#In a way I won. That's a win. Success.

[seth-burroughs]

I think many fanfics or other works featuring Yomi depict him as like Way Too Serious than he actually is like. That's the guy who mastered the skill to ugly cry on command just so he can mock pretend to be distraught at Seth's heinous atrocities (pointed out by his gf of course) before sending him to the chopper this is the only scene where he did so they even gave him like three unique sprites just for that. This is the man that upon watching the liveleak footage of the submarine explosion (whilst using his gf as a seat) exclaimed in the most enthusiastic voice "KABOOM!! It sank all right! Haha!" in front of tens of his men completely unbothered, minutes later after the woman cube incident he says "alllll right now let's go and find the corpses of those detectives that got blown up :)" with his hand up in the air. And that is after his cube scene. And I cannot state this enough, the Cube Machine was not specifically just made as a one time thing for Martina, the weirdly passionate way he speaks about The Cube, stating he's gonna carry the woman flesh cube on his form at all times in front of tens of his men once a-fucking-gain, the goddamn "even humans can be turned into pretty (highlighted in game.) little cubes" line that even I can't fucking decipher is just... he's just really obsessed with the Cube object. There is no normal (well, as normal as attempting to turn your gf into a cube can be) explanation for this. Plus, invented detectivephobia, according to some people. Even if he claims to Makoto, he can easily also be just... gently coaxed by him just politely saying "please🥺" once, into letting an alleged terrorist completely off the hook, that he wanted to capture and torture so bad before that point. He fumbles his insults so fucking tragically "that's even more impossible than a chance meeting between an umbrella and a sewing machine on an operating table" "empty headed balloon boy" so far I can name only one (1) that actually landed, and that's debatable too. After momentarily getting rid of Makoto resulting in him being alone in the room with Yuma (the goons don't count as people), literally after 2 seconds with the tiny wretch his first question is "what even are you. why do you exist. you aren't from this city. you aren't a detective. so what point is there in your existence :/ not like i care anyway... take him away girls" (what was he on about, how did he know yuma is and isn't a detective, guess you will never know). The "YUOUR IN NO POSITION TO ORDER AROUND THE GREAT YOMI!!1!11". His honest reaction to Makoto getting those documents is to start screeching "CAPTURE HIM EXECUTE HIM CHOP HIS HEAD OFF CRUSH HIS SKULL!!!!!!!!". That was my hopefully comprehensive Yomi moment scene list. Let Yomi be silly and deeply, incredibly unserious. Cringe, even. I am begging. While he can absolutely act intimidating when he wants to, he usually fucks it up like, 3 minutes in with his uncontrollable desire to be the goofiest guy in the room. Genuinely tragic

[wonder-worker]

Thinking about Elizabeth Woodville as a gothic heroine is making me go insane. She entered the story by overturning existing social structures, provoking both ire and fascination. She married into a dynasty doomed to eat itself alive. She was repeatedly associated with the supernatural, both in terms of love and death. Her life was shaped entirely by uncanny repetitions - two marriages, two widowhoods, two depositions, two flights to sanctuary, two ultimate reclamations, all paralleling and ricocheting off each other. Her plight after 1483 exposed the true rot at the heart of the monarchy - the trappings of royalty pulled away to reveal nothing, a never-ending cycle of betrayal and war, the price of power being the (literal) blood of children. She lived past the end of her family name, she lived past the end of her myth. She ended her life in a deeply anomalous position, half-in and half-out of royal society. She was both a haunting tragedy and the ultimate survivor who was finally free.

[batsplat]

sometimes pecco pops his pussy so hard that i’m like wow you really are 3 time world champion! other times he decides to go play in the gravel when leading and i remember that he scored 0 points in his moto3 rookie season

when the commentary during the sprint was like 'you know, he could have been on five consecutive race wins now if he hadn't crashed out of the catalunya sprint on the last lap', I had to laugh because that's the pecco bagnaia experience right there isn't it. even when he's winning four races in a row, a part of your brain is still remembering the disaster that directly preceded it. when he got that track limit warning, I was convinced he was gonna mess it up. not because it's something he usually messes up, because it isn't - just because you're always waiting for something to go wrong and that seemed as good an opening as any. but no, apparently he's just in the bit of the season where he wins stuff. for whatever reason. or maybe he'll crash on sunday. who knows

[the-physicality]

i do think, aside from mercury bias, if bg had been in all season she would have been all wnba, first or at least second. i think people undervalue her because of the rebounding but she is 1000% the worst officiated player in the league, on both sides of the court. so the fact that she's been able to have the performance that she had is incredible, and that she didn't get the acknowledgment really just underscores how much people take what she does for granted.

[starcurtain]

I know everyone sees Itto as Genshin's comedic relief, but I'm telling you all, Alhaitham is actually the funniest character in Genshin Impact.

According to the fandom, he's hot, he's famous, he's the one in charge of the house...

But according to the people of Sumeru? Dude became grand sage and not a single NPC around the city had a thing to say about that. Sachin's son got his ass beat and he didn't even know who Alhaitham was; it was just "some guy in green." People on the streets are said to not even notice Alhaitham, let alone be able to identify him by appearance. The only time we ever hear NPCs directly commenting on Alhaitham, it's Siraj's collective who hate Alhaitham's guts. Dori refuses to work with him. Random Eremites call him a lunatic within two minutes of meeting him.

Alhaitham's reputation in Sumeru is "Who? Ah, that guy? I heard he's weird," and then everyone moves on.

Meanwhile, Kaveh is literally famous enough to have an epithet ("the Light of Kshahrewar"), is the lead architect on entire city redesigns, and was trusted before Alhaitham's take over to do work on the Akademiya itself. He built the most famous landmark in the rainforest outside of the Divine Tree. He's well-known enough that people bank on his reputation to start scams; people send their children to take courses with him in the belief that it will bless them with successful future careers. He's known for philanthropic endeavors to help the poor and disadvantaged. He won the Interdarshan Championship. This is the Sumeru equivalent of winning an Olympic gold medal!!

Kaveh is the Taylor Swift to Alhaitham's Travis Kelce. They might have independent success, but in every measurement of public sentiment, Kaveh vastly outshines Alhaitham, and the fandom should really take a step back and think about how hilarious this makes everything about their situation in canon.

For the few in Sumeru who are actually paying attention, sure, Alhaitham is the (former) acting grand sage who makes a pretty penny and owns the house Kaveh lives in. For the average majority of Sumeru's citizens who are way more likely to know Kaveh? Alhaitham is literally just "that guy who is shacked up with the Light of Kshahrewar."

Kaveh's efforts to keep where he lives a secret just makes him come across like one of those reclusive types of artists who value their privacy. Half the public in Sumeru probably think he just prefers to keep himself and his lover out of the limelight. Kaveh was so busy pretending not to be poor, he forgot that every ounce of pretending he does just helps him keep his own celebrity status. The harder he attempts to act secretive about where he lives and with whom, the more it comes across as "Please respect this famous person's privacy and stop asking about the details of his relationship."

And Alhaitham, for whom being "that guy who is shacked up with the Light of Kshahrewar" is THE life goal? Everything is going according to keikaku. Kaveh has convinced the entirety of Sumeru that he and Alhaitham are in a relationship, all without Alhaitham having to lift a finger. The more determined Alhaitham gets to fly under the radar, the more it looks like he's Kaveh's kept man. If you aren't living with him because you're broke, then why are you living with him, Kaveh? There's simply no way for Alhaitham to lose.

It's just... so funny.

[aceyalonso]

a winners celebration - LANDO NORRIS

pairing : lando norris x best friend!reader

summary : win celebrations look a little different for lando norris this time around

warnings/notes : swearing, drinking, smut, unprotected sex (please use a condom!), overstimulation, fingering, hair pulling, oral (both!receiving), praise kink, use of "baby" and "good girl", pussydrunk!lando lowkey, 69, dacryphilia

word count : 5.3k

a/n : i miss race weekends | there's a lot more plot to this compared to the previous days

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

September 22, 2024 - 10:36 PM

Lando was riding a high of adrenaline and joy as the checkered flag waved at the finish line, signaling his victory at the Singapore Grand Prix. His team swarmed around him, celebrating and congratulating him for the hard-earned win, but it was the person waiting in the pit stands that caught his eye.

Y/n stood there, smiling and waving, watching Lando's success. He couldn't help but grin wider, seeing his best friend's proud expression. He knew that she had been there cheering him on, supporting him every step of the way.

Lando quickly shook off the other team members, making his way over to where Y/n stood. He walked with a slight swagger, still riding the high of the race win. Once he reached his friend, he flashed a cocky smirk, before enveloping her in a tight hug.

"Told you I'd win." He murmured jokingly, pulling back to look Y/n in the eye.

Y/n laughed, returning the hug and rolling their eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You're so full of yourself." She teased playfully, punching him lightly in the arm.

Lando just chuckled, shrugging. "Hey, can you blame me? I just won the damn race. I feel like I could take on the world right now."

She chuckled at his boastful statement, shaking her head in amusement. "More like your ego could take on the world. Careful, your head might not fit through the doors anymore if it gets any bigger."

He gasped in mock offense. "Hey, my head is the perfect size, thank you very much." Lando protested jokingly, running a hand through his hair. "Besides, you love my ego and you know it."

Y/n rolled her eyes again, but couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, yeah. Your ego is just so charming, how could I resist." She replied sarcastically, pretending to swoon.

Lando looked at Y/n apologetically. "I hate to cut this short, but I gotta go give some interviews and stuff. But I'll meet you in the hotel lobby in a bit, and we'll go out and celebrate. Sound good?"

She nodded, understanding. "Yeah, no worries. Go do your press stuff." Y/n said with a smile. "I'll see you in a bit in the lobby."

Lando nodded, already turning to walk away when he suddenly stopped and turned back, a mischievous grin on his face. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss on Y/n's cheek before realizing what he'd just done.

He froze, realizing how he may have crossed a line. He quickly blurted out a "thank you" and turned away, heading off to do his interviews while leaving Y/n shocked and confused by the unexpected display of affection.

Y/n was left standing there, feeling her cheek where Lando had kissed her before walking away. They were both shocked and confused by his actions, unsure of what to make of it.

Y/n took a moment to compose herself, shaking her head to snap out of the daze and heading back to the hotel. As she walked, she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss on the cheek. Did it mean something, or was it just a spontaneous act in the heat of the moment? Y/n wasn't sure, but the thought of it made her chest flutter.

September 22, 2024 - 11:43 PM

An hour or so later, Y/n was waiting in the hotel lobby, just as they had agreed upon. She was sitting on a plush couch in the lobby, scrolling through her phone, when suddenly, they heard a familiar voice say, "Hey, there you are."

Y/n looked up from her phone to see Lando strolling toward her, looking more casual now that he wasn't in his race suit. He was wearing a simple shirt and jeans, his hair tousled and messy from the helmet. He gave her a charming grin as he approached.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. The interviews took longer than I thought they would." He said, sitting down next to Y/n on the couch.

"It's all good," Y/n replied with a smile. "At least you're free now, and we can go out and celebrate."

Lando leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms above his head. "Yeah, I'm all yours now. So, what's the plan for the night?"

Y/n stood up, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Alright, we're going out for drinks. I know a great bar nearby that has the best cocktails. Sound good?"

Lando groaned as she grabbed his wrist, pulling him up from the couch. "Hey, can a guy get a little break after winning a Grand Prix? I just sat down." He protested jokingly, feigning resistance.

Y/n just laughed, not releasing her grip on his wrist. "Nope, no breaks. We're going out to celebrate. Come on, get up." She tugged him lightly, urging him to follow her.

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Fine, fine. I'll come, but only because you're practically dragging me out the door." He grumbled dramatically.

She smiled as she led Lando out of the hotel, still holding onto his wrist. "And the bar is just a few minutes walk from here, so it's not far," she said, glancing at him. "Plus, some fresh air will do you good. You probably need to clear your head from all those interviews, anyway."

Lando huffed in agreement, secretly enjoying the feeling of her holding onto him. "Yeah, the interviews were exhausting. I swear, they ask the same damn questions every time. I could give all the answers in my sleep at this point."

Y/n chuckled, giving his wrist a playful tug. "Don't get yourself too worked up. We're here to have fun tonight, remember? No thinking about interviews or racing or any of that stuff."

Lando smiled, nodding in agreement. "You're right, you're right. Tonight is all about letting loose and celebrating. No work, no racing… just us and some good drinks."

She grinned at that, and they continued walking until they reached the bar. The place was buzzing with energy, music could be heard from inside, and the neon signs above the door flickered alluringly.

Lando gazed at the bar, seeing the lively atmosphere within. "Looks like this place is popular," he commented, looking down at Y/n. "How did you even find this place, anyway?"

Y/n looked up at Lando, a smile on her lips as she answered his question. "Oh, I came here with Alexandra for a girls' night out a few months ago. It's a pretty cool spot. Good drinks and good music."

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you've already been here? And you didn't tell me about it until now?" He feigned indignation, giving her a playful nudge with his elbow.

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, a playful smirk on her face. "Hey, it's not my fault you were partying it up in Ibiza while I was here in Singapore. You weren't exactly available for bar hopping."

Lando chuckled at that, conceding her point. "Alright, alright, fair enough. I was having a blast in Ibiza, but I guess I missed out on some good bars here in Singapore."

Y/n gave Lando a teasing smile before guiding him into the bar. The music inside was even more vibrant, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the air. They found a spot at the bar, and Y/n gestured for Lando to sit down next to her.

Lando took a seat on the barstool next to Y/n, glancing around the place. The bar was dimly lit, with colorful lights casting a warm, inviting glow over everything. People were gathered around, chatting and enjoying their drinks, adding to the lively atmosphere.

Y/n called the bartender over and ordered a cocktail for herself. Then, she turned to Lando and asked, "What do you want to drink? Something strong, or something a bit fancier?"

He contemplated for a moment, leaning against the bar. "Hmm, I'm feeling like something classic tonight. I think I'll go with a gin and tonic."

She nodded, relaying Lando's order to the bartender. "One gin and tonic for the grand prix winner, please," Y/n said with a smile. The bartender nodded and began preparing their orders.

Lando chuckled at Y/n's remark, his ego slightly boosted. "You know, I could get used to you calling me a grand prix winner." He said, a hint of pride in his voice.

Y/n chuckled and rolled her eyes at Lando's comment. "Oh, come on. This isn't your first win, Norris. You've won two races before this one, remember?"

He glanced at Y/n, a sly smile on his lips. "Yeah, but this time it's different. You were actually here to witness my win. And I must say, it felt fucking good."

Y/n smiled mischievously, deciding to tease Lando a bit. She leaned closer to him, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, I see what's going on here. You have such a huge crush on me, don't you?"

Lando chuckled at her remark and responded with a hint of banter, "Hey, hey, that was high school, alright? We're adults now. We've moved on and grown past all that silly crush stuff."

Y/n chuckled as well, enjoying their playful banter. "Is that so? So you're saying you don't have a crush on me anymore?" She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her face.

He rolled his eyes, trying to maintain a nonchalant expression. "Yeah, yeah, I've totally moved on. No more silly crushes here." He took a sip of his gin and tonic, clearly not fooling Y/n for a second.

She just smiled, not believing him for a moment. She knew Lando well enough to know that he was just playing tough. "Uh-huh, sure you have. And the moon is made of cheese, right? And pigs can fly."

Lando huffed in mock indignation, trying to keep up his act. "Hey, I'll have you know, I'm a sophisticated man now. I don't have crushes like some high school kid. That's all in the past."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh loudly at Lando's statement. "Oh, because those flings totally prove you're over crushes and completely sophisticated now, right?" She teased with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile at her sarcasm. "Alright, alright, fine. Maybe I've had a few flings and whatnot, but that doesn't prove anything. That's just casual stuff, not the same as having a crush."

She grinned and rolled her eyes again, amused by Lando's attempts to deny his feelings. "Oh, c'mon, finish your drink. We're here here to celebrate and let loose. Let's go out there and dance a little, shall we?"

Lando downed the rest of his gin and tonic with a smirk. "Alright, alright, you've convinced me. Let's go dance." He stood up from his barstool, offering a hand to Y/n.

Y/n took his hand with a smile and hopped off her own barstool, following Lando toward the dance floor of the bar. The music was pumping, the lights were flashing, and a group of people were already dancing on the floor.

He led her into the midst of the dance floor, finding a spot for them to dance. As the music played, they both started swaying and moving to the beat. With each step and move, their bodies would occasionally brush against each other, sending sparks of electricity through them.

She could feel her pulse quickening as she danced with Lando. Their bodies moved in sync with the music, each step bringing them closer together. The atmosphere was electrifying with Lando so close, the heat between them undeniable

Lando's fingers gently traced small circles on her hip, the touch sending shivers down her spine. The music and the people around them seemed to fade into the background as they swayed together, their eyes locked onto each other.

He couldn't resist pulling her even closer, their bodies now pressed against each other. Lando's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her in place as they continued to move to the music. Her scent, the way she felt against him, it was driving him wild.

Lando's lips, hot and needy, began to trail kisses down her neck, his grip on her waist tightening slightly. Everywhere his lips touched sent a rush of heat through her body, a small gasp escaping her lips.

His tongue darted out, tracing a path along her sensitive skin, his lips alternating between soft kisses and lingering nibbles. The sensation was maddening, her mind clouding with desire as he continued his exploration of her neck.

A soft moan escaped Y/n's lips as Lando continued his assault on her neck. Her hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt, her body arching against his. "L-Lando," she gasped softly, her voice filled with a mixture of need and desire.

Y/n's words were barely above a whisper, her voice hoarse with need. "Not here," she repeated, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. Lando had the exact same thought running through his mind.

Lando pulled back reluctantly, his lips leaving her neck with a final lingering kiss. He looked at her, his eyes darkened with lust, taking in her flushed cheeks and the way she was gripping his shirt. He knew exactly what she meant, and the same need was burning through him.

"Let's go," Lando murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He took her hand in his, the skin-to-skin contact sending another jolt of electricity through them.

The two of them practically sprinted out of the bar, the cool night air doing little to cool their ardor. The hotel wasn't far, but the short walk felt like an eternity as their bodies practically ached with desire.

They reached the hotel lobby, their breaths coming out in slightly ragged pants. Lando led Y/n towards the elevator, practically hitting the button to call it impatiently. As they waited, Lando turned towards Y/n, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and need.

As the elevator doors open, Lando gently shoved Y/n into the elevator with the doors quickly closing behind them. As the elevator began to move upwards, Lando backed her against the wall of the elevator, trapping her between his body and the cold metal.

Lando wasted no time, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss. His hands came up to cup her face, holding her in place as his tongue darted out to trace the seam of her lips.

The kiss grew more intense, and Y/n found herself responding to him. Her body melted against his, her hands gripping his shoulders as a soft moan escaped her lips. "Lando…" she whispered, her voice filled with need.

The elevator continued to ascend, and Y/n's mind was clouded with need. Lando's lips left hers briefly, only to blaze a trail of hot kisses down her neck. She found herself arching against him, whispering "More…please" as her body ached for his touch.

Lando seemed encouraged by her pleading, his hands roaming her body as his lips continued their assault on her neck. He pressed his body against hers, his hips slowly rutting against her in a teasing rhythm.

"Gods, you're driving me crazy," Lando muttered, his voice hoarse with desire. His hands moved lower, cupping her hips and pulling her impossibly close so they were flush against each other.

Lando grudgingly pulled back, reluctantly detaching his mouth from Y/N's neck. The elevator doors opened with a soft 'ding,' signaling they had reached his floor. Lando stepped back, reluctantly removing his hands from her hips.

His eyes burned as he looked at her; her lips slightly swollen, skin flushed, and hair disheveled. The sight of her sent another jolt of need through him, but he managed to resist the urge to pull her back into his arms. Instead, he gestured for her to follow him down the hallway towards his hotel room.

Lando fumbled with the key card, opening the door to his room. He ushered Y/N inside, his eyes never leaving her. The moment the door shut behind them, Lando pushed Y/N against it, and the sound of the door slamming echoed in the quiet room.

His body pressed against hers, trapping her between the cool wood of the door and his warm, solid frame. His hands found her wrists, pinning them above her head as his lips crashed against hers in a passionate, bruising kiss.

Y/n and Lando were both feeling the effects of the alcohol they had consumed earlier that night. Their inhibitions lowered, they found themselves drawn to each other, their bodies pressed close together as they made out passionately against the door.

Y/n's heart raced as Lando's lips met hers, their tongues entwining in a sensual dance. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, his strong hands roaming over her curves. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

Lando's hands slid down to Y/n's hips, pulling her even closer to him. He could feel her soft breasts pressing against his chest, and it only fueled his desire for her. His lips trailed down to her neck, leaving a path of hot kisses along her skin.

Y/n tilted her head back, giving Lando better access to her sensitive neck. She could feel his teeth grazing her skin, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. Her hands reached up to tangle in his hair, holding him close as he continued his assault on her senses.

Lando's strong arms easily lifted Y/n, carrying her over to the nearby bed. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he laid her down gently on the soft mattress. The movement caused her short dress to ride up, revealing the tantalizing sight of her light blue lace panties.

Lando's breath caught in his throat at the erotic view. He drank in the sight of Y/n's long, toned legs and the delicate fabric barely covering her most intimate area. Desire coursed through his veins, his arousal growing with each passing second.

Y/n looked up at Lando with lust-filled eyes, a coy smile playing on her lips. She could see the hunger in his gaze as it roamed over her body. Slowly, teasingly, she reached down and hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties.

"Do you like what you see, Lando?" Y/n purred, her voice low and seductive. She slowly started to slide the lace down her legs, revealing more of her smooth, creamy skin, before putting them back on teasingly.

Lando knelt before Y/n, his hands gently caressing her thighs as he leaned in to leave a trail of hot kisses along her smooth skin. "God, I fucking love this view," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "You're so pretty, so perfect."

Y/n shivered with anticipation as Lando's lips moved higher and higher up her thighs. She could feel the heat of his breath on her sensitive skin, and it only heightened her arousal. Her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him closer to her aching core.

Lando's fingers hooked into the waistband of Y/n's panties, slowly pulling them down and off her legs. He tossed them aside, his eyes feasting on the glistening wetness between her thighs. "You're so wet for me, baby," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

Unable to resist any longer, Lando leaned in and ran his tongue along Y/n's slit, savoring the taste of her arousal. She let out a gasp, her hips bucking against his face as he continued to explore her most intimate area with his tongue.

Y/n's moans grew louder and more frequent as Lando devoured her like a man starved. His tongue delved deep into her dripping folds, lapping up her arousal. He alternated between broad strokes and targeted flicks against her sensitive clit, driving her wild with pleasure.

"Oh god, Lando! Yes, just like that!" Y/n cried out, her voice trembling with ecstasy. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him firmly against her as she ground her hips against his face. The obscene sounds of his mouth on her pussy filled the room, mixing with her moans.

Lando groaned against her, the vibrations adding to her pleasure. He could feel her thighs beginning to quiver and tense around his head, signaling her impending release. Determined to bring her over the edge, he redoubled his efforts, sucking hard on her clit as he thrust two fingers deep inside her tight cunt.

Y/n's eyes flew open as she felt Lando's fingers suddenly plunge into her wet heat. She looked down at him, her eyes wide and filled with shock and arousal. Their gazes locked, and the intensity of the moment sent a jolt of electricity through her body.

Lando's fingers pumped in and out of her, curling to hit that special spot inside her that made her see stars. His thumb rubbed circles on her clit, the dual stimulation pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

"Eyes on me, baby," he commanded, his voice muffled against her sensitive flesh. "I want to see your face when you cum."

Y/n's breath came in short, sharp gasps as Lando's fingers worked their magic inside her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his, the connection between them only heightening her pleasure. Her body tensed, the coil of tension in her lower belly winding tighter and tighter.

Lando could sense her impending orgasm, and he doubled down on his efforts. He sucked hard on her clit, his fingers pumping furiously in and out of her dripping cunt. He wanted to feel her come undone, to watch her face as she lost herself in the throes of passion.

With a final flick of his tongue and a deep thrust of his fingers, Y/n finally reached her breaking point. Her body convulsed, her back arching off the bed as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over her. "Lando!" she screamed, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.

Lando continued to work her through her orgasm, his fingers and tongue bringing her down from the high. As her body went limp, he pulled back and looked up at her with a satisfied grin. "That's it, baby."

Lando stood up, his face glistening with Y/n's juices. His eyes were dark with lust, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. With a growl, he quickly stripped off his clothes, tossing them haphazardly on the floor until he stood before her completely naked.

Y/n's gaze roamed over his muscular body, taking in every inch of his tanned skin and hard planes. Her eyes zeroed in on his impressive erection, standing proud and ready. She licked her lips, already craving more of him.

Lando climbed onto the bed, crawling over Y/n's prone form. He hovered above her, his hips nestled between her thighs. "I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "I need to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock."

Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, using her heels to urge him closer. "Then take me," she breathed, her nails raking down his back. "Fuck me hard, Lando. Make me yours."

Lando positioned himself at Y/n's entrance, the head of his cock teasing her slick folds. He could feel the heat emanating from her core, beckoning him to plunge into her depths. With a swift thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside her, groaning at the exquisite sensation of her tight walls enveloping him.

"Oh fuck, you feel amazing," Lando grunted, his hands gripping her hips as he began to move. He set a relentless pace, his thick cock stretching and filling her with each powerful thrust.

Y/n's head fell back, her eyes fluttering closed as she reveled in the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed by Lando. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her hips rising to meet his every stroke. "Yes, just like that!" she cried out, her voice a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Lando's thrusts grew harder and faster, his balls slapping against her ass as he drove into her again and again. He could feel her tightening around him, her body responding to his every move. "You're so fucking tight," he growled, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the bed as her second orgasm crashed over her. "Oh god, Lando! I'm cumming!" she screamed, her walls clamping down around his throbbing cock.

The sensation of her coming undone around him pushed Lando over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his cock pulsing as he released his load. But instead of staying inside her, he pulled out at the last moment, his hot seed spurting onto her stomach and breasts.

"Fuck, Y/n," Lando groaned, his hips jerking as he emptied himself onto her. Pulling out, he watched as his cum coated her skin, marking her as his.

Barely giving Y/n a moment to catch her breath, Lando lifted her up. His strong hands gripped her hips, lifting her up and positioning her so that she was straddling his face. "I'm not done with you yet," he growled, his voice muffled against her dripping folds.

Y/n gasped as she felt Lando's tongue delve into her sensitive cunt, his lips and teeth nipping at her swollen clit. Her hands braced against the headboard, her body already trembling with renewed arousal.

Lando's hands gripped her ass, spreading her open for him as he devoured her like a man possessed. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue, driving her wild with pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Lando!" Y/n cried out, her hips grinding against his face. She could feel another orgasm building, the coil of tension in her belly winding tighter and tighter.

Y/n's eyes drifted down to Lando's cock, still rock hard and glistening with their combined juices. A wicked grin spread across her face as she leaned down, her breasts pressing against his thighs as she brought her lips to the tip of his member.

She placed a soft kiss on the head, her tongue darting out to lap up the drops of precum. Lando groaned against her pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. Encouraged by his reaction, Y/n took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around his girth.

In the 69 position, they pleasured each other with reckless abandon. Y/n bobbed her head up and down his shaft, taking him deeper into her throat with each pass. Lando's tongue delved into her folds, lapping up her sweet nectar as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

As Lando's tongue worked its magic on Y/n's sensitive clit, she could feel her orgasm building rapidly. Her hips bucked against his face, her moans muffled by his thick cock filling her mouth. She took him deeper, her throat constricting around him as she gagged on his length.

Lando's own pleasure mounted, his cock twitching in Y/n's mouth as he approached his climax. He could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling with the force of her impending release. With a final, powerful thrust of his tongue, he sent her over the edge.

Y/n's scream of ecstasy was cut off by Lando's cock as he erupted in her mouth. Her eyes watered, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to swallow his hot seed. The sensation of his cum hitting the back of her throat only intensified her own orgasm, her body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

Lando's insatiable desire for Y/n showed no signs of abating. As they both came down from their intense orgasms, he pulled her off his body, repositioning her so that she was straddling him. He leaned back against the headboard, his hands gripping her hips as he guided her onto his still-hard cock.

"Ride me, baby," Lando growled, his voice thick with lust. "I want to feel you bouncing on my dick."

Y/n's body was still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, her eyes glazed over with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. She placed her hands on his chest for balance, slowly lowering herself onto his throbbing member. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he stretched her once again, filling her completely.

She began to move, her hips rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Lando's hands roamed over her body, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples as she rode him. The combination of pain and pleasure only served to heighten her arousal, her walls clenching around him with each thrust.

Y/n's movements became more erratic, her body struggling to keep up with the relentless pace Lando had set. "I can't... I can't take anymore," she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "Be a good girl f' me," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I know you can take another round."

Tears streamed down Y/n's face as she tried to comply with his demands. Her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for relief. But the thought of letting Lando down was too much to bear. She gritted her teeth, pushing through the pain and exhaustion as she continued to ride him.

Lando could sense her struggle, but he refused to relent. He wanted to push her to her limits, to see just how much she could take. His cock throbbed inside her, the sensation of her tight walls clenching around him driving him closer to the edge.

Despite her exhaustion, Y/n found the strength to continue riding Lando's cock. Her hips moved in a steady rhythm, rising and falling as she took him deep inside her. The pain and pleasure mixed together, creating a heady cocktail that left her dizzy with sensation.

Lando's hands roamed over her body, squeezing and kneading her soft flesh. He pinched her nipples, twisting them slightly as he watched her face contort with a mix of pain and pleasure. "That's it, baby," he growled, his voice low and rough. "Take it all for me."

Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling with the effort of keeping up with Lando's relentless pace. She could feel another orgasm building, the coil of tension in her belly winding tighter and tighter.

Lando could sense her impending release, and he doubled his efforts. His hips bucked up to meet her downward thrusts, his cock hitting that special spot inside her that made her see stars. "Cum for me, Y/n," he demanded, his voice thick with lust.

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching as she felt her orgasm approaching. She gritted her teeth, pushing herself to the limit as she rode Lando's cock with increasing fervor. Her walls began to flutter around him, signaling her imminent release.

"Oh god, Lando!" she cried out, her voice raw with emotion. "I'm going to cum!"

Lando's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust up into her with powerful strokes. "That's it, baby," he growled, his own release building. "Let go for me. Cum all over my cock."

With a final, desperate thrust, Y/n reached her breaking point. Her body convulsed, her walls clamping down around Lando's throbbing member as she came undone. The sensation of her tightening around him was too much for Lando to bear, and with a guttural groan, he erupted inside her, his hot seed filling her with each powerful pulse.

As they both came down from their intense orgasms, Lando leaned forward, capturing Y/n's lips in a passionate kiss. His hands caressed her face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that still clung to her lashes. "You did so good, baby," he murmured against her lips. "I'm so proud of you."

Y/n's body went limp, her head resting on Lando's shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel his cock still inside her, softening but not yet fully withdrawn. The sensation was comforting, a reminder of the incredible pleasure they had just shared.

Lando continued to pepper her face with gentle kisses, his lips trailing along her jawline and down her neck. "You're amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration and affection.

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore

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[bogwarg]

Homestead Greys In Star Trek DS9

I recently started watching Deep Space 9 and it brought the biggest smile to my face to see Sisko wearing a Homestead Greys hat.

The Homestead Grays were a Pittsburgh-based Negro league baseball team that played in the Negro National League from 1922 to 1948…

The Homestead Grays were one of the most successful Negro league baseball teams, winning multiple championships in the Negro National League. The Homestead Grays weren’t inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame UNTIL 2006 (almost 60 years later!). The teams primary owner was inducted 60 years after his death. They were one of the best baseball teams PERIOD… They won nine straight league titles 1937-48. So seeing one of the characters in a show from the 90’s represent this team years before the baseball hall of fame even did made me so happy… The record stats from the Homestead Greys weren’t put into consideration into baseball history until this year! The Homestead Greys had some of the best baseball players of all time on their team.

As someone from Pittsburgh seeing this team represented in something as impactful as Star Trek made me so happy. Whoever did the costuming for Star Trek Deep Space 9, excellent job.

EDIT: I’ve read some of the tags and from my understanding it seems like it was Avery Brooke’s idea to include the Homestead Greys cap in DS9. Atm I am unable to confirm that. Either way, that’s so fucking cool and really has added a lot to the show for me!!

[cleo-fox]

Surrender

Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.

No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.

The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.

At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.

He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.

He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.

“Show me your wrist,” he says.

You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.

His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.

It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.

He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.

You do, of course. What other choice do you have?

*

The next several hours are a blur.

You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?

It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.

You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.

You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.

You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.

They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.

You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.

You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.

You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.

*

It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.

You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.

“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.

He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.

“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.

*

You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.

Or that was your plan, anyway.

Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

The room is much colder at night.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.

You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.

You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.

But you also have to pee.

You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.

The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.

Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.

Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.

“Come to bed,” Loki says.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”

You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.

You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.

You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.

“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.

“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.

You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”

He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.

You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.

And after a while, yours does, too.

*

Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.

It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.

It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.

But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.

But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.

You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.

“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.

God fucking dammit.

You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.

“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.

He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.

“It won’t happen again,” you say.

It does.

This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.

Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.

The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.

The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.

This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.

You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.

You open a private browser window and pull up Google.

Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.

The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.

You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.

But only nearly and only for now.

*

The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.

Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.

You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.

Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.

When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.

The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.

The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.

Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.

But not yet. Not yet.

*

Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.

You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.

You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.

The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.

You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

More heat prickles at your skin.

“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.

“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.

He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”

He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”

You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?

He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky. 

“You flatter yourself,” you say.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”

Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.

“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.

“Nothing,” you say.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”

You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.

“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.

Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.

“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”

Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.

“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”

You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.

The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.

You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.

You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.

You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.

“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”

You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.

You barely manage a breathy affirmative.

“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”

“Please,” you breathe.

“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”

“Don’t stop,” you say.

“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod, slack jawed and panting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper, your hips rocking.

“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.

“I need to come,” you moan.

“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”

A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.

“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.

His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”

You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”

He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”

“Is it working?” you ask.

He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”

You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core. 

You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”

Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”

You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.

“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”

Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”

His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.

“Good girl,” he says.

And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.

You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.

You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.

You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.

The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.

“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.

You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.

So close.

“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.

Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.

It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.

He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.

“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”

It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”

He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.

Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.

Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.

He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature. 

Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.

You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.

“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.

“Will you show me?” you ask.

“Every day,” he says.

It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.

He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.

You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.

But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.

“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.

Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.

You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.

But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.

Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”

There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.

“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”

You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.

“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.

In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter. 

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”

You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.

The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long. 

As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”

“Getting close,” you breathe.

“I know, I can feel you,” he says.

You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.

“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.

It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.

He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss.  He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.

“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”

You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”

He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.

“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.

Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.

“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.

You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.

“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”

You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”

Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.

Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.

His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.

You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.

Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.

For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.

[theostrophywife]

azúcar.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: baby by madison beer.

author's note: benjamin being active on tiktok is dangerous for my health. i actually feel like i'm about to crawl on the ceiling from how badly i want this man. literally tweaking. anyways, enjoy 😊

There were a lot of quidditch related superstitions you were willing to put up with. 

Wearing the same socks during every match. Kissing your boyfriend good luck before every game. Even the rowdy common room parties that you and Mattheo often snuck out of to have a celebration of your own was a tradition you welcomed with open arms. 

But this was not one of them. 

“It’s absolutely absurd,” Pansy huffed, her sleek black hair grazing her chin as she tucked her legs underneath her on the velvet couch. “Blaise has lost his mind.” 

“Sounds like you’re the one losing it, Pans.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You would too if your boyfriend suddenly announced a sex ban as part of some weird quidditch superstition.” 

Since the start of the season, the quidditch team had taken a few hits. Usually, the boys dominated the other houses, but they barely won against Hufflepuff and came to a draw against Ravenclaw during the last game. Ending in a tie was apparently the last straw because the day after the match, Blaise told Pansy that the team had taken a pact of celibacy. 

For some deranged reason, the boys believed that abstaining from sex for a week would help them secure a win for the rematch on Friday. For the next five days, they intended to sleep, breathe, and eat quidditch. Apparently, your feminine wiles would have to be set aside for the meantime. As if sex were the problem and not their constant drinking and partying, which probably contributed to their lack of focus as a whole. Not that the boys would listen to common sense at this point. 

You scoffed. “Please, Mattheo wouldn’t last a day without sex let alone a whole week.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Pansy said rather bitterly, picking at the cushion in her lap. “The lot of them are taking this entirely too seriously. Blaise won’t even allow himself to be in a room alone with me.”

”Well, Zabini has a surprising amount of self-control. Mattheo, on the other hand, is perpetually horny. There’s no way that he agreed to such a ridiculous pact.”

“Lucky you,” your best friend said with a long suffering sigh.

You nudged her knee with your foot and smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m more than willing to help. Blaise may be disciplined, but he’s also just a man. What do you say we pop into the village? I think I saw a lace emerald lingerie set that had your name all over it.”

Pansy perked up at that. “I knew I came to the right person.”

Your best friend smiled as you hooked your arm through her elbow. “Of course you did. Now come on, let’s bring Zabini to his knees.” 

Sprawled out on Mattheo’s bed, you flicked through the pages of your novel and waited for your boyfriend to return from practice. The trip to Hogsmeade had been a complete success. Just as you suspected, the little set you glimpsed through the lingerie store window looked absolutely stunning on Pansy. Blaise didn’t stand a chance. 

As a matter of fact, you’d given the two of them privacy tonight. They were due for a study session at your shared dorm tonight, but you quietly slipped out in the midst of their heated argument about the Goblin Rebellion and happily skipped off to your boyfriend’s room. 

Given the late hour, Mattheo was due back any second now. As if summoning him from your thoughts alone, your boyfriend sauntered into the room, looking sweaty and sexy from running though drills all afternoon. Mattheo grinned the second he spotted you on his bed. 

“Hi, princesa,” he greeted, his voice low and husky. 

”Hi, Matty.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and smiled. “How was practice?” 

“Absolutely fucking brutal,” Mattheo grunted as he pulled off his shoes. “Theo clobbered the fuck out of me, but I suppose it’s better him than the Ravenclaws. Mark my words, we’re going to beat those twats come Friday.” 

“I don’t doubt it, babe.” You pushed off the mattress and scooted closer to him. 

Mattheo licked his lips as you neared, breath hitching as you brushed his damp curls off of his forehead. You smirked and leaned in for a kiss. At the last second, Mattheo turned sharply, causing the kiss to land on his cheek instead of his lips. 

“I’m all sweaty,” he explained. You quirked a brow. Sweat, dirt, and grime had never stopped the two of you before, but you brushed it off. He was probably just wound up about winning. Mattheo smiled apologetically and kissed your temple. “Let me shower first and then we can cuddle, okay?’ 

You made the mistake of looking into those big, brown eyes. Damn him and his chocolate eyed gaze. The twat knew it was your weakness. 

“Fine,” you said as you crawled underneath the covers. “But hurry up, I’m getting tired.” 

Ten minutes later, you were fully engrossed in your book again. Just as it reached a particularly steamy scene, the door swung open, revealing a half-naked Mattheo. The white towel wrapped precariously around his trim waist gave you a perfect view of his toned chest and ripped abs, beads of water clinging onto his glistening skin like rain drops. You bit your lip as he tugged on a clean pair of boxers over his legs, cocking your head to appreciate the curve of his arse before he slipped into his sweatpants. 

Unaware of your ogling, Mattheo climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around you. “What are you reading, mi amor?” 

“Nothing that can’t wait,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend.

This time, Mattheo gladly accepted the kiss. His lips slanted over yours, sighing softly as you melted into him. Your kisses were soft and sweet, punctuated by cute little pecks that had your boyfriend smiling against your mouth. You took the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, making Mattheo groan as his fingers slipped through your hair. 

“Damn, mami. You missed me that much?” 

You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk while you climbed into his lap and straddled him. Mattheo gripped your hips, moaning as your lips latched onto his neck. His pretty brown eyes rolled back as you left a trail of kisses along the column of his throat. You raked your nails along his chest, dragging red lines down to his abs, and tracing his happy trail as he captured your lips once more. Mattheo let out a choked groan as you tugged at his waistband. To your surprise, he grabbed your wrist and blinked up at you. 

“Y/N…” Mattheo said breathlessly. “Maybe we should…maybe we should go to sleep.” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tried and failed to swallow his own words. 

You raised a brow and settled over his lap, squirming against his hard length as Mattheo bit his lip. “You want to go to sleep? Right now? While I’m on top of you and willing to do whatever you want?” 

Your boyfriend looked pained. Conflict was evident on his face. Without a word, Mattheo nodded. 

“Oh my god,” you blurted in disbelief. “You agreed to that stupid sex ban, didn’t you?”

Mattheo groaned. “Only for a week, love. We really need to win this match.” 

You scoffed. This was absolutely ridiculous. “I know you, Mattheo. You aren’t going to last a week.” 

“Hey! Have a little faith in me.” 

Rolling off of him, you crossed your arms against your chest. “First of all, you didn’t even ask me if I’d be okay with it.” 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. With a shit-eating grin, Mattheo cocked his head at you. “It sounds to me like you’re the one who can’t last a week, princesa.” 

“Please,” you said with an eye roll. “I have my book boyfriends to keep me company. I can channel all my sexual energy into reading smut. You, on the other hand? You can’t even make it through class without dragging me into a broom closet.” 

Faster than you thought possible, Mattheo flipped you onto your back and pinned you to the mattress. A cocky smirk curved against his lips as he trailed them down your neck. “Oh?” he hummed, kissing the sweet spot just below your ear, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, making you press your legs together to suppress the need. The bloody bastard. “But can your book boyfriends touch you like I can?” 

Channeling every ounce of self-control within you, a calm and unbothered expression clicked into place like a mask. You tugged at his curls, forcing him away from your neck. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, Matty. I’ll be just fine.” Mattheo released a choked groan when you palmed the front of his boxers. He twitched at your touch, his cock painfully hard. “Looks like you’re not doing too hot, though. Let me know if you need help. You know I’d be more than happy to give you relief, baby.” 

Mattheo cursed under his breath as his own plan backfired on him. Blood rushed down to his cock as you squeezed gently, making him harder and hornier than ever. You chuckled darkly as he grinded against your hand. With one last squeeze, you kissed his cheek and peeled yourself away from his bed. 

“You know where to find me, papi.”

He watched in disbelief as you gathered your things, cute little ass swaying farther and farther away from him as you hauled your bag over your shoulder. “You’re seriously leaving?” 

You smirked and waved at your boyfriend as you pulled the door open. “I have a hot date with my romance novel. Good luck with your pact, babe. You’ll need it.” 

Merlin, Mattheo was going out of his fucking mind. 

For Salazar’s sake, he was starting to get the shakes and it had only been two days since he last had sex. Granted, it felt like an eternity since you were more than determined to get your boyfriend to break. Could lack of sex actually drive a person to the brink of insanity? Mattheo was pretty convinced that the answer was yes as he gaped at the lacy red bra peeking out under your white blouse. 

Had your clothes shrunk in the wash? Mattheo could’ve sworn that your shirt hadn’t been that tight before. You were nearly bursting out of it and the view of your tits pressed together as you leaned across the table to steal a blueberry off of his plate made his mouth water and his dick hard. 

“Stay strong, Riddle,” Theo whispered beside him. “We’ve got this.” 

Never in his life had he wanted to throttle Theo more. The only thing Mattheo had at the moment was a painful fucking boner. Three more days. That’s all he had to endure before they called off this stupid sex pact. 

He could make it. Couldn’t he?

As he looked up at you sucking on a strawberry, Mattheo’s confident wavered. You were truly testing what very little self control that he possessed. You were right when you said that your boyfriend couldn’t last a single class without dragging you into an empty broom closet. You were just so pretty and sexy and hot and that was when you weren’t trying. 

Now that you were determined to tease the fuck out of him, Mattheo didn’t stand a chance. 

All day, you focused on making his life an absolute living hell. Perching on his lap, fixing his tie, smiling prettily while you brushed his curls back and left glossy kiss prints all over his cheeks. His hands were in permanent fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm so deeply that he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself bleeding. This was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. 

The final straw came when the two of you were studying in the library later that night. Bouncing his leg, Mattheo forced himself to pay attention to the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of ogling you from across the table. It wasn’t working though. Every few minutes, he caught himself glancing up at you. Your lips, your eyes, your hair. There was nothing sexual about you taking notes yet he was so turned on that he felt dizzy. 

Mattheo lowered his head, trying to keep cool. When he looked back up, you were no longer in your seat. Instead, you were reaching for a book on the shelves behind you. Whatever you were looking for was on the lowest shelves, so you bent down to retrieve it. When you did, your skirt rode up, revealing that you weren’t wearing any underwear. Mattheo hissed, scrambling to pull your skirt down. 

”What in Salazar’s name are you doing, Y/N?” Your boyfriend gripped your elbow, anger and frustration radiating off of him in waves. 

You blinked up at him, putting on an innocent smile. “Oh!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on Mattheo’s chest. “Did I forget to wear underwear? Silly me.” 

Your boyfriend groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath repeatedly. Breathing exercises. You bit back a smirk. 

On his third count to ten, Mattheo finally opened his eyes. Without a word, he gathered your belongings and hauled you out of the library. He didn’t speak until the two of you were back in the dungeons. 

“I’m going to study in my room,” Mattheo declared as he handed you your book bag. “You’ll study in yours.” 

You grinned. “Oh, Matty. We both know the only thing you’ll be studying is your cock in your hand.” Mattheo tensed as you traced a finger down his jawline. “What a shame. I’d be more than willing to put an end to your misery if you just admit that the pact is stupid.” 

For Salazar’s fucking sake. Mattheo was so close to calling this whole thing off. He wanted you. Screaming underneath him. Crying from pleasure. Moaning his name. But he couldn’t. He had to stay strong. 

Mattheo sighed and kissed your temple. “Good night, mi amor. I love you. Even though you’re determined to drive me fucking mental.” 

You smiled before pulling him in by his tie. Mattheo groaned as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, barely giving him a taste of what he wanted. “Love you too, Matty. Sleep tight. I hope you dream of me tonight.” 

With that, he watched you saunter off in the direction of your dorm, skipping through the common room without a care in the world. Mattheo stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten again. 

Friday could not come any fucking faster. 

You had to admit that you were impressed. Your boyfriend had miraculously survived an entire week without sex. 

Despite your best efforts to thwart the stupid pact, Mattheo stayed true to his word. A pretty impressive feat given the fact that you’d practically thrown everything you had into seducing him. Sitting on his lap, licking your lips while he talked, kissing that sweet spot below his jaw, wearing your clothes shorter and tighter than ever, and even sleeping in his favorite silk red set, which you knew was particularly hard for him if the erection pressed against your back all night was any indication. 

Still, Mattheo withstood all of your attempts. 

You would’ve been upset had it not been for the fact that Mattheo looked absolutely pained by the whole ordeal. This entire week, his fists were permanently clenched at his side, his jaw locking and unlocking with every suggestive comment you threw his way, his eyes flickering over your body, groaning in frustration as he tortured himself by looking at what he couldn’t have. 

It was amusing to watch your boyfriend twitch at your every move. As you predicted, you fared better than Mattheo had. After all, you had a wild imagination and a collection of toys to hold you over. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t needy and aching for him, but you had ways of coping. 

“I’m so fucking glad it’s Friday,” Pansy grumbled beside you as she took a swig from her flask. 

After the whole bring Zabini to his knees plan failed, she’d been crankier than ever. Neither one of you expected either of your boyfriends to even make it this far without caving at least once. 

“Me too, babe. As much as I’m rooting for our boys, I can’t wait for this bloody game to be over. Win or lose, I know the sex is going to be insane.” 

Your best friend smirked as she handed you the firewhisky. “I’ll cheers to that, babe.” 

Surprisingly, the tension and frustration helped the boys play better than ever. They were ruthless on the field. Theo and Enzo were vicious as they defended the goalposts, giving way for Blaise and Mattheo to chase after the opposing beaters, nearly taking some poor bloke’s head off with a bludger. You almost felt bad for the Ravenclaws. 

When Draco caught the snitch, you cheered loudly. You and Pansy screamed until your throat felt raw and hoarse by the time the game was officially called. The two of you swayed as you descended from the stands, slightly inebriated from your generous swigs, but you didn’t mind. The liquor kept you warm and served as preparation for a night of drinking and debauchery for the common room party. 

Blaise wasn’t at all surprised that you and Pansy pregamed. In fact, he took the flask and downed the rest before tugging his girlfriend towards the castle. 

“Have fun, you crazy kids!”

Zabini chuckled. “Oh, we will. By the way, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the locker room.” 

With a conspiratorial wink, Blaise wished you good luck as Pansy grinned from ear to ear. You chuckled before making your way over to the locker room. The doors opened, revealing a very smug looking Theo. With a frown, you swatted the back of his head. 

“Ow!” The brunette exclaimed, rubbing his newly acquired injury. “What was that for?” 

“For encouraging my boyfriend to agree to this stupid sex ban.” You crossed your arms and glared at your friend. “I know it was your idea, Theodore.” 

“Hey! We won the game, didn’t we? So obviously, my idea was brilliant.” 

“It was just dumb luck,” you replied with a scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t think you guys would take it so seriously. Especially you. You’re even worse than Mattheo. Celibacy for a week must’ve been hell, huh?” 

Theo shifted his weight, looking abashed. You narrowed your eyes at him as you read the guilt in his body language. “You little weasel! You caved, didn’t you?” 

“There was this really hot Ravenclaw…” 

“With the opposing team, too? You’re shameless, Nott.” 

“Please don’t tell the guys.” He looked genuinely contrite as he pleaded with his eyes. “They’ll murder me if they knew that I couldn’t even stick to my own pact.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but you owe me big time.” 

Theo smiled before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “You’re the best. I’d say see you at the party, but with how tense and insane your boyfriend has been, I probably won’t see you two for the next few days.” 

“I wonder who’s fault that is.” 

“The pact was my idea. Teasing him was yours. Honestly, he almost stabbed a fork through my hand because you bent over in front of him.” He smirked as he held the door open. “You’ve got that man on a tight leash.” 

You fought a smile. “Leave before I get the urge to hit you again.” Theo nodded, making his way out. “Oh, and congratulations on the win.” 

After a cheeky wink, Theo was gone. Leaving you to find your boyfriend on your own. When you rounded the corner, you could hear the sound of water running echoing off the tiled walls. You ventured farther in the stalls and found Mattheo standing underneath the scalding hot shower, tipping his head back against the spray. With a smile, you leaned against the wall and admired your boyfriend. Merlin, he really was beautiful. 

Mattheo was a sight to behold; biceps flexing, abs taut, and back muscles tense as he washed away the sweat and grime. Your gaze trailed down to his trim waist, licking your lips as your eyes snagged on his backside. The longing sigh you released gave you away. 

Water glistened on his skin as Mattheo looked over his shoulder, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed you. Your boyfriend didn’t bother covering himself as he sauntered over to you. His chocolate brown eyes roamed over your body, smiling softly when he saw that you were wearing one of his jerseys. Mattheo traced over his surname embroidered right above your heart. 

“The Riddle name looks good on you, mi amor,” he whispered huskily, backing you against the tile. “I can’t wait to make it official one day.” 

You hummed while you tangled a wet curl between your fingers. “Oh? That won’t be happening any time soon, Matty.” Mattheo frowned as you caressed his cheek. “Not with the way you’ve neglected me this week.” 

“Don’t be like that. You know it was hell for me, princesa.” 

“I know,” you said with a grin. “I’m just teasing you. In reality, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t cave once even when I threw everything I had at you. You were so good, baby. You crushed those Ravenclaws too.” Mattheo groaned as you kissed his jaw, nipping at his sweet spot. “Maybe the pact wasn’t so stupid after all.” 

Your boyfriend groaned as he gripped your hips and pinned you against the wall. “Oh, I won’t be doing that shit again.” Mattheo rested his hand on the base of your throat, eyes black and filled with lust as he squeezed. “It was torture not to touch you.” 

When you spoke, your voice sounded husky and seductive thanks to his possessive hold. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed perfectly in control. So much so that maybe we should extend it another week. Abstinence really helps clear the mind, doesn’t it, baby?” 

Mattheo chuckled darkly. He knew you were baiting him. You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted in your relationship. Your boyfriend was well aware that he spoiled you rotten. You were going to make him work for it tonight, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the idea thrilled him. He wouldn’t have been dating you if he wasn’t up to the challenge. 

Without warning, Mattheo tugged you into the shower, making you squeal as the water soaked your clothes. He wasted no time before crashing his lips onto yours, claiming you in a starved and possessive way that had you gasping for breath. Your boyfriend was frantic as he hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Mattheo sucked harshly at your flesh, his dark chuckle a seductive caress against your skin. You groaned as he grinded his cock against your clothed pussy, which was already throbbing and aching for him. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. We have a whole week to make up for and we’re not leaving here until you’re properly punished for teasing me like the little brat that you are.” 

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “Do your worst, baby.” 

“You’ll regret that, mami.” 

With a wicked grin, Mattheo slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. He hissed when he felt how soaked you were, practically dripping down his fingers as he eased one into your pussy. You bit down on your lip as the delicious pressure awakened a familiar heat in your core. 

“Not so brave now, are you?” Your boyfriend taunted as he slowly fingered you. After going without, you were embarrassed to find that a simple touch was enough to set your teeth on edge. “This is payback, baby. Wearing those tiny little shirts with your lace bra peeking out. Bending over in front of me knowing that you had no panties on. Grinding on my lap and making me so fucking hard that I almost sprained my wrist wanking off in the restroom like a madman.” 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You rasped, groaning as Mattheo picked up the pace. “Not if this is what I get in return. I like when you’re rough, Matty. It makes me wet.” 

Your head lolled back as he added another finger, curving them inside of you and reaching that spongy spot that had you seeing stars. 

“Good,” Mattheo whispered as he nibbled at your earlobe. “Because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Mattheo flicked his thumb over your swollen clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. So fucking greedy, hm?” 

You let out a choked moan. Mattheo grabbed your wrist and slid your hand down his front. “Do you feel that, princesa? I’ve been hard as fuck for you all week. Are you gonna be a good girl and help me out?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Let me take care of you, papi.” 

Mattheo twitched in your hand as you gripped him, tugging as he watched you with lust blown eyes. The intensity of his stare made butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

“I thought about this while getting myself off this week. Your hands. Your eyes. Your voice.” 

“I thought about you, too,” you confessed. “But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. God, you’re fucking sexy.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, rubbing his precum over his head. Mattheo whimpered against your neck. “I missed you whimpering for me.” 

“I don’t whimper,” Mattheo countered. 

You raised a brow and picked up the pace, working him until his eyes rolled back. Despite his denial, Mattheo whimpered even louder this time. 

“You’re playing dirty, baby.” 

“I thought you liked it dirty, Matty.” 

“I do,” he said with a smirk before curving his long fingers inside of you. You shuddered as he hit that sweet spot. “Now come on, pretty girl. Come with me.” 

You nodded, picking up the pace and groaning as Mattheo pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. He licked the roof of your mouth, shuddering as he bucked into your hand. You tugged at him, coaxing him to cum as he panted against your neck. 

“Fuck. Don’t stop, baby. I’m so fucking close.” 

“Me too, Matty,” you whimpered, grinding against his fingers to take more. 

The orgasm crackled over you like a lightning strike, singing your veins with heat as your boyfriend continued to fuck you with his fingers. Mattheo wasn’t satisfied with one orgasm. He coaxed another out of you, laughing as you greedily bucked against his hand, biting into his shoulder while the second wave hit. 

By the time your third orgasm rolled around, you genuinely felt as though you’d left your own body. Mattheo only relented when your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled, cries of his name falling sweetly from your lips. 

“Tú eres dulce como el azúcar.”

You opened your eyes slowly and found Mattheo lapping up your cum, swirling and sucking his fingers clean with a smirk. You’re sweet like sugar. Though the words were seemingly innocent, Mattheo was anything but. Your boyfriend knew exactly how much it turned you on when he spoke Spanish and he was definitely using it to his advantage.

“That was just the appetizer, baby. Got you all warmed up for my cock. Think you can take it, Y/N?” 

“I’ve been waiting all week,” you responded hoarsely. 

“It’s worth the wait,” Mattheo declared cockily as he flipped you over. He stripped you of your clothes, carelessly tossing them behind his shoulder while he positioned your hands on the tiled wall. You groaned as he bent you at an angle, smacking your ass before he lined up behind you. “I promise to fucking ruin you, mi pinche puta.” 

Anticipation coiled in your stomach as Mattheo sank in slowly. Both of you groaned as he slid all the way in, twitching as he stuffed you full. It was familiar yet new at the same time. It had always been a tight fit, but given your involuntary break, you could feel yourself struggling to adjust to his size once again. 

Mattheo gripped your hips, leaving bruises in his wake as he slid all the way out. You whined at the loss, but it wasn’t long before he thrusted all the way back in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he set a punishing pace. You braced yourself against the tile as he spread your legs further apart, allowing him to hit an even deeper angle. 

“Oh fuck, how do you always feel so good?” Mattheo grunted as his hips snapped against your ass, brutally burying himself inside of your pussy over and over again. “You were made for me, princesa. We’re perfect together.”

”Matty, baby, please…”

You keened as Mattheo tugged you by the hair, kissing you sloppily as he continued to ruin you. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples as he squeezed your flesh between his rough, calloused hands. Mattheo kneaded your breasts and used the momentum to drive deeper. His palm trailed down your torso, pressing against your stomach to feel himself moving with each thrust. 

Tears streaked your cheeks as your eyes rolled back. “Oh gods. Fuck me. Right there, baby. You fill me up so good. I love being full of you.” 

“Yeah?” Mattheo drawled as his hand crawled up your throat. “You like when I fuck you rough? Deep down, you just want to be treated like a slut. Don’t you, princess?” 

“I do,” you breathed, groaning as Mattheo squeezed your neck. “But I’m only a slut for you, Mattheo.” 

“Damn fucking right, baby.” He said proudly. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine.” 

You clenched, squeezing him so tightly that Mattheo felt like he might cum then and there. “So greedy. Milking me fucking dry. God, you’re perfect. Mi princesa, mi vida, mi amor.” Your boyfriend shuddered as you grinded against him, picking up the momentum as the two of you neared euphoria. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum—“

”Cum inside me, Matty. I want to feel you. I want all of it.” 

Mattheo cursed, his body seizing as he came with a loud cry. The sensation of him filling you to the brim, his hot cum dripping out of you and coating the inside of your thighs was enough to send you over the edge. You trembled as the orgasm hit you all at once and nearly passed out from the sheer force of it. 

Fortunately, strong arms wrapped around you before your legs could give out from underneath you. Mattheo pulled you against him, holding your trembling body as you came down from the high. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he cleaned you up. Your boyfriend took his time washing your body, taking great care when it came to your sensitive core. 

You smiled up at him as he lathered shampoo into your hair, letting you return the favor and sighing in satisfaction as you scratched his scalp. Mattheo grinned, flashing you a lovesick smile as you rinsed the product out of his hair. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered softly. 

“I love you more,” you countered.

”Impossible.” 

After the two of you dried off, you leaned against the wall and allowed Mattheo to clothe you in his hoodie and sweats. He tied your shoes before giving you a sweet peck. 

“Ready, princesa?” 

You nodded and took his hand. Without the support of the solid wall, your legs wobbled as you struggled to walk. Mattheo caught you around the waist, a smirk tugging at his handsome face. 

“I warned you, Y/N.” He looked entirely too smug and satisfied for your liking. “Told you I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.” 

Your boyfriend chuckled as you rolled your eyes. “Poor baby. Don’t worry, mi amor. Let your Matty take care of you, hm?” 

“I take it back. I kind of hate you right now, Mattheo.” 

You squealed as he picked you up bridal style. He didn’t even break a sweat as he carried you across the field. “No, you don’t. But you can fuck me like you do.” 

“Deal.”

[catchastarorten]

—More than anything.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x lover!fem!reader

Summary: You had supported him through everything, but when you fell sick, he couldn't save you because of debt, so he participated in the games. The blood, the violence, it was all worth it because it was all for you, but he still couldn’t save you, even after winning.

Warnings: angst, illness, death, grief/loss, mentions of violence, guilt/sacrifice, emotional distress, Sang-woo won the games in this au, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.9k

The first time you met Sang-woo, it was in the bustling hallways of Seoul National University, your books pressed against your chest as he nearly toppled over you in his haste. Apologies poured out of him, flustered but composed, but it was the soft smile that followed that made you pause. You didn’t know it then, but that clumsy encounter would change both of your lives forever.

From that moment, he had become everything to you. And soon enough, you realized you were everything to him too. Sang-woo was the kind of man who always seemed in control of himself. But with you, that cool demeanor softened. He would laugh more, touch your hand absentmindedly, watch you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

You supported each other through the tough years at university. His mind was brilliant—quick, sharp, and endlessly determined. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the pride of his family, the hope of his mother. He was going to do great things, you always believed that, and you reminded him every chance you got.

Sang-woo always spoke of a future where he’d be successful, where his mother would never have to work a day in her life again. And somewhere in that future—he said with a tentative smile—was you.

Years passed, and the challenges of adulthood crept in. Sang-woo’s ambitions, once so pure and noble, became entangled in desperation as he fell into debt. It started small—a few bad investments, a loan here and there, promises that he’d make it all back soon. But soon, the debts piled into something worse, a mess that loomed over both of your lives.

He had so much promise, so much potential, and you wanted to see him succeed. So when he started to falter—when the world wasn’t as kind, when the debts began to gather up, and his once-unshakable confidence began to fracture—you did what you thought any partner would do. You helped him.

You saw the way the guilt ate away at him. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well.

“I’ll pay off this part for now,” you’d told him gently, holding the bank statement in your hand. He had stared at you, his expression tight, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

“No,” he had said firmly. “You’ve done enough. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

But you didn’t care about that. You knew he felt ashamed, that his pride was bleeding, but you loved him too much to let him drown. “Sang-woo,” you whispered, reaching out to place your hand over his. “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I believe in you.”

He looked at you like you were his lifeline, the only light in his darkening world. He kissed your hand and said nothing more, but no matter how much you reassured him, the guilt lingered. He began to withdraw, the weight of his mistakes crushed him.

Then, as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough, you fell ill. It started with fatigue and a persistent ache in your chest. You brushed it off at first, telling yourself that it was just stress, but when the symptoms worsened, you finally went to the hospital.

The diagnosis was a gut punch. The doctors spoke in clinical terms, but all Sang-woo heard at the moment was that it was serious. You needed treatment, the treatment was possible, but expensive.

The hospital bills mounted quickly. You had always lived sparingly, but this was different. The treatment you needed was far beyond what either of you could afford, especially with Sang-woo already drowning in debt. You had tried to remain strong, tried to reassure him even when your body weakened and the days became harder to endure.

But Sang-woo wasn’t strong. At least not in the way you were. He didn't want to put up the pretense of having a "perfect" reputation anymore, he just wanted you.

One night, as you lay in your hospital bed, pale and shivering despite the blankets covering you, he dropped to his knees beside you. He gripped your hand so tightly it hurt, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

“I’ll get the money,” he said, his voice trembling with determination. “I’ll find a way. I promise.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the man you loved falling apart. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, guilt and desperation consuming him.

“Sang-woo,” you whispered, your heart breaking for him. For both of you. “I’ll be okay... don’t do anything reckless.”

But he shook his head, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to know so well. He pressed his lips to your forehead, a lingering, desperate kiss.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “With the money. Just hold on for me.”

You wanted to believe him, but as you watched him walk away, a part of you knew that he was heading down a dangerous path.

At first, you tried to think light. You thought he had simply left to clear his head. Maybe he was meeting someone to talk about loans or some other last-ditch effort to save you. But then the days turned into weeks, and Sang-woo didn’t return.

You tried calling him, but his phone went unanswered. You asked the nurses, his mother, even some of his old university friends, but no one had seen him. You didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or heartbroken. All you knew was that he wasn’t here, and you were running out of time.

The nurses came and went, offering kind smiles and gentle reassurances, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed—what you wanted—was him, by your side.

You missed his voice, his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand and promise you that everything would be okay. You told yourself that he was out there fighting for you, but as the days stretched on, doubt began to creep in.

In your quieter moments, you wondered if he’d given up on you. If the burden had become too much and he just left without a trace. But deep down, you knew Sang-woo. You knew how much he loved you, how determined he could be. He’d find a way back to you. He had to.

In your final days, you thought about him often. You tried to convince yourself that he had a plan, that he would come rushing through the hospital doors at any moment with that look on his face, telling you everything was going to be okay, that you could heal properly now. But he didn’t.

Instead, you were left with an empty chair by your bedside, your heart aching with the absence of the man you loved more than anything in the world.

On the last night, you couldn’t fight the tears anymore. You whispered into the quiet room—“I just wish you were here.” Your voice cracked, and you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over. You dreamed of him one last time—of the way he smiled when you first met, of his hand in yours, of the warmth that had once filled your life.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was what Sang-woo was enduring.

He had entered the games through a salesman with a suitcase and a card with a number on the back. The games were a deadly competition where the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever faced. Life and death were decided in brutal, messed up versions of childhood games.

At first, he told himself he was doing it for you, for the money that could save your life. But as the games progressed, as blood stained his hands and the faces of those he’d sacrificed haunted his dreams, the lines began to blur.

How much of himself was he willing to lose to save you?

Every decision, every betrayal he made, weighed on him. He thought of you constantly, your smile a light in the darkness. When he felt the weight of his actions crushing him, he clung to the hope that he could still save you. That he could win, come back to you, and make everything right, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how much pain he had to endure, it was all for you. Because how could he call himself a man—your man—if he couldn't even keep you by his side? If he couldn't even get the money to save you and have you in his arms again, healthy and full of life?

When Sang-woo finally emerged from the games, clutching the blood money that was counted from each of the lifeless bodies of the other players, he felt hollow. His actions, the lives he’d taken, the people he’d betrayed—all of it threatened to suffocate him. But he pushed it aside. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was you.

He rushed to the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He imagined the look on your face when he walked through the door, how you’d smile and tell him that he’d always been your hero. And for the first time since the games, he smiled. He smiled.

But when he reached your room, he froze, and everything inside him seemed to shatter.

You were still, too still. Your chest didn't rise or fall, your lips were pale, and your eyes—those eyes he had loved so much—were closed forever.

The nurse had pity in her eyes as she approached him. "I'm sorry... she passed away a few hours prior. We... we tried calling you, but..."

“No,” he choked out, he staggered to your bedside, falling to his knees onto the mattress of the bed, his hands reaching for you. “No, no, no… please, no…”

He pulled you into his arms, cradling your lifeless body as tears streamed down his face. “Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up. I have the money now. I did it. I got it for you. You can get better now. Please, just… open your eyes.”

But you didn't. You couldn't.

“I got the money,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. “I have it. We can pay for your treatment now. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay…”

Sang-woo's hand trembled as he cupped your face. Your skin was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he remembered. He pressed his forehead to yours, the card that contained all the prize money laid forgotten on the floor, a cruel reminder of what he had to sacrifice to save you—of the blood, the death, and the lives he had destroyed in those games. He had told himself it was all for you, that he could endure anything if it meant seeing you smile again. But now, as he held your cold body in his arms, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve stayed with you. I thought… I thought I could save you.”

He had done everything he could to save you, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. And now, he was left with nothing, because you had been his everything.

[loonylupinblack3]

First Win

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: in which Lando's first win helps the two of you finally get together

Warnings: swearing, my utter HAPPINESS AND AWE THAT LANDO WON, also not edited bc i wanted to post it as soon as possible

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: you guys dont UNDERSTAND how fucking happy i am im literally sobbing oh my GOD

You were pushing your way through the crowd, trying to find Lando, all the while your heart was fucking soaring. You were so proud of him, probably one of your closest friends, finally achieving this incredible success in his career. He deserved all of it and more, and you were so proud of him.

Getting P8 yourself, you weren’t upset with your score, though you could have done better, but it seemed insignificant compared to Lando’s win and how excited you were for him. You knew you probably wouldn’t get to talk to him until much later; he was the star of the day, a very busy man with hundreds of people demanding his attention, but you hoped for at least a look of him, maybe if you were lucky a smile, to show your utter joy of him winning.

The grid was packed, however, and even with your status as a driver it was still a challenge getting through the swarms of people. You pushed and shoved, mumbling apologies, almost desperate to see your friend before he went on the podium.

You and Lando were close. Even for co-workers you guys had a special relationship. You just clicked, able to understand each other without having to work for it. Even only actually knowing each other for a few years you felt you’d known him for a lifetime.

Sure, there may have been some… other feelings towards him that you harboured, but you refused to let them risk your friendship with Lando so you kept them hidden, shoved deep inside you and pretended to be ignored, even though in reality they seemed to have a chokehold on you.

You didn’t know if Lando felt the same and honestly weren’t sure if you wanted to know. You already had this incredible relationship with him, this understanding you shared with no one else, and you weren’t willing to risk it for anything, even to end the aching longing you felt sometimes when looking at him.

You finally managed to push your way through the crowd, now at the edge of a couple fences blocking the part of the grid where only certain F1 employees were able to be. Usually you wouldn’t have been able to go, what with you receiving an eighth position and not a podium, but you were determined to see Lando closer, maybe even give him a quick hug.

You were just so fucking proud of him, and you didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming feeling. He’d opened up to you multiple times in the past, confessing his feelings of failure, of being unable to get a win and how much that affected him, how shameful he was because of it. You knew how much his lack of wins haunted him and his career, so to gain a win, to achieve something like this, it was truly amazing, and your pride for him was overflowing. 

You managed to wheedle your way through the fences, using your driver status and known close friendship with Lando to your advantage, slipping through and immediately looking around for the Miami Grand Prix winner.

You followed the sound of cheering, rounding a corner to find the massive group of Mclaren employees behind a small fence, with Lando on top of them crowd surfing, laughing and looking like the happiest man alive.

Today he was exactly that.

You stood to the side, grinning like a maniac seeing Lando so happy. Your heart was near bursting, you couldn’t stop smiling even if you wanted to. You stayed silent though, not wanting to drag attention to yourself and get kicked out, but seeing him so fucking happy was more than enough for you.

So when Lando distractedly glanced around, a joyous smile on his face, and saw you, his smile widening, your heart warmed. You told yourself it was nothing big, but when he left his team to walk over to you, jog over, actually, your smile turned even bigger.

“Congratulations,” you exclaimed before leaping into his arms, wrapping your own tightly around his neck. His own hands came up to hug you back, holding you tightly against him. “I’m so fucking proud of you Lando.”

Lando squeezed you tighter, still not letting go. You were more than content to stay in his arms, pressing your head into the crook of his neck, ignoring the flashing cameras that would be following Lando for the rest of the day.

When the two of you eventually pulled back, however reluctantly, Lando was beaming. He looked gorgeous like that, genuinely happy, nothing able to bring down his mood. He was riding the high of winning, still heavily influenced by the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Maybe what was why he kissed you, in front of millions of people, taking them and you by surprise. Or maybe it was because he was having the perfect fucking day, and having you in his arms would have made it all the more better.

Either way you were certainly taken off guard as Lando stared at you for a split-second, eyes tracing your face before they landed on your lips, and then the next second he was leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

There was an onslaught of noise as he did it, the cameras going crazy, people yelling and cheering, yet it was all distant. All you could focus on was Lando’s soft lips against yours, dragging his mouth across your own.

You kissed him back without thinking, your hands snaking back around his neck. His hand gripped your waist, tugging you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking your lower lip and forcing you to swallow a moan lest you want the whole world to hear it.

Lando had the gall to grin against your lips, no doubt hearing your gasp before you could muffle it completely. You pulled back, giving him a ‘what the fuck man’ stare and he just shrugged, keeping his hand firmly around your waist.

You shook your head but your emotions were in overdrive, everything inside you screaming for more. You pressed your head into the crook of his neck again, hearing his soft chuckle as his hands roamed your back.

“We are having a very serious talk after this,” you whispered in his ear.

He paused, before whispering back, “good or bad?”

You pulled back to stare at Lando, his curls sticking to his forehead from sweat, his eyes alight with an excitement you hadn’t seen in a while, his face slightly red from exertion and happiness.

You smiled at him. “Definitely good.”

Lando grinned and pulled you back for another kiss, blatantly ignoring the paparazzi around you. He murmured into your lips, “I’m so fucking lucky.”

You couldn’t help but ask, “how so?”

He grinned against your lips again. “Winning the race and the girl in one day.”

[heartmix]

M4X - MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x teammate!reader

Word Count: 400+

Warning: nothing, just short 'n sweet!

A/N: Max 4 time back to back Champion Verstappen! Had not clue what to name this but I really like it :)

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

The cheering from everyone and the bright lights that lit up the Las Vegas sky were the last thing on your mind. Max did it. He won the championship for the fourth year in a row. M4X. Even if the year or race didn't go your way you couldn't help but smile at your teammate's success. He deserved it all. There's no amount of fireworks or champagne that could be enough to celebrate this milestone. 

"YOU DID IT!" Your voice was loud and clear to Max amid all the cheering and people trying to congratulate him. 

Seeing your face somehow made his smile bigger as he pulled you into a death grip. "I couldn't do it without you!" 

"You did this all on your own. I'm proud of you." You whispered into his ear as both of you held onto each other for as long as you could before anyone pulled him away.

"Thank you for being the best teammate, I'm serious when I say I couldn't do it without you." Pulling back so he could see your face, he couldn't help the blush creeping up on his cheeks. Max wasn't one for pictures but he was hoping someone was capturing the moment between the both of you. 

"MAX! LET'S GO!" The voice of GP broke the both of you out of your trance as he was waiting by the car to take them to his post-race interview. 

"Go to your interview, I'll see you in a bit to drown you in champagne." You smiled as you began to pull away, but his hands locked into your waist preventing you from moving.

"Come with me." He begged. He didn't mean to sound desperate, but he wasn't ready to leave your side yet. This was the first year he had you as his teammate and he wanted to celebrate this win with you. 

"I don't think that's allowed." 

"I'm the champion, I can do whatever I want." Max's famous smirk made its way onto his face and you couldn't help but cave in. How could you say no to the champion?

"What if the FIA penalizes me?" Now it was your turn to smirk.

"I'll take the penalty for you, just come with me." 

"Lead the way champ." Both of you smiled as he dragged you over to the car. There was no way he was letting you go all night. He couldn't wait to drown you in champagne. 

[heechwe]

miss americana | 𝖕𝖘𝖍

➸ second anthology piece in "basketball (inkchwe's version)" and story-inspired playlist also can be found there too! ୨୧ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 9.8k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: basketballplayer!heesung, cheerleader!reader, established relationship, exes to lovers au, high school au, heavy petting, marking, oral (f receiving) penetration (all characters are of age!) ୨୧ synopsis: Fed up with Sunghoon's attitude and petty games, you move on, hopefully to something better. Why did he have to realize how important you were to him once you were already gone? ➸ a/n: bless @mini-mews for being there every step of the way with this fic, it was amazing seeing all of the comments and reactions and i could not have asked for a better beta ♡

DECEMBER

Sunghoon could have made the winning shot if it weren’t for the praise that was placed on someone else for so long. Lee Heeseung was the best shooting guard his high school had ever seen; anyone with talent and passion for the sport could see that. At the same time, Sunghoon made a lot of calls as the small forward that were imperative to the success of the team. From scoring to handling the ball, Sunghoon could do it all and then some.

If only the captain, the old fart, saw that. And Heeseung, the sanctimonious prick, appreciated him more.

Sunghoon is so wrapped up in his bitter thoughts he can barely focus on your lips attached to his neck and your legs around his waist. You both were cramped in the driver’s side of his car, but you managed to make yourself fit on Sunghoon’s lap to straddle him. In the dark of night, only the two of you parked on the basketball court by the river, you decided to give him a reminder of what the most important thing in his life was outside of winning the championship. 

Sunghoon usually spent times like these celebrating with his other teammates, but something was sitting in the front of his mind like a fly he couldn’t swat. You can tell in the furrow of his brows and his scrunched-up mouth. He may not be able to focus on going out and drinking, but it was a benefit to you. Maybe he would finally spend some time with you like he used to.

“Heeseung acts like everyone should worship the ground he walks on. Yeah, he won the game tonight, so what? I could score as many baskets as him if I wanted. And I’ve played as many games as his ass and won. Even once when I had chicken pox.” Sunghoon continues on his rant, unbothered by your mouth and hands on him. You run both of your palms inside of his jersey and feel the skin of his abs underneath your fingers, but Sunghoon doesn’t budge.

“I think you did great, who cares?” You mumble into his neck, focused on making him feel pleasure rather than irritation. You move Sunghoon’s hands to cup your backside, the cheer shorts under your skirt riding up to expose your upper thighs.

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles, eyes looking past you and towards the window.

“What do you mean ‘whatever’?” You pull away from him to look in his eyes. He’s a million miles away, not bothering to pay attention to your impending frustration. His only concerns are himself and his feelings. “Seriously, get over this attitude and talk to me if you’re not gonna at least act interested.”

Sunghoon lets out a frustrated groan and pushes you back into the passenger seat. You yelp in the process, barely landing on your ass. “What the fuck, Hoon?”

“Don’t you see I’m upset and maybe I don’t want to spend another night making out?”

“Another—“ You huff out a breath, shocked at his audacity. “When was the last time we actually spent quality time together?” Before Sunghoon can answer with a basic response, you interrupt him. “And by ‘quality time,” I don’t mean with the guys or Jongseong in attendance.”

“That’s not fair.” Sunghoon tries to hit you with his signature pout, but you don’t budge.

“What’s not fair is that I’m supposed to be your girlfriend but all you care about is huffing and puffing about basketball, complaining about not being the captain, or being a huge jackass.”

“If that’s all I do, then why the fuck are you still around?” Sunghoon bites back, venom dripping from every word.

You look at him with wide eyes, seeing him clearly for the first time in months. After the latter half of the year you’ve been together being a disappointment of epic proportions, the veil finally lifted. Sunghoon does have a point. What are you still doing with him?

“You know what? You’re right.” You exit Sunghoon’s Denali with a grunt and fix your makeup, not letting the tears that threaten to escape fall from your cheeks.

“What are you doing now?”

“You’re right. I’m not gonna waste my time anymore. I’m done.” You slam the passenger door closed and begin your walk from the basketball court to your house, determined not to look back. If he wanted to be that way, then you deserved better.

You hear the slow, incoming huff of Sunghoon’s car, and he rolls the window down to continue your conversation. His lips are in a thin line, his annoyance at an all-time high but now directed completely at you. He says, “So I guess I’ll call you when you’re not so hormonal?”

“Don’t bother. Just fuck off, Sunghoon.”

He nods his head with an angry smirk and rolls the window back up. In a sudden screech, his car races down the empty street, leaving you alone in the night to cry. You weep not just for the future you saw with him coming to a sudden end, but for the past Sunghoon who you believed would never treat you this way now.

You shut your locker with an angry hand, a resounding slam filling the hallway. The strangers around you flinch in response and whisper, some unsure why the head cheerleader is in such a mood today.

“Didn’t you hear? Her and Sunghoon are done,” one of them speaks in a hushed tone.

“Damn. And right after his win? Heartless,” another says with the click of their tongue.

“How about you guys mind your fucking business?” You spit the words in their direction with force before walking away towards your calculus class. 

As if anyone knows anything about your relationship or how it came to end. The vipers are always ready to strike when a new hint of gossip comes around, no matter who gets hurt in the process.

To add salt to the wound, Sunghoon saunters up to you and tries to wrap his arm around your shoulder. You shrug him off with a tired grunt.

Many times before you had fought and made up as if the day prior never happened, all smiles and no tears in sight. But you’re tired of the same game you always played with each other. You think to yourself about the way he spoke to you two days ago, and how you would tell any other friend they deserve better.

And you definitely deserve better than that.

“Are you still mad?” Sunghoon asks with a whine. Typically, his childlike voice would make you laugh. Right now, you just feel vomit in the back of your throat.

“I’m not mad. We’re over.” You speak with a defeated but definitive tone, the end of your sentence falling into a whisper.

What’s the point of fighting anymore? With an outside perspective you did not have previously, you realized how exhausting it was going up and down with someone you were supposed to love.

Sunghoon doesn’t keep up with you, somehow understanding from the resignation in your voice and simple response that, as far as you were concerned, you were done with him.

“Goddamnit,” you curse, trying to make the lighter flick to life. For all the times you tried coaxing a flame from the device, it would not budge. First you had to deal with the onslaught of rumors circulating about your sudden breakup, and now you could barely get a lighter to work. Why did Mondays always have to be so awful?

Exhausted, you throw the pack of cigarettes and lighter into the open air. Both objects fall somewhere onto the football field, but you barely notice. You’re too focused on the tears in your eyes and the sobs that leave your mouth to pay attention to anything else.

You know it’s pathetic to sit on the bleachers and cry by yourself about the breakdown of your relationship, but the cyclone of emotions didn’t ask for permission when it hit you. It just did, violently and with little care for your wellbeing. You’re just glad to have the quiet time now to deal with the storm by yourself.

Or so you thought.

Someone walks up to you with both your cigarettes and lighter in his hands. Bang Chan, head quarterback for the football team and senior, smiles at you when you do look up in his direction. He steps back an inch when he notices your puffy eyes and red face. “Sorry,” he says. “Just saw you…lost these…and didn’t know if you wanted them back or not.”

You shake your head. “Throw them out if you want.”

Chan releases a surprised sigh. “Didn’t expect a cheerleader to smoke tobacco.”

His insight makes a smile appear on your lips in spite of the tears. “I never have. I just thought since I kicked one bad habit, why not replace it with another one?”

Chan laughs. He sits down next to you, but stays mindful of your space. “Sunghoon, right?”

You nod, his name a pit in your stomach. “You know him?”

”Just his reputation. Basketball guys can be real assholes.”

”And what about football players?” You counter. “You’re all just perfect angels?”

”Well, we prefer to call ourselves ‘realists’.” You share a laugh with him, relieved to feel something other than apathy or misery. It’s been so long since you’ve been around a guy who didn’t make you doubtful of yourself. Why not enjoy it?

You give Chan your name, but he tells you he was well aware of your presence before. “I mean, you cheer at our games too, y’know, so you’re hard not to notice.”

You blush, your puffy face suddenly red from the comment. “Well, you’re hard not to notice too, Chan.”

Maybe the future for you and Sunghoon had not played out the way you intended, but your future with someone else could potentially be pretty great.

JANUARY

Sunghoon feels pretty out of place every year once the end of the basketball season comes around. Now that he’s single, he wonders what could fill his spare time in a meaningful way. Besides academics, he comes up empty with ideas. 

He wouldn’t have chosen to be broken up with, but what else could he have done? He wasn’t going to grovel, not when you were the one making a big deal out of one fight. Eventually, you would come to your senses and come back. You both loved each other too much not to resolve the situation, even if weeks had rolled by without any communication.

Sunghoon is walking with Jay to second period when he sees you chatting with Chan, all smiles and body too close to the senior’s for Sunghoon’s comfort. Jay notices how tense his friend becomes seeing both you and Chan together, shoulders rigid and jaw tight.

”Would it be so bad if you just apologized? Even if you think you didn’t do anything wrong—“

”I know I didn’t,” Sunghoon cuts in, pissed off at the situation he’s in. How did Chan have any right to try and pull the charm out now that you’re available? It makes the blood inside of Sunghoon’s veins boil to a scorching temperature.

”You love her, man. Stop trying to be nonchalant about your feelings.”

The bell for late students rings, and everyone still in the hallway scatters to make it to their classes. Sunghoon feels the muscles in his body twitch seeing you walk away with Chan, arm in arm like you’re the closest of friends.

Writing notes for your physics class is hard when your best friend Wonyoung talks the entire time, her voice projecting to a high shrill. You manage to write while listening to her impassioned speech, but you stop altogether when the subject comes to you and Chan.

”When is he going to ask you out already? Everyone sees the way he looks at you.” Wonyoung bats her eyelashes with a suggestive smirk, and you thwack her away with your notebook.

”We’re just friends. And I’m not trying to date anyone right now.”

”Come on. It’s been three weeks. Nobody would blame you for putting yourself back out there.”

The intercom blares to life, and you hear your name and the request to be seen in the front office. You take your belongings in case the request involves some sort of emergency, your thoughts racing as you head out the door.

When you make it to the front office, all you see is Sunghoon with his back against the secretary’s counter, grinning ear to ear. You’re both alone for the first time since you broke up, and the awkwardness you feel is suffocating.

”Did you do this?” You ask, eyes rolling at his nonchalant posture.

“Miss Kang owed me a favor.” His eyes are vulnerable suddenly, the cloud of indifference shredding a touch. ”Besides, I wanted to see you.”

 Those words would’ve made you melt a long time ago, the early days of your relationship marked with gestures like this and sweet nothings leaving his lips. Now, you feel so far from the girl you were when you broke up with him.

”Well I want to get my lab done, so if you’ll excuse me—“

”Wait, wait, please.” He rushes to stop you from leaving the tiny office, his arm firm against the glass door in front of you.

”Sunghoon, this is not—“

”Please, just hear me out.”

You cross your arms and straighten your posture into a firm stance, looking directly in his eyes while waiting for the usual speech to leave his mouth.

You know you’re the only one I want.

”You know you’re the only one I want.”

My intention is never to fight with you.

”My intention is never to fight with you.”

All I want is to work this out, please.

”All I want is to work this out, please.”

You can’t help the broken laugh that leaves your lips, or the well of tears that build up behind your lashes. It’s both heartbreaking and comical that he thinks after weeks of nothing to show for his sudden humility, his half-baked, used-up monologue is the best way to mend your problems.

”Is that it?” you ask, deadpan.

Sunghoon stutters, suddenly at a loss for words. “What do you mean?”

”Is that all you want to say? ‘Cause if it is, then—”

”Why are you being like this?” His pleading tone suddenly becomes one of irritation. He’s not used to you putting up a fight, and now that you are, he doesn’t know how to handle it, like a toddler who can’t find their toy.

That’s all you were to him at the end of the day. A shiny doll to play with and discard when the circumstances didn’t suit him.

“I’m being like this because this is nothing new. And in another couple of days, it’ll be the same problems and the same excuses. It’s gotten old.” You walk out of the door, but hold it open just a touch to give him the last piece of your mind.

”You know what the worst part is, Sunghoon?” You clear your throat, failing to conceal the pain in your voice. “You didn’t even say you want me back because you love me.”

”Of course I love you!”

”Why? Why do you love me?” You throw your hands up at him, voice in tatters from how loud you’re screaming.

His response is exactly what you expected: nothing. No words come to mind or are adequate enough to describe the depth of his feelings for you, or lack thereof.

”That’s what I thought,” you say before walking away. If those are the last words you ever say to him, you’re glad you got them off of your chest.

The Spring Formal was all the talk of Sunghoon’s friends and their girlfriends once the date of the dance was announced. It was two months away, yet the hallways and classes were already littered with hearts and pink banners. Dance proposals were rampant, some even going viral on the school’s social media accounts.

It made Sunghoon sick to his stomach.

Four days ago, he thought he could win you back, but it only made you run further away from him. Was he that predictable? And what did that beefhead Chan have now that Sunghoon suddenly didn’t?

Playing video games with the guys and Heeseung’s girlfriend in attendance, he hoped it would take his mind off of things. But seeing his off-and-on adversary and partner loved up in the corner of Jake’s room didn’t help.

Sunghoon looks at the two of them laughing in each other’s arms and remembers the feeling of your body in his, the first weeks of dating being some of the best of his life. The quick texts during class, the impromptu kisses in his car before saying goodnight, and the secret drives to the beach on the weekends. He remembers them all, even if his cold nature made you think he had forgotten them with a cruel ease.

The memories pain his heart, and the image of a happy couple still basking in their newfound love does nothing but twist the knife.

“Can you guys not be all over each other in front of us? It’s disgusting.” Sunghoon remarks with sarcasm as he shoots one of Jake’s CPUs down. His friend grunts and tries to take out a person on Sunghoon’s team to even the playing field. 

Heeseung’s girlfriend quirks an eyebrow, still focused on her boyfriend but ready to throw a comeback Sunghoon’s way. “Aw, someone’s jealous, isn’t he?”

Her saying the words out loud causes the entire room to go quiet. The only sounds come from the TV and automated game dialogue.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sunghoon responds, his voice at a new low.

“Hey man. Watch how you speak to my girlfriend,” Heeseung interrupts, ready to jump from the beanbag he’s sitting in to put his teammate in his place.

His girlfriend places a tender hand on his forearm. “I got this, Hee.” She turns her attention back to Sunghoon, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “I meant exactly what I said. Your girlfriend was tired of you being a complete prick to everyone, including her.”

Heeseung says his girlfriend’s name in warning, knowing she’s gone a bit too far, no matter how true her words are.

She doesn’t stop though, and Sunghoon is too shocked to form a sentence. “And seeing anyone else happy makes you realize how bad you fucked up and why she was right to drop you.”

Jake makes a face at her too, silently pleading for an end to the fight before more things are said that can’t be taken back.

Sunghoon throws the controller at the TV stand, the device breaking once it hits the wood. Jake and Heeseung curse at him for his reaction, but Sunghoon storms out of the bedroom before he lets his anger go any further.

He sits on the stairs in front of his friend’s house and feels the prick of tears in his eyes. It’s rare for him to allow himself to be vulnerable. The only person in his life who saw him this way was you, and without you, he doesn’t know how to pull himself back from the precipice. Was what Heeseung’s girlfriend said true? Were you right to leave him? Did he not deserve any more chances to do right by you, given how many times he fucked it up before, no matter how much he loved you?

In spite of everything he’s done wrong, he still does. He loves your fire, the stubbornness that mirrors his own so perfectly. He loves your crude sense of humor, the way you can make a joke out of anything, even in the worst of times to make him laugh. And he loves your sweetness, your capability to think of others before yourself, something he’s never been good at and always admired about you even if he never said it. He never said a lot of things he should’ve.

The questions and regrets flood his brain and make him wish he had a time machine. He would go back to the last hour you were together before everything fell apart. To be happy to have you in his arms and grateful to still hold your respect, your effort, and your love.

He hears someone walk up to him, but he doesn’t bother to look. “I’ll apologize later, okay, Jake? I don’t need a lecture right now.”

The feminine grumble makes Sunghoon turn his head, not expecting to see Heeseung’s girlfriend behind him.

“I came to apologize to you.”

Sunghoon looks back to the street in front of him. He decides to avoid prolonging the argument and nods his head. “It’s fine. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Doesn’t mean it was okay.” She settles down on the stairs next to him. Sunghoon wiggles further towards the railing to make room for her. “Everyone deserves a chance to make things right. Even if they’ve been wrong a lot of the time.”

He discreetly wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “Even someone like me?”

She chuckles. “Especially someone like you.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Sunghoon doesn’t need to say the multitude of reasons why she deserves an apology. But it makes the aggression between the both of them, as well as a fragment of the guilt in Sunghoon’s heart, dissipate. All that’s left is relief.

She grins, the same feelings evident in her expression. “Apology accepted.”

Sunghoon lets a small smile appear on his lips. He has to practice apologizing more often; the feeling of making amends is pretty satisfying.

FEBRUARY

“Wonyoung, I don’t know where it is!” You say into the receiver of your phone, one hand holding the device to your face as the other rifles through the belongings in your locker. “And I doubt your bracelet is in here.”

“It has to be! I can’t think of any other place it could’ve gone,” she whines, sniffling. It isn’t her fault she’s home sick today, but she would get through her cold just fine without her lucky bracelet. As far as she’s concerned, however, it’s a matter of life and death.

“I’m sure we’ll find it so you can get over this cold,” you coddle her, still searching past the books and bags of snacks.

“I don’t care about that!” Her stuffy, squeaky voice makes you move the phone away from your ear. “I need it for the charity auction. How else are we going to get all of the items sold if I don’t have it?”

You roll your eyes, grateful she can’t see. “Just wow the PTA and student body with your impeccable charm.”

“Yeah yeah, have you found it yet?”

As you continue your search, an array of your belongings tumble out of your locker. You curse and bend down to pick the contents up. Most of them are some old notes for your current classes, but one makes you stop cold. 

Wonyoung’s words fade into the background as you hold up the photo strip of you and Sunghoon. The snapshots captured a perfect moment in time before the last six months of your relationship made everything take a turn for the worst.

“You can’t flip off the camera, Hoon!” You giggle as the timer starts for the next picture.

“It’s our pictures, so I have every right to use my middle finger whenever I want.” He nestles his head further into your neck, kissing the spot below your ear. You may be cramped sitting on Sunghoon’s lap in the photo booth of the arcade, but there’s no other place you’d rather be than with him.

As you laugh at his subsequent joke, the shutter goes off again.

“Your laugh is one of my favorite sounds, you know.” Sunghoon moves a stray hair away from your face, smiling ear to ear.

“That’s funny,” you say with a smirk. “That smile is my favorite thing ever.”

“Fuck off.” Sunghoon suddenly becomes shy, his cheeks turning pink.

“I swear, cross my heart.” You raise your hand in salute, and Sunghoon intertwines your fingers with his own.

As you seal your promise with a tender kiss to his lips, you hear the final click of the camera, content with whatever comes next.

You muffle your mouth with your hands, stifling the sob that started to leave your lips.

“Babe, you alright?” Wonyoung asks, another sniffle ending her question.

“Yeah I-I’m okay.” You shake off your sadness and stuff the photo strip in your locker again, half-determined to throw it in the trash nearby. “I gotta go, lunch is gonna be over in like fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Next place would probably be your car, so just let me know later if you find it. Love you,” Wonyoung says at the end of the call.

Putting your phone in your back pocket and walking back towards the courtyard, you hear the rustle of hands clapping and feet stomping. Everyone at their picnic tables, like you, look towards the sounds.

The football team, all huddled up, begin chanting once you make it closer to them.

“Hey girl, you need a date. Why not make it #8?” They say the words in a morale-boosting rhythm, repeating them with vigor until other tables around them start chanting too. When the huddle opens at the center, Chan appears with a bouquet of flowers and a huge grin.

The team stops once he’s in front of you, Chan shy but determined. Once he gives you the bouquet, he asks, “Wanna be my date to the formal?”

You hide your face in your hands, a wide grin on your face in spite of your sudden bashfulness. Public proposals were never your thing, but with how much effort the guy put into the surprise, how could you say no?

“I’d love to,” you answer, giving him a hug as the crowd around you hollers in support. You’re grateful to have had Chan these past months while dealing with your heartbreak, it seemed to be a natural progression of your relationship. And while nothing’s set in stone, you’re happy something’s on the horizon for you.

But if you’re so happy, why is Sunghoon the first thing that pops in your head after you agree to Chan’s offer?

Thankfully, Wonyoung’s bracelet was in fact in your car behind the passenger seat. How she managed to get it back there was anyone’s guess, but hopefully that meant she would not be so freaked out about the charity auction next week.

In honor of Valentine’s Day, the high school allowed the cheerleading team to host a charity auction every year for a local nonprofit. This year’s was meant to be for the city’s homeless shelter. You worked there last summer to accumulate volunteer hours, and the people you met there had been on your mind every day since. Your goal was to make at least two thousand, but you wish you could do and earn more on your own accord for them. It was important to give back to others when you had so much and took it for granted. Some knew that better than others.

While printing pamphlets and auction tickets, your doorbell rang. You didn’t expect Wonyoung to be up to seeing anyone given her unwell state earlier on the phone, but it was her lucky bracelet. The faster she had it back in her possession the better.

Pulling the door open, the last person you expect to be waiting at your door is Sunghoon. His expression is an amalgamation of emotions, the biggest ones being disbelief and sorrow.

Any time before, back when he was your entire world, you would have pulled him into your arms and kissed away his pain. Even if you hate to admit it to yourself, a part of you still wishes you could.

But while you can be empathetic, you still have to be tough in his presence. Any sign of fragility, and he’ll see the opportunity to creep back in. “Why are you here, Sunghoon?”

“You’re dating him now?”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “What?”

“Chan. You’re together?” You see the tremble of his bottom lip and the lock of his jaw, his composure clearly hanging by a thread. It’s been a long time since you saw Sunghoon so unguarded, you’re unsure if it’s because he’s truly vulnerable or he’s on his last play to win you back.

No matter the reason, you answer with an exasperated sigh. “He just asked me to the formal, okay? He’s my friend.”

“Friends don’t ask friends to go to the dance with flowers.”

You bite your bottom lip, unsure what to say to that. “It doesn’t concern you anymore.”

Sunghoon releases a bitter chuckle, the sound of the laughter dying on his tongue midway. “It does concern me if you’re with someone else.”

“I just told you–”

“I get that.” He runs a hand through his hair, his voice frail at the edges. “But I know what it's like to want you, and I see it when Chan looks at you. And who can blame him right?”

Taking advantage of your stunned silence, Sunghoon keeps going. “When you asked me before why I love you, I didn’t realize how much I took advantage of you. I didn’t appreciate you the way I should’ve, and now I–I miss so many things. I miss the smell of your perfume in my car and the look you’d give me when you were calling me out on my bullshit, which was eighty-five percent of the time. I miss knowing you had my back even if I was in the wrong because you saw the best parts of me on days I didn’t see them at all.

“I miss you, and I love you, and I don’t know how to stop,” Sunghoon whispers. When he tries to step closer to you, you place a hand on his chest, safeguarding some sort of distance and composure between you. He presses his hand over yours, thumb rubbing across the skin on the back of your hand, making you suck in a breath.

It was every word and more that you yearned to hear from him since you parted ways. While the naysayers continued their dialogue about the demise of your relationship, nobody bothered to think about whether or not you wanted to let go in the first place. You had to, or it would’ve been the same patterns occurring over and over.

Maybe this moment, this speech, and this Sunghoon, can be a break in the chain. Maybe he’s truly adamant on turning over a new leaf for the better, for the chance to try again and do it right this time. Would it be so wrong to take the chance and give him the benefit of the doubt one more time?

But who truly knew he would change his ways except for Sunghoon himself? Could you run the risk of the cycle repeating itself again for the future you wanted? How were you meant to believe him this time with history on your side?

You retract your hand from his chest, your heart cracking in the parts he forced you to mend in the first place. “I can’t do this.”

He swallows forcefully and takes a step back, respecting your wishes. “I understand.” He walks down your driveway and to his car, leaving you with the image of his somber, close-lipped smile.

Sunghoon watches you walk back into your house, his heart in tatters. He looks at the bundle of roses sitting in the passenger seat and promises to himself to fight just a little longer. Giving up means losing you forever, and he’ll die before accepting that loss.

A big banner for the homeless shelter hangs on one of the gymnasium walls. The cheerleaders continue placing decor around the space for tomorrow’s auction, some hand-drawn by the girls and others donated from the PTA in previous years. You look around with your clipboard, items checked off throughout the day to signal your progress. With less than twenty-four hours to go before the auction, it was imperative to create the perfect atmosphere to sell as many items as possible.

Wonyoung skips over to you, her pigtails swinging in the air and a cluster of colorful streamers dangling from her hands. “Where do you want these, babe?”

“Lining the front of the bleachers. That way once the tables are set up we don’t have to work around them.” You check off another bullet, 

“You got it boss!” She winks at you, her expression teasing. Before she can walk away though, Principal Han and Coach Chae walk into the gym. Coach Chae has a bouquet while Principal Han holds a thin piece of paper.

The two gentlemen walk up to you and Wonyoung, beaming. “Great turn of events ladies,” Principal Han says. “The auction has been canceled.”

“What,” Wonyoung yells. The two men flinch at her reaction, but Coach Chae laughs off his reaction.

“No need to worry, Miss Jang,” Coach Chae responds. “There will still be a gala. Just not an auction. Think of it as a celebratory gala, if you will.”

“What do you mean?” You ask. You press your clipboard tighter to your chest, anxiety spiking. You put your heart into this event for the success of the fundraiser. Why was it suddenly crashing down?

“Someone already donated more than enough to reach your goal. Five thousand, to be exact.”

A silent gasp leaves your lips. The clipboard almost slips from your fingers, but Wonyoung manages to catch it before it clatters onto the gym floor.

”Holy sh—sorry. Holy moly!” Wonyoung exclaims, a smile matching the ones on the older gentlemen’s faces.

“Congratulations, girls. Now you can kick your feet up and enjoy the festivities tomorrow all thanks to your mystery donor,” Principal Han says.

”Mystery donor?” The mix of emotions in your stomach morphs to confused curiosity. “They didn’t leave their name on the check?”

”No. Just the card that came with the flowers,” Coach Chae answers. He hands the bouquet of roses and the comment card to you, the floral smell suddenly wafting in your nose.

You could recognize the script anywhere, the slants and slopes of the handwriting belonging to only one person. The contents of the card make your heart swell and sink deeper, causing you to question everything once more.

For reminding me to cherish all the things I took for granted.

MARCH

On the night of the Spring Formal, a week had passed since that day in the gymnasium which upended a majority of your feelings. Your thoughts have run rampant in your mind since, regrets and doubts sitting at the forefront of your brain.

Your mother was fixing the last pieces of your hair into the intricate bun she created. Looking in the mirror, the tendrils of your bangs falling out from the hairstyle frame your face. Grace exudes from your makeup and the dress you’ve chosen, the strapless champagne gown the centerpiece of your entire look.

”You’re a vision, honey,” She says, her eyes bright in the hallway mirror behind you.

You may look beautiful, but your thoughts make you feel small, unsure of everything you thought you knew or wanted before.

You had not seen Sunghoon since that night on your front porch almost two weeks ago, your ex choosing to respect your wishes and stay away just as you requested. Now, in spite of all the ways he vexed you to no end, you missed him just like he said he missed you. Maybe you suppressed yourself from grieving the end of your relationship, jumping headfirst into a new friendship with Chan and the other priorities in your life. Or maybe it was because he still had your entire heart, even if you wished he didn’t.

”Chan should be here any minute,” your mother says, interrupting your thoughts.

You respond with a nod and small smile, fidgeting with the top of your dress to conceal some of your cleavage.

Your mother frowns. ”Honey, what’s wrong?” She puts her hands on your shoulders, her presence the right amount of concerned and warm.

”Do you think people can change?”

She gives you a knowing smile, the topic of conversation not being said out loud but obvious to the both of you. “When someone has the desire to, they can. Especially when they have a good reason to.”

The doorbell rings, and she kisses you on the cheek. “I’ll let you get that. I’m gonna run and grab the camera.”

You answer the door, half-expecting to see Chan with flowers and his signature grin. What you find, however, makes your heart constrict with surprise and longing that you didn’t expect to feel so strongly.

Sunghoon in a three-piece suit, hair slicked back, and a corsage looks like the picture-perfect man. When you envisioned this night before, the image of him in front of you always came to mind. And now, you could not be closer to and further from those expectations.

“I wanted to give you this before…I mean, I already bought it, and you deserve to have it.” He twiddles the corsage between his hands. His eyes ask for explicit permission before he places it on your wrist.

Without a second thought, you nod.

Sunghoon steps closer, relieved to have received the green light. The tension between you is palpable in the air, flickering hot and reflecting the same feelings you harbored weeks ago when you were in the same position then. He carefully puts the strap around your wrist, tightening it until it’s snug. 

The golden-trimmed roses match your dress flawlessly, so much so you wonder how he managed to remember the color of the dress you dreamed of for this night.

Like he can read your mind, he says, “You’ve been talking about this dance since the start of the school year.” He laughs, the sound hollow.

“Thank you,” you say, the two words expanding far beyond the roses on your wrist.

Thank you for the flowers. Thank you for going above and beyond with that check. Thank you for showing you’re trying.

The smile he gives you touches his eyes, the edges of his expression almost golden in the light of the sunset. “It’s the least I could do.”

Without thinking, he’s so close you can feel the rising pace of his and your breath mixing together. It would be so easy to close the distance, touch his lips with yours, and fall back into his embrace with no regard for the next minute.

Before you can contemplate it further, you see Chan out of the corner of your eye walking up your driveway. His mouth is in a firm line and his posture reflects his discomfort.

Sunghoon steps away from you. He acknowledges Chan with a nod, not terse or disrespectful, but clearly disappointed. He kisses the back of your palm quickly and lets it go. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

Before he walks away for good, leaving you and Chan alone, he finishes with, “By the way, you look breathtaking.”

As Chan gets closer and Sunghoon heads down the road to his car, you think maybe your ex is taking all of your breath with him.

Sunghoon downs the drink in the plastic cup. The tinge of alcohol Jay put in his drink can’t seem to take away the burn of watching you and Chan dance together. The DJ for the dance is playing  an uptempo number. Thankfully you’re not holding each other close, but it’s still a punch to the stomach seeing you smiling with a guy that isn’t him. In a gym filled with so many of his peers, he’s never felt so alone.

He drove to the dance by himself, Jake and Jay too entangled in their own love lives to soften the blow of Sunghoon’s continued misery. Heeseung and his girlfriend remain loved up in their own private corner of the dance floor. Sunghoon isn’t jealous or petty, though, although he’s well-accustomed to both emotions at this point. All he feels is some semblance of gratitude for the people enjoying the festivities of the night with a person they care about.

Heeseung’s girlfriend steps away from her partner with a kiss on his lips, somehow sensing Sunghoon’s despair. She walks over to him, a sad smile on her face as she approaches the lone guy at his idle table. “No luck, huh?”

Sunghoon nods and tips his drink at her. “You could say that.”

Heeseung comes up in record time, Sunghoon’s teammate unable to stay away from his lover for too long. He clears his throat and looks toward the younger guy with quiet condolences. “Listen, Hoon. Just talk to her and be honest. Stop dancing around your feelings.”

Sunghoon scoffs into his cup, the sound echoing in the plastic. “As if I could steal her away from beefcake over there. Like your missus said, she’s better off.”

“You know I apologized for that!” Heeseung’s girlfriend mirrors Sunghoon’s reaction, puffing out a breath of air and rolling her eyes. “And if that’s the case, why has she been looking over here at least every five minutes?”

Sunghoon glances past the rim of his cup and catches you staring just as Heeseung’s girlfriend makes her point.

Your eyes are filled with a plethora of unspoken feelings, ones Sunghoon may have the words for but cannot manage to speak. Why did words hold so much more power when it was too late to say them? Did he still have time at all, or was the opportunity to be transparent long gone? It’s too much to process; all he can do is look away from you, the guilt hitting him square in his chest.

Heeseung and his girlfriend share a conspiratory look, plotting something. Sunghoon takes a gulp of air, unsure if he wants to know exactly what they’re planning.

“Be on the rooftop in ten minutes. And make sure you know what you’re gonna say, idiot,” Heeseung’s girlfriend commands, her smirk flashing wickedly under the gymnasium lights.

“Hey!” Heeseung and his girlfriend run up to your spot by the punch bowl. You were absentmindedly staring at the fruit concoction in the tub while Chan had raced off to the bathroom, promising to be back in five.

“What’s up?” You ask, giving his girlfriend a polite and acknowledging smile.

“Something happened on the rooftop with one of the girls on the squad. I think she got food poisoning or something,”

“Yeah,” Heeseung’s girlfriend comments. “Wonyoung told us to get you ‘cause she needs some help bringing the poor girl back downstairs.”

You roll your eyes and set your cup on the plastic table in front of you. If it’s Leeseo again, you may just have to kill her.

The couple follows close behind as you make it to the stairwell door leading up to the rooftop. You wonder why the two didn’t help Wonyoung in the first place, but maybe the girl in question requested you personally and didn’t want to be embarrassed by being assisted by strangers.

Opening the rooftop entrance, you see Sunghoon standing near the edge, kicking gravel off the side of the building. Your heart seizes up, glad but caught off-guard to be seeing him right now.

In an instant, the door closes behind you, locking from the outside. You bang on it, unsure what’s happening. “What the fuck, guys?”

“You’re not coming out until we hear some talking!”

The sudden quiet is deafening, the only reprieve being the breeze passing through the trees surrounding the school. You run your hands across your arms, feeling the chill now that you’re outside but also unsure of what to do in this situation.

Sunghoon immediately sheds his jacket and walks over to you. He waits with the article in his hands before you nod meekly. He wraps it around your shoulders protectively, making sure your arms go through the sleeves. “Better?”

“Much, thank you,” you whisper.

Sunghoon looks deeply into your eyes, knocking any subsequent words from your conscious mind. You bite your lip instinctively, tense from his lack of distance between your bodies. Why did he still have the capability to steal your train of thought without trying?

He blows out a breath, the sound of his voice flimsy in the spring air. “When I first joined the basketball team, I didn’t know if and how I would measure up,” Sunghoon begins. “I was fifteen and terrified of playing next to someone as good as Heeseung and always being compared to him.

“And I took all those worries about being not good enough and took it out on everyone. I let it ruin the most perfect thing in my life because I thought acting like I didn’t care would stop me from feeling insecure. What an idiot, right?”

Sunghoon brushes a free bang from your face. His eyes are glassy, the vulnerability he’s showing you at an all-time high. “I should’ve realized the girl I love didn’t care if I was the best or the worst basketball player ever, as long as I was hers and didn’t forget it. I just didn’t know it then. And now that I’ve realized what a fool I’ve been, all I want now is to spend the rest of my time making it up to her.”

The confession knocks any remaining resolve out of you, unable to bear the pain in his face or the uncertainty that hangs in the air. You slam your lips into his, the kiss both bruising and healing in the same motion. It rejuvenates all the parts of you that had been withered away since the night you broke up and couldn’t be revived without him.

Sunghoon feels the effects of the kiss as well, his gasps and whimpers exemplifying his surprise and relief to have you back in his arms. Holding you, kissing you, being with you, you can tell he’s worried the moment’s a figment of his imagination. If he doesn’t cherish it, you’ll float away. And he can’t survive that for a second time.

You part for air, but your lips still ghost over each other’s, unable to be parted now that he’s within your reach again.

With your voice laced with the unshed tears in your eyes, you ask, “What took you so damn long, you idiot?”

Sunghoon can only respond with a joyful laugh and another kiss to your lips, making up for his unsaid apologies and shit timing with his mouth.

Now that your body is against his, your hearts beating rapidly but once-again in tune with each other, he’s certain now he’ll never be stupid enough to forget your worth and let you go again. Because the pleasure he used to call home is back in his life, and he couldn’t feel more at ease.

Sunghoon’s laughing when he unlocks the front door of his house, his face in a permanent grin since you kissed a few hours prior. You spent the time before ending up here driving around town, too enraptured with each other to focus on your friends or the rest of the dance’s festivities. You didn’t leave without Heeseung giving Sunghoon a slap to the back and Wonyoung crying at your reconciliation.

The house is quiet, a result of Sunghoon’s parents being abroad for the past few days. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look, by the way?” Sunghoon mentions again when he closes the door behind you. He immediately pulls you in by the waist, showering the skin of your neck in kisses.

You giggle and weave your hands into his hair, a gasp leaving you when he takes your earlobe between his teeth. “Probably for the hundredth time by now.”

“Well you do.” He presses another kiss to the spot below your ear, making you shiver. “And I’m not gonna stop saying it.”

You smirk and move your hands to both sides of his face, forcing you to look at him. “I didn’t expect the night to go like this.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” His voice is teasing, but his eyes are suddenly lined with anxiety. His body tenses in your embrace, the worry that you’re having second thoughts weighing on his happiness.

You ease his doubts with a deep kiss, holding him close and hoping that assures him you’re not going anywhere. “A great thing.”

The smile you love so much appears once he’s at peace, and peppers your entire face with kisses. You laugh out loud, but he can tell you love the adoration he’s providing you.

You could definitely get used to this new Sunghoon, the night already filled with so much magic.

“I’ll be back.” He grins wide, canines on full display. Another kiss punctuates the sentence. “Don’t go anywhere.” Another.

You laugh out loud and nod your head. He dramatically holds onto your hand until he’s forced to let go. He runs down the hallway and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you in the sitting room of his house.

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting on the loveseat in the sitting room when Sunghoon comes back out.

“My lady, follow me.” He bows and holds out his hand for you to take, and you smile ear to ear when you lace your fingers with his. You’re unsure what’s waiting for you on the other side of his bedroom door, but you know it must be another surprise your boyfriend has gone above and beyond to amaze you with.

Surely enough, it makes you gasp out loud and press your free hand to your chest.

Sunghoon’s bedroom is showered in a radiant glow from dozens of candles, all different sizes but the same light creating a sweet, calming ambience. Fairy lights hang on the walls, aiding in the atmosphere he’s created. Music plays at a low sound from the speakers near the television, Sunghoon’s phone hooked up to the system. To top it all off, there’s another bouquet of white roses sitting on his side table, some petals lining the edges of the floor around his bed.

When you thought about this night in your dreams, it always ended here, being so in love. He’s made those dreams come true, right down to the letter, and you could not be more in love with him than in this moment.

Sunghoon comes closer. He presses his chest to your back, encasing your body with his arms and kissing your neck once again. You try to stifle the sob that comes out, but he hears it and retracts. “Shit, do you not like it? I can blow the candles out and–”

You turn in his embrace, shaking your head furiously. “No, I love it.” You wipe your tears, laughing at the reaction he’s pulled out of you. “I’m just–it doesn’t feel like it’s real.”

“It is.” He takes the side of your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “And I’ll remind you every day if you need me to.”

“I love you so much,” you respond, kissing the inside of his palm. You pull him closer, reconnecting your lips with his. You feel whole in a way you haven’t in weeks, knowing now for certain this happiness coupled with Sunghoon’s love is the perfect combination to sustain you.

“I love you too,” he says in between kisses, his mouth turning sloppy. You feel his growing hardness against you. It had been months since the last time you were intimate. You think as Sunghoon pulls you in closer than before, groaning into your mouth, that tonight’s the perfect time to reconnect in more ways than just emotionally.

“I missed you so much,” you moan, tugging his jacket from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. You run your arms across his chest, still covered by the cotton button up he’s wearing, but you quickly make do with the buttons on his shirt to feel the skin underneath. 

He shivers under your touch, but he manages to find the zipper of your dress and lower it down until the dress easily slips from your body. You step out of it, careful not to tread over the fabric. Your focus remains on  undressing Sunghoon until he’s as naked as you are, wearing only your underwear and shoes. He’s shirtless thanks to you undoing his buttons, but you want all of him exposed.

You try to pull down the zipper of his pants, but he stops you, his eyes lust-filled but patient. “This night is about you, baby. Not me.”

“Please, let me touch you.” You whine, holding onto the belt-loops on his pants.

“Not yet.” He moves you both back until you’re at the edge of the bed. He motions for you to sit down. Once you do, he gets onto his knees in front of you, the man you love on a mission. “Let me make you feel good first.”

He takes the heels off of your feet and sets them down beside your dress. When he does, he begins his slow torture of kissing up your ankles to the insides of your thighs. You lay your body back on his bed, whimpering and body on the verge of shaking when he finally pulls the underwear from your legs.

“Fuck, Hoon,” you say out loud when he presses a kiss to your clit, taking the nub between his lips and sucking tenderly while rubbing his hands on the curves of your hips. He takes one hand to reach out and grab one of your breasts, expertly taking your nipple between his thumb and index finger as his tongue licks along the insides of your center. “Please don’t stop,” you whisper.

“Wasn’t planning on it, my love.” His tongue moves at a faster pace, matching the writhing of your hips crashing into his face to gain every ounce of pleasure he’s giving you.

Before, you wouldn’t have imagined being back in this bedroom with him, and now there’s no other place you wanted to exist.

“Hoon, please. I want you,” you say, one hand clutching his comforter and the other entangled in his hair.

“You have me, always.” His tongue slips inside of your pussy, the feeling of the muscle against your walls causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“I’m not moving until you come, baby. I know you’re close.” The pleasure has been building since the moment he had his mouth wrapped around your neck when you stepped into his house. And now, with his mouth buried inside of you and sweet words accompanying such dirty actions fuels your body’s speedrun to your release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse, your orgasm hitting you like the crash of a wave before you go underwater. But you don’t care to drown if it feels this satisfying.

You laugh breathlessly when the end of your release comes. Sunghoon wipes your essence off of his lips with the back of his hand, smiling bashfully. Every action of his before is incredibly contrary to his shy expression, but you love it.

Ridding himself of his pants, Sunghoon’s cock springs free from the constricting article of clothing. The tip is leaking with precum, but he isn’t in a rush to jump on top of you like the many times before when you both were too frustrated to worry with foreplay.

He kisses you with all he has when he crawls on top of you. His tongue inside of your mouth fills it with the taste of your slick. In a blip, he has a condom in his hand and puts it on with quick skill. There’s no need to prep you, your previous orgasm leaving you wet and waiting for him to line up with your entrance and slip inside.

He does it expertly. Both of you tremble from the feeling you long forgot felt so otherworldly, his cock making a home within your walls and your body adjusting to the delicious stretch.

The song in the background fills your ears with the sounds of a slow-strumming guitar, reflecting the thrust of Sunghoon’s hips. Your hips meet his when he’s filled you to the hilt, causing you to sigh. “Fuck, just like that.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Sunghoon whispers between thrusts, moaning sweet nothings into your mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you whisper in kind, gasping. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each press of his hips, exiting slowly and pushing back inside until there’s no space left to accommodate him.

How could you be so filled, figuratively and literally, by the love he had to offer you? For anyone else who’s never known the feelings stirring inside of you, a mixture of sinful pleasure and pure happiness, you feel sorry for them. If everyone in the world did, they might have been labeled as two extra wonders of the world.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come again,” you say, clutching onto his hips. You bite down on the skin of his shoulder, releasing your moans into his skin as his pace speeds up.

“Yes, baby, give it to me,” he groans, gulping hard and body frantic to take you both to the your climaxes. You feel the stars behind your eyes when your second orgasm comes, a long cry leaving your lips. Sunghoon matches it with a broken moan, the sound coming out in fragments as he spills inside of the condom.

Sunghoon lathers your face in deep, heartfelt kisses before pulling out. He walks to the bathroom quickly, throwing away the condom in the trash and grabbing a cloth to clean you up. He runs the fabric between your legs, careful not to press down too hard and overstimulate you.

You both crawl under the covers after he throws the rag in his hamper, your body immediately snuggling into his. The crown of your head receives another blitz of kisses, your smile hurting your cheeks from how wide it goes.

“I love you,” Sunghoon says, the words coming without a second thought.

And with no regrets on your mind or in your heart, resolute in your decision to forgive him, you say, “I love you, too, Hoon. Always.”

People could always change if they had the determination and inspiration to do so, and you know that for sure now. In  the arms of the one you love, that fact could not be more true.

@mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @dreamiestay

[holysainz]

silly season - lando norris

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

warnings: innuendos

summary: fans get a glimpse into your relationship on a stream

You walk into Lando’s gaming room, a cup of hot chocolate topped with tiny marshmallows in hand. His back is to you, headphones clamped over his head, eyes focused on the screen. Lando is always in his element when he's streaming — it’s a joy to see. But today, you’ve been the one tasked with interrupting him. Not that you mind, of course.

“Got your hot chocolate, sweetheart,” you startle him, setting the cup down beside him on the desk. You look at the screen, recognizing the familiar game of F1 2023. “Who’s winning?”

“Verstappen. But it’s just a virtual race,” Lando chuckles without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Ah, so you admit you’re losing?” You tease, earning a playful glare. You laugh at his mock annoyance, then start to saunter out of the room.

Before you can make your exit, however, Lando grabs your wrist, pulling you back. “Wait, I need you.”

You spin around, your eyebrows raised in surprise. His words hang in the air, and for a moment, a suggestive smirk plays on your lips. “Really, Lando? On a live stream?”

His cheeks flush as he quickly shakes his head, his laughter joining yours. “Not like that, you minx! I need you to stay here and distract the competition with your terrible driving.”

“Ah, so that's how it is,” you retort, grinning at his playful sidestep. “I’m your secret weapon now, am I?”

With a chuckle, he grabs the spare controller, throwing it to you. “Only the best for Team Norris.”

“Well then, prepare to lose!”

What you don’t realize is that Lando’s stream is live, and all his fans are eagerly watching the banter unfold.

Lando chuckles, setting up the second controller. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

The race starts and immediately, it’s a comedy of errors. You’re not very good at the game to say the least and you crash into a wall within the first thirty seconds.

“Hmm, you do know the point is to avoid the walls, right?” Lando teases, his fingers moving deftly over the buttons of his controller.

You shoot him a feigned glare, and he laughs, his attention fixed on the screen as he smoothly overtakes one of the opposing cars. “Maybe you should stick to delivering hot chocolate, love.”

“No way,” you say stubbornly. “I’m going to beat you at your own game, Norris.”

“Ah, spoken like a true underdog!” He laughs, and the sound of it makes you grin, even as your car crashes into another wall.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the screen, Lando’s fans are loving every moment. Their favorite F1 driver showing his fun side, coupled with your charming wit, is an unbeatable combination.

The chat box fills with amused comments:

‘OMG, she’s hilarious!’ ‘Lando, you’re losing your touch!’ ‘Can we have her on every stream?’

Laughing and teasing each other, you keep trying to maneuver your car with minimal success. You playfully jab at Lando’s concentration, saying, “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be good at this?”

“I am good!” he protests, “Just not when you’re trying to distract me.”

“Oh, am I a distraction, Norris?” you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively. “Is it because I make your gear stick shift?” The playful innuendo makes Lando choke on his laugh.

“A very attractive distraction, yes,” he responds, and it’s your turn to blush.

The comments explode:

‘Did he just—‘ ‘They are too cute!’ ‘I can’t even.’

Eventually, Lando wins the game, but not without a few crashes of his own. As you watch the virtual champagne spraying over his character, you say, “Well, you won. But I’d like to see you do this in real life.”

Without missing a beat, Lando responds, “What, win a race or put up with you?”

“You better keep it clean on the track, Norris,” you retort, giving him a sly wink. “Because the way you’re driving here, you won’t be able to handle the curves!”

You gasp dramatically when he laughs at your comment. “Lando Norris! I’ll have you know I’m a delight to put up with.”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Yes, you are. You’re my favorite distraction.”

With that, Lando ends the stream, laughing at the barrage of comments from his fans. You sit there with him, sharing in his laughter, completely oblivious to the fact that you were just part of an international live stream.

But you don’t care. All that matters to you in that moment is Lando’s laughter, the warmth of his arm around you, and the joy of sharing these simple, perfect moments with him. And if his fans loved it too, well, that was just an added bonus.

[keepthedelta]

okay it's kinda specific but is there any brocedes fact that is often overlooked but you think that is essential (or perhaps gives a new approach) to the lore?

that's such a good question. i have several, i hope you don't mind

the first one is the "he'll always be my best friend in my heart" quote. i've seen a lot of people use it as a very earnest declaration etc. (or if they believe in the nico is obsessed with lewis shit as a sign of that) but it was actually nico making a joke when he was doing commentary (on the italian comms i think). he was asked a question about lewis and jokingly/sarcastically said "in my heart he'll always be my best friend", and then immediately clarified that it was a joke (maybe recognising the narrative that would be spun around it). i know this seems kind of anti-brocedes but i do think it is essential to the lore that people recognise nico is not a weird as fandom likes to make out. he's absolutely weird, and he's definitely not normal about lewis, but he's not obsessive, and he feels comfortable enough making jokes about them. when you contrast that with lewis who either refuses to say nico's name in conversations where he is the most relevant person (the better teammates than max interview) or brings him up unnecessarily and then panics about it (grill the grid), i think it changes the dynamic of who is yearning, who is "over it", who is winning the idgaf war (it's neither of them but the difference is lewis lost by playing and nico is open enough about giving a fuck that he's not pretending to play). i am biased, but i also think that if you look back at them during their careers, lewis was always weirder about nico than nico was about him, although again, neither of them can truly be described as normal about each other.

then there's nico beating lewis in the 2004 f3 series that they shared. the narrative of brocedes describes it as lewis always beating nico, lewis being the one to win and nico always being slightly behind. and largely this is true. but in 2004 they were both competing in the 2004 f3 european series, albeit for different teams. neither of them won, but nico narrowly beat lewis. now they were in different teams and nico himself has said that some teams had better cars and equipment than others and that made a difference in the end result. but, nico still beat lewis. he had nearly double the number of dnfs/dns (6 to lewis's 3) and triple the number of wins (3 to lewis's 1), finishing highest of all the entrants who eventually made it to f1 (nico himself, lewis, adrian sutil and robert kubica). but nico himself barely seems to remember this. the narrative of lewis always being better, always beating him, is something he seems to have internalised, even though it isn't quite true, or at least, not as true as people make out.

my third bit of lore is that mclaren wanted to sign nico for the 2008 season. following the drama of fernando alonso (affectionate) and spygate, mclaren had an open seat and ron dennis wanted to fill it with nico. he even offered to buy out nico's contract from williams, but frank williams viewed nico as their best hope and refused. the driver that eventually ended up replacing fernando was heikki kovaleinen, nico's gp2 rival and 100% finnish to his 50% (yes nico's national identity crisis does come into this). lewis ended up winning the championship that year. heikki took only 1 victory, and while i think lewis would have beaten nico, i think nico wouldn't have been a doormat for him like heikki, and would have won at least a couple of races, which would have allowed felipe massa and ferrari to succeed. in many ways i think an argument can be made that nico not getting that mclaren seat really helped lewis to win his first championship, in the same way that if lewis hadn't gone to mercedes, nico would have won three, or if nico had stayed, there is a very real possibility that sebastian vettel would have won 2017. their presence and their success dooms the other, and it always has.

my final thing is that they are the most successful teammate pairing in f1 history. it kind of links back to the last one, where the fact that they are each as good as they are hurts the other one, unlike a lewis and valtteri line up or a michael and rubens line up where there is a distinct number one driver and the other one is to be sacrificed for him. but, even though both of those pairs were together for longer (nico and lewis aren't even in the top 5 longest teammate pairings), it takes more than a number 1 number 2 driver lineup to be the most successful. it takes nico and lewis, who are both number 1 drivers (don't come for me on this, nico would have flattened the likes of valtteri, rubens, or mark webber and you know it). although they were only teammates for four years (and one of those was a sebastian vettel/red bull dominance year) they achieved more pole positions, front row lockouts, wins, podiums, and 1-2 finishes than any other pairing in f1 history. they were utterly, utterly dominant, and that's why they hurt each other so badly. they were the dream team, the absolute best f1 could come up with, but they weren't just competing as a team, they were competing against each other, and only one of them could win

[themuseofaphrodite]

they say these are the golden years ✧ LN4

summary: it’s 2025, and lando norris has just won his first-ever world championship title. as his dutiful girlfriend, you prepare for a night alone to celebrate…and it turns into something you’ll never forget.

trigger warnings: suggestive & mature content, swearing, mentions of alcohol

word count: 2.0k

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The world shined bright around you, illuminating the glow of the streetlights and glitter of the asphalt race track. In front of you lay the podium, where your boyfriend – Lando fucking Norris, everybody – was currently celebrating his first World Championship title. His face was split in a grin as he sprayed champagne over the crowd and on the other two drivers who shared a podium with him. The curly brown hair you adored so much was in disarray and the skin you knew by heart was glistening with sweat that you had to resist the urge to lick off.

It was a celebration for the ages, and you were so proud of him. He worked his ass off to be where he was, fighting for wins in the Grands Prix and spending hours in the sim to make sure he was at the top of his game. Now he was finally crowned champion, and his labor had come to fruition. You could not wait until he met you back at the motorhome, and you could give him a reward that would rival the sweet success of the title and trophy. 

Lando clambered down the podium, his hazel eyes immediately searching for you in the crowd. Once he spotted you, he made a beeline and jumped into your waiting arms, almost making you fall flat onto the pavement. He pressed a series of frantic kisses across your face, over your chin and eyebrow and jaw, marking you as his. You heard the flash of the cameras as they snapped dozens of photos of your passionate makeout session, but you didn’t care. “I love you so fucking much, darling,” he furiously whispered in your ear. “Thank you for being here. For staying with me even with all my shit.”

“Of course, Lan,” you responded, your heart melting at his words. “I love you too.”

He beamed at you and buried his face in the crook of your neck again. You inhaled his scent: musky sweat mixed with saccharine victory champagne. If you could get a smell tattooed in your veins, it would be his. “Let’s go home, hm?” he inquired, his tone hinting at something more and his eyes darkening as he appraised you.

You nodded, a nervous, anticipatory energy spreading through you. “Yeah. We can leave.”

Although you and Lando had been dating for almost a year, you had never crossed a certain point — that point being sex. It wasn’t like you wanted to be celibate or anything, you just didn’t know how to broach the topic. Lando was skilled and had lots of experience; that much you could tell from the way he fondled and kissed you. He was also a gentleman, which meant that he wouldn’t make a move that involved the bedroom until you gave him the green light.

You weaved past the thick crowds, stopping every so often in order for Lando to receive victorious pats on the shoulder or words of congratulations. Eventually, you made it through and you could breathe the cold, fresh air again. “Lando,” you said anxiously. “When we get home… I…” 

He looked at you, waiting for you to continue, although you could tell by the way he repositioned himself that he already suspected what you would ask. “Yeah? What’s up, love?”

You shifted under the weight of his gaze, your cheeks burning red with embarrassment. “I…We’ve never…So I wanted to…” You stuttered awkwardly, unable to conjure up an intelligible sentence.

Lando moved nearer to you, tilting your face up to meet his. “What do you want to do?”

“I…” Your face blazed even redder, like it had been stung by fire coral. “I want to have sex with you.” The words left your mouth in a single breath. You stared at him in anticipation, the blood rushing in your ears.

A smirk crooked over Lando’s lips as he registered what you had said. “You want to fuck me, baby?” he crooned, kissing the top of your forehead. “How long have you been holding in those desires? Wanting to feel my cock in you?”

You shivered beneath him, the dirty words making your skin prickle with need. “Lando, I…Please. I need you.”

He grinned. “I’ve waited so long to hear those words.” Without another word, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the backseat of his car. “Don’t worry, I won’t fuck you here. As much as I’d love for everyone to hear your moans as I ride you, I’d like to keep this time sacred, for just us. Then I’ll have my way with you regardless if there’s people around.”

Carefully, Lando nudged you down flat, closing the door behind him with his foot and locking it shut with a click of his keys. He twisted the button behind the seat, letting it go fully horizontal and allowing for more room. “This OK, baby?” he said as he positioned himself on top of you.

“Yeah,” you whispered almost inaudibly.

He froze in place, his hands stopping their journey around your waist. “Louder. I want to hear you say that this is OK, because God forbid I hurt you.”

You gave him a comforting smile. “It’s fine, Lando. Please continue.”

Lando nodded and tucked your hair back away from your neck, lowering his lips to the soft flesh. He began to suck, leaving small love bites on the sides and a larger one by a birthmark in the front.

You arched into him, granting him greater access. “Lando, please…”

He paused again, his eyes searching yours for consent. “As soon as you want me to stop, you tell me. I will, I promise. No questions asked.”

“Don’t,” you said, your head rolling back as you stifled a moan.

Lando chuckled, his hardness bearing down on your core and driving you mad. “Didn’t realize I had such an effect on you, darling. So needy and desperate for me. Bet it was eating you up inside, all your pent-up desire, when I could have been eating you out.”

You whimpered as he continued down your body, his hands finding the swell of your breasts under your blouse. “So beautiful,” he breathed. “And it’s all for me.”

“Please, Lando. I need you.” 

He grinned. “You don’t have to tell me twice, but are you sure you want to have sex for the first time in the back of my car? We’re not high schoolers anymore. Think you can keep it contained for the car ride, baby? Or do you want to be fucked like a whore who can’t hold in how needy she is?”

You shook your head, pressing your thighs together to soothe the aching and growing burn that was developing in your core. “No, I can wait,” you hesitated. “I’m not a whore.”

Lando scoffed. “Not a whore, yet you’d open your legs willingly for any man who’d give you a good fuck.”

“No, I would open my legs for only you,” you promised him. “I don’t care who else wants me. I want…I need you.”

He raised one eyebrow, righting himself up from where he was bent over you. “Good girl.” 

You pouted. “Do you really think that I’d fuck another man?”

“There’s a lot of pretty boy distractions around here,” Lando clarified. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your eye snagged on a different driver and you took him home while I was busy with the sim.”

Your jaw fell open and you bolted upwards, almost smacking Lando in the nose with your face. “Lando, what the hell? You think I’d cheat on you?”

“I don’t think you would.” He shrugged one shoulder, nonchalant. “You’d crawl back to me in a second, begging for my cock like the wretched slut you are.”

You tilted your head. “And why would that be?”

“My cock’s the only thing that could ever bring you pleasure, darling.” He tugged a loose strand of your hair. “You’ll see.”

Lando was definitely not wrong with that declaration. Thirty minutes later, you had just entered the motorhome, and it was time to finally get some action. Lando knew you were a virgin, so he talked you through everything, taking your clothes off gently and setting them on the bedside counter. “I want your first time to be special,” he said as he unclasped the heart necklace around your chest and began taking off the rest of your jewelry. “I want you to look back on this and remember how well I can pleasure you.”

When it was Lando’s turn to get undressed, you tilted your face away, face flaring crimson again with awkwardness. His tanned body was honed with corded muscle, rock-hard abs disappearing into a V. You had seen him shirtless before, yet every time it took your breath away. He was like a Greek god amongst mortals, chiseled by an immortal sculptor’s hand. 

“You OK still?” he rasped, his voice like gravel. “I’ll stop if you want.”

You bobbed your head to the sides vehemently. “No. Please keep going.”

Lando tugged down his boxers, freeing himself and causing your eyes to widen. Fuck, he was enormous. There was no way all of it would fit. 

He laughed when he saw your face. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” you responded.

He pulled you in for a hug, his muscles rippling as he embraced you. “If it starts to hurt, you tell me immediately and I’ll pull out, OK? I want this to be fun for you, not painful.”

“OK.” You kissed his jaw and waited for his next move, which was to lift you up and place you on the bed. 

“I’ll be right back. I need to get a condom,” he told you, and you whined impatiently. He vanished into the bathroom, clinking around in the medicine drawer before you could hear the sound of a crinkling wrapper. Once he came back, he situated himself on top of you, opening your legs wider and pinning your hands down. “I’m going to enter you now. Let me know if you want me to stop.”

You sucked in a breath as you felt his tip prod your entrance and then cross its threshold. A bloom of heat rushed through you, resulting in a loud moan from both partners. Lando kissed you, a feather-light brushing of his lips against your cheek while he began to thrust harder within you. “Does this feel good?” he inquired a moment later. 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “It does.”

Slowly but surely, a wave of bliss built up in you, crashing down like a tsunami. You quivered underneath Lando, your voice shaking as you moaned. “Fuck, Lando…” you mumbled.

“You like that?” Lando asked, a slice of his teeth widening as he continued to propel into you. “Coming like a good little slut?”

You moaned again as his pace quickened. “Yes.”

A moment later, you felt Lando quaver, his muscles convulsing as his breaths became more labored. “Fuck, baby. You feel so damn good.” He gave you a kiss on your lips and deepened his thrusts.

A groan broke through your lips as you cried out, “Lando, it hurts.”

Instantaneously, the pressure in your core lessened. Lando extricated his dick from you, his cheeks ruddy from exertion. “You OK?” he said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Was I too harsh?”

“This is my first time,” you reminded him, and he swore under his breath.

“I’m sorry, love. I got too caught up.” He pecked you on the lips again. “You’re just so tight and wet for me, it’s difficult for me to stay sane.”

“It’s OK,” you promised and smiled up at him. 

Lando laid down beside you, wrapping one arm around you and dragging you close to him. “I’m such a muppet, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” You flopped over to your side, meeting his intense stare. “You can make it up to me by cuddling me for the rest of the night.”

Lando laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls in the room. “I’ll gladly do anything for you, love.”

“Was this everything you wanted?” you asked shyly.

He rested his head against yours, his voice a low purr. “You’re everything I wanted and more.”

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