#I saw a victorious clip and had to

[curiouslymyown]

Pandora: my names Panda

Regulus: oh like the animal

Pandora: what’s that supposed to mean???!!

Regulus: nothing I- I love pandas

Pandora: me too! They’re so cute and silly!

Pandora:

Pandora: *leaves*

Regulus: ????

[l4ndonorizz]

falling in love in 4k - lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

warnings: none

song: Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein - The first I love you

summary: Lando falling in love with a reporter in 4k

wc: 1.1k

The event was buzzing with energy as you moved through the crowd, mic in hand, ready to ask the next set of questions. You’d been working as a motorsport reporter for a while now, but something about this event felt different—mostly because Lando Norris was in attendance.

He caught your eye as you approached him, his signature smile in place, but there was something different about the way he looked at you.

“Hey, Lando! Ready for a few questions?” you asked with a grin, trying to keep things professional. You’d interviewed him before, but lately, the interviews had started to feel more personal—like the way he lingered after your questions, as if waiting for more than just the next topic.

“Always,” he replied, flashing that familiar grin. But his eyes weren’t just on you—they were locked on you. Not in the usual way drivers look at reporters, but in a way that made your stomach flip.

As the camera crew got ready, you could feel the subtle tension building. You weren’t imagining things, right? The way he was looking at you—there was no mistaking it.

“Alright, Lando, let’s start with how you’re feeling about the upcoming race…”

He answered, of course, but as the conversation flowed, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze softened when you spoke, or how his smile grew whenever your name came up in the conversation. It was like he wasn’t just talking to a reporter; he was talking to you.

Later, when the interview was over and you moved to the next person, you could feel Lando’s eyes lingering on you. It made your cheeks flush, and you tried to shake off the feeling.

But it wasn’t long before the internet caught on.

After the interview aired, clips of Lando staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room started circulating on Twitter. Fans started making jokes, sharing memes with captions like, “Lando Norris falling in love in 4K,” and “Lando’s got heart eyes for the reporter.”

It wasn’t just a one-time thing either. Every interview, every interaction you had with him seemed to fuel the rumors. Fans were quick to point out how his demeanor changed whenever you were around, and soon enough, the jokes started piling up.

And as much as you tried to laugh it off, every time you saw Lando after that, the way he looked at you only confirmed what the internet had already guessed—he was falling for you. Hard.

The Miami Grand Prix was no exception. The heat, the energy, the roaring crowd—it all seemed to amplify everything, especially the undeniable chemistry between you and Lando. You’d been assigned to cover post-race interviews, and after Lando’s stellar performance, the adrenaline was still coursing through both of you.

You weaved through the bustling pit lane, making your way to Lando, who was already surrounded by his team, celebrating the victory. His face was lit up with pure joy, and when his eyes finally met yours, you felt a flutter in your chest. He broke away from the group, wiping the sweat from his brow, and beelined towards you.

“Congrats, Lando! How does it feel to win in Miami?” you asked, holding the mic up to him, keeping your voice professional, even though inside, your heart was racing.

He was still panting from the race, the adrenaline clear in his eyes as he grinned, but there was something else—something more intense in the way he looked at you.

“It feels… unreal,” he said, running a hand through his damp hair. “The car was amazing, the strategy was spot on, and Miami… well, it’s always got that extra bit of magic.”

You laughed softly, catching the spark in his eyes. “You sure it’s just Miami, or are you feeling that post-race high?”

Lando chuckled, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s the win and… something else.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, feeling a little heat rise to your cheeks. “Care to elaborate?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make it more personal, more intimate. “I think you already know.”

The crowd around you was buzzing, but it felt like the world had faded for a second, leaving just the two of you standing there, the tension thickening between you. You couldn’t help but smile, the air between you charged with something that wasn’t just post-race excitement anymore.

And then, as you were about to pull away to wrap up the interview, Lando suddenly grabbed the mic, still smiling but with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Actually, there’s one more thing,” he said, his voice clear, but you could see the adrenaline coursing through him as his words tumbled out.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What’s that?”

“In all this excitement… I almost forgot to ask,” he said, turning to look directly into the camera, still holding the mic. “How would you feel about going on a date with me?”

Your eyes widened, and the pit lane erupted in gasps and laughter. You were live on air, every viewer watching this unfold in real time. Lando’s grin widened as the shock registered on your face, but you could see the genuine hope behind the teasing. He wasn’t just messing around—he was serious.

You blinked, momentarily speechless as the cameras zoomed in on both of you. The world seemed to freeze, all eyes on you, waiting for your answer. You could feel the tension in the air, but all you could focus on was Lando, his expectant smile, and the pounding in your chest.

“I—uh, I think… I think I could be convinced,” you finally said, trying to keep your voice steady, but you couldn’t hide the smile that spread across your face.

The crowd burst into cheers, and Lando, clearly riding the high of both the race and your answer, laughed, running a hand through his hair again. “Well, that’s a yes, then!”

He handed the mic back to you with a triumphant grin, winking as he stepped back into the crowd of his team. You stood there, your mind racing as the reality of what had just happened sunk in.

The internet would have a field day with this. But right now, all you could think about was how you’d just agreed to go on a date with Lando Norris—live, on air. And from the look on his face, this was only the beginning.

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Kiss Me More (M)

★ PAIRING: Doyoung x reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 3k

★ GENRE(S): smut, established relationship

☆ SUMMARY: You withhold kisses from Doyoung when your mad at him and it drives him nuts.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: explicit sexual intercourse, dry humping

unprotected sex, mature, cunnilingus, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: This is based off a clip I saw of Doyoung where he was at somebody's house and the husband was basically talking about how he and his wife don't kiss, and Doyoung was like “but you guys have kids together??” That man was shocked. This just got me thinking that Doyoung would not be able to wrap his head around not being able to kiss you. If anyone can find this clip ill be in your debt.

(\ (\

(„• ֊ •„)

━O━O━━━━━━━━━

He hated when you got like this. 

The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the streets as the car moved, trees and buildings blurring as you stared out the window. You sat in the passenger seat of his car with your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asked with a sigh, reaching out to wrestle one for your hands free to intertwine it with his, trying to coax you back from whatever place you’d retreated to.

He didn't care how pissy you got, that wasn't going to stop him from loving on you. “Hmm?” he prompted again, searching your face for a response.

You didn’t reply, but you didn’t pull away either, which he took as a small victory. 

“Baby,” he said, his tone shifting to something a little more serious. “You can’t seriously be mad at me for not letting you bring that dog home.” He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. He had definitely reopened a healing wound by bringing up the topic again too soon. You pulled your hand away from his.

He focused back on the road, thumbs drumming rhythmically against the steering wheel as he tried to fill the silence. He could see the slight tension in your jawline, the way you completely turned your body away from him. It was a tell-tale sign that he had pissed you off. 

“It's just a dog,” he added, trying to alleviate the tension, but he knew better than to underestimate how much it meant to you. “We can get one later, you know right now isn’t a good time.” His heart raced with hope as he prayed he was finding the right words to soothe your irritation. 

He sighs when you remain silent. “You’ll get over it,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, but the uncertainty crept in.

You in fact did not get over it. 

To an outsider looking in, everything probably seemed like peaches and cream. The afternoon light streamed through the windows of the café that you sat in, laughter bubbled up from nearby tables. 

It was in fact not peaches and cream as far as Doyoung was concerned. He prided himself on knowing you inside and out, and despite your numerous attempts to assure him that you weren’t upset anymore, the flicker behind your eyes told a different story.

It had been about a week since that tense car ride, and while you weren’t childish enough to hold a grudge outwardly over something so seemingly trivial, you were certainly childish enough to nurse a small internal one. Doyoung tried not to worry, he knew that in about a week, you would officially let it go.

The only issue was that you were driving him insane in the meantime. 

Earlier that day, when you visited the shopping district, you had smoothly dodged one of his kisses. He wasn’t one for PDA anyway but all he had wanted was to leave a sweet little peck to your temple. When you had pulled away too quickly to “look at the mugs,” he instantly knew what games you were playing.

Doyoung hated your games because he was always the one who ended up losing. He didn't have many weaknesses when it came to you; he couldn’t afford to, considering how much he had already let you get away with. But there was one undeniable weakness: your kisses. 

So it was no surprise that when you had discovered this vulnerability, you instantly started to use it to your advantage. 

Want a new purse? Butter him up with a really long, deep, intimate kiss that left him breathless. 

Need more allowance? Just trail a few kisses up his long delicate neck, plant a teasing hickey behind his ear, and you’d have him wrapped around your finger.

He was fully convinced he would die without your kisses. it was the air that he breathed. He loved the way your lips felt against him. It was as if you held a power to bring him to his knees. Without your kisses, he felt a kind of withdrawal setting in. He needed your lips on him or his on you. He didn’t care how it happened, he just needed it.

 It had been days since you had initiated a kiss, and he was too prideful to make a move after you had snubbed him earlier in the store.

“Are you listening, Doie?” you said, kicking his leg beneath the small table, drawing him back to the moment.

You sat across from him as you enjoyed your lunch, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off your lips. You had just bitten into a croissant, and the buttery sheen clung to your mouth, sending his imagination spiraling. He was lost in thoughts of pressing his lips against yours, licking the sweet taste of croissant from your lips, until your playful kick brought him crashing back to earth. 

“Sorry, it’s just a little noisy here. What did you say?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“I said your coffee is getting cold,” you replied with a slight smirk. “They brought it a moment ago, and you haven’t even touched it yet.” 

Doyoung sighed lightly, running a hand through his hair, the tension between you humming like a live wire. “Right, the coffee,” he said, forcing a smile as he picked up the cup. He took a sip, your gaze never wavered, a playful challenge dancing in your eyes.

“What's on your mind babe?” you ask knowingly.

“I know what you're up to. Do you really think I don’t notice when you’re playing these games?” he asked, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned closer, his heart racing as the distance between you shrank. He hated that he was so close to you yet so far away. 

“Games? I’m just enjoying my lunch, Doie,” you replied innocently, though your lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“You’re definitely playing games,” he countered. “And you know I can’t resist you.”

You reach over and take a sip of his coffee, making sure to lick your lips deviously after. You lean back in your chair, eyes sparkling with amusement. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you were loving every minute of it.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

—

You were going out tonight, and he didn’t know how much more he could take. You had put on his favorite lip combo, the one that drove him crazy. Your lips looked plush and glossy, drawing his gaze like a magnet. 

As you stood before the floor-length mirror, you couldn't help but steal another glance at yourself. Satisfied with the way your outfit came together, you admire your reflection. But your thoughts  were interrupted by the presence of someone behind you.

Doyoung stood in the middle of the room, clad in his signature laid-back attire: sweatpants and an oversized sweater. His arms were crossed, shaking his head in disapproval as his gaze locked onto yours in the mirror. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, the gesture only adding to the adorably stern expression on his face.

You couldn't help the light chuckle that escapes at the sight. "What's wrong, babe?" you asked, walking over and wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning into him playfully.

He stuttered on his response, his voice faltering as your face moved mere inches from his. Your sweet scent enveloped him, and he felt himself leaning in closer. You bit your lip and looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat. Truth be told, you weren’t even mad anymore; it was impossible to stay upset at Doyoung. You felt weak when he gave you that look—the one that made him resemble a sad little bunny. His eyes round, and his brows furrowed slightly as he looked enchanted by the way you bit your lip. He looked pathetic.

“I asked you a question, baby,” you whisper, a breath away from his lips.

“Please,” he pleads breathlessly.

You knew you had him right where you wanted him. You don’t know what came over you but you can't resist pressing your lips to his in a quick peck. The groan that left his lips was almost pitiful. He immediately tried to chase after your lips, but you stepped out of his embrace.

“Sorry baby, the girls are waiting.”

—

It wasn’t until later that night that you stumbled back in the apartment you shared with Doyoung. The worst of your drunken haze was over, but the high heels clinging to your feet didn't do much for your coordination. You tried to be quiet as you slipped inside, not wanting to wake your boyfriend.

As you walked into your room, you noticed the bedside lamp still on. Doyoung was sitting up in bed, engrossed in whatever book had captured his attention. You had told him not to wait up but he never listened, he couldn't sleep until he knew you made it back home safe. You loved watching him like this—so serious, so focused. There was always a soft spot in your heart for him when he wore his glasses; it made him look like the cutest little bunny you had ever laid eyes on.

You stifled a few giggles that escaped your lips, and Doyoung’s head snapped up at the sound. A smile broke across his face as he looked you up and down. You shuffled over to the bed with a yawn and collapsed onto the mattress face-first, burying yourself in the pillows 

“Need some help, love?”  Doyoung chuckled. 

You nod into the sheets, not caring if your make up smudges. He slid out of bed with practiced ease. You roll over when he knelt at your feet, his hands wrapping around your ankles, and tugged gently. The heels came off one by one, and you let out a relieved sigh as he discarded them to the floor.

His lips brushed against your ankle, feather-light, and you tensed. Warmth. It spread up your leg like wildfire as he kissed his way up your shin, then your knee, each press of his mouth sending little jolts of electricity through you. You hadn’t realized how touch starved you were until now.

You're pulled out of your trance when his lips leave your body. He stood and stalked over to the bathroom to run you a bath. When he comes back he lifts you off the bed. “Come on, rabbit,” he murmured. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You didn’t protest as he led you to the bathroom, where steam already curled from the bathtub. He undressed you, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you shiver. He washed away the remnants of the night, scrubbing the makeup from your face and running a sponge over your body until you were squeaky clean. Finally, he wrapped you in a towel and helped you into fresh pajamas.

Once you were both back in bed, you expected sleep to come easily. But it didn’t. Your mind raced, replaying the way his lips had felt against your skin. Your legs pressed together instinctively, and you shifted restlessly beside him.

Doyoung stirred, grumbling something unintelligible as he pulled you closer. His arm draped over your waist, anchoring you to him. You turned in his grasp, your eyes tracing the lines of his chest, the curve of his collarbone, the dip of his throat. And then your gaze landed on his lips—soft, slightly parted, and so close.

That’s when you noticed he was awake. His dark eyes watched you, hooded and half-lidded, but there was no mistaking the intensity in them. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

Doyoung didn’t say a word. He simply leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was long overdue—a week and three days overdue, to be exact (he’d counted).

It started slow, Doyoung was still a little asleep but once the fog from his brain cleared he leaned into the kiss, deepening it. You kiss him back with all the pent-up frustration and longing of the past few days. His tongue swept into your mouth, coaxing yours to dance with his. You moaned softly, your hands fisting in the sheets as he pressed his body into yours. You sink deeper into the mattress.

His hands cradled your face, holding you steady as he kissed you again and again, each one more desperate than the last. You tried to pull back to catch your breath, but he chased you, whining low in his throat as he claimed your lips once more.

“Doyoung,” you gasped.

He nods his head, a soft "hmm" escaping him before he lips crushing against yours again.

His ass was not listening.

His kisses were messy and wet, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before laving it with his tongue. when he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. His chest heaved as he stared down at you. Its isn't long at all until his lips find their way back onto your skin

He sucked and licked at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving bruises in his wake. The vibrations of his groans sent shivers down your spine, and you arched into him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Doyoung,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I need you, I can’t wait”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “You’ve been driving me crazy for days, rabbit. Don’t rush me.” He says sternly. He was going to take his time with you. He still had a few other places he hadn’t kissed yet.

He situates himself between your legs. His hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head before tossing it aside. His lips trailed down your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. 

Your hips bucked involuntarily, and Doyoung groaned against your skin, his hips grinding down into your warm core. He drags his hips up slowly making you shiver. You breath hitches as he pushes his hips into yours over and over.

He pulls away from you, eyes raking down your body, taking in the bruises that litter your skin. He bites his lips when he looks between your bodies. He watches as he grinds into you and moans when he sees that wet spot forming in your panties. 

his hand slid between your thighs. “All over a little kissing?” His fingers teasing the soaked fabric of your panties. “Guess I wasn't the only one affected.”

Your breath catching as he hooked his fingers into the hem of your underwear and tugged them down. His touch was electric as he stroked you, his thumb circling your clit while his fingers dipped inside you.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your head falling back against the pillows. “Doyoung, please—”

“Please what?” he asked, his voice rough. “Didn’t I tell you not to rush me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with another searing kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as his fingers curled inside you. Your back arched, your nails raking down his back as pleasure coiled tight in your belly.

“Doyoung,” you gasped, breaking the kiss. “I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he said firmly, withdrawing his fingers. You whimpered in protest. “If I had to wait so can you.”

He slips down the bed until his head is between your legs and when you finally meet his eyes, they were already glazed over, dark and hooded, completely lost in the thought of what he was about to do. He was pussy drunk before his mouth even touched you.

His tongue slipped out lazily, teasing at first, a slow drag along your folds that had your back arching off the mattress. He groaned, low and guttural, as if he couldn’t believe how good you tasted—like he’d been starving for this. His lips wrapped around your clit with a desperation that made your toes curl, his tongue flicking against it in a cruel rhythm. You couldn’t look at him. The intensity in his eyes was too much, too raw. With a wet pop, he pulled back briefly, his breath hot against your slick skin, before diving back in with a hunger that left you gasping.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your voice trembling as his fingers joined the fray, replacing his lips. His fingers rub slow circles against your clit while his tongue moved to pushed deep into your dripping cunt.

His tongue curled inside you, his fingers moved faster now, a blur of motion that had your thighs trembling, your hands clutching at the sheets for an anchor.

“Enough, Doie…please,” you whimpered, voice cracking at the end. But he didn’t stop, instead licking into you until you were squirming beneath him, half trying to push him away and half desperate to pull him closer. Your hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his messy hair as you tugged. His fingers leave you clit and find purchase wrapped around your thighs to keep you pinned. The lower half of his face is soaked and you don't miss the way his hips rut against the mattress. He presses his tongue flat against your clit urging you to ride his face.

“Doie—!” you cried, your hips thrusting wildly, chasing your orgasm even as the overstimulation threatened to overwhelm you. It was too much but you couldn’t stop.

Your body went rigid, heels digging into the mattress as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you weak and trembling in its wake. He let go reluctantly, his lips pressing one last kiss to your sensitive core before he sat back on his knees, chest heaving as he watched you. His eyes were nearly black, pupils blown wide with desire. The sight of him, flushed and panting and hard in his grey sweats, sent another pulse of warmth pooling between your legs.

“You’re not done yet,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Not even close.”

He lines himself up at your entrance and when he finally sank into you, you both moaned in unison. He was relentless, his hips snapping against yours as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. His hands couldn't keep still his touch spreading across your body. It was everything and all too much. You bury your face in the pillows and your back arches when he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. His hand reaches out to grip your cheeks forcing you to look at him until his lips find yours again, swallowing your cries as you come beneath him.

“Tell me you want it,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

You fight through the sensitivity, “I—I want it,” you stammered wanting him to fill you up. 

His strokes get longer, he presses into you slow and deep. He needed you to feel all of him. He needed to drive you crazy, just like you had done to him. You whine and clench down tight around him. You reach out for him, needing him closer. Your leg falls from his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him close until your chest to chest. Your legs wrap around his waist and your heels dig into his lower back until he's fucking you harder. His head drops into your neck with a groan. A few more deep plunges of his hips has him spilling inside you. He leans back and rests his forehead against yours as you both ride out the waves of pleasure.

When he finally pulled away, you were both drenched in sweat, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Doyoung collapsed onto the bed beside you, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“For the record, I’m not mad about the dog anymore,” you said with a sheepish smile, letting out a soft huff of laughter. You had already known he was right; you and Doyoung didn’t really have the time or space for a dog right now, but you’d never admit it to him.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Took you a week to get over it.”

You grinned, your fingers trailing down his chest. “And yet, here you are.”

He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Here I am.”

[coddda]

Everyone knows that Light and L matched each other's freak but I think their dynamic in the musical (the Japanese ver specifically) is underrated. Like it's not super different from canon but they just had this extra edge of Violence that we never quite saw from the more methodical and careful mindgames in canon death note and I think it's great. Like, yes, they did declare in canon that they will bring each other to justice, yes L says he wants to send Kira to his execution, but in the lyrics of the musical they both outright say multiple times that they just want to straight up Kill each other. It's direct the whole way through. There's more mutual contempt. This game is about nothing more than simply being the first one to Kill the Other (they actually use the word "殺し合い" (koroshiau) or "to kill each other" to describe their game (translated as "murderous ... game")).

(Sidenote but all those references about wanting to send each other to Hell?? Beautiful)

Yeah this is a battle of justice and ideals, yes that clash is a key part of their final confrontation at the end of the musical, but throughout their duets (or even songs like The Game Begins where they're singing by themselves) there's this near singleminded desire to just fucking End each other. It's fucking Raw and it's great.

Also THIS FUCKING SCENE?? THIS SCENE FROM SECRETS AND LIES. Iconic. Actually Insane. My jaw dropped. Light looks like a crazy bitch it's beautiful.

Um. Also. Obligatory Playing His Game (yknow the gay sex song) lines dump. It basically says everything I just said above in like 9 lines. You see what I mean right.

In canon they're playing a game of mental chess, trying to use everyone around them to finally catch the other as their end goal, but in the musical you really do feel like all they see is each other. They would probably beat each other to death with their fists if it came down to that. Idk they're just so excited and fired up about their little game in the musical and it's so unhinged and fun and special and I love it. It's like the writers for the musical decided to kick their murderous intent up a couple notches and the result is absolutely Beautiful.

I also think that the intensity of their rivalry in the beginning just makes the wind-down of The Way It Ends soo much better. It's such a good contrast to their previous duets where they try to sing over each other (Secrets and Lies & Stalemate) or with each other but basically at the top of their lungs (Playing His Game). It feels like there's both a quiet mutual understanding but also an underlying disappointment that the game is finally over. In canon, L's death Is instead the peak of their game, the moment he gets confirmation that Light is Kira is the exact same moment that he dies. In the jdrama it's almost sudden, how L dies, after the quiet moment has already passed. But in the musical L's death, ironically, Is the one quieter moment in their game. Their peak was the game itself. It was Secrets and Lies and Playing His Game. But the end of the game in the musical is not a victory, it's just (as L says) the end of everything they'd been wanting up until this point.

Uh. Fuck it. Clip from the Kenji Urai version because I just love his delivery here. His tone just goes so well with the silence and the sound of the clock ticking. You see what I mean right.

Their rivalry in the musical may have been more shortlived but like Damn they were really enjoying every second of it. They were truly insane about each other until the very end. (Like despite everything I just said about the ending it was still unhinged as fuck. Light Making L Shoot Him and then Making L Shoot Himself with L's Own Hand?? Holy shit man. What the fuck /pos)

Musical Light and L your game might've been shorter but you'll always be famous <33 Please never inflict what you had on anyone else ever please stay in hell forever thank you

[bellawoso]

everywhere

aitana bonmati x reader

a/n : the sleeveless training top kills me every time i see it

aitana had been obsessed impressed with you ever since the 2021 games of barcelona vs arsenal, although she knew that she should be overcome by feelings of pride for her teams winnings, she couldnt help but let her small crush on you get in the way of her celebrations.

sure she was tired after the match, but so was everyone else, and they still managed to have a night out in the london bars. aitana however, spent all night stalking your instagram account on a random fake account she had, normal behaviour right?

after the 2022 euros knockout match, where england were victorious, aitanas crush which she thought was gone, came back even bigger when instead of immediately celebrating with your teammates, you instead went to the nearest spanish player to you, which happened to be the spaniard herself, and started consoling her. your hand on her back made her skin tingle, and momentarily she almost forgot about the loss when you whispered into her ear how she played a good game, before bringing her in for a warm embrace. aitana didnt waste the chance of wrapping her arms round your waist as yours went around her neck.

the brunette wouldnt be surprised if she dropped down with a heart attack right there when you requested for a shirt swap, with you both being number 6 nationally. seeing her name sprawled across your back definitely didnt ease her racing heart or her flushed cheeks.

———

the next time you saw the spaniard was at the world cup final, although you were out with your ACL injury at the time, you still wouldnt miss this match for the world. as soon as england lost you were straight onto the pitch, comforting your national teammates, who were about to see spain being crowned world champions.

you were just about to go talk to lucy, a close friend of yours from national camps, until aitana stepped in your path. you had grown quite fond of the girl, despite the fact you had never played for the same teams, you both respected each other greatly, and often congratulated each other through instagram of the others achievements. you werent quite ready for the girl stepping out in front of you, you were still on crutches, almost ready to come off them, the spaniard just clipped your crutch with her boot causing you to tumble forward slightly. luckily the brunette was ready to catch you, her strong arms gripping onto your waist whilst she repeated “lo siento” and lectured her self in spanish, until you cut her off “hola aita, good game you deserve this so much, i know how hard you worked to get here.”

“ah yes- gracias y/n, i am upset you dont play today, im sure you would have made a difference” aitana managed to get out, in slightly broken english but you found it extremely endearing.

“yes i am sad too, but i will be back for the euros before you know it! so, balon d’or huh?” you said with a grin, it was extremely obvious that the girl you was talking to was going to be a future balon d’or winner, despite her humble nature as she argued with you, saying there are other people who deserve it more than her.

until you cut off her rambling once again “aita it was so lovely catching up with you, but im positive all of your teammates are waiting for you to celebrate, i wouldnt want to keep you” you stated with a soft smile and a glance at ona who waited behind aitana, and seemed to have finished consoling lucy.

as aitana turned to walk away, you started walking over to lucy, painfully unaware of the extremely obvious glances aitana kept giving you over her shoulder, the spaniard prayed you didnt hear onas teasing.

———

it was around the start of december when you began playing again, helping by scoring 2 goals in the 4-1 win against chelsea. it was unsurprising how you had ended up on barcas radar, it was very unusual for a player to somehow be better than they were pre-ACL, after only just returning. it was safe to say that aitana had watched every single arsenal game since you returned, even on the ones where you didnt play, just to catch a glimpse of you on the bench. the other girls on her team had noticed this, and despite aitanas insistence that it was to keep up with the WSL and to check on laia codina, her teammates werent stupid. and it was painfully obvious every time aitanas breath hitched when you were displayed on the screen, which was quite often as you were a fan favourite.

you had also developed a bit of a fan-girling crush on the spaniard herself, it was hard not to when you saw her training pictures on her story daily, and couldnt help but wonder what you would have to do to be blessed enough to witness her training in real life.

clearly you didnt have to do much, as your manager called you one day to talk about potential transfers, one immediately stood out to you, barcelona.

it all happened very quickly in your opinion, although your manager disagreed as barcelona were actually being quite annoying with offering you a contract as they were constantly holding it until last minute. until finally they managed to sit you down with pen and paper, for you to begin your new journey with them. the media followed shortly after, barcelona and arsenal seemingly decided to just dump all of your departure and new arrival videos on every single social media platform they had.

aitana was at home when the media teams dropped your videos, immediately clicking on the notification from barcelonas instagram. she had been waiting for a while for keiras fully edited catalan interview to be posted, so she was visibly shocked when instead she was met with the sight of you in the barca home kit.

aitana definitely knew she was down bad when she couldnt fall asleep that night, her thoughts clouded of you in that stupid home kit, even better, in the barca tracksuit you had worn for your interviews.

she quickly sent you an short instagram message just to say ‘hola, welcome to barca amiga :)’ before finally managing to fall asleep.

———

your arrival was soon after, and despite your initial worry of not fitting in to the team, you soon learned that you got along fine with the girls after your first training session. from the very beginning aitana clung to you, immediately becoming your bestfriend on the team and promising to take you to all of the best hidden gems in barcelona. it was amusing to the team of how obvious aitana was being and how oblivious you were to it all.

such as the day where aitana was hit twice on the head by a football after not hearing the shout of “heads” while staring at you with heart eyes as you laughed with ona.

or when she was still running laps and warming up with keira whilst you had a 1 v 1 with lucy, and she ran into a goal post. she never truly lived that one down, and the whole team new about it as she had to go down to medical with a minor concussion and miss the next match due to her headache.

the bonus was that you were too scared to leave aitana at her apartment by herself after reading up about concussions online, so you stayed with her for a week. which was longer than necessary, but aitana didnt need to know the real reason for your insistence to stay.

the most recent thing to happen was when she dropped a weight on keiras foot in the gym when she saw you walk in, looking particularly good in the training kit today, this action made the english girl snap, telling aitana to just go admit her feelings, whilst cursing under her breath and walking to the medical room for an ice pack.

lucy came up behind aitana after keira left, chuckling about the previous incident but also to reassure the spaniard “dont worry aitana, ive known y/n for ages, she likes you back, trust me” she said, making aitana nod and turn on her heels to confidently and calmly walk over to you, as you were currently near the mats with ingrid.

except this didnt happen, as aitana didnt seem very confident or calm at all as she tripped as she neared you, causing her to stumble straight into you, sending the both of you tumbling straight to the floor.

“dios mío! lo siento y/n, i dont know what happened!” you stayed on the floor laughing about what just happened, as vicky came over “i think i know what happened, aitana just fell for y/n!” the younger girl shouted for the entire gym to hear like the pest she was, causing both you and aitana to flush bright red, still on the floor.

until aitana leaned over to you “while were still down here, will you please go on a date with me?” she asked giving her best puppy dog eyes.

“i would love to aita”

———

you and aitana went on the date on saturday, the brunette had chosen for the two of you to go to a coffee shop in the little town where she was raised, you could tell just how proud and passionate she was of where she was born. at first, things were a bit awkward between the two of you, until you fell back into your usual rhythm of chatting and laughing.

except for when aitana bumped into someone she knew from her youth, and stumbled a bit over her words when introducing you, the words “shes my girl-” coming out of her mouth before blushed cut her self off and ended up blurting out “y/n, shes my y/n” with an awkward, toothy grin.

this made you burst out laughing, at aitanas newfound social awkwardness, and the strangers confusion, it was only after they walked away that you playfully bumped your shoulder against hers, saying “if you wanted to be my girlfriend you could have just asked” with a smirk.

“cállate! muy molesta-“ as she carried on with her spanish rambling making you smile at seeing her worked up state until she suddenly asked “wait were you being serious that i can ask to be your girlfriend?”

“well normally back in england we dont ask the person for permission to ask them to be our girlfriend, but whatever suits you tana!” you answered back playfully.

“fine then! i wont ask if your going to be all sarcastic about it” the older girl replied. “sure you wont aita, sure.” taking a sip from your water bottle while the brunette seemed to be giving you the silent treatment

“be my girlfriend” she suddenly stated, making you choke on your water “thats really not how we ask back in england, spain must be very different” you thought aloud.

“stop it! just confirm it with me, we are basically dating all ready!” aitana huffed in faux frustration about how annoying you were being about this. “okay, okay! i would love to be your girlfriend then aitana.” this made her grin, so you were guessing you were in the good girlfriend books at the moment.

you and aitana went on many more dates after that, the two of you fit so perfectly. although you were both extremely talented footballers, aitana was always very work focused, whereas you got bored of things like match analysis very easily. where aitana was extroverted around new people, you were usually very quiet around strangers. you both balanced each other out very well, aitana often having to help you with your match analysis, and you being the one to get aitana to bed at the right time instead of letting her rewatch the match again.

———

one thing that aitana never really seemed to grow out of was the honeymoon stage, after two months of being together openly, she really should have got used to the fact that you were hers and she was yours. however, the spaniard never quite got over the fact that the two of you were actually together, especially after crushing in you for the past couple of years.

this led to her quite literally just trailing around after you everywhere, like a lost puppy. when you finally snapped and told her to go to keira, and socialise with her friends, said lost puppy suddenly became a kicked puppy that looked like you just abandoned it on the side of the road.

“but amorrrr, i wont bother you! i promise!” she begged, giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“aitana no! you have hardly spoke to your friends all week, and although i love you, your starting to really annoy me!” you said. your girlfriend had already dropped a dumbell on your ankle after she decided she needed to do her arm workouts right next to your workout mat. she had then spilt coffee all over you, which although she claims is all okay now as she gave you her hoodie to replace your top, you never quite got over the sticky coffee feeling in your skin.

your last straw was when she decided to try trail right behind you into your meeting with jonatan and some of the other coaches, solely a checkup and a one to one meeting about things to work on in training.

“aitana no! go to keira please, i love you but this is a one on one meeting, your not allowed to be in here” you didnt leave time for her to argue as you quickly planted a kiss on her lips and went into the room, shutting the door straight behind you.

you were never normally one to reject your girlfriends clinginess, however sometimes you just needed your own personal space, and today was an odd day where things werent going right and your temper was short.

you were going to apologise to aitana, but as soon as you came out of your meeting she was there with flowers and coffee for you, and saying sorry for annoying you today. “aitana no, its fine, if anything, i am sorry. i love being around you as your my girlfriend, but i do think its important you start hanging out with your friends again!”

“yes amor i understand, i actually went with ona to get the flowers and she got some for lucy too!” aitana replied, as she planted a kiss on your lips.

on the way home, aitana also called at one of your favourite shops that sold books and records. despite her being more of a spotify and film person, she still made an effort to be enthusiastic in the shop. she definitely did not get bored and decide to pull you in for a kiss behind the non fiction book shelf.

however, she still never really left her honeymoon phase.

———

yourusername

liked by ingrid_engen, lucybronze and 23,962 others

caption: she follows me everywhere but its okay tagged: aitanabonmati

comments:

aitanabonmati: you love it

-> yourusername: i do.

lucybronze: you two make me throw up

-> yourusername: dont act like you and ona arent the same.

marialeonn16: i counted 3 balls to aitanas head yesterday training

-> vickyylopezz._: she fell over aswell 😭

-> yourusername: guys leave tana alone! 🥹

-> aitanabonmati: what my gf said.

user1: they are so cute omg 😭

user2: power couple!

user3: best woso couple there is

———

a/n: this is not proofread so no judgement to bad grammar pretty pleasee

[neferaskingdom]

♡ My Favourite Person | CL16

PART OF MY IS IT CASUAL NOW? SERIES

Summary: And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew that what she felt for him had become more than casual.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

The morning light was barely creeping into the room when she woke up, still nestled in Charles’ arms. His breathing was soft and steady, his face nuzzled into her neck. She’d almost forgotten how they’d ended up here—wrapped up in each other after a night of celebrations that neither of them seemed eager to end.

But her peaceful morning was interrupted by her phone vibrating almost nonstop on the bedside table. She groaned softly, trying to ignore it, but the constant buzzing wasn’t easy to ignore.

Careful not to wake Charles, she leaned over and grabbed her phone, only to see her group chat blowing up with notifications.

Friend 2: "Morning, mystery girlfriend. Saw the video. Care to explain all those face kisses?"

Friend 1: "So… how was your night? 😏 Don’t leave out any details."

Friend 2: "Did he put that winning energy to good use? Just saying, he looked like he had a lot to celebrate."

Friend 3: "Saw the videos. You guys definitely looked like ‘just friends’… in an alternate universe maybe."

She stifled a laugh, her cheeks heating up as she scrolled through their messages. Her friends were relentless.

Friend 1: "Are you still in his bed right now? Girl. Spill!"

Friend 2: "If I were you, I wouldn’t even be checking my phone right now. Priorities, babe."

Friend 1: "Okay, so… are you going to tell us what’s going on with you and Charles?"

Friend 2: "Girl, don’t even try to pretend! We all saw the videos."

Friend 3: "Face kisses? All over?? That doesn’t look like ‘just friends’ to me."

Friend 3: "Not to mention that ‘just friends’ don’t exactly spend the night… 😏"

She sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let it go easily. Her friends had always been relentless, especially when it came to her love life—or lack of one. She typed back a quick response.

You: "It’s not like that. Seriously. We’re just friends."

Friend 1: "Oh, just friends? Because he was all over you, and everyone saw it!"

Friend 2: "Exactly! There’s literally a thread online about how ‘in love’ Charles looked hugging you. It’s adorable."

Her cheeks flushed as she read through their messages, her stomach doing a tiny flip at the memory of Charles’ face lighting up when he’d found her in the crowd after his victory. The way he’d pulled her close, practically sweeping her off her feet, felt like a vivid, joyful blur. It had been so natural, so… right. She pushed the thought away and took a steadying breath. 

You: "No, really. He’s just… He’s just like that. He’s affectionate with everyone."

Friend 3: "Uh-huh. So why is the entire internet convinced he’s madly in love with you?"

A link popped up in the chat, and she clicked on it reluctantly. It led to a popular Twitter thread, where dozens of fans were posting clips from the day before. The first video showed Charles wrapping her in a tight hug at the barriers, his face beaming as he peppered her with kisses. She hadn’t even realized it looked that intense. But there, on the screen, it seemed undeniably intimate. They looked like they were in their own world.

You:“Come on, guys, He was just celebrating. It was a big moment.”

 she typed, trying to brush it off

Friend 1: "A big moment where he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Sure, we’ll believe that. 🙄"

Friend 2: "Have you even seen how everyone’s reacting? They’re calling you ‘Charles’ mystery girl.’ People are actually dying to know who you are."

The messages kept rolling in, and every one of her friends had something to say. She glanced at the thread again, scrolling through the comments.

Fan 1: "Did you guys see the way he looked at her? I’m deceased."

Fan 2: "Who is she, and where did she come from? Because they are TOO cute together."

Fan 3: "Charles Leclerc just won in Monaco and went straight to his girl like it was the last lap of his life."

The more she read, the more she could see why people might think there was something between them. She and Charles looked… cozy. Her cheeks warmed as she replayed their moment in her head. She couldn’t deny that the two of them together, lost in the celebration, had felt almost surreal.

But then, she shook her head, dismissing the thought. Charles was just excited. It didn’t mean anything.

You: "You guys are seriously reading too much into this. He’s just a friend. Nothing more."

Friend 3: "Right. Just friends who look at each other like they’re the only people on earth."

Friend 2: "Just friends who also happen to be practically plastered all over each other. You’re not fooling anyone."

She let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t expected things to spiral like this. Her friends’ teasing was relentless, and while part of her found it amusing, another part couldn’t shake the flicker of doubt that crept in.

Could there be more between her and Charles? They’d been spending so much time together, and he did seem unusually attentive, even when he was halfway around the world. She couldn’t deny the closeness they shared, but… dating? They weren’t dating.

But when she glanced back at the video, seeing the unfiltered joy in Charles’ eyes as he hugged her, she couldn’t help but think… maybe there was something there. Just maybe.

But she wouldn’t let herself dwell on it for long. Not with her friends gleefully piling on the teasing.

You: "Okay, okay! Enough! It’s nothing serious. Just a friend who won a race and got excited. End of story."

Her friends sent back a flood of laughing emojis, followed by a slew of more questions, but she simply set her phone down, laughing to herself. 

“What’s so funny?” Charles mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his pout was almost enough to make her laugh again. He nestled his face into her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. “I’m literally right here, and you’re laughing at your phone.”

She grinned, scrolling through one last message. “Are you seriously jealous of my friends right now? I’m in bed with you, remember?”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shifting closer until she could feel his lips just grazing her neck. “But you’re not laughing with me,” he complained, a whiny edge to his voice that only made him sound more endearing. “I want all your attention, not just some of it.”

“Oh, poor Charles,” she teased, lowering her phone to look at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “It must be so difficult being this needy first thing in the morning.”

“Needy?” he huffed, narrowing his eyes at her, though his lips quirked with a playful glint. “You make me this way, you know. It’s not fair.”

She poked his cheek, unable to stop smiling. “How tragic. Do you want me to make it up to you?”

“Maybe,” he murmured, his eyes brightening. He reached over, snatching her phone and tossing it to the far side of the bed. With a grin, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down and pinning her against the sheets. “No more distractions,” he declared, his tone playful but his gaze warm and intent.

“Charles!” She squirmed, laughing as he tightened his hold, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Say I’m your favorite,” he insisted, his voice taking on that stubborn, whiny edge.

“Not a chance,” she managed, her laughter spilling over as she tried to wiggle free.

He only raised an eyebrow, smirking as he started tickling her sides. “Then I’ll just have to keep this up.”

“Alright, alright!” she gasped, breathless with laughter. “You’re my favorite!”

He grinned triumphantly, loosening his hold but keeping her close. “See? Was that so hard?”

She rolled her eyes, still catching her breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it,” he whispered, his face just inches from hers, eyes shining with affection.

“Maybe,” she admitted softly, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw.

Without another word, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, gentle kiss that melted away any lingering teasing. His hand slipped to her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin as he deepened the kiss, warmth and affection replacing all the playfulness from a moment before.

When they finally pulled apart, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Now, that’s how you start a morning,” he murmured.

She chuckled, her fingers playing with his messy hair. “You’re way too pleased with yourself, you know that?”

He grinned, pulling her even closer. “Just happy to have you here.”

After Charles left for his next round of races, life in Monaco settled back into its usual rhythm. The mornings felt quieter without him there to pull her back into bed, and her evenings held a little less warmth without his familiar presence beside her. Still, she filled her days with work, nights with friends, and tried not to think too hard about how easily she missed him.

Charles, however, was determined to make his absence less noticeable. His texts came in constantly—quick messages about his day, random pictures from the track, and even the occasional food pic with captions like, Would be better if you were here to share it.

He called often too, squeezing her into his schedule no matter how busy he was, even if just to say a quick goodnight. But sometimes, especially late at night, his voice would soften over the phone.

“I miss having you around, you know,” he’d say, a hint of a sigh slipping through. “Got so used to having you in my bed, it feels weird to sleep alone now.”

She’d laugh, leaning back in her own bed, wishing he were there to say it in person. “Is that so?” she’d tease, although his words always made her heart flutter a little.

“Yes, it’s terrible,” he said one evening, his voice warm and familiar in her ear. “I’ve been lying here, missing everything about you—your smile, that cute little laugh, even the way you take up half the bed.”

“Excuse me? I do not take up half the bed,” she protested, grinning to herself.

“Oh, you absolutely do. And you’re a pillow thief, by the way,” he shot back playfully.

“Pillow thief?” she scoffed, a laugh slipping out. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who steals all the blankets. How many times did I wake up freezing because of you?”

“Okay, maybe that happened… once or twice,” he admitted, chuckling. “But you didn’t mind, did you? You’d just scoot closer.”

“Maybe,” she replied softly, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Guess you’ll just have to keep missing me then.”

He chuckled, the sound low and full of affection. “I don’t like it,” he murmured. “I think about it way too much, actually… how much I miss having you here.”

The conversations always left her smiling, wrapped in a warmth that kept her thoughts drifting back to him more often than she cared to admit. But every so often, reality would remind her what this was supposed to be—light and casual, no expectations or promises. She tried to keep that in mind, even when he’d text her goodnight with a little heart emoji or send her random selfies, always making sure to stay connected in a way that seemed more than just casual.

One afternoon, scrolling through her social media, she stumbled upon a clip from Charles’s latest interview. Her curiosity piqued, she clicked on it, smiling to herself as she settled into the couch.

The interviewer was smiling, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So, Charles,” she began, leaning in conspiratorially, “there’s been a lot of talk about this mysterious someone you’ve been spending time with in Monaco. Is there a new girlfriend in your life? Will she be at the next race?”

At the mention of girlfriend, her heart skipped, a quiet, hopeful anticipation rising within her. She watched Charles’s reaction closely, waiting to see what he would say.

Charles chuckled, brushing off the question with an easy smile. “Oh, no, nothing like that,” he said lightly. “She’s just a really close friend.”

She blinked, feeling her heart sink just a little. The words just a friend echoed in her mind, leaving a faint sting that she hadn’t expected. She took a steadying breath, reminding herself not to read into it. After all, they’d never defined what they were, and she knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. They’d both agreed to keep things casual, to take it day by day without complicating things.

But as she replayed the clip, she couldn’t deny the tiny pang of disappointment gnawing at her. She tried to brush it off, telling herself she was being silly—after all, they hadn’t talked about being exclusive, and they’d never put a label on whatever this was between them. She hadn’t even thought she wanted one until now, but his words left her feeling strangely empty.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, she tried to shake off the ache. When he called, his usual cheerful voice greeted her, and she did her best to sound normal, even though the thought of just a friend lingered at the back of her mind.

“Hey, you,” he said warmly. “What’s my favorite person up to?”

She bit her lip, feeling the familiar warmth of his words soothe some of her unease. “Oh, you know,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “Just laying here, missing my favorite blanket thief.”

He chuckled. “Ah, so you finally admit it—I am your favorite.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” she shot back playfully, though there was a softness in her voice. “I still haven’t forgiven you for stealing my blankets.”

“Is that right?” he said, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “Guess I’ll just have to come back and make it up to you.”

She felt her heart skip a beat, imagining him back here with her. “Hmm, that sounds promising,” she teased, though her words held an honesty she hadn’t intended to let slip.

He paused, his voice softening. “I do miss you, you know. life just isn’t the same without you.”

His words tugged at her heart, leaving her conflicted all over again. She wanted to believe he felt the same way she did, but his casual dismissal earlier had planted a seed of doubt, one that made her wonder if she was letting herself fall for someone who wasn’t ready to catch her.

As they continued talking, she found herself drifting back to his earlier words in the interview, that easy laugh as he brushed off their connection as something platonic. And even though she tried to push it away, a small part of her couldn’t help but wish he’d called her more than just a friend.

When their call ended, she lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. She tried to remind herself that they were both free to come and go as they pleased, that neither of them had promised anything more than companionship and a little fun. But her heart had other ideas, leaving her to wrestle with the unsettling feeling that she was beginning to care far more than she should.

And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew that what she felt for him had become more than casual.

[pemiski]

the one

tags michael kaiser x gn! reader, inspired by ‘the one’ by taylor swift, angst no comfort, 430 wc

author’s note i woke up feeling miserable and mean and wanting destruction. have a great day.

In your defense, you had never said you could fix him. You’d never claimed it, never whispered sweet lies about healing, never promised him the world when you both knew it had never been kind to him in the first place. But when your friends told you to walk away, to leave him as he was and never look back, you hadn’t had the heart to. Because Michael Kaiser was, in all senses of the word, shattered.

Shattered by the multiple beatings he suffered as a child. Shattered by the purely financial faith the adults he was surrounded by had in him. Shattered by a brutal environment, by a criminal lack of trust. By all means, if it hadn’t been for you, Michael wouldn’t even have tried.

Oh, but if trying meant succeeding, the things so far away surely would feel much closer, wouldn’t they?

You tried anyway.

You met him in the quiet spaces between his battles. In the dark hours after a match, when exhaustion weighed heavy on his shoulders. In the hushed moments between breathless kisses and the silences he never knew how to fill. You saw his victories, his arrogance, sharp words stemming from a sharp mind. But you also saw the fractures beneath, the hollow look in his eyes when no one was watching, the way he flinched when someone reached for him too quickly.

He let you in, little by little, piece by piece.

And for a time, you thought that had meant something.

In Michael Kaiser’s defense, he had never said the walls wouldn’t go back up.

It had happened before— with Alexis Ness, long ago. For a fleeting moment, Kaiser had believed in someone. Believed in the warmth of another person’s presence, in the idea that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to do it alone.

But Michael Kaiser does not let his guard down.

So when it happened— when he pulled away, when the walls shot back up and the distance stretched between you like a yawning abyss— you can’t say you were surprised.

"You’re better off without me," he said one night, voice clipped, eyes refusing to meet yours.

"You don’t get to decide that," you murmured, searching his face for something; anything that would tell you he didn’t mean it.

But an emperor is untouchable, and an emperor rules alone. So, before long, you became just another name in a long list of things he had lost.

In your defense, you had loved him as best as you could. Maybe, in some twisted way, this was his way of loving you too.

@pemiski 2025 - all rights reserved. I do not authorize any reposting translating or modifying of my content on any platform

[pretzel-box]

Hi! Hello! How are you doing? I hope you're having a great day. This is the first time I requested something so pls bare with me. So I really like the swap!Sebastian and swap!/payment received reader, so can I request a second part where Sebastian bought readers file and maybe some fluff and comfort, that'd be soooo cute and what comes next is up to you.

Anyways thanks for taking your time in reading this and it's also okay if you ignore this😊😊😊

Tags: Comfort, Fluff, Reverse AU, gn! experiment reader & human sebastian, sequel to previous chapter

Words: 1,1k

Authors Note: Since the story progresses differently, I tried to at least write the fluff and comfort part after Seb saw the tapes!

Sebastian’s breath hitched as he tried to steady himself, his heart racing and his mind a chaotic mess of thoughts. He hadn’t expected to break down like this, not here, not in front of you. He had always prided himself on being composed, on having a plan. But those tapes… the sight of what you had gone through—the screams, the agony, the helplessness—it had torn through him like a knife. He didn’t know how to cope with the knowledge of your suffering, and now, here you were, laughing so freely, so blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his heart.

“Ah, there you are!” Your cheerful voice had greeted him when he walked into the shop, his eyes still red and puffy from the tears he had tried to hold back. Your smile was so genuine, so full of light, and it only made the ache in his chest worse. He wanted to protect that light, to shield you from any more pain, but he didn’t know how.

“Look!” You said, holding up the recorder with a playful grin. “I recorded a wall dweller getting hit by Pandemonium. It got squished like a fly.” You played the clip for him like it was some kind of small victory, a moment of dark humor to lighten the mood. But Sebastian couldn’t focus on the video. He could only see you—the real you—behind the cheerful facade.

He felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes welling up with tears again. You noticed the shift in his expression, the way his face crumpled with a pain you couldn’t quite understand. “God, Sebastian,” you teased gently, though your voice was tinged with concern. “Don’t tell me you’re getting emotional over a wall dweller.”

Sebastian didn’t respond. He just stood there, tears streaming down his cheeks in silent waves. The shame of his breakdown mixed with the overwhelming sadness he felt for you, for everything you’d endured, for every piece of you that had been broken and put back together. He hated that he couldn’t control this, that he couldn’t stop crying in front of you. He felt so raw, so exposed.

You blinked, your teasing smile fading as you realized this wasn’t just some passing moment of sentiment. You stepped closer, your expression softening as you took in the sight of him—Sebastian, your normally composed and snarky companion, now reduced to tears.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. His body stiffened at first, but then he melted into your touch, his head resting against your shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. You held him close, your hand stroking the back of his head, fingers tangling gently in his hair. The other hand moved up and down his back, soothing him with gentle, rhythmic movements.

“It’s okay, Solace,” you whispered softly, your voice a calming melody against the storm raging in his mind. “The wall dweller is at a better place.”

Sebastian let out a choked laugh, a mix of a sob and a chuckle, shaking his head against your shoulder. “It’s… it’s not about the damn wall dweller,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s… it’s you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Me?” you asked, searching his tear-filled eyes for answers. “What about me?”

He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady himself enough to speak. “I saw the tapes,” he admitted quietly, his voice breaking on the last word. “I saw… what they did to you. What you went through.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, your grip on him tightening instinctively. “Sebastian…” you whispered, your voice softening with understanding. “You… you saw those?”

He nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks again. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry for everything they did to you. I just… I don’t know how you’re still standing here, smiling like that.”

You felt a pang in your chest, a mix of sorrow and affection for the man in front of you. You knew the tapes were horrifying—brutal, even—but you had long since come to terms with your past. It was a part of you, yes, but it didn’t define you. Not anymore.

You cupped his face gently, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. “Hey,” you said softly, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “I’m okay, Sebastian. I’m still here. I’m still… me.”

He looked at you with such a mix of awe and disbelief, his heart aching with every beat. “But how?” he whispered. “How can you just… move on from something like that?”

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “Because I have to,” you replied simply. “Because if I let it define me, if I let it break me, then they win. And I refuse to let them have that power over me.”

Sebastian stared at you, his heart swelling with a mixture of admiration and love. He had always been drawn to you, always found himself captivated by your spirit, your strength. But now, more than ever, he realized just how much you meant to him—how much he needed you in his life.

He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice muffled against your skin. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from that.”

You smiled softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair. “You’re protecting me now,” you whispered. “That’s what matters.”

You felt him nod against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you tighter as if afraid to let go. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what had happened in the past, no matter what horrors you’d both faced, you would face them together. And together, you would heal.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, a small, playful smile tugged at your lips. “Besides,” you added, your tone teasing, “I bet that wall dweller’s in wall heaven now, with all his little wall dweller friends. Don’t you think?”

Sebastian let out a watery laugh, pulling back to look at you with a mix of exasperation and affection. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, a small smile breaking through his tears.

“And yet,” you said, grinning up at him, “you’re still here.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, his heart feeling a little lighter, a little more whole. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I am.”

And as you stood there together, holding each other close, you knew that even after Sebastian saw the tapes, he would be alright. Just like you are.

[fastandcarlos]

Early Arrivals : ̗̀➛ George Russell

summary: whilst you catch up on the highlights from the race, your very own highlight makes a very special, early appearance

A cheer escaped as you watched George’s car go over the line with yet another podium in the bag. You’d been on the edge of your seat as you watched the race from home, unable to attend for once due to work, barely able to watch with your hands over your face. 

You’d forgotten how much more nerve wracking it was watching the race from home, watching most of it through your fingertips. You’d never been more relieved to see a race come to an end, knowing you had the podium celebrations to look forward to too. 

Your smile was wide as George went up onto the podium to receive his P3 trophy, watching as Max claimed the victory. Soon the race was over, and you found yourself laid out on your sofa, scrolling through your phone. As ever, you soon entered a loophole of content from the racing, relying as usual on the fans to capture some of those George moments that you missed. 

The minutes turned to hours, and soon enough the sun had gone down and you were still scrolling. Although he was your boyfriend, you were still such a fan of George. You couldn’t get enough of watching content about him, interviews, fan interactions, anything that you could get your hands on. 

It had been hours since you last moved, finding yourself laughing and smiling the more you watched. George knew you loved to scroll and find clips of things that you might’ve missed, with many of them reminding you exactly why you were so in love with the man. 

“Is this really how you’ve spent your evening?” A voice suddenly asked, leaning into you from behind the sofa. 

Your head nodded as you listened to the voice, your eyes soon widening when you realised the voice wasn’t coming from your phone, but from beside you. Your head snapped around, smile turning up as you saw George stood behind you, proudly holding onto the trophy that he had won in the race. 

“What are you playing at?” You shrieked, dropping your phone and standing up from the sofa, rushing around and entering into George’s arms. 

“I managed to get an earlier flight home,” George grinned, pulling you tightly into his chest. “The team suggested heading out to celebrate, but the only person that I want to celebrate with is you.” 

You pulled back from George so that you could get a proper look at his trophy, twirling it around as he passed it across to you. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there to celebrate it with you properly over there., I can’t remember the last time you got a podium and I missed it.” 

“It’s alright, I know you’re busy, apparently watching an endless number of videos of me,” George assured you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m home now and back with you, and that’s all that matters to me.” 

“I didn’t think I was going to speak to you tonight so I thought I’d watch some videos of you celebrating,” you explained, watching as George’s smile widened. “Not to mention the fact that you did an awesome job today.” 

George took a hold of your hand as he led you over to the sofa, dropping down and pulling you into his lap. “I’m so happy to be home,” George whispered, kissing against your cheek. “You’ve got no idea how much I missed you this weekend, it felt so empty there.” 

“It’s been weird for me too,” you told him, placing his trophy down on the seat beside you. “There barely showed your radios, and most of the time focused on the front of the race, I barely got to see a thing.” 

George smiled back across at you, “I take it you won’t be offering to work on race weekend again then?” 

“Absolutely not,” you quickly replied, without any doubt in your mind. “I’m going to make sure that I’m free every weekend so I never have to miss you.” 

“Even Lewis said that I didn’t seem right this weekend,” George shamefully admitted, “he said I kept moping around the garage which I just refuse to believe.” 

Your hand pressed against George’s cheek, “did you really miss me that much? Couldn’t even survive three days without me there with you?” 

“You know any second I’m away from you I miss you,” George proudly confessed. 

As sweet as George was, he meant every word too. He was so used to having you there to give him a kiss before he got into the car, or make sure that he had a change of clothes ready for the end of the race, but instead this weekend he had to look after himself, missing all the little things that you did to help him out when you were there. 

“This is the perfect celebration for me, in the comfort of my own home, cuddled up to my favourite person in the world,” George whispered, “who even needs a fancy party anyway?” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle as George spoke, knowing that he did enjoy the party too. When Toto let him know their plans though, there was only one place that George wanted to be, and when he heard there was an earlier flight available, he jumped at the opportunity to be on it. 

“Is there anything else you want to do? Have you eaten today?” You quizzed, “I know what you’re like for remembering to eat on a race day, you’re rubbish at it.” 

George nodded in reply, “don’t worry, there were a few members of the team who felt sorry for me that you weren’t there so they stepped in and helped me out.” 

“They make it seem like they can’t function without me.” 

George shrugged, arguably he couldn’t. He relied on you more than you ever realised, even just having you there was enough. “It sounds silly, but I really did miss you at the race this weekend, I know it was only a couple of days, and we’ve spent much longer apart, but it was such a horrible race being there alone.” 

You stretched up and pecked against George’s lips. “I get it, I missed you as well, but you’re home now. And rather than watch videos of you for the rest of the night, I get the actual you instead.” 

There was nowhere George would rather be, even if the rest of his team were out celebrating his podium on the streets of Barcelona, he knew he would never have enjoyed it as much as he did being cuddled up to you. 

As you snuggled in closer to George, his grip around you tightened, relaxing further into the sofa. George stretched his legs out and tangled them in with your own, tickling gently against your sides as he glanced down at the smile that was on your face. 

His heart was full, not only had it been another successful race with the team, but now he was back with his best friend who he knew would be happier for him than anyone else. 

“You know, although I was well fed at the garage, I wouldn’t say no to ordering,” George whispered, “I’ve got the taste for pizza.” 

“I’d say that’s the least you deserve after the day you’ve had today.” 

“I should get on the podium more often in that case.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[irisintheafterglow]

just reread ur work of kiyoomi at the fair showing off and winning reader a stuffed animal 😓 do u still write for him? can we get another one pls 🤒

anon love i am SO sorry i'm getting to this so late (but i missed writing for omi omi so hopefully you like this <3)

he thinks you know what you're doing.

no, he knows you know what you're doing.

it was atsumu's fault--as were most things--that you were now dancing on the jumbo screen and blowing the camera kisses with fluttering eyelashes. it was his teammate that had first showed the msby managers the tiktok about some baseball team's partners flirting with them during a game via the crowd cameras. the players' reactions understandably went viral, leading other sports teams to follow suit and catch their players off guard. now, it was sakusa's turn. he couldn't figure out where you learned to fluster him so easily or sway your hips like that, and saw no other choice but to hide his burning face in his jersey.

the second time you show up on the screen, he makes the mistake of drinking water during the brief segment. there you are, waving at the camera like a pageant queen with a mischievous glint in your eye that makes him uneasy. you smirk knowingly before pulling off your plain sweater and revealing an enticingly cropped version of his jersey, his name glimmering in bedazzled beads on your upper back. the surprise of your shirt and the sheer amount of cheering hinders all of his senses, and the clip of water spewing from his mouth quickly becomes the top trending meme in the country.

the third time, he anticipates your antics and makes a point to avoid looking at the screen; he just has to sneak a glance, however, when the crowd erupts into hollering that rivaled a taylor swift concert. fortunately, you're not wearing anything incriminating that would turn him beet-red. unfortunately, you're holding up your left hand to the camera and tapping your very vacant ring finger, an exaggerated pout painting your expression. you shrug indifferently, pretending not to notice the cameras and amused faces surrounding you, and pull the zipper down on your jacket.

"what in the hell is THAT?" his outburst is unexpected and more than entertaining, for he fails to hide his bewilderment at the screen-printed photo of hinata shoyo with the caption 'my favorite spiker' plastered on your chest. you frame the bottom of the picture with your hands and pose for the nearest cameras, wiggling your empty ring-finger before placing a kiss on the glass. you were going to be the death of him, truly.

for the last game of the season, he makes you swear on everything you hold dear not to do anything for the camera. you begrudgingly agree, if only because you had the country's number one spiker on his knees begging you to spare him from public embarrassment again. rather than during a break, the cameras appear in front of you at the end of the easy victory. pursing your lips, you shrug and wait for them to find a new subject...but they don't. you shake your head more decisively and mouth he said no funny business with your palms up in surrender, and your eyebrows draw together in confusion when you hear the loudest cacophony echoing from the stands. you turn to the jumbo screen, puzzled, and your jaw drops.

drenched in sweat and grinning like a lovesick fool, kiyoomi shot the camera a single wink before turning in your direction and holding up a ring that'd been in his closet since the first day you flustered him.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[speaknow-sw]

THE POET AND THE ROSE Content : no smut just Anakin being himself. Age gap ? Anakin is 30 you’re 21. Vaginal touch and breast play. 3.7k words.

꧁ Chapter 1 : A Treaty in Vows ꧂

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

"They say the pen is softer than the sword, Yet neither have mercy for hearts of stone. I write not to conquer, but to endure, To whisper to shadows when I’m alone."

The clash of swords had long faded into memory, replaced by the measured beat of war drums. The French and British armies had bled each other dry over countless seasons, yet no victor emerged. The French Empire, once unyielding, now sought peace, not for lack of strength but out of weariness. Across the sea, the British, proud and unbowed, saw no other way forward.

And so it was that the fate of two nations rested not on the battlefield but in the fragile vows of marriage.

General Anakin Skywalker stood in the drafty war council chamber of a French outpost, his imposing frame dwarfing the room. His armor gleamed faintly in the torchlight, though the marks of countless battles marred its surface. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched behind his back as he listened to the terms of peace being read aloud.

"The King offers his daughter, the Princess, in marriage," the envoy concluded, his voice careful, almost hesitant.

Anakin’s lips curled into a grimace. He turned to Obi-Wan Kenobi, his second-in-command, who leaned casually against the stone wall, his expression betraying none of the mirth Anakin knew lay beneath.

"So this is what our victories amount to? A wife." Anakin’s tone was clipped, laced with disdain.

"It’s a union, not a surrender," Obi-Wan said lightly, though his eyes were sharp. "An end to the bloodshed, Anakin. Isn’t that what we’ve fought for?"

Anakin growled under his breath, pacing the room like a caged lion. He was a man of war, forged by the fires of battle, not the silken threads of diplomacy. The thought of binding himself to a woman he’d never met, for a peace he wasn’t sure would last, set his teeth on edge.

"She better be under fifty," he muttered, earning a snort from Obi-Wan.

"Knowing your luck, she’ll be a saint. Or worse, she’ll be kind."

Anakin shot him a glare but said nothing. The decision was not his to make. He was a soldier, bound to his king’s command, and the decree was clear.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century 

"To bind two nations with a golden ring,

A fragile thread between war and peace.

But peace is no gift—it is a battle of its own,

A sword wrapped in silk, waiting to pierce the heart."

Westminster Abbey was a grand, sprawling structure, its high arches and marble columns whispering of a legacy far older than France’s green hills. The air was heavy with incense, the murmur of the gathered crowd muted by the solemnity of the occasion.

Anakin stood at the altar, his back straight, his hands resting loosely on the hilt of his ceremonial sword. He had traded his battle-worn armor for fine but unfamiliar attire: a dark tunic edged with gold, a heavy cloak draped over one shoulder. Yet even in finery, he looked out of place, a predator among prey.

He kept his gaze forward, ignoring the curious eyes of Roman nobles who whispered behind painted fans. His thoughts were a tumult of irritation and resignation.

The doors at the far end of the hall groaned open, and a hush fell over the crowd.

The princess entered, her form veiled in a cascade of ivory silk. She moved with practiced grace, her steps measured, though Anakin noted the faintest tremor in her hands as she approached.

When she reached the altar, Anakin risked a glance at her. He could see nothing of her face beneath the veil, only the outline of her delicate figure. She was smaller than he’d imagined, her presence dwarfed by the weight of her ceremonial robes.

The priest began the rites, speaking in both French and the English tongue. Anakin’s responses were curt, his voice a deep rumble that carried through the hall.

Finally, the moment came.

"You may lift the veil," the priest intoned.

Anakin's hands hovered over the delicate fabric of her veil, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd expected to feel nothing, a sense of detachment from this forced union. But as his fingers brushed against the silk, he felt a jolt of electricity course through him.

Slowly, he lifted the veil, revealing her face inch by inch. Her eyes were the first thing he saw, a vivid color that seemed to pierce right through him. They were wide and luminous, framed by long lashes and set in a face of such beauty it took his breath away.

Her hair was a cascade of curls, tumbling down her back like a river of water. Her lips were full and pink, parted slightly as if she were holding her breath.

Anakin found himself staring, unable to look away. He'd seen many beautiful women in his life, but none who had affected him like this. It was as if the very sight of her had stolen the air from his lungs.

"You're... you're beautiful," he heard himself say, the words rough and awkward.

She blushed, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice soft and melodic.

The priest cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "The ceremony is complete. You may now be presented as husband and wife."

Anakin blinked, coming back to himself. He took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. It was small and delicate, a sharp contrast to his own rough, battle-hardened hands.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

"Princess," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

"General," you replied, your tone measured but soft.

As they turned to face the crowd, Anakin felt a strange sense of pride well up inside him. This woman, this stranger, was his wife. The thought was still foreign, almost surreal. But as he looked down at her, saw the way her eyes shone up at him, he felt a flicker of something else.

Hope.

Perhaps this union, forced though it may be, could be more than just a political arrangement. Perhaps, given time, it could be something real. Something meaningful.

But Anakin knew better than to hold his breath. In his world, there were no guarantees. Only the harsh realities of war.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

”Bound by vows of gold and stone,

Two strangers stand beneath the crown.

The weight of peace, a heavy throne,

Where swords are lowered, yet hearts may drown.”

The reception was held in the grand hall of his castle, a sprawling room lit by dozens of chandeliers dripping with crystal. Long tables were laden with silver platters of roasted meats, ripe fruits, and delicate pastries. Musicians played softly in the corner, their strings and flutes weaving a delicate melody that was nearly drowned out by the chatter of the guests.

General Anakin Skywalker stood rigid at the altar, his jaw set, his expression an unreadable mask. He loomed in the sea of French grandeur, his presence at odds with the refinement of the occasion. The fine clothes he wore—a dark blue tunic trimmed with gold—felt foreign, a costume draped over the hardened warrior beneath. His scarred hands rested on the hilt of a ceremonial sword, though his instincts yearned for the familiar weight of the blade he had carried through countless battles.

Around him, the French elite murmured behind fans and jeweled hands, their gazes drifting to him with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. He could hear their whispers, faint and venomous.

"A barbarian…" "He doesn’t belong here…" "And she is meant to marry that?"

Their words did not bother him; he had grown used to such scorn. What rankled was the reason he stood there. Marriage. Peace. He was a soldier, a man who lived for the battlefield, not for the political games that followed.

Finally he sat at the head of the table, his new wife beside him. He had barely spoken to you since the ceremony, unsure of what to say. The weight of the day pressed heavily on him, the noise of the room grating against his nerves.

You were quiet, your gaze fixed on the goblet of wine in your hands. The soft light of the chandeliers caught the gold in your hair, making you appear almost otherworldly. Anakin found himself stealing glances at you, though he quickly looked away each time you shifted, afraid you might catch him.

"You’re brooding again," Obi-Wan said, leaning toward him from the next seat over. His tone was light, but his eyes flicked meaningfully toward you.

Anakin scowled. "I’m not brooding."

Obi-Wan smirked. "You are. Perhaps you should try speaking to your bride instead of glaring at your wine."

Anakin shot him a look that could have melted steel, but before he could respond, a sharp crash echoed through the hall.

All eyes turned toward the source of the noise—a French noble, Lord Aulbry, red-faced and unsteady on his feet, had knocked over a goblet. The wine spread across the table like blood, pooling near the edge.

"How fitting," the noble slurred, his voice loud and cutting. "A barbarian at the head of our table."

The room fell silent.

Anakin’s jaw tightened, but he did not move. You stiffened beside him, your fingers tightening around the stem of your goblet.

"Peace, Messire," one of the French officials said hastily, rising to calm the situation. "Tonight is a celebration, not a—"

"A celebration of what?" the noble sneered. "Of our empire’s weakness? Of selling off our princess to a savage?"

Anakin’s hand twitched toward the hilt of his sword, but you placed your hand lightly on his arm. He glanced at you, surprised by the gesture. You gave a small shake of your head, your expression unreadable.

"I suggest you hold your tongue," Anakin said, his voice calm but dangerous. His gaze locked on the noble, who faltered under the intensity of his stare.

The noble muttered something incoherent and stumbled back to his seat, and the tension in the room eased, though it did not dissipate entirely.

You leaned toward him slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you," you said, your tone careful.

"For what?" he asked, equally quiet.

"For not drawing your sword."

He allowed a faint smirk to cross his lips. "It was a near thing."

The castle chamber assigned to them was warm, lit by the soft glow of a roaring fire. The heavy wooden door closed behind them with a resounding thud, leaving them alone for the first time.

Anakin moved toward the hearth, shrugging off his cloak and tossing it onto a nearby chair. He could feel your eyes on him, though you said nothing.

"Does this room meet your standards, princess ?" he asked, his tone dry as he turned to face you.

You stood near the bed, your hands clasped before you. Out of the elaborate wedding attire, you seemed even smaller, dressed in a simple nightgown of white linen.

"It is fine," you said quietly. Then, after a pause, you added, "You may call me as you like, sir."

He arched a brow, and saw roses embroidered on her gown. "My rose, then."

"And what shall I call you?" You asked, surprising him with your directness.

"Anakin will do, or my husband." he replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with expectation. Anakin felt the weight of the evening press down on him. He had no desire to take you roughly right now—not out of indifference, but because he could see the tension in your posture, the faint nervousness in your eyes.

Instead, he moved toward you slowly, as if approaching a startled doe. When he reached you, he took your hand in his, his calloused fingers brushing against your softer ones.

"You’ve been through enough today," he said gruffly. "You needn’t fear me."

Your gaze searched his, and something in your  expression softened. You nodded, a small but significant gesture of trust.

He guided you to the bed, but instead of undressing you, he took a seat beside you and began to unlace your tight shoes. His movements were careful, almost reverent, as though you were something fragile.

"You don’t have to—" you began, but he interrupted you.

"Let me," he said, his voice softer now.

The flickering light of the fire cast a warm glow across your face, illuminating the delicate features that had captivated him since the moment he'd lifted your veil. As he knelt before you, gently removing your shoes, Anakin felt an unfamiliar tenderness stir within him.

"These shoes look uncomfortable," he murmured, his fingers brushing against your ankle as he worked. "I'm surprised you managed to stand through the entire ceremony."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "It's not the first time I've worn them, my husband."

The formal address sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of the weight of this union. But as he looked up at you, saw the way your eyes shone with a mix of nervousness and curiosity, he felt something else. A spark of connection, however tenuous.

"Anakin," he said softly, his hand still resting on your foot. "Please, call me Anakin right now..."

You nodded, your cheeks flushing slightly. "Anakin," you repeated, as if testing the name on your tongue.

He rose to his feet, his hand moving from your ankle to your waist. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but there was a strength beneath it that spoke of the warrior he was.

"You're trembling," he observed, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hip. "Are you cold?"

"No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm just... nervous."

Anakin's heart clenched at the admission. He knew all too well the fear of the unknown, the anxiety that came with stepping into uncharted territory. But he also knew the power of vulnerability, the strength that could be found in laying oneself bare.

"There's no need to be afraid," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "We have all the time in the world to... get to know each other."

The last words were laced with a hint of suggestion, but there was no pressure in his tone. Instead, there was a promise, a silent vow to take this journey together, one step at a time.

He drew back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "May I ?” He asked, a hand on the thin strap of your linen gown. 

Anakin's eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air between you. He could feel the weight of the moment, the anticipation that seemed to crackle like electricity.

But there was no rush, no need to force the issue. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your throat in a feather-light kiss. The touch was innocent, almost chaste, but the scruff of his jaw sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I find myself at a loss for words."

His hand slid from your waist to your back, drawing you closer. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your nightgown, a reminder of the man beneath the armor.

"Tell me," he continued, his voice low and husky. "What do you want, my rose?"

The question hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. Anakin knew he was treading on dangerous ground, that one wrong move could shatter the fragile trust that had begun to grow between you.

But he also knew that this moment, this first night as husband and wife, was a turning point. A chance to build something real, something lasting.

You took a shaky breath.“Anything you’d like me to have, husband…”

Anakin's heart raced at your words, a heady cocktail of desire and tenderness surging through him. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Are you sure, my rose?"

Your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping your lips. It was all the encouragement he needed.

Anakin's hands slid down to your waist, his fingers splaying across the small of your back as he pulled you flush against him. He could feel the heat of your body, the way your curves melted into the hard planes of his own.

"I want to worship you," he murmured, his lips trailing down the column of your throat. "To taste every inch of your skin, to make you writhe with pleasure."

His hands roamed lower, cupping your buttocks and squeezing gently. The thin fabric of your nightgown did little to hide the heat of your skin, the way your body responded to his touch.

"Tell me what you need," he urged, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me how to please you."

Anakin's own need was a throbbing ache, his cock straining against the confines of his trousers. But he held himself back, determined to focus on your pleasure first.

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. "I want to hear you, my rose. I want to hear you cry out my name."

His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your nightgown higher and higher. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way your muscles quivered beneath his touch.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his fingers brushing against the damp heat of your core. "Do you want me to touch you here?"

Anakin's own breath was coming in ragged gasps, his control hanging by a thread. But he held back, waiting for your response. This was your journey, your pleasure. And he would follow your lead, no matter where it took him.

His scruff ghosted against your shoulder. “I fucked many whores senseless in brothels…but never thought I’d have an angel to satisfy. This is the culmination of my mere mortal life…to have you in my arms, quivering from the pleasure I’m giving you …how lucky I am to be alive right now.”

Anakin's words washed over you, a heady mix of reverence and desire that sent shivers down your spine. You felt cherished, worshipped, like a goddess being praised by a devoted supplicant.

"Anakin," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Please..."

It was all the encouragement he needed. With a low growl, Anakin swept you into his arms, carrying you to the bed. He laid you down gently, his body covering yours as he hovered above you.

"You're my angel," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "My very own heavenly creature, sent to grace my mortal life."

His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep as he claimed your mouth. You responded with equal fervor, your hands fisting in his hair as you pulled him closer.

Anakin's hands roamed your body, mapping every curve and hollow. He pushed the straps of your nightgown down, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze.

"Beautiful," he breathed, his fingers skimming over the sensitive flesh. "Perfect."

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to taste your nipple. You arched into him, a low moan escaping your lips as pleasure coursed through you.

Anakin lavished your breasts with attention, his mouth and hands working in tandem to drive you wild with need. Your hips bucked against him, seeking friction, but he held you down, his weight pinning you to the bed.

"Not yet, my rose," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "I'm not nearly done with you."

His hand slid down your body, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You trembled beneath him, your body aching for his touch.

"Please, Anakin," you whimpered, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears. "Please…husband..."

With a low groan, Anakin obliged. His fingers delved between your folds, finding you slick and ready. He stroked you slowly, his touch maddeningly gentle.

Suddenly a knock echoed “General, the French renegates attacked a village, we need you as fast as possible.” A voice spoke urgently through the thick wooden door.

The knock at the door jolted you both out of your passionate haze, the harsh reality of your situation crashing down upon you. Anakin cursed under his breath, his expression hardening as he sprang into action.

He quickly fastened his armor, the tender lover of moments ago replaced by the fierce warrior you knew him to be. You watched him through narrowed eyes, your heart pounding in your chest.

How could you have let yourself be swept away like that ? This man, with countless deaths on his hands, had touched you with such tenderness, had made you feel things you'd never felt before. It was a betrayal of everything you stood for, everything you believed in.

"I have to go," Anakin said gruffly, his voice devoid of the warmth and affection he'd shown you just moments before. "Your people have attacked a village. I need to lead my men."

You nodded stiffly, wrapping the sheets tighter around your body. "Of course. Duty calls."

Anakin paused at the door, his hand on the handle. He turned to look at you, his eyes searching your face. "Princess..."

"Go," you said firmly, turning away from him. "Save the village. That's what you're good at, after all."

The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable, and Anakin flinched as if struck. But he didn't argue, didn't try to change your mind. With a curt nod, he left the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

You were alone, your body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire. But it was tinged with shame, with the knowledge that you'd betrayed your principles for a moment of pleasure.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back furiously. You were stronger than this, better than this. You wouldn't let a man, no matter how charming or skilled, make you forget who you were.

But even as you tried to convince yourself of your own strength, a small voice whispered in the back of your mind. A voice that wondered what might have been, if you'd given in to the passion that had burned between you.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker

"A fleeting touch, a ghost, a flame, A breath that whispers your quiet name. The silk of your skin beneath my hand, A treasure I cannot yet command.

I burn for what I cannot claim, This ache, a tether, this want, my shame. Your gaze, a wound in my chest both sharp and sweet, A battlefield where I’m brought to defeat.”

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ carlos masterlist

-----------------••✩🥞🌶💋✩••----------------

... 𝐢'𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✩ : as the 2024 season comes to an end, so does the time you have left to finally confess your feelings to carlos

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : carlos sainz

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : pure A N G S T

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,7k

✍︎ : i'm SO SORRY it took me this long to write, but i was literally swamped with school work and i had no time to do anything. anyway, i hope you like it because i put my soul and tears into it (i'll probably write some cute christmas themed one-shots to recover from this, don't worry 🙃).

enjoy! 🩷❤️

lando's version here!

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

Wrong.

If you had to use any word to describe the situation you found yourself in, it would’ve been wrong.

Everything felt out of place: the laughs, the chattering, even the clinking of champagne glasses. It was all too loud, almost as if everyone was trying to fill the void that loomed in the air.

Though, now that you thought about it, ‘fake’ actually fit the scene better. To your ears, the jokes that rang across the motorhome were nothing but a lame attempt to lighten up the mood, every word sounding empty and meaningless. Each one of the people crowding the room were just actors playing their part in a show they’d been rehearsing for months, and between them stood the main character, the best liar of them all.

Carlos had been smiling the entire night, going along with the setup for some reason that your brain really couldn’t seem to grasp. What was the point of celebrating his departure, even worse when the people he was hugging with such warmth were the same ones who’d dropped him from the team to replace him?

As for you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him: every time you did, you caught the flicker of hurt hiding behind the forced grin he'd carefully plastered on his face, the sight making you feel sick to your stomach.

To be honest, you didn’t try to approach him at all, the mere thought of confronting him keeping you away. What was the point, anyway? He was leaving Ferrari, and nothing you might say or do could ever change that.

You hated it. You hated that you had to stand there and watch him leave, you hated the team for making him, you hated yourself and how powerless you felt, you hated Carlos… especially the way you didn’t hate him at all.

It wasn’t something you’d planned: it just happened. Somewhere between the race debriefs, the jokes, and even the fights, you’d inevitably fell for him. What a shame you were only realizing it now.

You avoided him all night, slipping into the shadows every time he came too close or tried to approach you, ignoring the pang of guilt that hit you when you saw the half-smile he flashed falter. His eyes were questioning, almost pleading, burning holes right through you as you turned your back to him once again. You told yourself that was the only way you could survive the “party”… or so you thought.

You knew it was coming, and yet when the lights dimmed and your teammates’ voices lowered to whispers your heart dropped to your stomach, all the noise from before replaced by a piercing ringing in your ears.

The video.

The wide screen suddenly lit up, its brightness almost blinding in the dark room, the clips playing out on it in quick flashes: Carlos’ first podiums, his maiden victory with Ferrari, the celebrations with the team and the Tifosi, the challenges with Charles… each one of them was a dagger to the chest which twisted in a wound that had been bleeding for months now.

The motorhome had fallen silent, the stillness interrupted from time to time by a choked laugh or a quiet sniffle that echoed like gunshots. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, unable to look at the taped moments without your sight getting blurry, forcing yourself not to let it wander over the faces that surrounded you — until you eventually did, and that was the worst mistake of your life.

Carlos’ eyes were glistening under the violent screen lighting, puffy and bloodshot from the tears he’d clearly already shed, which stained his cheeks and slightly parted mouth.

The walls started closing in on you, your breath coming out in shallow gasps as you felt a lump tightening your throat, panic rising in your chest. You couldn’t see him like that.

You should’ve stayed. For him. You should’ve been close and hugged him, like everyone else was doing now that the video had ended, but you couldn’t.

So you ran like a coward.

You stumbled back, bumping into people that you didn’t really see, mumbling weak ‘Sorry’ in their direction, until a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you going?” He put it as a question, but the concern in his tone made it sound more like a warning, almost as if he already knew the answer.

“Let me go. Please,” you breathed out, the words painfully scratching your throat as you let them out. He didn’t budge. “Charles–”

“No, listen to me,” he said firmly, his hold tightening slightly more to prevent you from getting away. “He needs us. All of us.” He searched your eyes with his, a quiet request in them: we have to be strong for him.

“He doesn’t need me. Not like this,” you muttered, shame washing over you as you shrugged his hand off and finally reached the door, rushing outside like your life depended on it.

It was pouring, but you couldn’t care less; in fact, the cool raindrops were soothing against your burning skin, their sound drowning out the thoughts that had been running through your mind relentlessly all night.

You didn’t hear his steps, either.

“Why are you out here?” Carlos’ voice cut through the storm like a knife, and you froze. He’d followed you.

You didn’t turn around. Instead, you swallowed back the tears you hadn’t even noticed had started streaming down your face, mixed with the rain that soaked through your clothes. “Go back inside. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“I don’t care,” he shot back harshly, maybe more than he intended to, because he quickly added: “Why are you acting like this? Did I do something?”

“No,” you replied flatly, the genuine confusion in his tone making it harder to keep yours steady. “I just needed some air.”

“So what, you just left without saying anything?” He stepped closer, frustration bleeding through his words.

“It’s your party, Carlos, not mine. And it’s not that deep.”

“Not that– do you hear yourself? This ‘party’ is my last one here at Ferrari. We’re supposed to say goodbye.” His voice cracked, followed shortly after by the walls you were struggling to keep up.

“I’m sure there are plenty of people in there who are dying to say–”

“Dios mío, do you even care that I’m leaving?” he spit out, the venom in his words hitting you like a slap right in the face.

“Of course I care–”

“Then look at me! Please, at least look at me.” He was so close now that you could feel his shaky breaths ruffling your hair, his warmth inches away from you, so familiar and yet so distant.

Slowly, you turned around, your vision blurry as you took in the sight of him: he was completely drenched in rain, the fireproof he was still wearing from the race clinging to his body, his usually perfect hair sticking to his forehead, and he looked so effortlessly handsome it made your heart ache.

“And now?” You let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. “What do you expect me to say? That I’m happy for you? Because if that’s it, I’m sorry but I’m not. I don’t care if I sound selfish, and if that makes me a horrible teammate then be it, but at least I’m not a fake friend like half of the people in there. So yes, Carlos, I care, I care so much that I couldn’t stay inside and watch you act like you didn’t.” The words had spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them, leaving you breathless once you came to a halt.

Carlos blinked a few times, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Then, what you’d actually said clicked in his mind.

“I don’t care? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me all night–”

“Carlos, stop,” you choked out, tears welling up in your eyes once again at his sharp tone.

“No,” he said, firmly. “Not until you tell me what’s really going on.”

“It’s not that simple, okay?” Your voice cracked as it raised, trying to outshout both the storm that surrounded you and the one raging inside your chest.

“Then make it simple!” He yelled too, but his words sounded like a cry for help. That made you finally snap.

“I love you, Carlos! Is that simple enough for you? Because for me it’s not. It hurts so fucking much knowing that I can’t do anything anymore, that I’m too late, and it’s… easier this way. Distancing myself, I mean. I prefer walking away from you on my own than having you taken away from me.”

Heavy silence stretched between the two of you after your voice trailed off, your words still lingering in the damp air as you just stared at each other for what felt like ages.

“Say something, please.” You were the one begging now, his numbness worse than any sentence you’d heard tonight. “Shout, scream, just–”

He didn’t let you finish, his lips finding yours in a desperate, urgent kiss that tasted like tears and regrets. You poured every ounce of you into it, your hands roaming over each other and pulling you impossibly closer, almost as if you wanted to melt together and become a whole, so that nothing could ever separate you anymore.

When you parted, he pressed his mouth to your forehead, his hands cradling your face like you were the most delicate and precious porcelain doll in the world and he was afraid he might break you; too bad he already had.

“I love you,” he then whispered against your wet skin, before letting his lips fall to your right cheek. “And I’ll miss you…” he pressed a kiss on it, then moved to the other. “… so much,” he left a third one, capturing the single tear that had escaped your eye.

“I’ll miss you, too,” you breathed out, words getting lost in the howling wind.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms as the rain soaked you both, washing away the tears that silently strolled down your face, and with them the promise of a future that ended before it even started.

-----------------••✩🥞🌶💋✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[wakasaswifee]

GG, NO REᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

(good game, no rematch)

Synopsis: Sershiro Nagi, one of japan's top streamers; who dominates the gaming world with his effortless skills. When an underground content creator challenges him to a 1v1 after he dismisses casual players, their fans go wild. The match ends with an unexpected twist, and what starts as an online rivalry turns into a chaotic, relationship.

pairing: Seishiro nagi x F!reader | Smau & writing

content warning: I try to be funny (more cringe than funny), dry humour, crack, angst (if you squint), ooc character, nagi is sassy?, spicy but not smut (eventually), streamers - most of them, swearing, rude jokes

ʚɞ good game

Nagi clicked a button on his keyboard, starting up his stream. The first 20 minutes were just him talking and answering questions until someone finally asked the big question.

—Reply to Y/N Gamez’s video—

Not even a second later, all the messages in the chat were about it.

—Yeah! What were the tweets about?—

—You can’t just take that disrespect!—

—1v1 her!—

Nagi sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had already watched the clip and responded on Twitter—just not on stream.

"Alright, so what's happening is, two hours from now, the other streamer, Y/N, I think her name is—she’s going to come on, and we’ll 1v1 each other in COD. It'll be a private game."

Messages flooded the chat once again.

"Don’t worry, guys, I’m not stressed. We all know who’s gonna win."

You joined Nagi’s stream after he sent you an invite.

Nagi was talking about the game rules and chatting with his viewers.

You, on the other hand—your hands were trembling. Not because you were nervous, but because, for one, over a million people would be watching, and if you messed up, it’d be the same as a public execution.

—C’mon, lock TF in.—

You laughed when you saw Shidou’s message.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The game was intense. It was best out of three. You won the first round, giving you a confidence boost, but that came crashing down when Nagi won the second like it was nothing, saying the first one was just a warm-up.

God, his cockiness pissed you off.

The third game was tense and probably the longest. Both of you had gone completely silent—only the clicks of your controllers and keyboards could be heard.

The game ended with you victorious.

You let out the deepest breath, realizing you hadn’t been breathing properly for the past 20 minutes.

“GG.”

Nagi was silent for a moment before letting out a quiet, "gg."

"Rematch?" he asked.

"Nah, not now."

You fell back in your chair, wiping your palms on the sides of your biker shorts. It felt like you had just run a marathon. The win was sweet, but bringing someone down a notch or two was even sweeter.

You pushed your hair back as Nagi cleared his throat, announcing to his chat that you had won. What was really annoying was that he didn’t sound mad. Not one bit.

You thanked him for having you, said your goodbyes, and logged off your PC. Pulling out your phone to see messages from ryu

You tossed your phone onto the wireless charger and plopped onto your bed. Darkness covered your vision, and you were out cold.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Groaning, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. Grabbing it off the nightstand, you saw over 100+ notifications—some from Sae, some from shidou and.. twitter??

series masterlist: ʚɞ

A/n: this came out later than expected but hopefully it formatted correctly and doesn't fuck me over after I post it. I giggled while making this ><

Next: 03

TAGLIST: @syarc0re @sunnydays25 @x3nafix @lilwx @tired-child00 (open)

[losernb]

Valentine's Day Surprise

Sevika’s never experienced  this before. Valentine's Day is a Piltover holiday, there’s no time for stuff like this in Zaun. She never would’ve known about it if she didn’t decide to take you and the girls out for a fun day last week.

Valentine’s Day:

“Look over there!” Jinx points, drawing Isha’s attention to the giant sign. It’s bright pink, covered in a bunch of hearts, and it reads:

Valentine’s Day Sale- All the chocolate, flowers, and plushies a girl could ever want!

Isha’s face lights up with excitement as she reads it. Candy, flowers, and a new teddy bear?! I want them! She signs eagerly towards Jinx.. 

“You gotta ask Sevika, she’s the one with the money.” Jinx says with a laugh.

Without hesitation, Isha dashes over to where you and Sevika are talking, tugging insistently at Sevika’s sleeve. Sevika looks down at her, brow raised in confusion.

“What’s wrong kid?” Sevika asks, voice hinting with confusion. Isha points to the sign, causing both you and Sevika to turn and look at it. You laugh a little, knowing why she was drawing your attention to it. 

“Looks like we know what we’re buying today.” You laugh and pick Isha up, settling her down on your hip and kissing her cheek. She giggles and throws both arms up, letting out a victorious squeal. Sevika rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh, “Alright, c’mon girls let’s go see what this is about.”

The four of you walk into the store, taking in the assortment of flowers and the piles of plushies. Isha and Jinx are mesmerized. Before you can blink, Isha wriggles out of your arms, grabbing Jinx’s hand and dragging her toward the stuffed animals.

“The hell is ‘Valentine’s Day’ anyway?” Sevika asks you, never having heard of it before. You grew up in Zaun as well so you had no clue. 

“Maybe we can go ask?” You suggest, walking up to the first worker you see. It’s an older lady who smiles when she sees the two of you. “Hello, what can I do for you lovely ladies?” She asks, smiling warmly.

“Hi, I just wanted to ask what Valentine’s Day is, I saw it on the sign outside.” You reply, offering back a small smile. 

The woman lets out a small laugh, “Oh dear, you’ve never heard of Valentine’s Day? Are you new to Piltover?”

You nod. “Yeah, actually. We don’t really have fancy holidays in Zaun—just birthdays and anniversaries, mostly.”

Sevika shifts beside you, resting a hand on your back—a habit of hers whenever she senses something’s off. You glance at her, noticing the subtle furrow in her brow.

Then, the woman’s smile fades. Her expression stiffens, her warmth turning to something colder.

“Oh,” she says, voice suddenly clipped. “Well, it’s a day to celebrate loved ones.” The words feel forced, like an afterthought. “Excuse me, I need to go.” She turns abruptly, walking away without another word.

You turn back to Sevika and understand the look now, she caught the lady’s shift in attitude before you did. You kiss her cheek, as a reminder that everything’s okay. “Cmon Sevi, lets just get our girl and go.” Sevika nods, jaw tight, but says nothing.

You make your way over to Jinx and Isha, who are still enthralled by the plushies.

“Pick out anything you like yet?” You bend down to ask Isha. She’s holding a little brown bear and Jinx is holding a bunny. This one! She signs, putting down the bear to free up her hands.

“Excuse me.”

You turn to see a small man, his posture stiff, a name tag reading Manager pinned to his vest.

“Could you please leave?” His tone is polite, but his expression is anything but.

You don’t need to ask why. The woman from earlier must’ve told him where you’re from. Zaunites aren’t banned from Piltover stores, but some people—especially in places like this—act like they should be.

You sigh, standing up and gently gathering Isha into your arms.

What’s happening? Isha signs, confusion flickering across her face.

“We gotta go, kiddo,” Jinx says with a sigh, patting her back.

Isha deflates against your shoulder, small hands gripping your jacket. Her excitement, her joy—gone in an instant.

Sevika sees it, too. The hurt in Isha’s expression. The way Jinx looks away, lips pressed into a thin line. And something inside her snaps.

She steps forward, towering over the manager. “Yeah? And what exactly is the reason we need to leave?” Her voice is steady, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

The manager swallows, visibly intimidated. “I—I just think it would be best if—”

“Best for who?” Sevika cuts him off. “We were minding our own damn business.”

His gaze flickers between her and you, then to Isha in your arms, her little brown bear still clutched to her chest. He hesitates, but the damage is done.

Sevika clicks her tongue. “Tch. C’mon, let’s go,” she mutters, turning on her heel.

Jinx nudges Isha. “Keep the bear, kid. They owe you.”

Isha nods hesitantly, tightening her hold on it as the four of you leave.

Surprise Set up:

A week had passed since that incident, and Sevika had mostly put it out of her mind, believing it to be a thing of the past. Little did she know, while she was busy in Piltover handling her Councilor duties, you and the girls had been hard at work planning a little surprise.

While you baked the cake and prepared the dinner, Jinx was in charge of the decorations and Isha sat at the table, her tongue poking out in concentration as she scribbled on a card.

“Isha! The cake is done cooling, do you wanna help me decorate it?” You called out to her.

There was no verbal response—just the rapid pat-pat-pat of Isha’s little feet racing toward the kitchen. She crashed into your legs at full speed, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Whoa—!” You let out a startled yelp, catching yourself on the counter.

“Slow down, you little tornado. Almost made me drop the cake.” She just nods in understanding before grabbing the stool, the one that was exclusively hers since she was the shortest, and drags it over. 

You leave Isha to do her own little thing, knowing it’ll be messy but heartfelt. With her focused on the cake, you wandered into the living room to check on Jinx’s progress.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

Jinx had outdone herself—balloons, streamers, and paper hearts covered the room. Candles flickered on various surfaces, their soft glow giving the space a warm, golden hue.

“You seem to really enjoy this, huh?” You nudge Jinx’s shoulder. She chuckles, admitting, “Yeah, its fun to be asked to spice up a room instead of just vandalizing it.” You grinned and pulled her into a quick hug. “It looks amazing. She’s gonna love it.”

Jinx smirked but looked away, pretending not to care too much. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Once everything was set, you plated dinner and let the girls eat even though Sevika wasn’t home yet. You knew better than to wait—whenever she had meetings, she always came home late.

After dinner, you put on a movie, intending to wait up for her. But before it even reached the halfway mark, the three of you had melted into a sleepy pile on the couch—tangled together in a mess of limbs, warmth, and slow breathing.

Sevika’s Arrival:

The front door creaked open softly. Sevika stepped inside, moving quietly in case you and the girls were already asleep. Sometimes, she found you curled up on the couch, waiting for her with a book in hand.

That was what she’d been hoping for.

Instead, what she saw made her stop in her tracks.

Balloons. Candles. Paper hearts covering the walls.

She blinked, wondering if exhaustion was playing tricks on her. But no—it was real.

Slowly, she walked toward the dining table. A full meal sat waiting for her, along with a very wonky-looking cake and a single handmade card.

She already knew whose handiwork the cake was.

With a quiet chuckle, she picked up the card and opened it.

Inside was a drawing—your little makeshift family. Jinx and Isha in the middle, Sevika on the left, you on the right. It was messy, colorful, imperfect, and completely perfect.

At the top, in bold, sloppy handwriting, it read:

Happy Valintinez Day!

Sevika swallowed hard, her chest tightening. Her vision blurred slightly. She hadn’t expected this. Not after the way that stupid Piltover store had turned you all away like you were less. Not after she’d spent years thinking she wasn’t someone people would celebrate, let alone love.

A quiet sniffle escaped her. She tried to muffle it, rubbing at her eyes, but the sound must have woken you.

Blinking groggily, you lifted your head from the couch, scanning the room until your eyes landed on her.

Sevika stood frozen by the table, her back to you, shoulders trembling just slightly.

You nudged the girls off you gently before getting up and walking toward her.

“Hey,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around her from behind. “What’s wrong, love? Shitty meeting again?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned around, cupped your face in her hands, and kissed you—soft, slow, and deep.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You smiled, brushing away the stray tears that clung to her lashes. “Oh, you big softie,” you teased, tugging her toward the couch. “C’mere.”

You shifted Jinx and Isha just enough to make space, then pulled Sevika down with you. Isha stirred slightly, snuggling into Sevika’s side while Jinx grumbled in her sleep before draping an arm over both of you.

Sevika sighed, her arms instinctively wrapping around the girls, keeping them close.

“I love you guys so much,” she whispered, like it was something sacred. Something she’d never dared say before.

You pressed a kiss to her cheek before resting your head on her shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

“We love you too,” you murmured.

Sevika glanced down at the small, sleeping faces tucked against her, at the mess of decorations still scattered around the room. Her heart was full in a way she didn’t think possible.

She pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before letting sleep take her, safe and warm in the only place she’d ever truly belonged.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this T^T. I would've posted this earlier but I had to go to work lol

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY POOKS <3

[kitty-won07]

Rivals at Heart

Pairing : Class president! Jungwon x student! reader.

Genre : Academics Rivals to Lovers(?) , Bickerings,Fluff.

Words count : 1.13k.

Summary : Fierce academic rivals, you and Jungwon are forced to team up for a prestigious scholarship competition. What begins as tense collaboration slowly unravels years of rivalry, revealing unexpected connection and mutual respect. As competition turns to camaraderie—and something more—you both learn that the greatest victories aren't won alone, but together.

Author's note : Hey guys ! , this is my first fanfiction, I wanted my first story to be about jungwon as he is my bias. I hope you guys enjoy it , sorry about mistakes and let me know if you liked it by rebloging or just comenthing :) .

---

The quiet hum of the school library was broken by the sound of your notebook slamming shut. You glared across the table at Jungwon, who sat with his usual calm demeanor, typing furiously on his laptop.

"You're not seriously trying to beat me on this project too, are you?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Jungwon didn’t even glance up. "Beat you? That implies there’s competition. I’ve already won."

Your fists clenched around your pen. For years, this had been the routine: Jungwon’s smug quips, your biting comebacks, and a constant battle for academic supremacy. Teachers loved to pair you two up, calling it a "dream team." To you, it felt more like a nightmare.

The scholarship announcement came during morning assembly. A hush fell over the students as the principal introduced the competition: a chance to work with the city’s top universities and secure early admissions. The catch? Teams would be assigned by the administration.

When your name was called, you froze.

“And their partner… Jungwon Yang.”

Your stomach dropped. From the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk.

“Looks like the school finally realized we’re the best,” Jungwon said as he passed you in the hall later.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you shot back. “I’m not losing because of you.”

The first study session was predictably disastrous.

“I don’t need your help with the research,” you snapped, yanking a textbook away.

“And I don’t need your color-coded charts cluttering the desk,” Jungwon replied, his voice clipped.

Hours passed in tense silence, the only sound the scratching of pens and furious typing. It wasn’t until you both reached for the same article—your hands brushing—that you realized how close you were sitting. You pulled away quickly, heat rushing to your face.

The group project presentation was supposed to be easy. But when one of your teammates fumbled their part, you felt panic rising. Before you could intervene, Jungwon stepped in seamlessly.

“Actually,” he began, his voice steady and confident, “what they meant to say was…”

He delivered a flawless explanation, saving the presentation. Afterward, you cornered him in the hallway.

“Why’d you do that?” you demanded. “You could’ve let them fail.”

Jungwon shrugged, his gaze softening. “It would’ve affected your grade too. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

For once, you didn’t have a snarky reply.

As the competition progressed, the walls between you started to crumble. Late-night study sessions turned into debates about everything from philosophy to your favorite snacks. You began noticing the small things about Jungwon—how he tapped his pen when he was thinking, how his eyes lit up when he explained something he was passionate about.

And he noticed you too. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were focused. The way you bit your lip when you were trying not to laugh at his jokes.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the school to notice the shift in your dynamic. The whispers started during class when you and Jungwon exchanged smiles instead of sharp remarks.

“Wait,” one of your friends whispered during lunch. “Are you two…?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “No! I mean… not really. I don’t know.”

Across the cafeteria, Jungwon caught your eye and gave you a small, knowing smile. Your heart fluttered.

Later, when you confronted him about it, he shrugged. “Let them talk. It’s not like I’m ashamed of you.”

The simplicity of his words left you speechless again.

One afternoon, the two of you sat on the rooftop, overlooking the bustling schoolyard below. The scholarship was officially yours, and with the competition behind you, things felt lighter than they had in years.

“So,” you said, leaning back against the railing. “Now that we’re not competing anymore, what do we do?”

Jungwon turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Who says we’re done competing? There’s still university applications, internships, exams…”

You groaned, swatting his arm. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning. “But you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The school auditorium was packed, buzzing with excitement for the annual debate competition. It was a tradition for graduating seniors, and naturally, you and Jungwon were the star participants. This time, however, you weren’t partners—you were opponents.

“Ready to lose?” Jungwon teased, straightening his blazer as you both stood backstage.

“Lose? You’re underestimating me already. That’s your first mistake,” you shot back, smirking.

He chuckled, leaning in just enough for his voice to lower. “Try not to get distracted by how good I look winning.”

The familiar banter only fueled your determination.

The debate was intense. Each point Jungwon made was sharp, confident, and impeccably supported, but you fired back with equal wit and conviction. The audience was on the edge of their seats as the two of you traded arguments like a perfectly choreographed dance.

It wasn’t until the final round that the tension shifted. Jungwon’s rebuttal started strong, but then he faltered—just for a second. His eyes flickered to yours, and for the briefest moment, his usual competitive edge softened.

You recognized it immediately. He was holding back.

After his turn, you stood to deliver your closing statement. The words came easily, but your mind was racing. Was Jungwon pulling his punches to let you win?

After the debate, the judges announced the winner: you. The applause was thunderous, but all you could think about was Jungwon’s expression—calm and unreadable, as always.

Later, you found him in the empty hallway outside the auditorium. “You held back,” you said, crossing your arms.

Jungwon leaned against the wall, his smirk returning. “You noticed, huh?”

“Why?”

He shrugged, his tone light but sincere. “I’ve been winning against you for years. I figured it was time to give you something back.”

You stepped closer, your heart pounding. “I don’t want you to hold back. Not for me.”

For the first time, Jungwon hesitated. “You don’t need me to. You’re already better than me in ways I can’t compete with.”

The words left you stunned. Before you could respond, he added with a grin, “But don’t get used to it. Next time, I’m winning.”

You laughed, the sound breaking the tension. “We’ll see about that.”

As you walked out of the school together, the rivalry that had once defined your relationship now felt like the foundation for something stronger. Jungwon reached for your hand, and for the first time, you let him win.

---

[cheynovak]

Owned -Part 2

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Never tell Ben you owe him one. Because he'll make you work for it.

Warnings: 18+! mdni, Sex, teasing, dirty talk, ...

English isn't my first language.

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

I let out a nervous laugh, the sound shaky, but it seemed to amuse him. He watched me with that devil-may-care grin, clearly enjoying my discomfort, and the way my attempt to flirt fell short.

“How am I supposed to give you a nickname when I know nothing about you?” I asked, trying to regain some control.

He lifted an eyebrow, as if he found my question both amusing and charming. “What do you want to know, baby?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, as his hand slid over my thigh. The way his fingers brushed my skin sent a shiver through me, the motion slow, calculated, like he was savoring every second of this.

I shifted uncomfortably, not entirely sure of what I was doing. But then I noticed his shoulders tense slightly. He sucked in a sharp breath, and I felt it.

That’s when I realized—he was reacting to me. To the way my body was pressing against his.

I could feel it, unmistakable now, the hard bulge growing beneath me, pressing against the thin lace.

My pulse quickened. My lips parted slightly, and I bit my bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep myself in check.

I didn’t want to feel this excitement, but I did.

My hands moved to his chest, fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the taut muscles beneath. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak.

“Where are you from?” I asked, my voice sounding too shaky to be mine.

“Philly,” he replied, that smirk never leaving his face.

“Siblings?”

“No.”

“Parents?”

“Father.”

“Close?”

“No.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t done yet. I couldn’t help myself—questions bubbled up, and I asked, “Why me?”

His gaze darkened, his hand moving a little higher on my thigh. “You owe me,” he said, his tone even, almost like a warning.

I lifted my brow. “Right..."

He looked me dead in the eyes, his expression unyielding. “And I had my eye on you the entire evening.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. His touch still lingered on my skin, and the air between us crackled with tension. But I wasn’t backing down. I needed to know more about him—about Ben.

“Why the army?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling in my chest.

He hesitated, like he was searching for the right words, before he spoke. “My dad hated me.” His voice was clipped, but there was a rawness to it that caught my attention. He didn’t want to make it sound sad, but I could hear the pain beneath the surface.

I sat back, not caring about the hard bulge pressing against my thigh. I tried to focus on the question, not the feeling of him under me.

“So,” I said, my voice almost too calm, “basically, you’re the most loved man on the planet, but because of your daddy issues, you’re afraid to turn out like him, and be alone, so you seek out girls who owe you favors, just to fill the void even though you clearly have his anger issues?”

The teasing gleam in his eyes faded in an instant. A dangerous intensity replaced it, and his grip on my hips tightened.

“Who the fuck are you to judge me?” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

I flinched slightly, but I didn’t look away. I needed to apologize. I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but I wasn’t backing down either.

“I’m sorry.” I lowered my gaze, my heart hammering in my chest. I was close to saying something that might make everything worse, but I had to push through.

I felt a slight victory as I saw the anger flicker in his eyes, but I wasn’t done yet.

“I just…” I took another steadying breath, moving closer to him again, “I just wanted to know Ben... not Soldier Boy.”

His expression hardened, and I saw the muscles in his jaw tense, his tongue pressing against his cheek in frustration. But still, I didn’t stop. I moved my hands up to his neck, my fingers brushing against his skin as I cupped his face, forcing him to meet my gaze.

His eyes were still stormy, but something shifted between us, something raw and vulnerable.

I leaned in slowly, my hips pressing against his as I whispered into the air between us.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my lips hovering just above his before I trailed my lips across his neck, brushing over the strong muscle there. “I didn’t mean to hurt or offend you.”

I kissed him there, my breath shaky. I pulled back slightly, my chest rising and falling rapidly, and I looked up into his eyes.

“I’m lonely, too,” I said, barely a whisper, but it felt like the heaviest truth I’d ever spoken.

“Have you seen yourself?” He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a jolt of electricity through me. "You could have any man."

"You could have any woman, why me, there where plent of women at the part?"

“I don’t want a child, Baby. I want a woman. Curves and all. Real curves, a woman who looks like a twig with big tits is a fraud.”

I bit my lip again, trying to steady myself. God, he knew exactly what to say to make my body react.

And I hated how much it was working.

I felt Ben's hand move from my thigh to my ass, almost covering the entire shown flesh. I couldn't help but to close my eyes at his warm touch.

"Want me to make you feel good, baby?"

"Yes," I said whining.

His fingers moved over the lace, while my chest still lay flat against his. He looked at my face while he teased me.

I felt his fingers mover underneath the fabricand a soft "oh," sound left my mouth.

I could feel his fingers move, curling teasing. my face hides in his neck and he grumbles a deep laugh, "Oh no baby. Look at me. I need to see the flush on your cheeks.

I felt his fingers getting coated before he slide inside. My mouth opened in pleasure and he took it as an invitation to kiss me deep.

His to tongue forces itself inside and I couldn't help but to suck on it, clearly to his liking.

He let go of me and pushed me back. straight up. "Open wide baby." His finger moved over my lips, as a obeyed his request and sucked his fingers clean.

My eyes rolled back, never in my entire life did I experienced anything like this and found it incredibly hot.

Ben’s hand moved over the lace covering me, his fingers teasing, testing. And then—*rip.*

The delicate fabric tore apart like it was nothing in his grip. My breath hitched, my whole body tensing as cool air met my now-exposed breasts.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands flying to his chest, but he didn’t stop me—didn’t force me down. He just watched me, his dark green eyes locked onto mine, waiting.

“Hope you didn’t like those too much, baby” he murmured, voice thick with amusement.

I swallowed hard, heat pooling low in my stomach. I should have been angry. I should have said something.

But all I could do was stare at him, heart pounding, as he ran his fingers over the now-ruined lace, his smirk widening.

His hands reached up, slowly sliding the bunny ears off my head. He tossed them aside carelessly, like they were never important to begin with. But his attention never left me.

Then his mouth was on me.

Soft, heated kisses trailed along the newly exposed skin. His lips pressed firm, teasing, before his teeth grazed against my skin.

A sharp nip.

I gasped, my fingers curling against his shoulders, and into his hair, but he only hummed in satisfaction. His mouth found my nipple, sensitive, and his tongue swirled over it, soothing where his teeth had just been.

My breath stuttered, my body betraying me, arching into his touch.

"Fuck," he muttered against my skin, his voice rough. "You're too easy to mess with, baby." I arched my back, my fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. “Ben… more.”

I felt him smirk against my skin, his breath warm, teasing. “That’s my girl.”

Before I could react, he shifted, laying me down on the couch effortlessly. His body hovered over mine, his weight pressing me into the cushions in a way that made my stomach tighten with anticipation.

His lips moved lower, dragging down my collarbone, over my ribs, his kisses growing rougher, wetter. Every inch of my skin he touched burned.

Then—*rip.*

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask. The rest of the lace barely held together before he tore it apart, leaving me completely bare beneath him.

A sharp gasp left my lips, but he only groaned in response, his mouth picking up where his hands had left off.

By the time I realized what was happening, his hands were gripping my thighs, spreading me wider as his breath fanned against my core.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger. “Look at you, Baby. Already soaked, just for me.”

Heat flooded my face, but I had no time to feel embarrassed before his tongue swiped through my folds, slow and deliberate.

I choked on a moan, my fingers flying to his hair, tugging.

He groaned against me, the vibration sending a sharp jolt through my body. “Yeah, you like that?” he murmured, licking into me again. “So fucking sweet.”

I whimpered, my thighs trying to close, but his grip only tightened.

“Nuh-uh,” he chuckled darkly. “You wanted more, Baby. So now you’re gonna take it.”

His tongue flicked over my clit, his pace maddening, building me up only to slow back down.

“Ben—” I panted, but he didn’t let me finish.

“God, you’re so fucking needy,” he groaned, fingers digging into my thighs. “Beg for it, Baby. Let me hear how bad you want me to ruin you.”

The mouth on that man—filthy, teasing, and entirely too good at wrecking me.

His lips brushed against my skin between each slow stroke of his tongue, but he wasn’t satisfied yet. Not until I said it.

His fingers teased at my entrance, just barely pressing in before pulling away again. A wicked chuckle left his lips.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he murmured, his breath hot against me. “C’mon, Baby I wanna hear it.”

I was already trembling, my body thrumming with need, but I still forced the words out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Ruin me,” I breathed, my fingers tightening in his hair. “Ruin me for another men.”

The second the words left my lips, he rewarded me.

A sharp groan rumbled from his chest as his fingers finally pushed inside, stretching me open. I gasped, my head falling back against the couch as pleasure crashed over me.

“Good girl,” he praised, pumping his fingers in slow, deliberate strokes. “Fuck, you feel perfect.”

His tongue flicked over my clit again, and my thighs tried to squeeze together, but his free hand pressed me down, keeping me wide open for him.

“You asked for this," he said darkly, curling his fingers just right, making me cry out. “So don’t you dare hold back now.”

His words never stopped, a steady stream of praise as he pushed me over the edge. My whole body trembled, pleasure crashing into me so hard I could barely breathe.

I was still gasping, trying to recover, when I heard him stand. My heavy-lidded eyes barely registered the sound of fabric hitting the floor before he sat back down—now completely bare, stroking himself lazily.

I swallowed hard.

His eyes were locked on me, dark and full of hunger. “First time?” he asked, voice rough.

I nodded weakly. “I mean… what you just—yeah, I never knew that was a thing.” His lips twitched into a smirk. “Liked it?” I felt my cheeks heat up, but I still nodded.

His thumb dragged over his tip, spreading the bead of precum there, and my stomach tightened at the sight.

“Ever given head?” he asked, tilting his head. I shook mine. His grin widened. “Come here.”

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me forward until I was kneeling beside him on the couch. My pulse pounded as I stared at him—at all of him—unsure of what to do next.

He must’ve seen the hesitation in my eyes because he reached up, brushing his thumb along my lower lip.

“Do what you did earlier,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. I blinked. “What?”

“With your tongue on mine” he clarified, his grin turning downright wicked. “Show me how bad you wanna be my good girl, baby.”

I did it—I took as much of him as I could, though with his size, it wasn’t much. My tongue swirled, my lips stretched, and I could hear his sharp inhale, feel the way his muscles tensed under my touch.

But before I could settle into a rhythm, he moved. I barely had time to react before he hauled me up, flipping me effortlessly over his shoulder.

“Ben!?” My voice came out panicked, my body tense. His grip firm, possessive. I barely had time to process it before he threw me down onto the bed.

I bounced against the plush mattress, my breath catching in my throat as I looked up at him. His eyes were dark—dangerous. Like a predator that had finally caught its prey.

And God, I loved it!

His broad chest rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths, his gaze raking over me with pure hunger.

“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with anticipation.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I didn’t look away. Instead, I smirked, tilting my chin up slightly. “Then show me.”

His grin widened—sharp, wicked. “Oh, I will”

“But first,” Ben murmured, his voice dripping with authority, “turn around, baby.”

His finger made a slow turning motion, and I swallowed hard before obeying.

I shifted onto my stomach, my breath hitching as I felt the cool sheets against my heated skin.

“Face down,” he continued, his tone rough yet teasing. “Arms in front of you.” I moved, my fingers gripping onto the nearest pillow.

“Ass up, sweetheart.”

A shiver ran through me at the command, but I followed it—arching my back, lifting myself for him, feeling completely exposed under his gaze.

Then… nothing.

I waited.

Seconds stretched into what felt like forever. I could hear his breath, slow and measured. Feel the heat of his presence behind me.

But he didn’t touch me. Not yet. I squirmed slightly, impatience creeping in. Then, finally, I felt his fingers skim over my skin, slow and deliberate.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, his palm smoothing over my lower back, down to my hips. “You look fucking perfect like this.”

*smack*

I jumped up but his hand pressed me back down. "Nah ah, didn't tell you to move baby girl."

Ben shifted behind me, his warmth blanketing me, his presence overwhelming. His grip tightened on my hips, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp when he thrusted in with one smooth motion.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “Look at you… so needy”

I clenched the pillow beneath me, my body already aching for him. His touch was firm, possessive, like he was taking his time claiming me. Every brush of his hands sent sparks shooting down my spine, teasing, testing how much I could take.

Then he moved—slow at first, just enough to make me squirm, to make my breath hitch. I whimpered, arching into him, and he laughed.

“Already so desperate,” he taunted, his fingers trailing up my back before gliding back down, his nails scraping lightly over my skin. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

I nodded, pressing my face into the pillow, my fingers tightening in the fabric.

“Use your words,"he growled, his hand landing a sharp slap on my thigh. I gasped, a shiver running through me.

“Y-yes,” I managed, my voice shaky. "Yes, what?”

“I—I wanted this,” I admitted, barely able to get the words out. A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest. “That’s my girl.”

Then he moved again—rougher, harder, his grip on me unrelenting. I felt every inch of him, the strength behind each movement. My body jolted with every sharp snap of his hips, pleasure and pain blurring together into something intoxicating.

I was unraveling fast, my legs trembling, my voice breaking into breathless moans. But Ben wasn’t done with me.

His hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back just enough for his mouth to find my ear. His breath was hot, teasing, sending a fresh wave of heat through me.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice dripping with amusement. “Beg for it."

“Ben—” I choked out, my entire body burning, overwhelmed.

He *tsked* in disapproval, his grip tightening. “That’s not begging, sweetheart. You can do better.”

I swallowed hard, my pride warring with my desperation. But I knew what he wanted. And God help me, I wanted it too.

“More,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Then louder—“Harder—please.”

A low groan left his lips, his hands roaming over my body like he owned it. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He rewarded me immediately, his movements turning punishing, relentless. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body trembling under the intensity of it all. And the whole time, his mouth never stopped.

“Taking me so well, baby,” he rasped, his fingers sliding up my stomach before gripping my waist again. “Such a perfect little thing for me.”

I whined, my fingers twisting in the sheets as pleasure built higher, hotter, so intense I could barely think.

“Mine,” he muttered, almost to himself, his hand trailing down my spine. “No one else is ever gonna have you like this.”

I should’ve been scared of how possessive he sounded. Should’ve fought back, teased him for it.

But I couldn’t. Because deep down, I liked it. And he knew I did.

Ben wasn’t satisfied yet. I could feel it in the way his grip shifted, how his movements slowed just enough to make me whimper in frustration.

Then suddenly—he pulled away.

I barely had time to react before he flipped me onto my back, his hands gripping my thighs as he spread me open beneath him. His eyes burned into mine, dark and wild, as he pushed my legs up, draping them over his broad shoulders.

“Needed to see you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Wanna watch that pretty face when I ruin you.”

Heat rushed through me at his words, and I barely had time to take a breath before he started moving again—deeper this time, the new angle making me cry out. My hands shot out, gripping onto his arms, his shoulders, anything to ground myself.

Ben groaned, his fingers digging into my thighs, his pace relentless. He was watching me, drinking in every little reaction—every gasp, every moan, every way my body responded to him.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his voice rough. “Look at you. So fucking perfect like this.” I couldn’t even speak. My fingers curled against his skin, desperate, pulling him closer.

“Ben—” I whimpered, my breath shaky.

He leaned down, pressing his weight over me, his body flush against mine. His face was in my neck, his breath hot, his lips teasing over my skin between ragged groans.

“Tell me how bad you need it,” he growled against my throat, his teeth grazing my pulse. “C’mon, Baby, say it."

I gasped, my nails digging into his back. “I—I need it,” I stammered, voice breaking. “Need you...”

A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat, his movements turning desperate, wrecked.

“Fuck—” He buried his face deeper into my neck, his breath ragged, his body trembling against mine. “That’s my good girl—taking every fucking inch like you were made for me.”

His filthy words sent me spiraling, my whole body tightening around him. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along my throat, my collarbone, groaning my name like a prayer.

I felt him stutter, his grip on me tightening—his lips right against my ear as he finally let go, wrecking me completely with a final, breathless whisper:

“Mine.”

**

I don't know what happened but hours later I woke up. Still in that bed, Ben must have shifted us, his hands on my shoulders drawing circles on me. I look up he is staring at the ceiling.

"I guess I owe you know." He murmured. I sit up, "What?"

He looked at me, "You gave me more than I meant to take baby girl. You where right. I just wanted your time that evening, but you gave me the entire night and your body. "

" Well..." I said sitting up. Moving my hips over his, feeling we were still naked. "I can think of something." I tease while my thumb move over his lip, and me biting mine.

He chuckles deep and flipping me over. "I would love nothing more that to taste you again." He said cupping my pussy, I hissed. "But you're a little sore baby girl. I might have been a little too excited."

I pulled him closer. "Give me a few hours." I said right before kissing his lips. He grinned is overly charming grin. "I don't mind spending time with you.... here... naked. In my bed..."

"Baby girl."

--

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