or anyone, because everyone loves you and wants the best for you."

Steve knew that, always had known that deep down.

"So the guys are just cool with me tagging along?"

"The guys will be thrilled to not have me pouting 22 hours of the day. They'll welcome you with open arms."

Now was when they could seal it with a kiss, maybe even let themselves get carried away, strip off their clothes, hurry through months of yearning in a few minutes. They could take it to the bedroom, or the shower, or the floor if they wanted to risk a sore back. They could leave marks that would take days to fade, and laugh about the way Eddie always, always makes the same whimpering noise when he gets inside Steve. They could, but they don't.

Steve leans his head against Eddie's shoulder and Eddie cups the back of his head, lets his fingers twist in his hair. They both let out a sob, recognition of how much they missed each other, how stupid they were for thinking being apart was better for either of them, finally sinking in.

"I'm sorry." Steve breathed against Eddie's neck, shaky and unsure.

"I'm sorry, too."

They stayed curled up on the couch together for hours, until Dustin showed up yelling about Steve not answering his phone. They hadn't even heard it ring, so wrapped up in their own bubble.

Eddie shooed him away, told him they'd be by to see him later, and surprisingly, Dustin left.

Only then did they manage to get up and go to Steve's bedroom, undressing as they went, lips never far from skin, as they got reacquainted with the taste and feel of each other.

Later ended up being the next morning, but luckily, Dustin didn't say a damn word when they both showed up at his door holding hands and beaming more at each other than at him.

[xazse]

AFAB!GOJO X MALE!READER

Hello this is just a shitpost before I go to sleep I’ll edit everything in the morning! Enjoy

NASTYYY SMUT!!!! AND VERY MEAN READER! AND CAR SEX I HOPE YOU GUYS GET THE PICTURE OF THE POSITION I SWEAR ILL EDIT IT TM!

Satoru sleeps with his fair share of women and men, even going as far as to spend the night to satisfy their need for something romantic, but by morning he’s out the door, not caring what happens to said person, he let it be known from the start all he wanted was a quick fuck. Not his fault they confused it for something else.

People around campus who have slept with Gojo can say the night is full of bliss but the morning they’re left with an empty feeling, he really is the best and the worst thing to happen.

So why does Satoru find himself infatuated with you? You who treats him like he’s nothing but an eyesore, it drives him crazy when you deny his advances, no one’s ever denied him: he’s just too pretty for that! You’d have to be crazy to not want to lay with him! Borderline insane! But you, you spark something within him, a primal lust.

When he finally does get you to come around you’re mean, extremely mean: parking behind an abandoned building and position satoru to where the back seat door is open with you standing outside and him laying against the seat with his lower body out the door, it’s super cold out tonight and he regrets wearing the thinnest shorts with no underwear underneath, but all the better to feel the thick outline of your cock as you press yourself against his folds.

“No panties? You’re so gross Toru.” You grumble out whilst looking at his already wet cunt, your fingers dip in and he groans, he likes the thickness of your fingers it makes stretching him out to be so much easier, one fingers turns into two then that turns into three. When you deem him good enough for you, he hears your belt clinking and a loud sigh departing from your lips.

You pull his hair and angle his head back: “You’re average at best Toru, you should be happy I even gave someone as desperate as you a chance, remember I’m only doing this out of pity” you grunt out, Satoru has no feelings for you but he feels his heart clench and disperse at your words. You let him go to focus on lining your fat cock up with his hole, the stretch stings to him, what you “lack” in length you really make up for thickness, most likely the thickest he’s ever taken, you don’t offer him any reassurance when your cock pushes deeper and deeper.

Till you finally bottom out inside, you take a quick pause to admire him, you can’t see his face but already you knew his lips are bitten red, most likely on the verge of crying, you’re so incredibly mean.

You begin to move your hips, starting off slowly, you make sure to pull all the way out and slide right back in, eventually you start slamming into him roughly, uncaring of his startled gasps as he struggles to adjust, your cock feels so good, hitting so deeply inside of him, it’s really a different story when you find his sweet spot and press the tip of your cock against it.

His legs lock inwards, breathing hard into the seat, “This it Satoru?” He can hear the devilish smirk hidden in your voice, you continue to slam your hips against him angling downwards. “so..good” he had managed to slur out. He finds himself trying to paw away from his impending orgasm, he knows it’s gonna ache, knows it’s gonna also feel blissful, your hands grip his waist tighter, meaning to leave ugly bruises later. Pounding into him deep strokes makes him crazy, to add fuel to the fire your hands reach down and circle his clit rough, this action pushes Satoru over the edge and his pussy spasms around you.

He damn near screams, fingers digging deep into your seat, you fuck him through his orgasm, not long after you follow right after him, not even bothering to pull out, he doesn’t ask you to either.

Satoru slumps against your seat, panting and trying his hardest not to fall asleep, he feels your fingers spreading his pussy to admire your work of art.

“Your friend? What’s his name…? You know the pretty one with the long black hair?” Satoru feels his heart drop.

[xxaraaq]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙑𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙚

masterlist

Synopsis | Alicent is a Godly woman who's morals stand high above everything else. She's given everything she's supposed to to the realm. She is so selfless, so fucking her husbands brother is the one thing she can keep to herself, right?

Word count | 1.5k

cw | Infidelity, spoken violence, corruption?

Authors note | Hi y'all. I know I haven't posted in literally the longest time ever but if I'm being honest I've been fighting with life it up until about a week ago it was beating my ass. Anyways, I'm back now, and I hope that this will make up for it, enjoy! Not edited.

She is a good queen.

That’s what she thinks to comfort herself whenever the regrets of her past set in.  She has done her duty to the realm, giving birth to formidable sons and a beautiful daughter. She did what she was supposed to do, she just happened to do it with the wrong man.

No one could blame her for her choices. Her husband, a now senile, miserable old man who had no romantic love for her, failed in his role as her source of comfort. Once Rhaenyra went off and fucked her uncle in a brothel, she felt as though she had no true friends, no real allies.

No one except you.

You were the youngest of you, Viserys, and Daemon. Meaning that you had no real responsibilities. You had close to if not no chance of inheriting the iron throne, and you accepted it. Instead of struggling futilely trying to climb your way up the line of succession, you sat back, kicked your feet up, and enjoyed the life of a royal, of a Targaryen.

With you and Alicent being so close in age, you only being four years her senior, she found it easier to converse and jest with you compared to her husband and virtually everyone else around her. You were light hearted, a companion she often sought the company of. And even though her fathers concern grew about the influence you have on her that grows with each passing day, she paid it no mind. After all, she was the queen, and no one could tell her no.

It was the day the ‘rumors’ spread about Rhaenyra that you swooped in. Exhausted, you were the first person she went to to deliver the news. 

“Your sister has ruined almost any chance she has at marrying a suitable lord.” Alicent huffs, pacing back and forth around the room. You chuckle, amused by the entire ordeal. “She is a princess, maiden or not, my brother will surely find a wealthy husband for my niece.” You say, trying to ease her nerves. It obviously doesn’t help, her looking at you like you have two heads. “This is nothing to joke about. Your niece might run your entire house into ruin with the horrid accusations circling about. Have you no care in what happens?” She yells, desperate to get you to understand her frustration in it all. “Accusations? Alicent, my closest friend, you are no fool. You and I both know she fucked my brother in a whorehouse. You can speak freely with me, I promise you that.” You stand from your chair, making your way towards her. You love your niece and brother, but you’re also not one to deny the truth.

A tear slips from her eye, the stress of it all pouring down on her. “Oh, my dear, don’t cry.” You cup her face in your rough hands. A chill runs down her spine, something she’s never felt before. The look you have in your eyes is not what she’s seen from you before. Your eyes are dark, a smirk on your face that means nothing but trouble.

“You are a good woman, I must say. A loyal wife, an obedient daughter, a great friend. You never fail to be there to fulfill the needs and wants from others around you. But what about your needs, hmm?” You ask, tone sultry with an emotion she can’t pinpoint. “I-I don’t understand what you mean.” She stutters, growing shy from your demeanor. “You know what I mean, Alicent. When’s the last time you’ve truly felt fulfilled? Rhaenyra is too busy chasing after Daemon like a lost pup to spend time with you. Your husband is still stuck on Aemma even though he’s the reason she passed on in the first place, God's rest her soul. And your father, as much as he may love you, sees you as nothing more than a tool. I am the only one who has genuine intentions for you. The only things I care about ensuring is your well-being and happiness. A life full of not knowing what it’s like to be pleasured and to bring pleasure is not one worth living.” 

She knows that you mean this deep down in your heart, and that makes her want to give in all the more. ‘We can’t, what if someone finds out?” She asks, fear covering her features. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Who would be so impudent as to try and tell the King that his youngest brother is fucking his wife?” You say. 

She thinks for a second, then two, then three. “I’m… I’m not certain that having an affair would be for the best.” She says, backing away until she hits the edge of a table. “Let me show you what I could do for you, please? If you don’t like it, just say the word and I’ll never make an advance again, I promise this to you.” You almost plead, desperation laced through every word you speak. You have to have her, you’re sure you’ll die if you don’t.

Her silence fills the room, making your heart beat all the more harder. You almost dropped to your knees to thank the Gods for having you in their favor the moment she nodded her head yes. It was slow at first, a kiss on the neck, a light caress on her thigh, but then you stopped holding back, and you took her to that table in a matter of minutes. You held your hand to her mouth, trying to keep her as quiet as possible as you fucked into her tight cunt with a fervor you’ve never felt before. Everything about her drove you crazy as you corrupted her. The scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, the way she so futilely used her hand to try and push you from her as your thick cock plowed through her. 

Your secret relations kept on through the years, past the birth of Ageon and the rest of the children. The both of you knew that all four of them were yours, words not needed to be spoken to know that you were the one to sire the king's heirs and not the king himself.

As everyone grew, so did the tensions concerning the birth of your niece's sons. You had to laugh when you first saw Jace’s brown tufts of hair. How could she be so transparent about her infidelity? It was Rhaenyra’s actions that truly caused the hatred to stir within Alicent. You knew as well as everyone else that it was only a matter of time before things grew too large to keep a blind eye to it all.

The day that Aemond was maimed was one that nobody could ever forget. It was truly just a blurry haze of squeaky voices, deep insults, and the sound of a sheathed blade. The royal blood that covered the pavement that night would never be forgotten. You were the one that escorted the queen back to her room that night, providing an environment where her tongue could be as loose as need be. You shut the door, the creakiness that shows its age filling the silence. “That vile woman and her, her…” She couldn’t even get the words out, she was so furious. “Bastards? Say it Alicent, we all know it to be the truth.” You say, leaning against the stone wall. She groans, hand running over her face as she goes back to her habit of pacing the room. “The king is so shielded by the love he has for her, he can’t even see the vile things she has done.” She says, pupils so dilated with rage she can’t see straight. “Must I remind you that we are in the same boat as her, only that her’s has started to sink while ours stays afloat?” You say, quick to point out the sins she has also committed. The words catch in her throat, taken aback by your sudden correction. “Are you taking her side?” Her voice trembles with stress as she picks at her nail beds. “Do you not remember how I to this day sneak into you room through secrets passageways to fuck you to sleep every night? How I’ve filled your womb with so much seed I’ve impregnated you four times? Or have you forgotten how all our children are bastards as well?” You say, your voice sarcastically sweet as you grip her waist, pulling her backside flush to her chest. You lay kisses on her neck and shoulders, soothing her tenseness almost immediately. “What happened to our son is a tragedy that may never be avenged. But as he said, the reward for losing his eye was much greater than the pain he suffered.” You whisper in her ear.

She is a good queen, she thinks to herself. 

She is a good queen, even as she lets you fuck her up against the bed posts, mouth cover by your calloused hands once more to keep her muffled sounds of ecstasy hidden from the outside world

-Nene

[werecreature-addicted]

i missed uuu, been waiting for this to be open again but hear me out, been thinking about this,

a werewolf girlie and her vampire lover… who really never thought of settling down before meeting her addicting pussy- i mean personality (lmao)… amidst their world breaking sex he proposes to her and it only drives them crazier and rougher… im sure u can make this idea an amazing story 😂😂 sorry babes, ignore it if it doesn’t make sense.

i hope life’s treating u well! bisous

" 'm gonna marry you- fuck- make you my pretty wife. mmm this pussy is all mine baby, gonna make it all fucking mine," You usually don't listen to the rambling nonsense your boyfriend spouts as he fucks you. Usually, it's just "You feel so tight" over and over again, but this time it's different.

"What did you say?" you ask, almost laughing, he doesn't look like he's joking though, his pale cheeks are flushed his eyes watering with over stimulation, he's already cum twice but he just can't stop fucking you, it's too good to stop.

"I said I'm going to marry you- mm fuck gonna make you my wife," he whines before lowering his mouth and biting your neck, you cry out in surprise as you feel the skin break, his rough tongue lapping at your blood. you growl and dig your claws into his hips, he knows what it does to you when he bites your neck, usually, he feeds from your wrists or your thighs, but clearly, he's in a mood tonight.

"I thought you said you just wanted something casual," you groan when you first started seeing each other he'd insisted on something no strings attached. you still weren't officially dating, but you'd become more than just fuck buddies.

"Changed my mind- best pussy I've felt in 200 years, I can't let you go. you're mine- my, what's the fucking word you mutts use? My mate?" he's only half teasing, he really does want to keep you as his, forever if you'll let him.

You growl and flip him around, pinning him down on the bed, his poor throbbing cock still deep inside you. you hold his wrists down and hold him there for a while, using all of his inhuman strength still isn't enough, to buck you off, or even to fuck himself up into you.

"I'm going to make you regret saying that, pretty boy," you say and this time it's your turn to sink your teeth into the side of his neck.

[joeshiestyslover]

pretty when you cry- c. sturniolo

pairing: toxicbf! chris sturniolo x reader

summary: you know chris doesn’t treat you well and that you should leave him, but you can’t help but stay. chris is well aware of this and wants to treat you better, but he just can’t. after all, you’re just so pretty when you cry.

warnings: so much angst, language, mentions of sex, drug use, chris is an awful bf

masterlist

lowercase intended

a/n: lana del rey + chris is just so 🤭

you felt as if you were slowly dying. all the life that you once held inside you slowly fading away until you were nothing but an empty shell of your former self. you used to be so happy and full of life, never seen without a smile on your face. now, you look sullen, with dark circles under your eyes and a permanent frown tugging on your lips.

everyone asks you what could have possibly happened to make you change so much in such a short amount of time. you always reply with “work is taking a toll on me” or “my boss is a pain in my ass”, but each lie is bigger than the last. you know the source of your constant pain. it’s your boyfriend, christopher sturniolo.

chris used to be the best boyfriend a girl like you could ever ask for: caring, compassionate, funny, etc. the list was endless, and to you, he was perfect. until six months ago.

chris became a completely different person. he was no longer the sweet, charming boy you fell in love with two years ago. instead, he was an angry, violent monster. nights you would spend at his house, filled with sweet nothings and soft giggles were now filled with harsh screams and glass breaking. days that consisted of talking and laughing, were now occupied with silence because you were both still angry about the night before. the once soft, loving sex was now replaced with rough, violent fucking. everything had changed between you, and all you wanted was for you two to go back to how you were a year ago, when everything seemed perfect.

you know that chris is doing drugs, you’ve known for months. every time you try to bring it up to him, it ends in a screaming match, and you storming out the front door. his brothers have tried to get him to stop, yet he refuses, saying it’s the only thing that gets him out of bed anymore.

your heart is slowly breaking, for both you and him. you know you should leave him for good, but you can’t. you love him too much to lose him.

on the other hand, chris knows how badly he’s been treating you and that you deserve so much better than him. however, he knows deep down that you’ll never leave him, so he never truly changes, despite the many promises he’s made that he would.

this leads to a continuous cycle of love and pain. you get fed up with how he treats you, so you confront him. you fight for hours before chris finally breaks down, telling you how much he regrets causing you so much pain and promising he’ll do better. he gets clean for a while and just when everything is beginning to look hopeful, he crashes and burns. he falls back into his old habits once again. then, the cycle continues, leaving you trapped.

you’ve lost count of the amount of times chris has promised to be better and get clean. right now, you and chris are arguing for probably the hundredth time about the same damn topic: him saying he’ll get clean, but he never does.

“this isn’t okay christopher! you have to understand where i’m coming from! i’m worried about you! i’m scared for you!” you yell. “i don’t need you to worry y/n! i’m fine! stop treating me like i’m a child!” he yells back in your face. you feel helpless. you’ve tried everything to help him, but he just won’t accept it. “you’re gonna kill yourself one day! can you even imagine what that would do to me?! to your brothers?! to your parents?! i just-” “don’t fucking bring my family into this!” chris cuts you off. you sigh and run your fingers through your hair. “look,” you start, lowering your voice. “you know i love you chris, but this is terrifying. i have to watch you slowly destroy yourself and i can’t do anything about it because you won’t let me help you.” “it’s because i don’t need your help! i’m doing perfectly fine! it’s not my fault that you want to make everyone else miserable just because you are!” your jaw drops. “i’m miserable because you’re making me miserable! i’m not this person! i’m not full of constant anxiety! i’m not constantly suffering! it’s you chris! i’m like this because of you! because of how you’ve been acting for the past year!” you scream hopelessly. you sit down on the couch in chris’ living room, trying to calm down and compose your thoughts.

“well if you’re so fucking miserable, then just leave, y/n!” you freeze and look up at him. he had never suggested you leave him before. “what?” you ask softly, hoping you heard him wrong. “if i’m so horrible to you, then you can leave! i’m not gonna stop you!” chris waves his arms around frantically.

without another word, you stand up from the couch and walk toward the front door, grabbing your phone and car keys on the way out. you open the door, walk out, then slam it closed. speed walking to your car, you try to keep your tears at bay, but you fail miserably. as soon as you get in and shut the door, the silent tears turn into heart wrenching sobs. trying to calm yourself, you put your car in reverse and back out of the driveway. you have no idea where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here.

you end up at a parking lot of a fast food restaurant, but not just any restaurant. it’s the same one where you and chris went out on your first date. you both didn’t want to go anywhere fancy, so you decided on grabbing fast food. you begin to cry even more at the memories of that night. you can’t help but remember how sweet he was and how much he cared for you. how the hell did it come to this? how did you get here?

everything in you is telling you to leave chris for good. you can’t keep going on like this. you love chris so much, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, but he’s slowly killing you from the inside out.

you decide to go back home and tell chris it’s over. you take a deep breath and begin driving. on the way there, the memories of you and chris are on a constant loop in your mind:

your first date,

chris had picked you up outside of your house that night, refusing to tell you where you were going, claiming it was a surprise. before you knew it, he had pulled into the mcdonald’s parking lot. “chris are we at a mcdonald’s right now?” you asked. “well, you said that your favorite restaurant was mcdonald’s so voila, here we are.” chris smiled at you. you laugh and throw your head back. “but if you wanna go somewhere fancier then i’m sure i can squeeze in a reservation-” “chris this is perfect. as long as it’s with you i don’t care where we go.” you smile at him, putting your hand on his arm.

your first kiss,

it was your third date, and you were sure you were in love with chris. he was the perfect guy. the date had gone perfectly, you had gone to a park and just sat on a bench and talked about anything and everything. at the end of the night, he walked you to your door. “tonight was amazing chris. thank you.” you smiled up at him. “y/n, i really like you and you make me laugh. i was wondering if i could be your boyfriend?” he asked you nervously while shifting on the balls of his feet. your smile grew even wider. “i would love to be your your boyfriend chris.” you reached your hand up to cup his cheek. chris leaned his head down to brush his lips against yours. “can i kiss you?” he whispered. you nodded, and before you knew it, he smashed his lips against yours.

the first time he told you he loved you.

you both were lying in chris’ bed watching bridgerton. after much convincing, he had finally agreed to watch it with you, and of course, he loved it. you were watching the episode where edwina left anthony at the altar, and you were hooked even though you had already watched the show a countless amount of times. you felt a pair of eyes boring into the side of your head, and looked up to see chris staring at you, disregarding the show in front of him. “chris? are you okay?” you asked him. “i love you.” he blurted out. “what?” you were shocked. those three words were the last thing you expected to come from chris’ mouth. “it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, i just needed you to know.” you reached up and pressed your lips against his. “i love you too chris.” you both smiled at each other and kissed once more.

all the good memories made you yearn for chris, but you know nothing will ever be the same. he’s not your chris anymore, he’s someone else entirely. he had made himself a stranger to you.

once you get home, you pull into the driveway and get out. you’re shaking with anxiety at this point. you notice the door is unlocked, so you turn the handle and walk inside. you can hear the tv going in chris’ room, so you know he’s in there. you shakily exhale before stepping inside. you immediately make a beeline for the closet, not bothering to look at chris.

“you’re back already, huh?” he speaks up. you ignore him as you rifle through the closet until you find your overnight bag. you throw it on the bed as you take as many clothes as you can carry and shove them into it. “y/n, what are you doing?” chris asks nervously. “i’m leaving chris. you don’t want my help that’s fine, but you can’t expect me to just stand and watch as you fall apart. i can’t do that.” you can’t even look at him because you know you’ll break once you do.

“baby” he begins as he makes his way towards you. “baby look at me please.” chris reaches out and cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing back and forth. you can’t help yourself and look up into his blue eyes. the same ones you fell in love with, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the sweet boy you fell in love with. “i didn’t mean anything i said. it was so stupid of me to tell you to leave. i love you so much. i’ll do anything to keep you. i’ll get clean and i promise i’ll do better. i’ll be a better man for you just please don’t leave.” chris begins to beg. you don’t want to give in to his empty promises, but you can’t help yourself. you love him too much to leave. “promise?” you ask weakly. “i promise baby, i’ll never hurt you again, i swear.” he complies. you smile at him before leaning up to capture his lips with yours. after a while, he breaks away. “you know i love you, even if i get aggressive sometimes, yeah? i’m just not good at showing it, but you know i love you. you know that right, y/n?” you want to believe him so badly, but deep down you know that this is just the beginning of the cycle you’ve found yourself trapped in for months. you’re just waiting for it to get bad again. “yeah i know baby.” you tell him softly, not even believing your own words. chris smiles slightly before kissing you again. to be honest, chris doesn’t believe himself either, but he wants to try, for you. and if everything goes south again, then it’s a good thing you’re pretty when you cry.

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [2] (myg)

title: and the hits just keep coming 1.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut

summary: you lean on your friend for support and an escape, but the reality of your situation keeps flashing before you.

warnings: [there's a prologue and part 1 that should be read before this one!] just some insecurity, some sad vibes, you know the drill.

Taehyung fails to dodge the fifth pillow you launch at him. "Let me explain!" Repeatedly begging you to stop, he crashes into your kitchen counter.

A pillow to his leg.

"Wait! Please!" He's dodging for his life.

Another pillow to his chest.

"You're an angel! Pleas-" Headshot!

"Ough! Not the face..." He pauses to soothe his aching nose.

By now, you're out of energy too. But, there's still a lot of anger in your stomach. You're too guilty and too tired to let it out on the wrong person.

You spent over twenty minutes reprimanding him for hiding Yoongi's fiancée from you.

Finally having a fraction of a minute of peace, your friend sits you down by your dinner table.

He disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to cradle and console your heart by yourself.

You hear a few utensils clashing and see him juggling four things in his hands; your cat mug, his designated frog mug, a bottle of white chocolate liqueur and a carton of what looks like chocolate milk.

Pointing your finger at the tetra pak, you protest, "Excuse you, that's the expensive chocolate milk and it’s for Nao."

He looks at the half-empty carton in his hand and back at you.

"You're telling me Nao drank more than half of this bottle in a day? And you let her?" Taehyung deadpanned.

...

"Yeah." Your eyes wander as you insist poorly.

He ignored you and poured you a glass of the milk.

Sitting across from you, he grew solemn, "_____, I swear I didn't know it was like this." - "But you knew about her?" You asked before he said anything else.

Taehyung couldn't deny it, "Yeah. But I thought she would just be like the others."

Yoongi had others.

All grumpy, you sigh. "The others?"

Momentarily, he froze and exhaled. "Yeah, there have been a few. He was... I don't know. He kept saying he was serious about each of them but nobody ever... stuck around? So, we thought he was lying or something." Taehyung regretted his choice of words.

You want to believe him, but you both know that Yoongi isn’t someone who lies like that. Let alone big lies, Yoongi won't even tell little white lies.

Over the years, you naturally assumed he was dating around, but you didn't know. Nothing was confirmed. You never asked and he never told you anything himself.

"Who all knew?"

"Everyone. But nobody even imagined that they'd be getting hitched." He shook his head in disbelief.

“Obviously. This is Yoongi you’re talking about,” you pause, “But didn’t you notice anything different with them?”

“I’m telling you, _____, we had no idea.” Taehyung cringes after taking a sip of the sweet liqueur. “I think he wanted to tell you first.”

You wish he never had.

"What are you thinking?"

You dip your head in between your palms, “I feel terrible. It’s like I know I want to cry but I’m so emotionally stunted right now, I cannot get it out. It’s like a stuck yawn.”

Taehyung caresses your arm, "Can I do anything to help?"

You shake your head, "I don't think so, Tae."

"Oh! Do you want to watch 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas?' Maybe that will help you cry." He tilts his head, eyes filled with hope.

At that, you let out a surprised laugh, "Taehyung, no!"

Basking in the little moment of success (by making you laugh), Taehyung internally pops confetti.

But, the moment was just that. A moment. Your happiness faded away as quickly as it came.

So, he pulled his phone out and placed it in front of you.

Taehyung’s hesitant to ask you this but he does it anyway. “Do you want to see her?”

You don’t know. (You’d rather pretend she doesn’t exist.)

If it weren’t for Nao, you’d have no problem ignoring Yoongi’s girlfriend. Even thinking of the words ‘Yoongi’s girlfriend’ makes you want to end it all.

It’s no secret that you’re still madly in love with your ex-boyfriend.

This situation felt so ridiculous to you, you couldn’t digest it. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening to you.

As a young girl, you never thought it was in the books for you to go through this kind of pain. And, you don’t have a whole lot to lean on. So, Yoongi has always been it for you. He always told you he’d be there for you no matter what.

Even after your breakup, he was by your side.

When you unexpectedly caught the chicken pox from Nao, he took care of you. Even when Taehyung insisted on helping you instead, Yoongi sent him away.

You shared every birthday with him. He’d throw you a small party. Every year, it was a different theme. This year was ‘enchanted garden.’ He always ordered you a custom cake from out of town. It made everything special.

He even helped you open your quaint little bakery. Yoongi was the one who helped you finalize your menu. He tasted everything and even got himself sick because of it.

He stood by you when you got sued by your competition, another old-timey cake shop, for stealing their clients and recipes. He acted as your lawyer free of charge.

Now, you wonder if it was all out of convenience or… an obligation. Had you read it all wrong? Was he simply being polite because you’re the mother of his daughter? Would he stop doing things for you now? Did he ever do those things for you? Or were they simply for your daughter by extension?

Would he be too focused on his wife now?

Even for Nao’s sake, you never once got the urge to know the woman who did the unthinkable.

As a co-parent, you trusted Yoongi. You knew Yoongi would never let just anyone around Nao. If he wants to introduce his daughter to a woman, you knew it was safe. She could be the next Mother Teresa for all you know.

All this blind trust has been earned by him throughout the years you’ve spent with him, you’re not a careless mother.

However, as a woman and Yoongi’s ex-flame, you weren’t eager to know the woman who replaced you. You don’t want to see or meet her. In your eyes, she was able to compel Yoongi to do something he wouldn’t do even after you begged him to. Maybe she didn’t even have to try. She was probably just that perfect for him.

This is apart from the fact that he fell in love with another woman after you while you’re still hung up on him.

You don’t think you can afford to willingly take a hit to your self-confidence like that.

Nao looks up to you. You know you cannot lose yourself when you have so much relying on you.

Taehyung was kind enough to let you get lost in your thoughts.

“No.” You finally answer his question.

You did not want to see what she looked like.

Taehyung nodded once, “Okay. That’s fine.”

Just when Taehyung’s about to put his phone back into his pocket, it rings.

And on the screen pops this gorgeous woman. She looked like she stepped straight out of an issue of Harpar’s Bazaar or even Vogue. You weren’t surprised, you smiled and involuntarily snorted. Taehyung did have a type.

He hurriedly tried to pull his phone off the table, knocking your (thankfully, empty) glass of milk in the process.

“You don’t have to hide her from me, Vincent.” You tease him, using his artist alias. “Is she your new muse?”

Taehyung awkwardly laughed, blatantly ignoring your question.

Suddenly, he changes the topic, “Oh! Do you have to go into work today?”

Your smile drops a little. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

He offered a strained smile, “It’s like I can feel the alcohol in my veins.”

“Heyyy... What’s up with the model babe? Why are you deflecting?” This time you pout.

You hear his phone ring once again. But he immediately declines.

“Taehyung… What’s the matter?” When he refuses to acknowledge you, you grow more concerned.

“You don’t have to stay, you know?” You continue to reassure him.

“It’s not,” he cuts himself off, “That wasn’t my girlfriend.”

Taehyung hopes he doesn’t have to face your inevitable question in line.

“Well, who was that the….” When you trail off mid-response, he knew you had figured out who that woman really was.

The two of you are silent for a moment.

Sullen, you whisper, “That’s his fiancée?”

Taehyung wishes he never came over to your place. He didn’t want to be the one to make you feel this way.

He nods once. Not that you needed that confirmation.

Quickly moving on to your next thought, you question, “Why is she calling you?”

Already on it, Taehyung visibly cringes at the messages on his screen when you push yourself forward to peek into his phone. This time, he doesn’t try to obstruct your vision.

Hyejin (3)

Sorry! I forgot you were at _____’s. It’s nothing important, I just had a question about Nao-chan. Does she like lemon cake? How is _____ doing btw?

Your mouth dropped open.

You don’t even acknowledge the fact that she’s speaking about you so personally; as if you were a friend or even an acquaintance.

You ignore the fact that she’s fucking stunning, owning the most symmetrical, aesthetically pleasing face you’ve ever seen on a grown woman.

You don’t even dwell about how you do not stand a chance against this woman.

The only thing you see is her nickname for your daughter. You squeak, “She calls her Nao-chan!”  

That’s YOUR name for YOUR babygirl.

“Angel…” Taehyung begins but has no idea what he could possibly say to comfort you.

Pull yourself together. You mentally discipline yourself. It takes a minute for you to get there.

Instead of dealing with whatever you just felt, you push it away in an instant and beam at your friend.

“Whatever. Let’s get cheesy naan and shrimp skewers!”

Of course, your faux smile didn’t fool Taehyung, but he went with it anyway.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡tears are in your eyes by yo la tengo ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: i hope i'm doing this series justice lol the ideas in my head run too wild for me to actually make note of them. please let me know what you guys think!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

this has been on my mind for a while, how would König react to a reader who was around when he was being bullied, not one of the bullies since I doubt he would forgive that even tho the sex would be nasty but like a girl who was on the side lines doing nothing and just hanging out with the bullies coming to him apologetically and wanting to make amends??

Oh what a delicious idea!

I meant to answer this with a quick reply but alas 🙄 this turned into a short drabble almost

She wasn’t one of the bullies, which means she’s not someone who König would want to actively terminate (I hc him in some of my darker fics as someone who may or may not have killed his childhood bullies... and/or his father, which means König can’t go back to Austria bc MEMORIES and also bc he has like a raging criminal record there). But she’s an onlooker, practically an enabler, and used to hang out with his bullies, oh dear. König wouldn’t be all too welcoming with her.

Chances are she was someone who König crushed on during school. Unattainable, he daydreamed about having her as his first girlfriend, but naturally that never happened... Now he’s suspicious to the point of being a little paranoid: he built a tough shell because of his past, so doe eyes and apologies won’t get you very far, even if König is intrigued. To be honest, his interest is piqued, but he won't let you see that in a million years.

Perhaps you reach out after a class meeting, some get together he never attended. You always wondered what happened to the cute, awkward nerd who sat behind you in class, the clumsy boy who talked of Rome, chivalry and knights while other boys wanted to be F1 drivers... Maybe you fantasized about asking him to help you with your history or math test, maybe you even blew him a kiss one time on dare to see if he'd walk straight into a wall (he did).

Maybe you dolled yourself up, just for him, excited to see König after over 10 years. To see if the awkward boy would still blush, to see what kind of man he has become... Chirp your regrets after a few blunts and some booze and see if he still fancied you.

But König never came. And of course he didn’t, that’s hardly a surprise. The regret within you builds until you bite the bullet and send a message to his old number, and after a few months, a reply finally arrives, but it’s not the most genial one.

König wants to meet you though… And the man, the thing he has become, makes it clear that he's not the shy awkward boy anymore.

You spend the whole evening trying to get over the sheer size of him, the lack of shaking hands, the distant cold stare with which he looks down at you. The fact that he works as a mercenary, that the boy who never hit anyone now kills people for money... The fact that he looks like someone who could wipe the floor with the young men you used to think were kinda cool.

König, however, is trying to decide what you want from him. Do you still think he’s a loser who never hit back because he wanted to be the better person? Do you think he’s a good for nothing man, even now, upon seeing that he finally succumbed to his hate?

Why do you even want to apologize after all these years?

Do you want an official pardon so that you can sleep your nights better? Or do you want to gawk at him because he chose to skip that stupid get together, perhaps gossip about him to the others and see if you could still find something to laugh at?

He’s the perfect gentleman during your “date”, offers to pay for the food and wishes you all the best. You can see the hurt in his eyes, of course – he wants to make you feel even worse about yourself by being such a good joe, so you break before him when he tries to leave, apologizing again, even crying in front of him.

“I just wanted to know if you’re happy,” you say. “I just hope that everything’s alright now…”

You lay your whole heart out in front of this man, but he's not the boy you used to know, not anymore.

He doesn’t tell you that he’s not happy; he never was. Neither does he heed the wishes of his darker self, wanting to tell you that he’d be happy for a while if you blew him in the restroom. He’s fucking better than that.

“We were just kids,” he says instead.

And that’s it: that’s the apology. But you can’t let him go, and neither can he, not when you humbly decided to come and rip all his wounds open.

Cue to a few months from the first date, you’re neck deep in love with him while König tells himself he’s only having fun. You could say he’s using you for sex; yes, he’s just dating this chick from high school... You’re just someone he comes to fuck and cuddle during leaves. It's nothing serious, no. He can do without serious for a while.

And he’s not going to fall for your charms, no matter how sweet, authentic and loving you are... You make yourself so fucking easy to love, but he's not going to fall for that. Any other woman he'd worship, but not you.

Not you.

Not you…

[norizzsainz]

🌶️ NFY : ALL TOO MUCH FOR LITTLE LANDO

[ carlos sainz x singer!fem!reader ] [ wc ] 0.7k words

[ summary ] carlos' and y/n's breakup comes as a surprise to many of their friends. no one ever thought the couple would ever break up, but alas, y/n was always ready to do whatever was best for the love of her life — even if it meant breaking up with him.

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━━━━━━━ DECEMBER 20, 2023

it was all too much for little lando norris.

when the brunet finally brought alexandra’s plan to life, he clearly forgot the fact that you were the most stubborn person in the entire universe.

the fact you were drunk didn’t change your mindset; if you were hell-bent on avoiding carlos, so be it, even when you had downed several bottles of alcohol.

the car ride back home was absolutely silent, with lando sitting in the backseat in hopes you and carlos would converse when in the front seats.

but nope, nothing at all. not a sound from you.

“are you seriously going to ignore me?” carlos asked you as you continued to look out the window. “you know i can drive you anywhere i want since i’m the only non-drunk person in this car right now?”

you scoffed. “was that a threat?” you turned towards him, narrowing your eyes.

carlos shrugged. “and what if it was?” he challenged, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“i’d expect nothing less, considering you are the son of carlos sainz sr.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you bit your lip, regretting your choice of words. “nothing. i misspoke,” you muttered, your voice dropping low into a whisper.

lando noted the way your face dropped, quickly intervening to change the topic. “could we get some food? i’d love me some food right now. can we do mcdonalds?” he asked, putting his head between your seats as he looked at carlos.

“give me a minute, lando.” carlos gently pushed aside the brunet as he brought the car to a stop, staring at you. “talk to me, carina. what did you mean by that?”

you played with your hands as you tried not to focus on his words, cursing yourself for letting your words slip.

“i’d really like some food, carlos. i’m starving here. what if i die?”

“starvation will not be the only thing that’ll kill you if you don’t keep shut, lando.”

lando leaned back in his seat, lips sealed shut, as he saw the warning gaze in his best friend's eyes.

what the fuck have i done? i never should've listened to xandra. this was a stupid plan.

you flinched as carlos touched your arm, trying to get you to look at him. you remained silent despite his pleas, your heart faltering at his tired tone.

“we both know this is a shit situation, amor. why can't you explain all this to me?” carlos asked in a defeated voice. “please tell me what the fuck is happening.”

“it’s nothing, really. just drop me home, carlos. please.”

carlos sighed. “y/n, you can’t keep avoiding—” his words fizzled out upon seeing tears fall onto your lap.

you kept your head down, not daring to look up as the tears continued to fall. no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep the tears in.

you hated this more than anything — crying in front of carlos.

but the more silent it was inside the car, the more your thoughts went wild, only giving you more reasons to cry as you thought about everything.

he doesn’t have to know the truth. i’m tired of everything. why did this even have to happen? i hate this.

your door was opened, revealing lando with a concerned look on his face. “go to the back seat, y/n. i’ll sit here,” he stated, and you were never more grateful for his intervention.

you quickly got out of the front seat, moving to sit at the back. carlos remained silent as lando took a seat in the front, looking at you through the rearview mirror.

“hermosa, i don’t know what’s going on but–”

lando cleared his throat, interrupting the elder male. he gestured towards the road, brows furrowed as he frowned at him.

“she doesn’t want to talk right now. i’d appreciate it if you just dropped this conversation and took us home.”

carlos let out a deep breath, nodding gently. “yeah, sure. i’m sorry for the questions. let’s just go home,” he mumbled apologetically.

once the car was in motion, lando leaned back, letting out an inaudible sigh of relief. he somewhat successfully managed to avoid a shitshow, and it was all that mattered to him.

it was really all too much for little lando norris.

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[chaniceroses]

Bad Boys Ride or Die (Armando x Reader) Part FIVE

(Audio to listen to while reading. :)

Pulling into the driveway, there was a thick dreadful moment of tension in the car. “Would you like us to come in and check it out for you. "Mike asked, looking at you through his mirror. You shook your head and got out of the car, the world felt dark and every shadow that was near the trees reminded you of the guy in the van. It took you a while but eventually you were able to unlock your door. Once you turned around and gave Mike a small smile, they pulled out the driveway and left.

Grabbing your gun from the holster that was wrapped around your leg. You went inside to be met by multiple figures inside your living room. Before you could respond, you found yourself on the ground with a pounding feeling coming from the back of your head. Your vision was blurry and the room was spinning.

“What the fuck.”, you whispered trying to pull yourself off the ground. You watched as a man walked up to you and kneeled down to your level.

“You know I've missed you, right?”, he laughed, picking you up and setting you in a chair. You thought to yourself, maybe you should’ve asked Marcus and Mike to search your house, then again, someone still needs to be alive to prove Captain’s innocence. 

“What do you want?”, you sighed, holding the back of your head. You felt a warm substance on your head, and could feel chills move across your body. Blood.

“I hate it has to be this way. Especially between us.”, a hard rugged voice replied sitting right in front of you. You could see the lights being turned on, which made it hard for your eyes to be adjusted. Once your vision became clear, there he was. Sitting in front of you with a smile that could haunt you even in death.

“McGrath,”you muttered. Your eyes-widened in shock, what is he doing? Why was he doing all of this?

“You’ve finally recognized me. I was hoping you wouldn’t forget who I was or my name.”, he stated caressing his hand across your face. You threw your head back in rejection, which quickly made you regret doing that.

“I know you didn’t think I would forget about you and the things you did to me. Having me tortured…nearly killed years ago.”, he explained getting up from in front of you.

Memories started coming back from that night. Watching him and his team getting beaten by the Cartel. You had no choice, you were undercover and accidentally fell in love with him but had to choose your career. The only difference is, that you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place.

“McGrath, you know that I didn’t want to do that!”, you exhaustingly yelled. “I had no choice, they were my family too. I have no one now.”, you continued. 

“And whose fault is that?”

You threw your head back in defeat, he had a reason to feel that way. You put yourself first instead of him, the person you had loved. He had helped you get to where you are now and showed you the way. All you could do was stare at him, the way his short gray hair stood up and the way he caressed his goatee mustache while being deep in thought.

“I cared about you then…and still do now but that shit doesn’t even matter.”, he continued standing up and walking to the backroom. You watched as he went down your hallway, what was he doing. Suddenly you heard a loud cry from your room. 

“McGrath!”, you screamed in terror. The cries were getting louder and louder each step that was taken. You watched intensively to see who it was and when you saw him, your heart dropped. 

“LadyBug…”, you cried, feeling a tear come down your face. “McGrath, please.”, you pleaded slowly, trying to get up from your seat only to be pushed back down by one of McGrath’s workers.

“McGrath, kill me. Please!”, you begged. “Kill me, he’s done nothing.” You watched as McGrath’s face softened while looking at you. 

“I hate that in order for me to see you care for someone, is like this.”, he replied, keeping his grip tight on LadyBug while grabbing a pillow.

“The money is in his computer file, you know that already so why are you doing this.”, you replied hysterically. At this point your vision was blurry from crying and you forgot all about the pain on your side and neck. McGrath was sinister and believed in revenge. You knew that he would take LadyBug out because you cared about him. You had to figure something out.

“Let me help you.”, you sighed looking around at his workers then back to McGrath. “Please, I can help you. You know I can.” You slowly got up but before you could take a step, his assistants grabbed your shoulders.

“Let her come.”, McGrath demanded, holding the pillow behind LadyBug’s head. 

You walked up to LadyBug and stared at him. 

“Home. Late.”, he quietly replied,  pointing towards the clock. When you turn to look at the clock and then the window, that’s when you put two-and-two together. 

“You’ve been in my home the whole time?”, you sobbed looking at McGrath. There was anger and pure hatred in his eyes while he looked at you. You could feel it however, you felt the same. You grabbed LadyBug’s hand and started to caress it with your fingers. You knew if you were to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that would be a lie. So all you could do was wipe his tears.

“Mc…McGrath. Take me, kill me, torture me. Do whatever.”, you stuttered, swallowing a lump that you didn’t know that was developed in your throat. You watched as he searched your eyes for an answer.

“You look so beautiful when you cry y/n.”,he heckled, taking his other hand to hold up your chin.

You stared at each other for what felt like forever, until you felt your ears begin to  ring. You felt yourself holding onto something but afraid to look down to see what it was. No more tears could fall down, you felt empty.

“I still love you.”, McGrath smiled, kissing you on top of your forehead. For that kissing placement to be such a soft gesture, it felt hot, hard and evil. You stood there holding onto whatever was in your hands as McGrath grabbed his things and headed towards the door.

“I want Mike, Marcus and Armando. You have some decisions to be making so I'll be saving you for last.”, he continued opening up your front door and holding it for the others to walk out. You felt alone, for the very first time ever. First you had to make a decision when it came to your career however, now this is different.

“I won’t be coming home, so don’t wait up for me but make sure you clean up.”, he sarcastically said, looking at you one more time before closing the door. 

“LadyBug…I-”, you stuttered, holding his body up towards your chest. You could feel his body leaning against yours. You kneeled down until you were able to completely sit on the ground while holding his body to ensure that he wouldn’t get hurt.

“My badge…LadyBug, I can…my badge.”, you silently repeated. You were afraid to look down, to see his lifeless body being held in your arms. From the little boy that would come over your house, talk and eat with you everyday, and play in your yard to now being  dead is  in your arms. The boy who would stay up and hike out in a tall tree to be sure that you would make it home every night. The little boy with the sweetest spirit and the most soft spoken voice, was now dead while you held him ,lifeless.

You finally got the courage to look down to see that one of his lenses in his glasses was broken. He was covered in bruises and blood was coming from the top of his head.

“LadyBug, I’m so sorry LadyBug!! I’m so sorry!”, you screamed, grabbing his body and holding him tighter than before. Hours had passed since McGrath had killed LadyBug and you were still on the ground holding LadyBug close to your chest, until you heard a knock on the door.

“Help me!”, you loudly whispered, pushing LadyBug’s hair out of his face.

You watched as your door was kicked open and saw Marcus and Mike rush in. They stopped in their tracks and examined your living room until they saw you on the ground holding LadyBug.

“Y/N, WHAT THE HELL…”, Mike yelled running over towards him. 

“He came, he came…and he killed LadyBug, he killed him. He came! McGrath!”, you whispered repeatedly rocking LadyBug back and forth. 

“Y/n we have to call for help. Let us help-”

“NO! We leave him here! We have to kill him, we have to kill him before he kills us and Armando. We need Armando, I need him.”, you yelled looking at Marcus and Mike. They had a concerning look on their face.

“Why do you need Armando?”Marcus replied, coming closer to you. At first you were hesitant but now everything must go out on the table,

“It’s a long story.”, you sighed, sniffing the snot that was trying to come out of your nose. “We have to leave now, help me”, you pleaded, falling into Mike’s arm while holding LadyBug’s in yours. You watched as Marcus carefully picked up LadyBug’s body and carefully laid him on the couch and covered him. 

“Come here…”, Mike whispered, picking you softly bridal style. You winced in pain from the bruise on your side but soon found yourself comfortably in Mike’s arm.

“I couldn’t get my things, I couldn’t save him Mike.”, you cried as Mike carried you to his car.

“It’s not your fault, y/n. We will catch that son of a bitch. I promise you that.”, he replied, taking off his jacket and covering you with it.

You thought things would change and be different. If you would’ve known that McGrath would’ve come back and chased, you like a dog and caused all of these problems.  You would’ve killed him years ago, to avoid all of this, especially Ladybug’s death.  Your mind felt cold, and you wanted to be sure that McGrath saw the pits of hell. His death belonged to you, and you were sure you were going to get it. That was the last thing on your mind before you passed out.