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cutielando · 20 hours ago

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family anew | lando norris

synopsis: in which you're not used to having a happy family, but Lando changes that for you

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

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You had never really been one for family gatherings. Not because you didn’t like them, but because, well, you didn’t have the kind that people looked forward to.

Your relationship with your own family had been distant for as long as you could remember. Calls went unanswered, messages ignored, and when you did see them, the conversations were clipped and awkward, as if you were more of a familiar acquaintance than blood.

So when Lando invited you to meet his family, you hesitated.

“They really want to meet you,” he had said, excitement shining in his blue eyes.

He was lying next to you on the couch, fingers lazily playing with yours. “Mum’s already planning what to cook, and I’m pretty sure my sisters are going to bombard you with questions.”

You forced a smile, nodding, but your stomach twisted with unease. Meeting his family meant stepping into something unfamiliar—warmth, closeness, genuine care. It wasn’t something you were used to.

Lando seemed to notice your hesitation because his grip on your hand tightened.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you admitted, looking down. “I just… I don’t know if I’ll fit in.”

Lando’s brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated before saying,

“I’m just not used to that kind of family dynamic. My family isn’t exactly close.”

His expression softened even more.

“Then let mine be your family too.”

♡♡♡♡♡

Lando’s childhood home was nothing short of stunning, but it wasn’t the size or the decor that caught your attention—it was the warmth. The second you stepped inside, you were enveloped in it, an energy so foreign yet comforting that it nearly took your breath away.

His mother, Cisca, was the first to greet you, pulling you into a hug before you could even process it.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. “Lando never stops talking about you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you laughed softly, casting a glance at Lando, who merely grinned.

“It’s really nice to meet you too.”

His sisters, Flo and Cisca, were next, their enthusiasm making your nerves both spike and settle at the same time.

“So you’re the one stealing all of Lando’s attention,” Flo teased, elbowing him.

Cisca grinned. “Finally! Someone to keep him in check.”

Lando rolled his eyes, muttering, “Oh God, here we go.”

You expected to feel out of place. Instead, you found yourself laughing, being pulled into conversations, and feeling something you couldn’t quite name.

Belonging.

♡♡♡♡♡

Dinner was a lively affair. The table was filled with home-cooked food, and the conversation flowed with ease. Lando’s family wasn’t just close—they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. They told stories, teased one another, and included you in every bit of it.

“Lando was the clumsiest kid,” his mother was saying, eyes alight with amusement. “I swear, he ran into walls more times than I can count.”

“Mum,” Lando groaned, covering his face as his sisters burst into laughter.

Cisca grinned.

“Oh, don’t act embarrassed. You haven’t changed that much.”

You giggled, nudging him.

“That explains a lot, actually.”

Lando shot you a betrayed look, but you could see the happiness in his eyes. He wanted you to be part of this.

You wanted that too.

After dinner, you helped clear the table despite Cisca’s protests that you were a guest. Lando watched you from the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips as you chatted with his sisters while washing dishes.

“You fit right in,” he whispered later when he pulled you aside.

You wanted to believe that.

♡♡♡♡♡

Later that night, you found yourself in the living room, sitting beside Lando’s mother while she flipped through old photo albums. The stories she told filled in gaps you hadn’t realized existed, painting a picture of a childhood so vastly different from your own.

There were birthday parties filled with laughter, summer vacations spent together, Christmas mornings where the entire family piled onto the couch in matching pajamas.

Your fingers grazed a photo of Lando as a child, grinning wildly with a missing front tooth. He looked so happy.

“You didn’t grow up like this, did you?” Cisca asked gently, as if she already knew the answer.

You swallowed. “No.”

She reached over, squeezing your hand.

“Families aren’t just the ones we’re born into. Sometimes, we find them in places we least expect.”

Your eyes stung. No one had ever told you that before.

♡♡♡♡♡

It wasn’t until later that night that Lando found you outside on the patio, staring up at the sky, deep in thought. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Alright, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You sighed, leaning into his warmth.

“I just… It’s so different from what I’m used to. Your family, they love each other so much. It’s… It’s amazing.”

He turned you around gently so you were facing him.

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice quiet. “It’s just hard to accept that kind of love when you’ve never had it.”

Lando cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“You deserve it. Every bit of it.”

Your throat tightened. “But what if I don’t fit in?”

He shook his head. “You already do. My mum loves you, my sisters adore you, and I—” He hesitated for a moment before smiling softly. “I love you.”

Your heart stilled. “You do?”

“I do.” His voice was steady, sure. “And love isn’t something you have to earn, alright? It’s given. Freely. You don’t have to be used to it—you just have to let yourself feel it.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but for the first time in a long time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from something lighter, something warmer.

Maybe love wasn’t something you had to be afraid of.

Maybe, just maybe, home wasn’t a place.

Maybe home was a person.

And maybe, just maybe, your home had curly hair, blue eyes, and a heart big enough to hold all the love you had been missing.

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urdreamydoodles · 2 days ago

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Hello! First off, I need to let you know you had made me the happiest person when I found out there was a marvel comic x reader writer and your writing is beautiful! I was wondering if you would write a hc of marvel comic Matt Murdock, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, and Julian Keller (idk if you write for him since he’s formerly x-men) reacting to reader kissing them out of nowhere/when they least expect it. Thank you!

X-MEN CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

You kiss them when they least expect it

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson & Julian Keller

Reply to anon: I'm a Marvel & DC Comic book fan first and foremost, so I wanted to write for this version of the characters and to be honest, I didn't expect so much love for it...SO I'M EXTREMELY HAPPY to receive your type of message! The headcanons for Matt come right after in the "Marvel Comics Characters" headcanons I will post <3 (Btw, I love Julian)

Logan Howlett

- Logan smells you before he sees you, that familiar, intoxicating scent that always seems to linger in the air long after you’ve left. He barely has time to turn before your lips are on his, searing and unexpected, a wildfire in the dead of winter. His entire body tenses—like something wild, something caged—but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he goes utterly still, as if afraid that any movement will wake him from this impossible dream. He has lived lifetimes soaked in blood and regret, but this? This is something he never let himself believe he could have.

- The taste of you is an ache, something he knows will settle into his bones and never leave. His hands twitch at his sides, the animal in him howling to hold, to take, to claim—but you are not something to be taken. And so, he lets you lead. Your lips move against his with the kind of softness he has never known, and his mind screams that this is dangerous. He is dangerous. But then you sigh into him, fingers curling in the worn leather of his jacket, and he thinks—maybe—he could allow himself this one selfish thing.

- When you finally pull away, his breath is unsteady, rough, the remnants of your touch burning through his veins like whiskey. His eyes—dark, stormy, something unspoken lurking beneath them—search your face as if trying to commit every detail to memory. He should say something. Tell you this is a mistake, that he is too old, too broken, too much. But when he sees the way you look at him—like he is not a weapon, not a thing made for war but a man—his throat closes around the words.

- “You got no idea what you’re doin’, darlin’,” he mutters, voice rough as gravel. And yet, when you smile, soft and knowing, when your fingers trail the faintest touch against his jaw before you step back, he knows you do. You know exactly what you’re doing. And for the first time in a very long time, Logan thinks—maybe—he could let someone love him. Maybe he could love them back.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy never expects to be caught off guard. He is a man who thrives in the game of unpredictability, who lives in the art of mischief and charm, who always has the upper hand. And yet, the moment your lips press against his, he forgets how to breathe. His hands, so used to sleight of hand and stolen treasures, falter at his sides. He could swear his heart stops beating, just for a second, just long enough for the world to tilt beneath his feet. He has been kissed before, a thousand times over, but never like this. Never by you.

- When the initial shock fades, he reacts like a man starved. His fingers find your waist, his body pressing flush against yours as if he could sink into you, disappear into this moment and never return. He tastes of spice and something sweeter, something sinful, and you realize—Remy LeBeau does not simply kiss. He devours. He worships. His lips move with the expertise of a thief, stealing the breath from your lungs, the steadiness from your limbs, and he does it all with a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

- He doesn’t let you pull away easily. Even when you try, his grip lingers, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours like a confession neither of you are ready to speak. His eyes, those crimson-burning embers, flicker over your face with a hunger that has nothing to do with the usual games he plays. “Ma belle,” he murmurs, voice like velvet, like the slow drag of a match before it sparks. “Y’gon’ be the death of me.” And yet, the way he smiles—half-dazed, half-drunk on you—tells you he would not mind dying that way.

- There is something dangerous in the way Remy looks at you now. Not the usual teasing, not the flirtation thrown so easily to the wind, but something deeper. Something reverent. As if he is looking at a gamble worth losing everything for. And as his fingers brush your jaw, tracing the ghost of your touch, you realize—you have just become the only game Remy LeBeau is willing to play for the rest of his life.

Kurt Wagner

- Kurt is not used to being touched so freely. Not like this. Not without hesitation. When your lips meet his, it is as if the world stutters around him, as if time itself takes pause to marvel at the impossible. His breath catches in his throat, a sharp, startled sound, and for the briefest moment, he forgets how to exist. His tail curls behind him in a sharp flick of surprise, and he nearly disappears in a reflex of instinct, but something about the warmth of your hands, the softness of your mouth, keeps him grounded. Keeps him here.

- When he finally gathers the courage to move, it is hesitant, unsure—his fingers hovering at your waist as if afraid to break something sacred. His lips, gentle, trembling with quiet reverence, move against yours like a whispered prayer. You are warmth, light, something divine in his arms, and he drinks you in like salvation. He has dreamt of this—secret, foolish dreams whispered into the lonely nights—but never dared believe it could be real. That you could want this as much as he does.

- When you part, his breath is unsteady, his golden eyes wide with wonder. He stares at you as if you have done the impossible, as if you have rewritten the very fabric of his existence with a single touch. His tail coils loosely around your wrist, a subconscious tether, as if to reassure himself that you are real. That this is real. “Mein Herz,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “What have you done to me?” And yet, the way he smiles—soft, awestruck—tells you he never wants to be undone by anyone else but you.

- He does not know how to ask for more. Does not know if he is allowed to. But when you lace your fingers with his, when you press the faintest of kisses to his cheek before stepping back, he knows—he would wait a lifetime for you to do it again. And again. And again.

Scott Summers

- Scott lives by control. He has spent his life suppressing, restraining, calculating every breath, every movement, every word, because one wrong step can mean disaster. But when you kiss him—without warning, without hesitation—every ounce of that control shatters. His entire body stiffens, breath stolen, mind racing with the sheer impossibility of what is happening. He has dreamed of this, a thousand different ways, but none of them prepared him for the reality of your lips against his.

- His hands—gloved, always careful, always distant—hover at your sides, caught between instinct and hesitation. He wants to touch you, wants to pull you closer, but the fear of losing control, of breaking something irreparable, holds him back. And yet, you do not waver. You kiss him like he is not a weapon, like he is not something dangerous, like he is just a man. And for the first time, Scott Summers allows himself to believe it.

- When you finally part, he exhales sharply, as if he has been holding his breath for years. His glasses slip slightly down his nose, and he pushes them up with a shaky hand, his fingers brushing against his lips as if trying to chase the ghost of your touch. “I—” His voice falters, rare uncertainty cracking through his carefully built walls. He swallows hard, eyes hidden but gaze heavy. “I wasn’t expecting that.” But there is something else in his tone, something just shy of desperate. He wasn’t expecting it—but now he wants more.

- You smile, tilting your head, studying him with a knowing softness that makes his stomach twist. “Would you like me to do it again?” The question is playful, teasing, but the heat that flares in his chest is anything but. He swallows down a million responses, a million emotions threatening to spill over, and simply nods. Because yes. Yes, he would. More than anything, he would.

Jean Grey

- Jean has always been attuned to the emotions of others. She feels them like echoes in her own mind, the soft hum of sorrow, the sharp sting of desire, the quiet weight of longing. But when your lips press against hers, she feels nothing but silence—beautiful, breathtaking silence. The world, usually so loud, so overwhelming, fades into something small, something insignificant. There is only the warmth of your mouth, the way your fingers tangle in the red silk of her hair, the way your heartbeat thrums against her own like a perfect melody.

- She gasps against you, not out of shock but something deeper—something fragile. She has lived lifetimes within the span of a single moment, has seen the past, present, and future weave together like a tapestry, but she never saw this. Never saw the way you would tilt the world on its axis with a single touch. Her hands, delicate yet unshakable, find your face, her thumbs tracing the shape of you as if committing you to memory. She knows, in the depths of her soul, that she will never forget this.

- When you finally pull away, she exhales a laugh—soft, breathless, incredulous. Her emerald eyes search yours, bright with something that flutters on the edge of joy and disbelief. “You—” She stops herself, biting her lip as if savoring the taste of you, as if reluctant to let it go. And then she shakes her head, a slow, knowing smile curling her lips. “You really are full of surprises.” There is a lightness in her tone, but beneath it, something deeper lingers. Something that tells you she does not want this to be a singular moment.

- And then, before you can respond, she leans in—this time, she is the one to steal the air from your lungs. The kiss is softer now, slower, but no less consuming. When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with your own. “I could get used to that,” she murmurs, voice warm as sunlight. And in the way she lingers, in the way she stays close, you know—she already has.

Ororo Munroe

- Ororo is a goddess, a tempest, a force of nature so powerful the very skies bend to her will. And yet, when you kiss her, she is caught in a storm she cannot control. Her breath catches, her usually poised frame stiffening for the briefest of moments as your lips mold against hers. She has always been the eye of the hurricane, calm amidst chaos, but now, she is swept away in a current she never anticipated.

- Her hands hover at your sides, unsure, not out of reluctance but reverence. To be loved by Ororo Munroe is to be touched by the divine, but for the first time, she does not feel like a goddess—she feels human. She feels the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers brush against her cheek, the way your lips move with something so tender it unravels her. The storm within her does not rage—it settles, it quiets, it softens into something resembling peace.

- When you finally part, her white lashes flutter against her cheeks, her breath uneven, her hands finally finding your waist as if to ground herself. She looks at you as if you have done the impossible, as if you have harnessed the wind and commanded the rain. And perhaps you have. Because for the first time in a long time, Ororo Munroe does not feel alone. “You surprise me,” she admits, her voice a whisper of thunder, low and full of something unreadable. “And I do not surprise easily.”

- A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, rare and breathtaking, the kind of smile that shifts the seasons. And then, with a gentleness that contradicts her power, she presses her forehead to yours, fingers threading through your hair. “Do it again,” she breathes, and there is something almost dangerous in the way she says it. Because now that she has tasted you, now that she has felt this, Ororo Munroe is not sure she could ever let it go.

Rogue

- Rogue has spent her entire life fearing touch. She has spent years mastering the art of distance, of longing from afar, of never letting herself hope for too much. And yet, when your lips meet hers—soft, unguarded, reckless—she forgets to be afraid. The world disappears in the space between heartbeats, and all that remains is the impossible, the breathtaking reality of you kissing her.

- Her mind screams at her to pull away, to stop this before it’s too late, before she ruins something beautiful. But she can’t. She won’t. Her gloved hands grasp at your arms, her body leaning into yours as if she has spent lifetimes waiting for this moment. And perhaps she has. Because for the first time, she isn’t thinking about control, about consequences. She is thinking about the way your lips feel against hers, the way your breath mingles with her own, the way your fingers press into the small of her back as if you could hold her together.

- When you part, her chest rises and falls in quick, uneven breaths, her wide green eyes searching yours with something almost desperate. “Sugar, you—” Her voice falters, thick with emotion, with something dangerously close to hope. Her fingers, still gloved, trace the ghost of your touch against her lips, and she swallows hard. “You don’t know what you just did.” But the way she looks at you—the way she stares as if you have rewritten the very fabric of her existence—tells you that maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t mind.

- She should be afraid. She should be pushing you away, telling you that this is dangerous, that she is dangerous. But when you smile at her, when you reach for her hand despite the barriers she wears, she feels something shift. Something new. Something she is not sure she deserves, but something she wants all the same. And for the first time, Rogue wonders—what if she let herself have this? What if, just this once, she didn’t run?

Erik Lehnsherr

- Erik has built his life around steel and rage, around vengeance and pain, around the belief that love is a weakness he cannot afford. And yet, when you kiss him, every wall he has so carefully constructed crumbles beneath the weight of your touch. He stiffens, a sharp inhale slicing through the space between you, his entire body wound tight like coiled metal, but he does not pull away. He does not stop you. Because for the first time in a long, long time—he doesn’t want to.

- Your lips move against his with a softness he does not deserve, a tenderness he has spent lifetimes denying himself. His hands twitch at his sides, hesitant, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. But when your fingers tangle in his hair, when your breath mingles with his, when you kiss him like he is not Magneto, not a man shaped by war and loss, but simply a man—he is undone.

- When you finally part, his breath is heavy, uneven, his storm-gray eyes dark with something unreadable. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, as if restraining himself from reaching for you, from keeping you tethered to this moment forever. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he murmurs, voice like rusted iron, rough and laced with something dangerously close to yearning. But there is no real warning in his tone, no true resistance. Only the weight of a man who does not know how to accept kindness, how to accept love.

- And yet, when you step forward, when you press your palm to his chest, when you look at him as if he is not a monster but something worthy—his resolve fractures. His fingers, finally, finally, find your waist, his grip firm yet reverent, as if afraid you might disappear. “Do it again,” he breathes, and in that moment, Erik Lehnsherr does not care if love is a weakness. Because if this is what it means to be weak—then for you, he will gladly fall.

Charles Xavier

- Charles Xavier has spent his life knowing things before they happen. His gift is both a blessing and a burden, allowing him to read thoughts, anticipate words before they are spoken, sense feelings before they fully form. But when you kiss him, it is the first time in his life that he is truly, utterly surprised. For once, his mind is not a step ahead—it is caught in the moment, helplessly, beautifully ensnared in the warmth of your lips and the gentle insistence of your touch.

- His breath stutters as you tilt into him, the world narrowing to the space between your bodies. He has always prided himself on his composure, on the unshakable calm of his demeanor, but now he feels undone. Your lips are soft but certain, as if you have known this moment was meant to happen all along. His hands twitch against the arms of his wheelchair, caught between instinct and disbelief, between wanting to pull you closer and simply letting himself exist in this quiet, impossible wonder.

- When you finally pull away, his blue eyes flutter open, dazed, unfocused, as though waking from a dream too precious to be real. A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips, something warm and unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “That was unexpected,” he murmurs, voice like velvet, smooth but slightly unsteady. And yet, there is something else beneath his words, something deeper—an unspoken truth that has lingered between you for too long, now given breath at last.

- He reaches for your hand then, his fingers ghosting over yours in a way that is both hesitant and reverent. “Would you mind terribly,” he breathes, his smile deepening, “if I returned the favor?” And when he leans in, when his lips find yours again, there is nothing hesitant about it. There is only the weight of time, of longing, of something that was always meant to be.

Wanda Maximoff

- Wanda has spent her life walking the fragile line between control and chaos, between the known and the unknown, between the world as it is and the world as it could be. And yet, when you kiss her, all of it—the noise, the worry, the restless ache of her existence—disappears. There is only you. Only the impossible softness of your lips, only the warmth of your touch, only the way time seems to slow, to bend, to hold its breath for her.

- She does not pull away, does not tense, does not question. Instead, she melts into you, her fingers curling into the fabric of your clothing as if afraid you might slip through her grasp like so many things before. You taste like something she has spent lifetimes reaching for, something she has never quite believed she could have. And yet, here you are. Here she is. And for once, the world does not seem so cruel.

- When the kiss finally breaks, she does not move far. Her forehead lingers against yours, her breath mingling with your own as if unwilling to let go of the moment just yet. Her deep, sorrowful eyes search yours, dark with something unreadable—something aching, something vast. “You shouldn’t do things like that,” she whispers, and yet her fingers tighten their grip on you, betraying her own words. “It makes me want to believe in things I shouldn’t.”

- And yet, despite her protest, despite the ghosts that haunt her, Wanda does not step away. Instead, she tilts her head, studying you as if memorizing every detail, every curve, every fleeting second. And then, as if deciding something only she can understand, she kisses you again—slower this time, softer, as if weaving a spell that neither of you will ever escape.

Pietro Maximoff

- Pietro Maximoff moves faster than thought, faster than light, faster than anyone can keep up with. He is a blur, a flicker, a storm that never settles, never stills. But when you kiss him—when you reach for him without hesitation, without warning—time stops. For once, he is not ahead of the world. He is not running. He is simply here. And it terrifies him.

- His entire body locks up, caught between instinct and shock, between the urge to retreat and the unbearable need to lean in. No one ever catches him off guard—no one. But you? You have done it so effortlessly, so completely, that he feels as though you have stolen the breath from his lungs. He forgets to move, forgets to think, forgets everything except the way your lips press against his, the way your fingers grasp at him like you have no intention of letting go.

- When you finally pull back, his silver lashes flutter, his bright blue eyes wide, wild with something unreadable. “Did you just—” He stops himself, swiping his tongue over his lips as if to make sure the sensation is real. And then, suddenly, he laughs—a breathless, incredulous sound, full of something sharp and breathless. “You’re either very brave or very reckless,” he murmurs, voice tinged with something teasing, something warmer than he meant it to be. “Maybe both.”

- And yet, even as he tries to turn it into a joke, his fingers twitch at his sides, restless, uncertain. He has never been good at staying still, never been good at patience—but for you, for this, he thinks he could learn. “Do it again,” he says, grinning now, eyes glinting with something wicked, something real. “I dare you.” And the way he looks at you—the way he leans in, as if already chasing the next kiss—tells you that this is a dare neither of you ever plan to back down from.

Hank McCoy

- Hank McCoy is a man of intellect, of reason, of science. He has spent his life in pursuit of knowledge, in understanding the mysteries of the world through logic and deduction. But when you kiss him—when your lips press against his without preamble, without hesitation—there is nothing logical about it. His mind, so accustomed to analysis, simply stops. And for the first time in a long, long time, he is left with nothing but feeling.

- His breath hitches, a sharp inhale caught in the depths of his chest, his large hands flexing at his sides as if unsure what to do with them. He is a scholar, a thinker, a man who prides himself on his control—but here, now, he feels unmoored. Your touch is warmth against the cold edges of his mind, a spark that ignites something deep, something unexpected, something he cannot name.

- When you finally pull away, he does not move for a long moment. His blue eyes flicker with something complex, something vulnerable, something profoundly, devastatingly human. “That was… unexpected,” he finally says, voice rough with something you cannot quite place. And yet, despite his words, despite the shock that lingers in his expression, his gaze is soft when it meets yours, unbearably gentle.

- He exhales a slow breath, as if steadying himself, and then—almost tentatively—he reaches for your hand. His fingers are careful, cautious, as if afraid you might vanish like a fleeting hypothesis unproven. “Would you, perhaps, consider repeating the experiment?” he asks, a small, wry smile curling at the edges of his lips. And when you lean in again, when his hands finally settle against you with quiet certainty, you know this is an experiment he never intends to abandon.

Emma Frost

- Emma Frost has spent a lifetime ensuring that no one can touch her—not truly. Her mind is a fortress of diamond walls and razor-edged wit, a citadel where no one is allowed entry without permission. She does not startle easily; she does not allow herself to be vulnerable. And yet, when you kiss her—when your lips press against hers without warning, without hesitation—she falters. Just for a moment. Just long enough for you to feel it.

- Her breath catches, but she does not pull away. No, Emma Frost does not retreat. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, allowing you just enough room to linger, to taste the cool, intoxicating sharpness of her. And yet, there is warmth beneath the ice, a slow-burning ember hidden beneath layers of frost. She is calculating even in this, assessing, analyzing—but there is something else in the way her fingers twitch against your arm, something unspoken in the way her lips part ever so slightly beneath yours.

- When you finally pull back, her expression is unreadable, a perfect mask of composure—except for her eyes. There is something dangerous in them, something bright and wicked and amused. A slow, knowing smile curls her lips as she tilts her chin, regarding you with the kind of gaze that makes people weak in the knees. “My darling,” she purrs, voice like silk and steel entwined, “if you wanted me, you only had to ask.”

- And yet, when her fingers brush against your wrist—light, fleeting, almost imperceptible—it is not just a challenge. There is something softer beneath the bravado, something she will never admit aloud. You have surprised her. And Emma Frost does not allow herself to be surprised. So when she leans in again, this time on her own terms, you understand the weight of it—the rarity, the quiet surrender hidden beneath the smirk.

Laura Kinney

- Laura Kinney is not accustomed to softness. Her world has been forged in blood and survival, in the quiet brutality of necessity. She has been trained to anticipate every attack, every shift in movement, every threat before it even takes form. But when you kiss her, there is no time to predict, no time to react—only the moment, sudden and unrelenting. And for once in her life, she is caught off guard.

- Her body stiffens on instinct, muscles coiled tight, but she does not pull away. No, she stays still, frozen in place as if trying to process something unfamiliar, something she has no protocol for. Your lips are soft against hers, warm and sure, and for a brief second, she forgets to breathe. It is foreign, this feeling, this intimacy that is not laced with violence or pain. And yet, it does not feel wrong. It feels… safe. And she does not know what to do with that.

- When you finally pull back, she blinks up at you, her gold-green eyes wide, pupils blown. Her breath is uneven, though she would never admit it. Her fingers flex at her sides, a silent battle between instinct and something deeper, something softer. “Why did you do that?” she asks, voice low, guarded. But there is no anger in it, no sharp edges of rejection. Only quiet curiosity. Only the echo of something she is too afraid to name.

- And then, as if deciding something in that precise moment, she steps closer. Not much, just enough for her breath to brush against your cheek. Her gaze flickers down to your lips, and when she speaks again, it is almost hesitant—almost shy. “Do it again.” It is not a request. It is a challenge. And when you accept, when your lips find hers once more, she does not freeze this time. Instead, she leans in.

Wade Wilson

- Wade Wilson never shuts up. He fills the air with words, with jokes, with carefully crafted chaos designed to keep people at arm’s length. He is quick and loud and relentless, because silence is where the darkness creeps in, where the thoughts become too heavy, too real. But when you kiss him—when you press your lips against his without preamble, without warning—he falls completely, utterly silent.

- His mind goes blank. It is a rare thing, for Wade to be lost for words, for thoughts, for anything but the sheer, staggering reality of this moment. Your lips are soft against his, warm, steady, real. And for once, he is not a punchline, not a joke, not a monster wrapped in red and black. He is just Wade, just a man who is suddenly, unexpectedly being kissed by someone he never thought would want to.

- When you pull back, there is a beat of absolute stillness. Then, suddenly, he sucks in a sharp breath and blurts out, “Was that a pity kiss? Wait, no, don’t answer that. Actually, do answer that. But lie to me if it was. Unless it wasn’t. In which case—” He stops himself, blinking rapidly, his gloved fingers twitching at his sides. “Holy shit. You actually kissed me. I didn’t hallucinate that, right? Because, like, my brain is super messed up, and sometimes I—”

- But then, you kiss him again—shorter this time, softer, just enough to shut him up. And when you pull away, he just stares at you, his mouth slightly open, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. And then, slowly, his hands come up to his face, covering his mouth as if trying to hold something in. “Oh my God,” he whispers, voice slightly muffled. “I’m gonna have to marry you now.” He peeks between his fingers. “You cool with that? No take-backs.”

Julian Keller

- Julian Keller is not used to being caught off guard. He is sharp, quick-witted, arrogant to a fault, and always, always in control. People orbit around him, drawn in by the effortless gravity of his confidence, his charm, the raw, unapologetic force of his presence. But when you kiss him—when you take him by surprise for the first time in his life—his mind goes completely, devastatingly blank.

- For a split second, he doesn’t react. And then, his body catches up with him, his hands instinctively reaching for you, gripping your waist like an anchor. His breath stutters against your lips, and suddenly, he is no longer the Julian Keller who always knows what to say, who always has the upper hand. He is just a boy, completely and utterly at your mercy. And it thrills him.

- When you finally pull back, his lips are parted, his green eyes slightly dazed, like he’s trying to piece together reality again. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face—wide, cocky, but with something undeniably genuine beneath it. “Damn,” he breathes, running a hand through his dark hair, voice rougher than usual. “That was… unexpected.” His grin sharpens, his gaze flicking to your lips. “You gonna warn me next time, or is this just how you say hi now?”

- And yet, despite the teasing, despite the bravado, there is something else in his gaze—something that lingers, something that betrays just how much that single kiss affected him. He leans in again, close enough that his breath fans against your skin. “You know,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “if you wanted my attention, there were easier ways.” But the way he looks at you—the way his fingers curl slightly, as if resisting the urge to pull you back in—tells you that, despite his words, he wouldn’t change a thing.

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astars-things · 17 hours ago

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Dad!Jack x mom!reader at their family skate and they’re getting interviewed with their baby babbling in his arms

Family Skate

Dad!Jack Hughes x Mom!Reader

The cool air of the rink was refreshing, a crisp contrast to the warmth of Jack’s body as he held his little girl close. She was bundled up in a tiny New Jersey Devils jersey, her chubby hands clutching at the fabric while she babbled happily. Jack couldn’t help but smile down at her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“You’re having fun, huh, baby?” he murmured, adjusting his grip on her as he skated around effortlessly.

Your daughter giggled in response, her tiny fingers reaching for his face. She loved the feeling of gliding across the ice, even if she wasn’t doing much of the skating herself. Jack had been excited about this family skate for weeks—ever since the Devils set up a special event where players could bring their families onto the ice. You were skating beside them, laughing as you tried to capture the moment on your phone.

“She’s a natural,” you teased, watching as your daughter babbled something that sounded a lot like “dada” again.

Jack grinned. “Of course, she is. She’s got Hughes blood in her.”

Just as he said that, one of the Devils' media team members approached with a camera crew in tow. “Jack, Y/N, do you mind if we grab a quick interview?”

You nodded with a smile, gliding over beside Jack as the camera focused on the three of you. Your daughter squirmed slightly in his arms, her big eyes staring curiously at the microphone being held out toward him.

“Alright, we’re here with Jack Hughes, his wife Y/N, and their little one,” the interviewer began, smiling at the sight of your baby girl chewing on her sleeve. “Jack, how does it feel having your daughter out here for family skate?”

Jack’s eyes softened as he looked down at his daughter. “Oh, it’s the best. I mean, I spend so much time at the rink, and to be able to share this with her and Y/N… it’s special.” He bounced your daughter slightly in his arms, making her giggle. “She loves it. Might have a future hockey player here.”

You laughed. “I don’t know, Jack. I think she just likes being carried around while you do all the work.”

Your daughter let out an excited squeal, reaching out toward the microphone. The interviewer chuckled and held it closer, and your little girl immediately started babbling into it.

Jack’s face lit up with pure adoration. “Got something to say, baby?”

Your daughter smacked the mic with her tiny palm, her unintelligible babble filling the speakers. Everyone around you laughed as she continued, her little voice enthusiastic and full of energy.

“She’s stealing the show,” the interviewer said with a grin. “What do you think she’s saying, Jack?”

Jack hummed, pretending to interpret her baby talk. “She’s saying, ‘My dad is the best hockey player ever, and I love him so much.’”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I think she’s saying, ‘My mom is the best, and I want a snack.’”

At the word “snack,” your daughter’s eyes widened, and she immediately reached for you, making grabby hands. “Mama!”

The entire crew melted at the sound, and Jack pouted dramatically. “Oh, come on! I was carrying you this whole time, and now you want Mom?”

Your daughter was relentless, though, so you took her from Jack’s arms, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. She settled against you, thumb in her mouth as she stared curiously at the camera.

“I think that means this interview is over,” you joked.

Jack wrapped an arm around you, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head before turning back to the camera. “She runs the show, what can we do?”

The interviewer laughed. “Well, I think we got the cutest interview ever. Thanks for your time, Hughes family.”

As the camera crew walked away, Jack turned to you, his eyes shining with love. “That was adorable.”

You nodded, rocking your daughter gently. “She’s got your spotlight charm already.”

Jack chuckled, lacing his fingers with yours as you both skated off the ice. Family skates might just become your favorite tradition.

#send in requests #imagines #thanks anon!#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #dad!jack #jack hughes as a dad #nhl devils #nhl x reader #Dad!Jack Hughes x Mom!Reader

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velvetydream · 2 days ago

Text

꒰ : 🪐 [ Academic Rivalry - 산 ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

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Pairing : Choi San x fem! Reader , very short Seonghwa x Reader but important for the plot and no feelings between them

Summary : You've hated San your entired life, from him being better than you in every subject to your parents telling you to be more like him. Though.. was it really hate or something else you felt?

Word count : 4.3K Words

Genre/Warnings : Enemies to Lovers - Fluff, Academic Rivals

a/n : After alot of very dissapointing events, I decided to write a lil cheer up fic for @moilele , hope u enjoy it dear!♡

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He was irritating, the bane of your existence. His voice alone annoyed you, his stupid face way too handsome for his stupid personality.

Choi San, the top student in sports, is rivaling you in any other subject as he scores almost always a little higher than you. Your parents, being friends, always compared you to him. Be a bit more like San; look how well San is doing, San, San, San. Anyone was only able to see and say San, the girls falling at his feet, the boys wanting to be like him.

Snap!

Looking down now at the pencil you snapped with your hand, Mingi looking at you concerned from his spot beside you. "Uhm.. you broke your pencil.." He mutters, making you roll your eyes as you throw the broken pen away into the depths of your bag. "Thanks, Mingi, I didn't know.." You mumble, even more, annoyed when your ears pick up that stupid deep laugh of San sitting at the back with Jung Wooyoung and Kang Yeosang. The little trio being the absolute worst nightmare of yourself. They always acted so smug, so high above everyone, just because their parents had money and they were doing well in school.

"She's definitely annoyed by San again." Yunho snickers as he looks over to you from his seat beside Mingi. "He is annoying, and my parents told me last night how they'd be coming over this weekend for dinner. Means I'll have to listen to them praise him the whole evening.." Wanting to slam your head against the table, you didn't as the professor walked in, starting his lecture. Luckily, San and his little group of friends, for once, stayed quiet and didn't interfere much.

"Can't you just ditch the dinner though?" Mingi asks as he starts packing up his bag, making you shake your head. No, you couldn't cause the lecture you'd get then would be far worse than spending one evening with Choi San. "Guess you'll have to endure it, but hey, we can hand out together Sunday then, to make the weekend a little less dreading." Patting your shoulder, Yunho takes his bag as the three of you leave the room and make your way to the cafeteria. He was right; it was one evening, and you would survive that dinner for sure. Or so you thought.

"Oh, San! Always so polite! Thank you!" Your mother beams as he helps her bring everything to the table, a smirk being sent your way. "Seriously Y/n, take an example from San!" Your mom praises him as everyone takes a seat; you just want to leave this dinner immediately. The moment San and his parents entered your home, your mother was all over him, saying how well he looked and what a charming young man he was. The dinner continued quietly, till your father had to bring up academics. "So San, I heard from your father how well you're doing, top of each class and a little sports star huh?" Smiling bashfully San nods, wanting to gag at his little shy act. "Yes, Sir, I've spent a lot of time studying and putting my other time into sports; I'd love to pursue a good job in the future with a lot of possibilities." Clapping a bit beside you, your mother praises the young man. "A son like you, Y/n you should really learn from him, maybe he can even tutor you a bit in what was it.. maths? Where you were doing not so well!" Looking at her, offended now that she had to say that in front of San, who smirked at you. "Of course, ma'am, I'm top of my class in maths; I'd love to tutor our dear Y/n to help her out." Oh, how you wanted to just punch that stupid smirk off of his face.

After dinner, your parents asked you to clean the dishes while they took a seat outside on the porch. "What a stupid asshole, oh how I'd love to punch that stupid smirk off of his stupid face." Mumbling to yourself as you clean the dishes, not noticing a presence behind you. "How lovely you talk about me, you probably meant to say stupidly handsome face?" Shrieking together at the voice, you spin around to come face to face with San, your hands dripping with water and soap from scrubbing the plates. "No, I meant what I said; now get out." Wanting to turn back around, he quickly cages you between his arms. "Darling maybe be a bit nicer to your tutor." Fingers grab your chin as he lifts your head to look into your eyes, clearly seeing the same emotions of disdain you hold for him. "Yeah sure, fuck off." Pushing his hand away, you turn around to continue cleaning as he leaves with an annoyed click of his tongue.

Finally, he was gone again, resting your forehead against the hanging cupboards slightly, a sigh leaving your exhausted body. Choi San was so fucking irritating.

The following day, luckily, was spent with Mingi and Yunho at the mall, enjoying some ice cream before having to go back to university the next day. Of course, the day had to end with your most hated subject, math. Sending a smug look your way as San walks past you, now knowing fully well how bad you're in this class, while he was a top student yet again. "Miss Y/n would you mind staying a minute after the lecture?" The professor now asks you as everyone packs their belongings together, nodding as you watch everyone leave the room. "You're very close to failing this class.. Is it my teaching? Can something maybe help you?" The elderly man asks now, always wanting to make sure his students at least pass. "I really don't know sir.. I study a lot, yet I still don't understand everything.." Looking down at your hands, frustrated now, how is it that you're working your ass off, trying to score well, yet you always seem to fail.

"Maybe I can help? I could tutor her; our parents are friends, so we know each other." Head shooting up at the agitating voice coming from the main door. "Oh really?! That would be great! Then I leave her grade in your hands mister!" The professor exclaims happily, as he grabs his bag and bids you two his goodbye for the day. "Are you insane?! Why would I want you to tutor me?!" Shouting at him now, his stupid smirk showing his dimples, as his short dark hair frames his face perfectly. Screw him. "Because you need my help, sweetheart, or else, you will fail, and your parents will just be even more disappointed in you." Laughing into your face now, you quickly walk past him, shoving his shoulder while doing so. "I'll text you the meet-up spot!" San shouts after you, laughing as you flip him off.

This was your worst nightmare coming true.

So this is how you find yourself in front of a luxury apartment complex San had sent the address to you of. Murmuring annoyed to yourself how he lived in such a wealthy apartment all by himself while you still had to live at home, annoyed the hell out of you. Pressing the button, it takes a few seconds for San to answer, telling you to come to the 8th floor. Pressing the button in the elevator, you wait for it to arrive at the correct floor before stepping out, moving to the only slightly open door. "Come in, I'm cooking right now." He calls over to you, making you roll your eyes. Of course, he had to cook exactly right now when you were on time. "Take a seat at the aisle; I can tutor you while cooking; the math topic is pretty easy." Motioning for the high chairs, you take a seat, already frustrated, pulling out your notes and iPad. "So where is your problem? Is it the way or the overall understanding?" Talking to you so easily while seasoning whatever he was cooking made your blood boil. First, he brings you into this situation, and then he won't even properly tutor you? Asshole.

"It's the way, I understand what I'm supposed to do, but it confuses me how to get there." He nods, taking your notes from you and scanning over them quickly. Giving them back, he starts to explain the easiest way, making you try and follow while he explains, taking notes of what he is saying. Despite not wanting to admit it, you slowly understood with his help and explanation of the math problem.

"Do you understand it now?" Looking at you, smiling when you slowly nod. This was the worst humiliation you ever experienced, admitting to Choi San helping you. "See, not that hard, maybe you should be a bit nicer to me, then I can help you more~" There he is again, with his smug attitude. "You're annoying as fuck; why do you always need to act so high and mighty." Packing together now annoyed, you've had enough of him acting this way. "Woah, nice words, please; I don't get your problem with me, you've hated me since forever, and I did nothing." He follows you to the direction of his door now, watching you put on your shoes.

"That's exactly the problem! You're oh so great at everything without trying, while I work my ass off and still fail! My parents praise you every time even when you're not around! I hate this! You're oh so perfect and I have to endure this shit!" While shouting at him, you struggle a bit with your shoes, not noticing him approaching you slowly with a dark look in his eyes until you're standing up straight again, and the next second, your back collides with the door. "That's what you think? That I get handed everything on a silver plate? Says the little princess that never had to work a single day in her life, while I had to work my ass off for my parents to even support me, you never had to worry a single day, and yes I might not need to study that much like others, doesn't mean I don't work for it." The words he spits at you are venomous, and you are not able to look away from the scowl on his face.

"I don't care! You're annoying! You think so much of yourself and have to pull me into it! I hate you!" And with that Choi San had enough, pressing his lips roughly against yours to finally shut you up. "Will you shut up finally? I never intended for you to hate me! I even wanted to be friends when we were kids; it's not my fault either of our parents acted like that!" Eyes wide as you watch San in silence, pushing him away as you quickly exit the apartment, him simply watching you as the door slowly closes.

Clutching over your heart with heavy breath in the elevator, your body felt hot, blushing heavily. It wasn't the fact that you were mad; it wasn't that you hated that he kissed you. No.. you hated the fact it did something to you, the fact you felt butterflies in your stomach, having felt a spark between you two. Yunho and Mingi would go crazy when you tell them.

Arriving at home, your mom asks how the tutoring went, ignoring her and going straight to your room, face-planting on your bed before screaming into the pillow. You hated him, you hated his guts, you hated his personality, but you didn't hate the kiss, you didn't hate the butterflies he gave you while pinning you against the door, the spark he ignited when his lips met yours. It was irritating, just as much as he is.

After staring at the wall for a while, you slowly sit up again, exhaling loudly, seriously, what is with him? Why does he have to be so annoying? Touching your lips now, you could still basically feel his soft lips on your own; shaking your head. Now, you end up taking a cold shower to get those thoughts out of your head.

But you couldn't; nothing helped; not the cold shower, not watching your favorite show, not listening to music,, and falling asleep was also almost impossible. Though plagued by San, his soft lips, his broad body, and his strong hands, you wanted to cry from how much he was haunting your mind right now. So, in the end, you barely ended up sleeping and went to school sleep-deprived, Mingi laughing at the big circles under your eyes before Yunho scolded the younger of the two. "But seriously, you don't look well. Shouldn't you stay at home?" Shaking your head at Yunho's question, no, you couldn't afford to miss any classes, especially math. "I'll be fine, but thanks for worrying about me." Giving him a small smile, before listening to the professor again.

In the end, Yunho was right; you should've stayed at home; your body wasn't used to barely getting any sleep, so a hard migraine soon hit you, groaning and massaging your temple, trying to follow anything the professor was saying. "Miss Y/n, could you please come to the front and solve the problem?" Great of course he had to ask you out of all the people here, standing up on shaking legs. Your feet slowly carry you to the front of the class, the whole room spinning as you take the chalk into your hand. "Sir I don't think Y/n is doing so well." Sans voice cut in, as the professor looks at you. Body looking exhausted, deep rings under your eyes, your eyes slightly red, and your handshaking.

Just as he wanted to ask if you'd like to go to the infirmary, your body was falling, being caught by someone before hitting the floor. "I'll take her." Vision blurry so you couldn't tell who it was, Mingi? Or Yunho? Probably one of them, so you just rest your head on the person's shoulder as they carry your weak body to the infirmary. And the next thing you know is waking up alone, sitting up slowly, the migraine still slightly torturing your head. "Wouldn't think a simple kiss makes you lose your whole mind." Head shooting up as San moves to behind the curtain of your bed, a glass of water in his hand. "Here drink." Placing the water into your hands now he watches you gulp down the cool liquid.

"Here, the nurse gave me some sugar to give you when you wake up." Looking at the little candy in his hand, you take it, letting it slowly dissolve on your tongue, lips pulled into a slight pout. "You're really something; why did you come when you barely slept or at least went home when you got a migraine,e, hm?" Sitting down beside you, his hand reaches out to massage just the right spot in your neck, the pain stopping for a moment. "This is all your fault.. Why did you have to kiss me? I could've simply gone on my day and slept normally, but no, you had to confuse me." At that he dares to laugh, making you glare at him. "You were talking too much, so I shut you up." At that, you push his hand away, hitting his shoulder annoyed. "You're so annoying! Don't just kiss me! What is wrong with you! I wanted to leave!" San lets you hit his shoulder a bit to get your anger out, before grabbing your hands to still them.

"Are you mad I kissed you or are you mad you liked it?" Shutting you up with those words as your eyes grow wide, immediately turning your head to the side. "O-Of course because you just kissed me! I didn't like it!" Smiling at you now, he leans closer from his spot on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure? Seems like you're lying to me~" Hands still held in his, you look down at them, they're bigger than yours, holding yours so perfectly. "N-No! I didn't like it!" You lie again, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans closer to whisper in your ear, butterflies coming to life again in your stomach. "Then maybe I should kiss you so much more till you don't lie and admit how much you loved it~" His voice was deep in your ears as you shook your head, trying to push him away.

This shouldn't be happening, you shouldn't be feeling like this. You hated Choi San; he was annoying, a brat, yet here he was, making your heartbeat pick up.

"Well, rest well; I'll see you later." And with that he leaves, leaving you all flustered and frustrated.

"What do you mean he kissed you?!" Mingi screeches from his place in the passenger driver's seat, turning his body to look at you in the back. "How I said it, he kissed me and.. He continues to try to get closer and.. Wh, is he so annoying?!" Slamming your head against the window, making Yunho scream in protest to now bang your head against his car. "Maybe he likes you? I mean, you never really talked to him; you decided to hate him since day one, didn't you?" Yunho was right; you barely even gave him a chance as your parents immediately started praising him and comparing you to him, while his parents just boosted him about how amazing their son is. "Why don't you give him a chance? He obviously seems to like you despite how you treated him for years." Mingis chirps in now, looking at you, watching you shake your head now. "Never, he probably just does this to get on my nerves." Both of the boys look at you, doubting, but stay quiet now on the topic.

"Seonghwa! Hongjoong!" Running over to the two waiting man, you happily embrace both of them, staying in Seonghwas arms much longer. "Hello darling how are you? And how are you two? Sorry we couldn't meet up recently, Hongjoong and I have been away on jobs abroad." Hongjoong was a designer for his own very famous brand and Seonghwa was his main model, they were a few years older yet still were at university when you started, that's also how you guys met. "No worries! Just glad you two are back! Missed you alot! How was Paris?" Looking at them, Hongjoong smiles as he starts to talk about the event they attended and how beautiful Paris was, saying how they'd take you with them next time.

"So how is it going with San? Still annoyed by him?" Seonghwa asks now, watching you roll your eyes, as Mingi already interferes. "He kisses her, and since then,n, she has been confused!" Making the two older men look at you shocked while you hit Mingi on the back of his head, making him whine. "Out of the blue?" Hongjoong questions now as you nod, explaining the whole situation to them. "It could be that you're feeling that way because it was your first kiss; maybe that's why you're feeling all those butterflies and felt a spark." Seonghwas words held some truth; it could definitely be that, in the end, you never had your first kiss, and San just stole it.

The whole dinner, those thoughts were stuck in your head. Was it really just because it was your first kiss, or was it because it was San?

"Hey, you're up in your pretty head." Seonghwa comes to walk beside you, a few meters behind the others. "I'm just confused. I have hated him for my whole life, and now he kisses me, and I get all flustered and giddy, yet I don't know if it's because of him or because I got kissed." Listening closely, the handsome man beside you nods, coming to a halt beside you. "Do you want help to figure it out?" Now you looked at Seonghwa confused, who softly smiled at you, not really knowing how anyone could help you figure this out, yet you still nodded. "Pardon me then." His hand reaches out to hold your cheek softly, as he tilts your head up and locks your lips with his. Seonghwas lips felt different; unlike San, he was very soft and careful, warm, and tasted a little bit like a strawberry. His lips smooth from taking proper care of them. Yet you felt no sparks and definitely no butterfly as he pulls away.

"So?" Smiling at you, already seeing the gears turn in your head, having figured out that it was San causing the butterflies and not because you got kissed. "You should talk to him, darling; maybe you have done him wrong by being so mean to him; maybe he is different than you think." Patting your head softly, looking ahead as Hongjoong shouts for the two of you, grabbing your hand as he pulls you after the other three men.

That night you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while holding your plush bunny to your chest, finally having enough as you grab your phone and open San contact. Barely any conversation was in the chat. For a second, you think about what to write till you quickly type in. 'If you're serious about this, I'll give you one chance tomorrow at 6 pm, Han River.' Hitting send, you quickly exit the chat, throwing your phone on your fluffy carpet as your body falls back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling nervously. At the same time, in Sans's apartment, he got all giddy, already rummaging through his closet for a perfect outfit, thinking of what he should bring along, make a picnic basket with some fruits?

The next day, you wait at the exact place you told San to meet up, fingers fidgeting with the bracelet you had on, as a tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. San stood behind you in casual yet fitting clothes. "Hey, I didn't know what your plan was, so I just brought some snacks." He shows you the bag of snacks as you nod at him. "That's fine; I thought we could watch the sunset; I brought a blanket." Following you through the few people already sitting on the grass, you two find a nice spot, a bit away from everyone else as you take a seat.

"So.. what made you change your mind?" Looking up from munching on a few chocolate cookies, you swallow before answering him. "A friend helped me figure something out that made me change my mind." Keeping it vague, San senses he probably shouldn't ask any further. "I'm glad, really; whatever that friend did, tell him to thank you for making you give me a chance finally." His dimples show as he smiles. You two continue to talk a bit, not once mentioning university, grades, or your parents, making you realize the problem wasn't San but your parents. San told you about his hobbies, but you didn't even know he was in a little dance crew with Wooyoung and Yeosang, he even went so far as showing you a few clips when they were filming in the streets; you even complimented him, which he blushed. Telling him about yourself more now, he listened intently as if trying to remember every little thing you tell him.

"San.." Looking from the setting sun to you, he murmurs to tell you to continue talking. "I'm sorry for how I have treated you.. I gave you the fault for how my parents treated me; I think I just tried to find a scapegoat, and you were just there." It felt good to finally apologize to him directly; you definitely now needed a long talk with your parents, though. "Hey no worries, I never gave up because I hoped someday you would give me a chance, even if it was just as a friend." Nodding at that, you're glad he wasn't mad at you, though you wouldn't take offense if he did. After all, you were awful to him since the day you two met.

"May I ask a favor of you?" The voice was small, already flustered from what you were about to ask him. "Sure, what is it?" San looked at you, sensing your shyness. He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. "Can you kiss me again?" His eyes light up and without a second word, he locks his lips with yours. Sparks flew as his lips met yours, butterflies erupting in your stomach, and now you for sure knew it was San causing those emotions and not just being simply kissed; you had to thank Seonghwa later for making you realize this. The kiss lasted a bit longer than the first time because you, of course, kissed him back, eyes closed as his other hand came to cup your cheek.

"I can't believe you're the one causing butterflies in my stomach in the end.." You mumble against his lips, making the man before you laugh, feeling your stomach turn at that again, your cheeks flushing red. Maybe it wasn't hate this whole time you felt, but adoration, longing, not knowing what those emotions felt like.

"Remember how you used to hate me?" San asks you with a smirk, leaning over the back to the couch of your shared apartment as you groan; even after years of dating now, he still brings that up. "Seriously, shut up, please! I explained it to you!" Wanting to hide your face in a pillow, you couldn't as San tilted your head back, looking into your eyes before sealing his lips with yours. "I'm just teasing you and hey, you can always shut me up the way I did." Smirking he runs back to the kitchen as you want to hit him for flustering you so much.

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random-imagines-blog · 15 hours ago

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Imagine Bruce being heavily into PDA with you, unlike other girls he's dated.

You made Bruce realize that not only had he been touch-starved, but he also really loved being affectionate, which was something that he hadn’t known about himself. Well, it wasn’t something that he knew about himself until he met you. He usually had some beautiful girl on his arm, but with you, he felt as if he could finally appreciate the feeling, his hand constantly on the small of your back or on your hip. Still - he kept everyone else at arm’s length, but continually was touching you. “Nobody is looking,” Bruce whispered to you under his breath, his nose brushing against your hair, smelling the perfume that you had sprayed over yourself before going with him to the charity function. His hands were on your hips, pulling him closer, wanting - no, needing - to touch you, his lips kissing the soft bit of skin near your earlobe. “We can sneak out.” You chuckle at the idea, your head turning towards him, his lips now against your cheek. He was dragging his kiss across your skin, not wanting to let you go for even an instant. “We haven’t even been here twenty minutes, Bruce.” “I know but -” He sighed, his thumb rubbing over your hip. “You know how I hate these things.” “It’s for a good cause,” You reminded him. “Just put up with it a little longer. For me?” When you gave him the puppy-dog eyes and completed it with your bottom lip sticking out further than your top in the cutest pout, he could feel his heart absolutely racing. He held you with an iron grip, groaning as he wanted to suck that lower lip into his mouth and give it a nibble. “For you,” He grumbled, then did exactly what he had been tempted to do, pulling you in so you were chest to chest and kissed you, ignoring the flash and clicking of the cameras that were now trained on the two of you.

Requested by: Anonymous

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne imagines #Batman #Batman imagines #imagines #x reader #DC #DC imagines #request

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pastanest · 12 hours ago

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Ik everyone I’ve ever known hates to see my announcement of a new spencer reid edit gracing my fyp

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid headcannon #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #imagine #imagines #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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amara-scott · 3 days ago

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Just friends.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 — Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x female!Slytherin Summary: Hiding the one thing you truly loved, the one person you trusted most was a horrible way to live. But if it was the only way to be with him, you would do anything. And he would do the same. warning: jealousy, a little angst

The next day dragged on with the usual monotony of classes, but the upcoming Valentine’s Ball had every other student in a frenzy. Even our professors seemed resigned to the distracted chatter and whispered invitations being passed across desks.

I was seated beside Pansy in Potions, idly twirling my quill while we waited for Slughorn to arrive and droned on about the properties of Amortentia. Right before us, Theo was smirking at some poor Hufflepuff girl across the room who had just tripped over her own feet while staring at him.

"So, what do you say, Greengrass?" A Ravenclaw boy—Duncan Harper, I think—was leaning against Daphne’s desk, grinning. "Will you be my date to the Ball?"

Daphne barely spared him a glance, already stirring her potion with a delicate flick of her wrist. "No, thank you."

He didn’t seem deterred. "Are you sure? I’m an excellent dancer."

Pansy snorted from beside me, muttering, "Doubtful." I hide a smile at her statement and continue to read the list of ingredients we would need for today.

But Duncan wasn’t the only one feeling bold. A Gryffindor—Henry Whitmore—sauntered up to our desk, clearly having built up his courage. And maybe being a bit too cocky for his own good. Gryffindors.

"Pansy Parkinson," he started, offering a confident grin. "Would you do me the honor of—"

She looked up from her parchment, fixing him with a stare so sharp and unimpressed that Henry physically flinched.

"—never mind," he muttered, backtracking instantly. "Apologies for the—um—disturbance." He hurried back to his seat before she could say another word. Almost tripping over his own feet and his head red as a beet.

Theo, who observed the scene from his table before us, leaned back, grinning. "That was brutal."

Pansy smirked, returning to her notes, shrugging like the most innocent girl there was. "If they can’t handle a look, they wouldn’t survive a dance with me."

I hid my laughter behind my hand, sneaking a glance at Mattheo across the room. He was watching the scene unfold with vague amusement, his fingers busy with his own task. He must have felt my stare because he turned his head slightly, smirking at me.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my work, ignoring the way my heart picked up speed.

—

After class, the sun was warm as we lounged in the courtyard, enjoying the rare moment of peace. Pansy sat beside me, flipping through her magazine once again. The same one she was skipping through at breakfast, looking for another dress to stun everyone at the ball, probably.

Blaise and Enzo strolled over, dropping their school bags onto the ground with a collective sigh.

"Alright," Blaise said, stretching his arms over his head before taking a seat on the ground across from Pansy and me, Enzo following suit. "Who’s up for a night at the Three Broomsticks? Butterbeer on me."

"Tempting," Pansy mused, flipping a page. "But I have better plans."

Enzo raised a brow. "Better than free drinks?"

Pansy smirked. "I got invited to an exclusive Ravenclaw party in the tower tonight."

The boys immediately sat up, intrigued. My own interest perked and ready to squeeze every detailed information out of her.

"You’re joking," Enzo said, propping himself on his elbows. "How the hell did you manage that?"

Pansy inspected her nails. "I have my ways."

Blaise groaned. "That’s not fair. Do you know how hard it is to get into one of those? Ravenclaws don’t just let anyone in."

"Well, obviously," Pansy teased.

"Think you could sneak us in?" Enzo asked, eyes alight with hope.

Pansy tapped a finger against her lips, pretending to think. "Maybe. If you all behave."

"Define ‘behave,’" Enzo muttered.

Before she could answer, Draco and Mattheo sauntered into the courtyard, deep in conversation. A moment later, Theo came running after them, slightly winded.

"Merlin’s sake, could you two slow down?" Theo huffed, collapsing onto the grass beside us.

Draco smirked. "You need to keep up, Nott."

Mattheo dropped next to me without a word, stretching his legs out. The closeness was casual, natural—at least to everyone else. To me, it was an electric current beneath my skin.

"What are we talking about?" Mattheo asked, glancing around, eyes finding mine.

"Pansy’s exclusive Ravenclaw invite," I explain, "She claims she might be able to get us all in."

Draco’s brows lifted. "That’s impressive."

Pansy smiled, looking quite pleased with herself. "I know."

Mattheo chuckled. "And what’s the price for this favor?"

Pansy’s grin turned wicked. "Only that you boys behave yourselves."

Theo groaned. "Alright, fine. But if we get kicked out, I’m blaming Draco."

"As if that’s anything new," Draco shot back. Looking annoyed, but didn't fight back as he knew he wouldn't get far with stubborn Theodore Nott.

The conversation flowed easily after that, filled with laughter and playful jabs. I leaned back, letting myself relax, knowing that for now, at least, everything felt normal.

—

Time flew as Pansy and I discussed the Ravenclaw party and soon got ready together, sharing the same mirror and giggling as we got dressed in our most "out there" dresses. We both loved bold, but Pansy literally glowed whenever she wore anything remotely revealing. A true Slytherin with pride and confidence that wasn't fake.

The Ravenclaw Tower was already buzzing with energy by the time we arrived. The moment we stepped inside—thanks to Pansy sweet-talking the host, a sixth-year named Elias Montgomery—it was clear this wasn’t just any party. Blue and silver enchanted lights flickered across the walls, casting a soft glow over the room. Music pulsed through the space, blending seamlessly with the sound of laughter and shouting. A couple of bookshelves that usually held dusty tomes had been cleared to make room for trays of drinks, and even a few study desks had been transfigured into makeshift lounges.

"Alright," Pansy said, turning to us with a smirk. "Try not to embarrass me." She addressed the boys, sending a pointed look at Enzo and Theo last, both of them giddy.

Theo scoffed. "Please. We should be saying that to you."

Pansy rolled her eyes and melted into the crowd, waving us goodbye, already chatting up a group of Ravenclaw girls who looked like they knew her.

Draco and Blaise exchanged glances before heading toward the drinks, Enzo trailing after them. Theo, ever the social butterfly, immediately started making conversation with a group of seventh-years. That left me with Mattheo, who had been quiet ever since we stepped inside.

I nudged him. "You alright?"

He glanced at me, the blue light casting shadows over his sharp features. "Yeah. Just never thought I’d willingly step foot in Ravenclaw Tower, that’s all."

I chuckled. "Expanding your horizons. I’m proud."

His lips twitched in amusement, but his eyes held something else—something darker. "Not too proud, I hope." His eyes lingering on my appearance, studying my dress casually, "you look stunning, by the way." He muttered and

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, thank you, Matty." A small blush forming on my cheeks.

"Just don't get too cozy, wouldn't want people to think you actually belong here." He adds and smirks, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Oh? And where would I belong then?" I reply, gently playing with the hem of his shirt as we stand close, masked by the surrounding crowds.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for my fingers, tugging me even closer, his voice dropping so only I could hear. "With me."

A shiver ran down my spine, but before I could respond, Blaise’s voice cut through the noise.

"Oi, Y/N!" Blaise walks over to us and I take a small step back, "Some Ravenclaw bloke’s been asking about you."

Mattheo’s grip on my hand tightened for just a second before he let go. His jaw tensed, but his expression was unreadable.

I turned to Blaise, who was grinning like he knew exactly what kind of chaos he was about to cause. "Who?"

"Don’t know. Tall, dark-haired, looked like he reads poetry in his spare time. Probably wants to charm you with sonnets or something."

I snorted, but before I could say anything, Mattheo exhaled sharply and muttered, "Fantastic."

Blaise grinned, clearly enjoying this. "You should at least say hello. He looked nervous—adorable, really."

I glanced at Mattheo, but he was deliberately not looking at me. Instead, he grabbed a drink from the nearest table, swirling it lazily in his hand.

I sighed, shooting Blaise a look before making my way toward the group he had motioned to. If someone wanted to talk to me, I might as well say hello.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mattheo tip his head back, downing his drink in one go.

I hesitated before making my way toward the group Blaise had motioned to, my stomach twisting slightly. As I got closer, recognition clicked into place.

Callum Davies.

We’d worked on a project together in fifth year, something for Charms that involved hours spent perfecting non-verbal spellwork. He had been quiet but clever, a little awkward at times, but sharp with his magic. I remembered late-night library sessions, parchment covered in notes, and the occasional smirk when he caught me rolling my eyes at something our professor said.

"Y/N," he greeted, his smile easy but a little nervous. "I was hoping to run into you tonight."

I raised a brow, amused. "Really? Didn’t take you for the party type."

He chuckled. "I usually prefer something quieter, but I figured tonight was worth making an exception." His gaze flickered toward me, assessing, before he asked, "Enjoying yourself?"

I shrugged, swirling the drink in my hand Pansy had given to me as we entered the Ravenclaw tower earlier. "It's alright. Same faces, same drama, different night."

Callum smirked. "That sounds about right. Though, I'd argue the company makes all the difference."

I arched a brow at him. "Oh? And what makes tonight’s company so special?"

He hesitated for half a second, then gave me a knowing look. "Well, for starters, I managed to find you in this chaos. That’s a win in my book."

I huffed a small laugh, shaking my head. "Smooth, Callum. Very smooth."

He grinned but didn’t push, instead leaning against the wall beside me, his presence oddly steady despite the loud, drunken energy around us.

After a beat of silence, he asked, quieter this time, "You sure you're enjoying yourself?"

Something about the way he asked made me pause. I met his gaze, searching for whatever it was he wasn’t saying. "Why do you ask?"

He tilted his head slightly, considering. "I don’t know. Just… you seem like you’re somewhere else tonight."

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. Because maybe he wasn’t wrong. Maybe my mind had been drifting too much—to Mattheo, to the weight of secrets I wasn’t sure I could keep holding onto.

But I forced a smirk and raised my glass. "Maybe I just need another drink."

Callum didn’t quite buy it. But he let it go.

"Should we perhaps dance? Might distract you a bit?"

Before I could answer, I felt the shift in the air—the kind that made my pulse quicken before I even saw him.

Mattheo.

His presence was unmistakable, a storm brewing at the edge of my vision. A second later, he was beside me, too close, his entire body radiating tension.

"Sorry to interrupt," Mattheo said smoothly, though there was nothing apologetic in his tone. "But I need to borrow Y/N for a moment."

I exhaled sharply, my fingers curling into my palm. "Mattheo—"

He ignored me, his grip closing around my wrist, firmer than before.

"Won’t be long," he muttered, already steering me away.

I dug my heels into the floor, resisting for as long as I could. "Mattheo, you can’t just—"

But he wasn’t listening. He never did when he was like this.

"I— I guess I'll see you later, Y/N—" Callum stutters and I send him a small apologetic smile, nodding.

Mattheo's grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he wasn’t letting go. His jaw was clenched, his breath steady, but I could feel the storm raging beneath his skin.

By the time we reached a secluded alcove, far from the pulsing energy of the party, I yanked my hand free, heart hammering.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hissed.

His chest rose and fell sharply, eyes blazing. "What’s wrong with me?" he repeated, incredulous. "What’s wrong with you? Standing there, acting like that Ravenclaw isn’t trying to get you alone—like he hasn’t been waiting for an opportunity the entire night."

I scoffed. "Mattheo, it was just a conversation—"

"Don’t," he snapped, stepping closer. "Don’t pretend you didn’t see it."

I shook my head, frustration clawing at my throat. "You’re being too obvious. People are going to start noticing if you keep acting like this."

His expression flickered—hurt, conflicted. "Noticing what?"

I swallowed hard. "That something’s going on. Between us."

His jaw tightened. "Right. Because keeping this stupid cover is more important than me losing my mind every time some idiot looks at you like you’re theirs to claim."

My breath hitched, my anger momentarily faltering.

"You don’t understand," he muttered, running a hand through his curls, his frustration palpable. "It’s not just tonight. Every time I see some guy watching you, talking to you, hoping you’ll notice them—I feel like I’m coming undone."

I opened my mouth to argue, but something about the way he said it made my stomach flip.

"Mattheo," I whispered, suddenly unsure of what to say.

His gaze was sharp, burning into mine. "And you don’t even notice, do you?" he asked, almost disbelieving.

I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but I didn’t need to. Because the truth was simple.

I didn’t notice them.

I only noticed him.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Taglist: @genterom903

#imagine #imagines #fanfiction #harry potter #slytherin boys #mattheo x y/n #mattheo #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader

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solomiracle · 3 days ago

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mc worrying that they should keep their relationship with solomon a secret from the sorcerers' society only for solomon to cheerily introduce them as his "adorable apprentice" to literally everyone there

#from me #obey me #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon #solomon x mc #x mc #imagines #obey me imagines

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lazysoulwriter · 2 days ago

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warm kisses, cold mountains. - lando norris.

using this request to say that i'm writing for lando now! ♡ (sorry if I take too long bubs)

----

The cold air bites at your cheeks as you adjust the goggles resting on your forehead, your snowboard tucked under your arm. The Austrian Alps stretch endlessly behind you, a breathtaking backdrop to yet another Red Bull-sponsored training session. Snowboarding has been your life for as long as you can remember, and now, being one of the top athletes in the sport, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Well… except maybe for the man currently watching you with a grin from the sidelines.

Lando Norris, the McLaren driver who somehow became the love of your life, sits on a snow-covered bench, bundled up in layers, his nose and cheeks slightly pink from the cold. He’s been here all morning, watching you practice, cheering you on between his sips of hot chocolate.

When you reach him, shaking the fresh powder off your jacket, he immediately opens his arms for you. “Come here,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

You don’t hesitate. Settling onto his lap, you feel the warmth of his body seep through the thick layers of your clothes. He tightens his arms around you, nuzzling his face against your shoulder.

“You look amazing out there,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jaw. “I swear, I could watch you do this all day.”

You chuckle, running a gloved hand through his curls. “That’s literally what you’ve been doing.”

“Yeah, well…” He grins, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “Still not enough.”

You sigh, letting your forehead rest against his. The contrast between his warm breath and the crisp mountain air makes you shiver, but it has nothing to do with the cold.

“You should come with me on the next run,” you tease, tilting your head slightly. “I can teach you a thing or two.”

Lando lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I like my bones intact, thank you very much.”

You roll your eyes. “Coward.”

“Smart,” he corrects, his lips curving into a smirk before he kisses you—slow, sweet, and lingering, the kind that makes you forget about the cold entirely.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your waist.

“I don’t get how you’re not freezing,” he mutters, pulling you even closer.

“Years of training in the snow,” you say with a small smile. “And maybe the fact that you’re a human heater helps.”

Lando hums, clearly content. “I like being useful.”

“You are.” You brush your lips against his cheek. “In more ways than one.”

He grins at that, squeezing your sides playfully. “Good. Because I plan on being your personal cheerleader forever.”

You shake your head with a laugh before standing up, grabbing your snowboard. “Alright, since you won’t come with me, at least wait here. I have one more run, and then we can go back to the cabin.”

Lando groans dramatically. “Fine. But only if there’s hot chocolate involved.”

You wink. “And extra marshmallows.”

His face lights up, and before you can turn away, he grabs your wrist, pulling you in for another kiss—this one a little deeper, a little more lingering.

“Now go,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours for a brief second. “I’ll be here. Always.”

With one last smile, you strap your board on and push off, knowing that, no matter how many slopes you conquer, nothing will ever compare to the warmth of Lando’s love.

And later, when the two of you are back at the cabin, tangled up under thick blankets, his hands tracing lazy patterns on your skin as the fireplace crackles softly in the background—you realize that some kinds of warmth have nothing to do with the temperature outside.

----

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favefandomimagines · 11 hours ago

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I Know Places 4 (r.c)

Summary: Rafe’s mistakes might be finally catching up to him; Y/N tells Kie the truth

AN: things are beginning to happen!!!!

Previous part

Taglist: @luvrclub

It had been a week since Y/N and Rafe’s first date, and she felt like she was floating.

Every text from him sent her heart racing, every late-night call made her stomach flip. He had a way of making her feel important, like she was the only thing that mattered when he was talking to her. She’d never had that before—not really.

Growing up, she had always felt like the friend of the pretty girls. Kie and Sarah were the ones guys gravitated toward, the ones who turned heads without even trying. Y/N never felt invisible, not exactly, but she had never been the one to have someone’s full attention.

But now, she did.

And it was hers and hers alone.

Keeping it a secret, though? That was the hard part.

Rafe had been adamant about their second date being his idea. He wanted something lowkey, something personal, but wouldn’t tell her anything else.

“Just trust me, Pretty Girl.”

And she did.

The problem was Kie.

Kie knew Y/N better than anyone, and the past week, Y/N could feel her best friend watching her. She wasn’t outright suspicious—not yet—but Y/N could tell she was waiting for her to slip up.

And today, with the bait shop quiet and no one else around, Y/N decided it was time to tell her the truth.

The shop smelled like salt and baitfish, the usual scent of their summer days. The morning rush had ended, and now, with John B and JJ out doing scuba tours, Sarah handling inventory, and Pope and Cleo getting groceries, it was just Y/N and Kie.

Y/N leaned against the counter, her fingers tapping anxiously. Kie was organizing some fishing lines, humming to herself, completely unaware that Y/N was about to drop a bombshell on her.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Hey, Kie?”

Kie looked up immediately, raising an eyebrow. “Oh no, what happened?” she teased.

Y/N huffed a small laugh, but it died quickly. “I have to tell you something,” she said, her voice a little too serious. Kie’s teasing expression softened.

“And I’m telling you as my best friend first, not my brother’s girlfriend. And I need you to let me explain fully before you react.”

That got Kie’s attention. She set the fishing lines down and turned to face Y/N completely, concern flickering across her face.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m listening.”

Y/N inhaled deeply, bracing herself. “I’ve been talking to Rafe.”

Kie’s expression didn’t change, but Y/N saw the way her shoulders tensed.

“Since the night of the beach party,” Y/N continued. “We went on a date last week. And we’re going on another one soon.”

Silence.

Y/N forced herself to keep going. “I really like him, Kie. He’s different than he used to be. Something happened that made him finally grow up and start treating people like humans.”

Kie was still unreadable, which only made Y/N more nervous.

“He asked me about me,” Y/N said, her voice softer now. “My favorite books, my favorite memories with you, what I want to do with my life. No guy has ever cared enough to ask me that. And I think I really like him.”

The silence stretched, and Y/N’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Kie finally spoke, her voice even. “Are you done?”

Y/N nodded slowly, preparing for the absolute worst.

Kie exhaled through her nose, then tilted her head. “Was he nice to you?”

Y/N blinked. She had expected yelling, accusations—not this. “Yeah, he was really nice to me.”

Kie studied her. “And you’re positive you think he’s changed?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, her voice firm. “There’s something different about him. I told him about my dad, and he actually wanted to defend JJ. The Rafe we knew wouldn’t say that.”

Kie was quiet for a moment before stepping closer. She placed her hands on Y/N’s shoulders, looking her straight in the eye.

“I just want you to be happy, Y/N,” Kie said, her voice filled with sincerity. “You’re my best friend. And though I’m not thrilled about keeping this from JJ, you were my friend first. And I get why you haven’t told him.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten. “So… you’re not mad?”

Kie sighed. “I want to be, but no. I trust you. And if you trust Rafe, then I’ll try to trust him too.”

Relief washed over Y/N, and before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around Kie. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Kie hugged her back, squeezing her tightly. “Just don’t let him hurt you, okay?”

Y/N pulled back, nodding. “I won’t.”

But deep on the Cut, someone was getting hurt

Rafe’s truck came to a screeching halt outside Barry’s place, the tires kicking up a cloud of dust as he yanked the keys from the ignition. He barely registered the familiar surroundings—the rusting cars, the half-collapsed fence, the dim glow of a single flickering porch light. His mind was only focused on one thing.

Finding them.

The second he slammed the truck door shut, Barry was already stepping onto the porch, lighting a cigarette like he wasn’t about to have the shit beaten out of him.

“Damn, man,” Barry drawled, exhaling a plume of smoke. “You look pissed. Gotta be careful with all that pent-up rage, Cameron. Might give yourself an aneurysm.”

Rafe didn’t say a word. He crossed the distance in three strides, grabbing Barry by the collar and shoving him up against the wooden porch post.

Barry let out a choked laugh, unfazed. “Oh, we’re doin’ this already? Usually, we at least have a drink first.”

Rafe’s knuckles connected with Barry’s jaw before the man could finish his sentence.

Barry grunted as his head snapped to the side, the cigarette dropping from his lips.

“Where the fuck are they?” Rafe growled, his voice low, dangerous.

Barry wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking despite the fresh bruise forming. “Man, you’re gonna have to be more specific. I know a lot of people.”

Rafe hit him again. This time, Barry stumbled, his back slamming against the porch railing.

“Don’t play with me,” Rafe snapped. “I know you were the middleman. I know you know who came into my house.”

Barry laughed, shaking his head as he leaned against the railing like they were just having a friendly chat. “You think I got control over those guys? Shit, Cameron. You don’t owe me money. I was just the guy making introductions. You’re the one who decided to play businessman and not pay back what you owed.”

Rafe’s fists clenched, his breathing heavy. He was losing control. He could feel it slipping, just like it always did.

“I swear to God, Barry, if you don’t start talking—”

“They know about her.”

The words cut through the rage like a knife.

Rafe stilled.

His grip loosened. “What did you just say?”

Barry wiped at his bleeding lip again, his smirk widening despite the fresh bruises. “The guys you owe? They know about Y/N.”

The air between them shifted instantly.

Rafe’s breath came short and fast, his chest tightening, panic seeping in through the cracks.

“No,” Rafe said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not possible. No one—”

Barry let out a humorless chuckle, rubbing at his jaw. “Oh, come on, man. You really think you kept that little crush of yours a secret?”

Rafe’s stomach churned violently.

Barry smirked, tilting his head. “You forget how much you used to talk when you were high, Cameron? You wouldn’t shut the hell up about her. Some Pogue girl you couldn’t stop thinking about, couldn’t stop watching.”

Rafe’s entire body felt like it had been submerged in ice water.

Barry leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something more sinister. “Looks like they figured out your soft spot.”

That was it.

That was the moment Rafe snapped.

His fist connected with Barry’s face one last time, harder than before, sending the man sprawling onto the ground with a loud grunt.

Barry groaned, coughing as he rolled onto his side. “Fuck, man. You really gotta work on those anger issues.”

Rafe stepped back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his bloodied fists trembling at his sides.

He needed to get out of there.

Without another word, Rafe turned, storming back to his truck and tearing out of Barry’s driveway in a spray of gravel.

His mind was spinning, spiraling, breaking.

They knew about Y/N.

They knew.

Rafe’s pulse pounded in his ears as he drove blindly through the Cut, the weight of the revelation pressing against his ribcage.

It didn’t make sense. There was zero chance anyone knew about Y/N. No one had seen them together, no one knew they were talking.

The only reason Barry even knew about his feelings for her was because of the past.

Because of the times Rafe had been too fucked up to keep his mouth shut.

Rafe had always had a thing for Y/N Maybank.

For years, he watched her from a distance, pretended to hate her, pretended she didn’t make his head spin in the worst way. She was the only Pogue he never really saw as one of them.

She was smart, sharp-tongued, unapologetically herself.

And the fact that she belonged to them? That she was best friends with the people he grew up hating? It only made her more untouchable.

But now, somehow, the people he owed knew.

And that meant she wasn’t untouchable anymore.

Rafe wasn’t sure how long he had been driving before he found himself in front of the Maybank house.

His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might crack a rib.

And then, he saw her.

Y/N was on the porch, her laughter ringing through the air as she helped Sarah carry in large boxes of inventory. Her hair was falling loosely over her shoulders, her sundress swaying slightly in the warm evening breeze.

She looked happy.

Untouched.

Pure.

Rafe tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching.

Then, he glanced down at his hands.

His bloody, shaking hands.

The stark contrast between the two—the warmth of Y/N, the darkness that had seeped into every inch of his own life—made his stomach turn.

He had already dragged her into this without meaning to.

But he’d be damned if he let her get hurt because of him.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his grip loosening on the wheel.

He had to keep her out of this.

He didn’t deserve her. He knew that.

But he’d burn the whole damn world down before he let someone take her from him.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #kiara carrera #john b routledge #sarah cameron #rudy pankow #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe obx

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multi-fandom-imagine · 3 days ago

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“Where He Holds You Closest” || Polites ||

There were places Polites loved to kiss you. To touch you. To worship you like the goddess you were to him. But there were only a few sacred places where he took you — where the world fell away and it was just the two of you, skin to skin, breath to breath, soul to soul.

These were his favorite places. Not just to make love, but to feel you. To need you.

1. The Deck of the Ship — Under the Stars

It started there, one night when the sea was calm and the sky was endless.

He’d been standing at the edge of the deck, eyes to the horizon, shoulders tight from war and storms and too many nights spent half-asleep with one hand on his blade.

You came up behind him — barefoot, quiet, soft — and when your arms wrapped around his waist, he melted into your touch like it was the only real thing in the world.

“I hate this place,” he murmured. “But you… you make it bearable.”

That night, he took you to the farthest corner of the deck, where the lantern light didn’t reach. The stars were your witnesses. The sea, your symphony.

He kissed you with the desperation of a man afraid it would be the last time. His hands were rough, calloused, trembling. But his mouth? It was reverent. Like you were holy.

Every time after that, when he couldn’t sleep, when the weight of his past clung to his shoulders, he’d find you. Pull you into him. And remind himself he was still alive — because you loved him.

2. A Hidden Grove on a Quiet Island

One island, unnamed and untouched, had a grove tucked behind a wall of wildflowers. Trees twisted into an arch, vines kissed with dew, and petals scattered like confetti on the mossy floor.

Polites found it while scouting, and he kept it secret — until he brought you there.

He’d set it up with care: a blanket stolen from the ship, fruit from nearby trees, a necklace of woven vines he made with his own hands. You laughed when he crowned you with it. He swore you’d never looked more divine.

He worshipped you there, slow and unhurried. Let his hands trail over your skin like poetry. Whispered every thought he’d ever had about how you made him feel — brave, safe, seen.

You were the only softness in his world of blood and steel. And in that grove, with the filtered light kissing your skin, he let himself fall. Completely. Deeply. Over and over.

3. His Tent — After Battle

He was different then.

When blood still stained his forearms, and the cries of the dying echoed in his ears, Polites would come to you raw, broken, and wordless.

You didn’t flinch. You never had. You welcomed him — into your arms, into your body, into the only peace he knew.

His tent became sanctuary. There, he didn’t have to be the tactician. Or the soldier. Or the brother trying to hold it all together. With you, he could break.

You’d lie beneath him, your hands in his hair, your mouth at his ear, grounding him with every kiss, every sigh, every whispered “I’m here.”

He needed you like breath. Like blood. Like forgiveness.

And when he finally unraveled in your arms, he’d murmur, “Thank you,” again and again, lips brushing your collarbone like a prayer.

4. The Cliffs of Ithaca — When He Finally Comes Home

It was a place he dreamed of when the world was fire and fury.

A high cliff overlooking the sea, where the wind tangled in your hair and the sun painted your skin gold. You’d wait there for him, he was sure of it.

And when he finally returned — scarred, changed, older in the eyes — you were there, just as he dreamed.

He took you with reverence. Slow. Deep. Intimate. His hands learned you all over again, and his mouth traced every freckle, every scar, every heartbeat under your skin.

It wasn’t about hunger. It wasn’t about release.

It was about home.

Polites had never believed in gods, not really. But as you moved beneath him, around him, with him — he decided if they did exist, they had created you as proof they hadn’t forgotten him entirely.

And every time he made love to you, no matter where…

He always said the same thing, in a voice full of awe and quiet desperation.

“You’re my reason.”

#drabbles #drabble #imagines #Polites #polites x reader #Polites x you #polites epic the musical #epic the musical #epic polites #epic the musical Polites #epic x reader #epic x you #epic the musical x reader #etm #etm Polites

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missyonmission · 2 days ago

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NSFW - no minors - smut with plot - Part 2

Plot: Your relationship with Toji started on a high, the two of you madly in love with each other and the illusion that the dangerous life he was living, wouldn't stand a chance against your feelings for one another. But things changed after your pregnancy. From now on you didn't only have to take care of yourself in his absence but you needed to think about what's best for Megumi too.

You moved out of your shared apartment, trying to live a normal life and move on but sometimes he’d come home from a mission, caked in dry blood just to use your shower and for a quick stress relief. And tonight, Toji was knocking on your door again.

Warnings: deadbeat dad!Toji - Megumi's mom!Reader - slight mentions of blood and injuries - brief argument regarding Toji's life choices - pussy drunk Toji - body worship - oral (f) - edging - pussy slapping - overstimulation - fingering - squirting - dacryphilia - manhandling - talk about breeding and impregnation - unprotected sex - prone bone - doggy

Word count: 4.523

Part 1 - Part 2

He secretly loves watching you come completely undone because of him, it was one of his favorite sights. Watching you so desperate and needy, begging for him, pleading with him until you finally couldn't hold back anymore. And after that he didn't give you any mercy, just like he had promised.

From this moment onwards, Toji wouldn’t stop or slow down until you are a trembling mess beneath him, completely overstimulated and fully satiated.

After your first orgasm he doesn't give you even one second to catch your breath. His tongue is working you through the high, flicking your sensitive nub expertly while his fingers keep your puffy lips spread. He watches your sweet juices gush out before latching his mouth onto you and drinking up every last bit of it, groaning in pleasure.

One of his hands comes down to smear your arousal around a bit while his mouth is busying itself with the smooth skin of your inner thighs, leaving little purple marks and small bites all over them. “You taste so fucking good. Missed this so much, baby. Don't you ever think about giving that sweet release to someone else. You hear me?”

You arch your back in pleasure when he inserts one of his thick fingers into you, your senses still on overdrive because of your previous release. But just as fast as he went in, he pulled his finger away again, giving you another slap right onto your sensitive clit. “You still listening? I said not to give this beautiful body to anybody else but me. You're mine, always will be mine.”

Toji is serious about his words and you know he is with the way his eyebrows furrow and his lips part in that oh so typical snarl he always wears when giving orders. It makes his eyes look darker and the scar across his lips curl up in a condescending manner. You loved it, this side of him, the side that still shows how much he actually cares.

He attaches his mouth back against your core, this time two of his fingers are threatening to enter and you don't know if you are ready for it just yet. “Toji, wait! Please~. Don't- I- I can't-” Maybe he just ignored what you were saying or maybe he actually wasn't able to hear you because he pushed them in anyway and elicited a loud moan from you.

The noise in Toji's ears is almost deafening as he loses himself in the taste of you, your walls snug around his two fingers as he begins to move them in and out of you. “Fuck! So tight. You can take it, baby. You always do. So good for me. So tight. So perfect.” He mumbles into your folds, his deep voice reverberating against your sensitive parts, making you whine out.

“Gonna kill every fucking bastard who dares to touch you. So don't even think about going on another date with some useless scum.” His fingers move faster, working all the right places while his mouth is lapping up every drop of your essence, not letting anything go to waste.

He takes everything that you give him and then asks for more, continuing to bring you to the edge, over and over again until you are completely spent and trembling beneath him, your breathing heavy and labored as your body writhes from the pleasure and overstimulation.

By the time your fourth orgasm rolls around you are desperately sobbing into the cushions to muffle your cries and moans, your hips bucking and legs trying to fight their way from Toji's relentless grip even though it was no use.

You could feel another one building up inside but this time it was different, the pressure in your lower abdomen too tight and you know what's going to happen. You try to warn Toji, beg him to stop or to at least slow down, to give you a break but when your mouth falls open there's only more moans and whines falling out.

But Toji isn't stupid and he knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows you're close. He could feel it in the way you are desperately clenching around his fingers and the way your left thigh starts to twitch, your hands gripping painfully at his hair. He knows you're almost at your limit and he intends to stop and move things forward after just one more. He needed one more from you, needed to taste you just a little bit longer.

It's not the first time Toji made you squirt but it was the first time he had his mouth attached to your core while doing so and when your sweet release is gushing out of you with a loud cry of yours, running down his wrist and chin, into his mouth and down his throat… he thinks he's standing right in front of heaven's gate.

Never in his life has he experienced such pleasure just from giving it to someone else and he felt like a highschool boy when he actively had to hold himself back from cumming into his pants at the sight in front of him and the taste of you on his tongue.

When he finally stops his ministrations, you are barely able to breathe. Your mind is blank and there was only him. Him and you. At exactly this moment.

His mouth moves along your stomach and up to your face again, licking away your tears. His hands, with a sudden gentleness, are caressing every mark he left behind on your skin. “That was amazing. You are amazing. So pretty, all spent and crying. So beautiful, baby. Most amazing woman in my life. In this world.”

He is still looking down at you, still taking in your exhausted form and the way your eyes are practically glazed over, not even looking at him anymore. He knows he has taken your body to its limit, he could feel you trembling under him and see the way your chest rises and falls in a labored way while you desperately try to get some oxygen into your lungs.

He begins to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, placing gentle and soothing kisses there. "Did so good for me baby. Took it so well. Best baby mama ever, huh? Think you can give me a little more?”

His hips subconsciously start grinding against you, reminding the both of you that he is still half dressed and incredibly hard when his jeans brushes against your core.

Taking all your strength, you reach out for his face with a shaky hand, gently cupping it in the palm of your hands and speak in a soft whisper. “Want you. Want you so much. Please~. I need you… Daddy…” Now matter how spent you were, the desperate desire to be filled up by him is evident in your voice when you call him by that nickname he loves so much.

A nickname so simple, so domestic in a way, always held such power over him since he got to know you were pregnant and you knew what you were doing when you called him that. Hoping it would still make him go as feral as in the past and make him take you roughly against the sheets.

And it had exactly the desired effect. When you whispered those words to him, Toji knew he was done for. He was never able to resist you when you used that particular nickname for him. It always turned something inside of him primal. It made him want to take you. Claim you. Put another baby in you even.

He leaned down so his lips were close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he responded in a low and possessive voice. "I know, baby. I know.”

Your hands instantly find themselve fumbling with the belt buckle around his jeans, opening and pulling them down just enough so one of your hands could slip inside and you speak up against his lips. “Want to be a baby mama so badly. Again. Just for you. Want you to put a child inside of me again, something to always remind me of you. Maybe a girl this time?”

It was a bad idea. The two of you are already ruining one child's life but at that moment everything outside of this room doesn't matter. You have already lost your mind and are completely consumed by the man in your bed, the father of your child, Fushiguro Toji.

The moment you put your hand on him, he groans softly, the sound coming out feral and animalistic. It is like his control is completely slipping from him the moment you start speaking to him about what you wanted. He shifted his hips to the side to give your small little hand in his pants better access to work your magic before growling into your ear.

"A girl, huh? You want a little princess running around?" He chuckles softly before he suddenly rolls you over onto your stomach.

“Yes, please~. A little girl for us to spoil. You could talk to Shiu, take some time off again. Spend it with us. Your family. Stay with me. Knocking me up again and again.” You couldn't stop yourself from rambling on, knowing deep down that it was useless and that the life you so desperately wanted is, and forever will be, just right outside your reach.

You both know it is impossible, Toji's ego forbids him to do anything else for a living then what he does currently. He loves fighting, he loves killing, he loves his job. But at this moment, the idea of it sounds too tempting, too good to pass up.

You need him to claim you completely and what better way to make sure everyone walking the street knows you are his, than getting you pregnant. Everybody would know you are his woman, that is carrying his child while Megumi is dragging him to the slides on the small playground around the corner for the nth time. A happy little family. Him getting you pregnant again, sounds like exactly what you need right now!

He loved the way you were completely rambling on right now, letting every thought that came into your mind escape out of your mouth without shame. You were always so sweet and caring, but the way you desperately wanted a little girl made something deep inside of him twist in a way he couldn't describe.

He shifts behind you, his body hovering over you until his chest is flush against your back and his lips are at your ear again, his voice is coming out in a low growl. "You know I can't do that baby. You know it's impossible.”

You bury your face into the cushions, gripping them tightly in your small hands. You don't even notice that you started crying desperately somewhere through your rambling, only coming halfway to your senses when you let out such a loud and desperate sob that it shatters Toji's heart to pieces.

If he isn't going to give you another child, then you need him to fuck that thought out of your head, make your brain go fuzzy and turn you into a stupid, dumb little slut, like he always knows how. So you press back against him, hoping he would understand the silent message.

It is obvious how much you still wanted something that he knew he couldn't give you. He hates it and he hates himself for letting it get this far. For letting things become even more complicated. But instead of doing something against it, he leans down and kisses the base of your neck softly, his teeth dragging against the sensitive skin before he spoke up softly. "Just for tonight, baby. I'll make you forget all about it.”

“Still need you.” Tears are still escaping your red and puffy eyes and one of your hands comes to the back of his neck to pull him closer into you. You could feel his breath against the shell of your ear, making the small little hairs on the back of your neck stand up and he just held you like that for a few moments.

His huge frame against you from behind, pressing you down into the mattress with his bodyweight, his body basically completely covering yours from behind. You looked so small, so helpless beneath him like this. It made him have to fight so hard to not just give in to what you wanted.

Toji whispers sweet nothings into your ear, whispering things like how you are such a good girl and how he always wants to take care of you. How much he misses you and Megumi and how much he wishes things would be different. His large hands slowly roam up and down your back and sides before coming around to your front, over your stomach.

His touch was always so uncharacteristically gentle with you, especially in situations like these where he wanted nothing more than to take care of you, make you feel good and show you just how much he loves you.

He places another soft kiss on the side of your neck before his arm that is placed under your waist, lifts your hips up just a bit to slot himself against you.

Toji was always for the tears. A night for him only ever ends successfully when he's reduced you to a crying, blabbering mess that's incapable of grasping even one coherent thought. But this, seeing you so broken down over a man like him who would never be good enough… it broke his heart to see you like this and he needed to get your mind out of the gutter, doing what he does best besides killing.

He pushes himself inside in one slow fluid motion, reveling in the feeling of your tight warm walls around him. The moment he fills you up completely, uniting the two of you and making you one, you let out a gasp, holding your breath right after.

He lets out a low groan against your skin when he fills you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you even closer to him. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he starts to move against you in shallow grinds, giving you a moment to try and get used to his size. His arms tighten around you, his own way of anchoring himself so he doesn't go too fast and rough with you.

With the two of you like this, the world feels right again. It always feels the same, like coming home. Like this is how it should have been from the start. You missed this. Missed him so much.

You are still trying to calm down from your emotional outburst, your breathing coming out in rags as your body starts to naturally respond to the feeling of him inside your snug gummy walls. Toji reaches out to you with one of his big hands, grabbing one of yours and intertwining your fingers together.

He holds your hand tightly in his own as he continues to slowly and gently move against you, his large body enveloping your entire frame. He was doing his best to keep himself calm, not wanting to overstimulate you even more and knowing you're still sensitive, not only from the multiple previous releases but also in your emotional state right now.

This, right now, is something different, not like the usual times he came for late night visits in the months before. Not the fuck between missions. This was more intimate. This was making love to each other like you two haven't done in a long time.

He presses sweet kisses against your skin, his breath hot against your ear as he responds to you. "I missed this too, baby. Missed having you like this.”

At his words you let out a needy whine, pressing back into him and trying to match his rhythm, working together with him in practiced ease to bring both of you the pleasure you crave.

He groans softly against your skin as he feels you press against him. It was like you were desperate for more, to be as close to him as possible. Like being connected in this way wasn't enough for you, you still needed more of him. And he certainly needed more of you as well.

One of his large hands comes up to your chest, gently cupping one of your breasts as he presses himself back into you deeply once again, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place, wanting to keep you close to him and make you feel safe and protected.

You let your head fall back onto his shoulder, his lips immediately planting soft kisses across your temple and the side of your face, hips slowly picking up the pace just a little and the hand that was gently cupping your breast, started teasing and groping at it.

It all feels so good. You try to hold out a little longer, not wanting to let go so easily and let go of this moment already but with how sensitive you still are from earlier, it was a difficult task. The pleasure slowly but gradually builds up inside of you again, making your hips buck into him more desperately.

He continues to kiss your face, nibbling gently on your earlobe as he feels you starting to become close. It was like he could never get enough of you, like nothing he did could satisfy the way he wanted more of you.

Toji feels your hips buck up into him and he groans against your skin again, his hand moving to your hip to keep you still. He continues his slow pace, his fingers teasing your nipple as he spoke up in a low and commanding voice. "You're being so good for me baby. Just hold on for a little longer.”

You are frantically shaking your head yes. Your hands desperately clutching around his muscular arms above your chest, your nails digging into his skin.

“Together. Want to come together. You close? Can't hold much longer.” Your voice was strained, ruff from screaming in anger, pain and frustration as well as pleasure during this evening. Still, you need him to finish as well and you need him to do it with you, begging him to tip over the edge with you countless of times without even realizing it.

He groans deeply against your ear when he feels you clutching onto his arms, feeling the way your nails are digging into his skin and hearing your strained voice in his ear and feeling your body starting to tremble beneath him made his control slip just a little more.

His lips find their way to your neck again, leaving bites and marks against your skin as he whispers against your ear.

"I'm close baby. Just a little longer… You can hold on a little longer, right? You're a good girl, huh? Be a good girl for me and wait a little bit longer, please.”

Toji let's go of your waist, making you fall head first into the cushions again, because you really couldn't keep yourself upright without his strength holding you up right now. One of his hands finds the small of your back, having you arch in that beautiful way that always makes him reach even deeper, makes him hit all the right spots and makes your vision go black. Gripping your hips tightly for leverage, he is basically pounding you into the mattress, purposefully hitting that one special spot inside of you that only he seems to know how to find.

At this point in time Toji is practically losing whatever control he has left, just needing to feel you and touch you in any way that he could. Hearing your cries and moans beneath him and feeling your body trembling from the pleasure he was giving you felt amazing and he was getting lost in it completely.

He shifted his own hips, desperate to be as deep inside of you as possible and he groaned deeply against your ear. "Baby…let go for me.”

It had your back arching even more and your head spiraling as you cum around him on command with your body trembling from pleasure, squeezing him tight in the grip of your convulsing muscles around him.

The way you cum around him felt incredible, like usual, and he groaned deeply against your neck as he felt you squeezing him. It was becoming too much and just a few more seconds later he was coming right alongside you with a loud groan.

His entire body stills completely when he has the tip of his head buried as deep as he possibly could, right against your cervix and spurting hot, white strings into you. He practically collapses on top of you shortly after, just barely catching himself with his arms to not end up fully pinning you under him.

"Good girl...such a good girl, baby.”

After you two catch your breath, Toni helps you slip inside your pajamas. Your body was aching all over from the intensity, your muscles sore and the marks he left on every part of your skin are already blossoming.

Once you are nice and comfortable in your pajamas, he helps you lay back down on the bed, he immediately lays down beside you and pulls you close again, wanting you to settle comfortably against him. He wraps both of his arms around you, holding you to his chest as he tangles your legs together before he speaks up softly. "How are you feeling baby? Not too sore now, are you?”

“I'm good.” You slur the words out in a tired mumble. “They will remind me of tonight when you're gone in the morning.” You are tracing his chest softly with your fingers, your voice sounding sad at the outlook of him being gone tomorrow.

There was no denying that he was going to leave again. You both know that, as much as you wanted to deny the truth. He would be out on his missions again, not coming over for weeks, if ever coming back. Not seeing you or Megumi.

Toji lets out a small sigh as he listens to you talk and he couldn't ignore the sadness that was lacing your voice when you spoke about him leaving in the morning. He hated leaving you and Megumi just as much as you hated being separated from him, but he had no choice. Or at least that's what he likes to tell himself.

He holds you even tighter against him, his fingers running through your hair gently and he pressed a gentle kiss against the top of your head before responding to you. "I know baby, and I'm sorry. But you'll be okay, you always are.”

“I know. I'll take good care of him, I promise.” You are referring to Megumi who would grow up without a father.

Toji follows your line of sight and your eyes are fixated on the picture frame by the bedside table, that he didn't even notice until now. It was a photo of the two of you, taken by Shiu right after the two of you started dating. You looked so happy. Toji holds you in his strong arms, looking down at you with a small smile while there is a huge smile plastered onto your own. It was the only picture of just the two of you that you owned.

He noticed the way your eyes are drawn to the picture and he looked over at it himself with the memories of the past like a stabbing pain in his heart. And just like you, the first thing he noticed was how happy the two of you looked together. You looked so radiant in his arms and he was looking down at you like you were his entire world. He was never like that with anyone else, never looked at anyone else the way he looked at you.

He felt a pang in his chest when he saw the picture but he tried to ignore it as he spoke up in a calm voice. "You kept that...?”

“Of course I did.” You whisper, shuffling around a bit to get more comfortable in his arms. “Always look at it. Every day. Reminds me of you whenever I miss you. Never makes me forget about what we had. How happy we were.” Your voice was getting quieter and your eyes flutter shut, when the physical and emotional exhaustion finally catches up and you slowly succumb to sleep.

You would never tell him or anyone else, but that picture was the only thing you could look at to remember better times while crying yourself to sleep.

He held you close against him even tighter as he listened to you speak, his heart clenching in a way he didn't understand at your words. Hearing how you never forgot about him and how that picture reminded you of him every day when he wasn't there...it was almost more than he could stand.

He continued to run his fingers through your hair gently as you drifted off and fell asleep in his arms. He only pulled the blanket around you both and made sure you were comfortable before speaking up in a low voice.

"Sleep well princess…”

When you wake up the next morning, Toji was gone. The bed feeling cold and empty when you sit up, clutching the sheets tightly. It was to be expected, even in the past he never stayed. You notice the picture of the two of you, that was sitting on your bedside table just a few hours ago, gone. Leaving you with nothing left of him other than the marks and bruises on your skin and those will fade far too quickly. Tears start to build up both from anger and sadness and you couldn't believe he was just gone, taking everything with him.

You are brought back to reality when the door peaks open, Megumi padding inside the room with his favorite stuffed animal clutched tightly in his hands. It was a gift from his father for his first birthday, that he missed because of another mission. Megumi made his way over to the bed, climbing up using all his strength and cuddled up to you, trying to console you to the best of his abilities.

“Daddy won't be coming back again, will he?” It broke your heart. He was so small, he shouldn't have to try to be strong for you. It should be the other way around.

You hold his head tightly against your chest, speaking in a whisper. “No buddy, I don't think he will.”

Toji wasn't a good person, it was going to be better for all of you with him gone. You just wished things could have been different. But maybe in another life.

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scared-of-relationship · 2 days ago

Text

The World 5 Headcanon - Blue Lock

Took me a while on World 5 one because nothing about them is sfw headcan- I mean, it took me A WHILE because I actually need to re-read more about them hehehe

Cw: Reader considered fem on Leonardo Luna, sorry~

> Leonardo Luna

May I preach before I start? Thank you.

There's a HIGH CHANCE that he did NOT realize the way he talks may hurt/offend others. Like genuinely. (check chapter 90 slowly)

I think in this case, you or anyone near him have to tell him to stop (like Loki did), or maybe tell him that things he say may hurt/offend others.

He may not wanna accept what he said does, or he might he in denial, but if you're close enough with him, surely he'll listen.

No, he is NOT and WILL NOT do something againts your will. Sorry I have to bring this up, because the amount of fanfic I've read on him in Ao3 that makes him a literal 🍇ist is INSANE.

He enjoys, and he will take you to fancy expensive dinner for first date.

He likes eat anything that blends well with wine.

He like eat anything with wine as beverage.

He's a very wine person.

He enjoy introducing you to a lot of things in Spain. Like the dances, food, culture, though he doesn't give you high hopes that Spain is the same as the old Spain we know with bull and all, he still enjoy introducing part of him to you :')

Is he a jerk? Yeah, you can SENSE that from miles away. But is he a jerk to you? No, he's quite the gentleman.

And you'll come to notice he's a gentleman to woman that is... Well that deserves that kind of treatment.

By that, I mean, he doesn't look like a man who fond of woman who's a mess. By that, I mean, he seem to have a type in woman who looks... Genuinely, sophisticated.

He has also has a type in woman who doesn't like him. "I like the thrill" he said, until he genuinely didn't even get a date with that woman. (That woman ended up dating Dada Silva)

Will he have a committed relationship with someone soon? Well he definitely has a committed relationship with Football. Hehe

I mean, he will have a relationship that he will keep for the rest of his life, but at 26? I don't think so, at 30 however? He will, possible chance he would.

He is... It's really easy for him to show or express his feelings.

But it's never genuine, or at least to him. He never really tell anyone how he felt, until you.

And, for some reason you always know when he lie about the way he feel.

Maybe he is used to... Please everyone with the way he talk or feel.

And his sarcastic remark, its his way of keeping him safe. He is so used to do that, it become his personality.

> Adam Blake

Oh boy, Adam Blake.

Man, this man holding me on choke hold- by that I mean literally.

Is he bisexual? I'm not sure, he probably has been... Question that himself.

Aren't we all hate this jerk? Yeah, well I don't!

Trust me guys, he is actually quite a softie on the inside~

Tease him a few times, and he'll be flustered mess.

Tease him a few more times and you'll be- [NSFW Content is not Available]

Oh god, where were I... Oh yeah! He is British, like he is CONDENSED British.

He surely enjoys those back bacon, sausages, eggs, fried or grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, black pudding, baked beans, and toast or fried bread. (ty google)

A tea with a splash of milk, remember a SPLASH of milk, not too much, not too little.

He's the type of guy who likes to show off his strengths.

At some point, he would just pick you up, and chuckles as you are sitting on his shoulder and he flex his arms.

Do NOT insult his beard, "It took me so long to grow and kept it this soft."

If you don't like the feeling of beard on you and HE KNEW, oh boy (in Mickey Mouse voice), you must run.

Must I say he is a pain in the ass, arrogant, egoistic jerk when he's in field, but after match he's a huge cat.

Is he a dog person? A cat person? He genuinely don't care, whatever you like, he like.

I genuinely could not NOT see him as a Tsundere (someone who acts cold, blunt or mean to hide their real feelings) .

Unlike Leonardo, it's not easy for him to show his feelings at first, but if you slowly pursue him, he'll soften.

> Dada Silva

SILVA! I'm sorry as an author, I actually have some of [NSFW CONTENT] Idea about him that it drives me to wall.

Anyway, he actually quite gentle and nice guy!

You'd be surprised on how such a softie he is towards you, and kids!

He has such a dad personality too, and he os actually quite a loving person despite being a superstar football player.

He definitely play with Lavinho from time to time. Did you know he ever throw Lavinho across the field for fun. Yeah, for FUN.

He loves to flex his physique, tryna' make sure you know that too lmao.

He'd be those who suddenly pick you up and sit you on his shoulder while he flex his arms.

He's quite cutie when its just you and him.

He's quite loving and caring with you. He enjoy spend time with you.

He's quite a gambler right, so ever since you, he have found a way to reduce his gamble addiction.

By buying you things he thought you'd like. It doesn't matter if you ended up dislike it, to him it felt like a gamble to know whether you like it or not.

Point plus is to get to know you more by things you like and don't.

It fascinates him on how much you enjoy other things than your current job.

He personally isn't used to do other things than his own job, like football. He's been playing that for years it is now hi occupations until god knows when.

So he actually yearns to be good at other things other than football.

And when he met you, he start to enjoy other things than Football.

Things that you enjoy as well, like if you like cooking, he start to enjoy cook and eat whatever you make. You paint? He start to try doing painting even though he ended up making a mess of himself. You enjoy studying? He suddenly enjoy studying anything, as long as its with you.

He quite the romancer, ngl. Like he know damn well how to string your heart to bow and treat you somewhere nice.

> Pablo Cavasoz

This guy quite childish.

Or so you thought! Ha! He is alright actually.

He is quite, okay? Likes yeah he thinks he's pretty, cute and all, but he actually is.

Plus, he is actually quite nice to you.

Not in a weird way to, he likes to share his thoughts with you, he also seem to be comfortable with anyone.

Quite the physical touch, like he need to touch someone after every match, like just hug his teammates, pat their shoulder.

He's actually average height, every male around him is just too tall.

He collect like, Pokémon's plushies for fun.

He will say shit like "Oh yeah so my cuteness jave companions" and you'll go "Whatever you say, sweetheart"

As much as you thought he'd bring the "I'm the cutest football player". He mostly do that to either act cute for fans, or just piss his teammates off.

At this point, his cute acting was so world wide, everyone not surprised he does that, they even would also go along with him and say "Oh yeah, who's the cute little baby~" And it'll just flustered Cavasoz than anything.

I CAN see him being carried around like a sack of potatoes by Silva too.

I also see him as a gamer, I think he's a DOTA player.

Idk he gives me the vibe

Maybe play Final Fantasy too if not busy with his Football career

Could see him being a cat person, and I could also see him as this homebody person at holidays or vacations

Will find your hand attractive for some reason (It's just his way to ask you to caresses him or sumn)

> Julian Loki

Loki's one is already written on the link above. Maybe a little extra about Loki imo:

Between all these four, Loki is the most *sane*

And the most polite (because everyone is older than him)

Cavasoz victim in his way of saying "I'm thinking cutest! Right Loki?" And Loki can't help but nods

Luna's guardian, especially in Japan, just incase he said anything stupid to locals.

Blake's also guardian, because this man is uncontrollable when he's drunk, especially drunk in Japan.

He's thankful that Silva's is the second sane person in the group.

He swear he'll never travel with these best in the world football player. He was thinking everyone who's the best on the world supposed to be sane like him but he's wrong.

© Blue Lock and its characters are created by Muneyuki Kaneshiro and illustrated by Yusuke Nomura. I do not own any rights to the original work; these are all fan-made stories created for entertainment purposes.

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