#Just swapped first and middle names

[nexus-nebulae]

99% sure i just found a spam bot using my biodad's fucking face and name which is. wild 😭 anyway

[autumnoakes]

why did it take me like. at least 3 playthroughs of claire's scenario to realize that the woman on the table in the orphanage wasn't a mannequin like i originally thought but an actual dead body

[starktonyx]

Moral of the story - John Walker x reader

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Word count: 5.6k

Requested by anon: John Walker x reader based on the song Moral of the Story by Ashe . They used to be married with no kids, after tfaws she left him only to come across him during the events of thunderbolts. John attempts to reconnect with her as he never stopped loving her.

Description: You never expected to be blindly sent to kill your ex-husband, but when you cross paths again in looping shame rooms, it’s like going through the pain all over again.

Tags/Warnings: Language. So much ANGST. John being an emotional rollercoaster. Shame rooms. Lots of fighting and regret.

Note: This turned out longer than expected but I loved writing this (my angsty heart is thriving) I'm currently obsessed with this man so expect more about him.

Masterlist

John Walker liked to think he always had the answer to everything. Or at least, most of the time. His brain ran on tactical planning, constant gears grinding with strategy and precision. He was the guy who accounted for every variable, every angle, every possible risk.

But right now? He had no idea how the hell he'd ended up in this situation. Out of all the threats he could've anticipated, out of all the variables he could've ever considered, he sure as hell never expected one of them to be named Bob.

Yes, Bob.

The weird guy that popped out of nowhere, in a bunker buried in the middle of nowhere.

That clean slate Valentina had promised him seemed to be slipping from his fingers by the minute. It was the last thing he could afford himself to screw up, with all his past failures clinging to him like heavy chains.

And yet here he was, stuck with the blonde he'd been sent to kill, a phasing assassin, and Bob.

Middle of fucking nowhere.

"Come on Bobby, you missed legs, arms and torso day" John mocked him, as he pulled him out the elevator shaft they were using to escape.

But the moment Bob's hand touched his, the world around him melted into a black shadow as it shifted around him.

The once warm air went stiff, cold.

When he turns around, he's suddenly back in his bedroom. Those godforsaken walls he once shared with you.

He takes a step forward, his pulse accelerating, and he's met with a scene his mind only replays when he isn't punching someone, when it gets too quiet.

And the first thing he sees, is you.

The ghost of you standing by the bedroom door in front of him, arms folded tight over your chest like they were the only thing holding you together.

It was too quiet, almost, the only sound being the zipper of a duffel bag his past self had thrown onto the bed.

"You're leaving already?" you past self broke the silence, voice so soft it barely reached him.

You didn't sound angry. You didn't even look like you had the energy to fight, not anymore.

John takes a step forward, watching how his past self didn't even throw a glance your way. The prick was too busy yanking dirty clothes from the bag and swapping them out for clean ones.

"You just got here" you mumbled, quieter now when he didn't answer.

John remembered this moment differently. He remembered you nagging, picking up a fight. But standing here now, watching like some unwilling spectator in a memory he didn't want to relive he really saw it, saw ... you.

Staring at him with glossy eyes, looking like not one single bone in your body wanted to fight him that day. You just stood there, still hoping that somehow this time it would land, that he would listen.

"Yeah, well" He muttered, eyes locked on a dirty torn off pair of boots he needed to get rid off. "Val needs me again. You already know how it fucking goes."

A quiet sob was caught in your throat. He saw now how you tried to swallow it, like you'd done a hundred times before.

"I haven't seen you in weeks, John. Is it really that easy for you to leave me? Every goddamn time?" you said quietly.

And fuck, he cursed when he heard it, it didn't even sound bitter. It was desperate, tired.

He scoffed, and let out that bitter, dismissive laugh he always pulled when he didn't want to feel anything. "Jesus Christ, are we doing this again?"

He didn't stop packing, like the answer to all his problems was hidden in a pair of socks rather than just turning around to look at you.

"Doing what, John? You choosing to leave every time instead of fucking talking to me?"

There it was, the anger he remembered.

"Then yes, John, we're doing it again. It's always your need to feel important. Like if you're not out there 'saving the world' you're nothing in here" you finally snapped. The ache in your chest made your words feel sour as they left your mouth.

That's what got under his skin. He saw it in the way his past self stiffened, jaw tightening with that same goddamn temper he could never quite control.

"You think I like doing this? You think I like risking my ass every time to come home to this? To another one of your guilt trips?" He's yelling at this point, throwing the holster in his hand back in his bag.

You looked like you'd been slapped.

"This?" you repeated stunned, pointing at yourself with your hands. "You mean me? I'm this'"

He turned to the door then, finally. But not to deny it, or to apologize or to even spare one single glance at you. It was to grab a jacket hanging on the doorknob.

He didn't say anything. Just grabbed his duffel bag and tossed it over his shoulder like the argument was some inconvenience he could just walk away from.

He keeps pretending to ignore you when he walks past you by the door, but a hand pressed to his chest stops his getaway.

"This is the last time I'm asking you to stay" You warned him. The lump in your throat betrayed you, what you wanted to sound firm came out like a child plea.

He didnt even flinch. He brushed it off and kept walking, thinking he'd come back home in a day or two, bring some takeout and fuck it out like always.

"Jonathan..." Your voice sobbed his name as he made his way to the front door.

Yet still, he never looked back. And neither did you.

That was the day you gave up on him. He remembers coming back a few days later, your favorite takeout in hand, only to find a half empty closet, empty drawers.

An empty home.

And now? Now it burned him watching it from the outside. Watching you blink away tears while he was too busy being an asshole.

His eyes burned, as his heart clawed its way up into a painful knot his throat.

He snaps back to reality when Yelena calls out to him. All eyes watching him, but his were locked in the tempting elevator's dark void.

What the fuck are you doing, John?

They’ll see right through your bullshit.

"Im fine" He said, a little too quick for comfort.

But with a plastic smile plastered on his face, his mask falls back into place like muscle memory.

Once again, how the hell did he end up in this situation?

And because karma seemed to have fun making John Walker's life even more miserable, he'd ended up tied in a half collapsed gas station.

Hostage to none other than Bucky Barnes.

Naturally, he just couldn't help himself to mock Bucky's absurd political position. Though in his defense, the bastard kept gettting on his nerves. They already knew each other, so why was Bucky being such an idiot about the whole Bob situation?

So John did what he always does. He fucked around and, as usual, found out.

"Yes. I know you, John" Bucky’s tone was calm, but the hint of a smirk hid behind his words. "And you've made your choices. I know it's been hard since your wife left you, but that is no one's fault but yours"

The cruel words rolled out his tongue like he's been waiting to throw them in his face since he found him in the blown up limo they'd use to escape.

John just stares at him for a second, then his eyes drift to a particular paint chipping spot on the wall.

Yelena turned towards him, lips parted in surprise.

'I've got a gorgeous wife waiting for me at home' she remembered him saying it back in the bunker.

Liar.

Yelena had believed him back there. She knew a thing or two about John Walker, having read his file, recalled your name and picture being printed out next to 'affiliations'.

Must've been exhausting carrying that rage for two, was her first thought, but she wouldn't say it out loud. Not when he was giving her that kicked puppy look.

Cause he didn't shy away from her eyes, didn't say a thing. All he could do was give a small, tight shrug that said it all: add it to the fucking list of things I've screwed up.

Yelena didnt press further.

He was grateful for that, and for Ava being too busy bickering with Alexei to pester him any further about the matter.

But then, Bucky's stance shifted.

"Shhh" he hissed, hand going up to his lips. Alexei and Ava immediately stopped talking.

In a different occasion John could've laughed at the sight of Bucky Barnes looking like a guard dog about to bite, but if he was tensing up like that, it couldn't mean anything good for anyone. So he listened.

That's when he heard it too. An almost undetectable soft thump, but his enhanced hearing catches it. It was the slight creek of metal, straight above them.

"Someone's on the roof" John said at the same time as Bucky.

Everyone looked up. But before anyone could think about what it could be, the ceiling exploded.

The roof came crashing down in a cloud of smoke and ash. The room burst in chaos between shouting and coughing, debris flying everywhere as a smoke grenade rolled past their feet. All John could see was the flicker of Yelena's widow bites glowing blue as the haze blinded the room.

Then, a pair of boots landed hard on the floor.

He hears some struggle between Bucky and the unknown intruder, and then a thud of heavy metal hitting the floor. It must've been Bucky's arm slamming against the concrete.

Someone had taken him down.

"I'm not here for you" the intruder said, a woman's voice muffled by a mask.

John instantly frowned. Even with the sound of debris falling down and the fighting in the room that muffled voice sounded familiar to him.

"I don't care" Bucky growled back.

The fight went on, blows landing hard and fast. Whoever she was, was determined to take him out.

But Bucky was the fucking Winter Soldier.

John feels Yelena drop next to him, then what must've been Ava falling unconscious as well, as the smoke hit their systems.

"Lena!" Alexei shouts.

"Okay now, what the fuck is going on?" John choked out, coughing.

He hears the fight halt for a second when he spoke.

The intruder recognized the voice. His voice.

You recognized his voice.

Bucky got the upper hand at the distraction, catching your wrist mid swing. He slams you to the ground with a quick motion, pinning you down with his knee and pressing his metal hand against your throat.

You gasped, struggling, eyes wide with fear under the mask. Next thing you knew his gun was pointed at your head.

As the dust cleared enough for John to see the scene, his face turns to horror.

He sees the mask, and immediately knows.

You're about to get blasted into next week by Bucky.

"Bucky–Stop! Stop! It's Y/N!"

John broke his cuffs in one go, his arms fighting against the bent rod holding him back.

Bucky froze, confused. He ripped off your mask, and there you were, gasping for air. Still beneath his knee, throat red where his hand had been.

"Shit" Bucky breathed, when he recognized you. But before he could lift his weight off you, John tackled him to the ground.

The girls jolted back to consciousness at once. Coughing as they sat up.

"What the hell is going on?" Yelena rasped, seeing John on top of Bucky and you standing beside them.

"Man come on, I didn't know it was her!" Bucky snapped, twisting beneath John to shove him off.

You sat up in your spot on the floor, coughing, one hand still braced against your throat.

And then you saw him, that voice you heard. God, it had been years.

"John?" you said, voice hoarse. You wished it really wasn't him.

He pried his eyes off Bucky without loosening his grip, and half turned to you.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me" You curse, a hand covering your face.

It was really him.

You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the pain. "Get off him you idiot, I'm fine"

John didn't argue. Just got up and backed off, hands on his hips.

Everyone stared at him like he'd just grown second head. Why didn't he protest?

Bucky immediately got to his feet, annoyed, brushing dust from his shirt.

"So ... who even are you?" Ava asked. She was still tied up and this was getting annoying.

"Y/N Walker," Yelena replied, the name burned into her memory from that file.

"That's not my name anymore," you snapped, too fast, too sharp.

John's jaw clenched, eyes going back to that same chipped spot on the wall.

"Wait, you were his wife?" Ava asked, incredulous. "What, Steve Rogers wasn't available?"

Bucky bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something.

"Ava..." Yelena warned, voice low.

As much as Yelena might've loved to take a jab at Walker herself, she didn't, his expression had left a feeling on her chest that stuck to her more than it should've.

"No but really, where'd you even find this guy?" Ava pressed on, like the idea of you marrying John Walker had personally offended her.

You turned slowly, your glare enough to shut her up for half a second.

"Give me a fucking break, Ava. When you're young, you fall in love with the wrong people sometimes." you snapped, without even thinking.

The words tasted like regret as soon as they came out. And you knew the way John stiffened meant they landed like a blade on him.

His gaze burned the side of your head.

If he'd only looked at you like that then.

"Is no one going to mention she tried to kill Mr. Soldier?" Alexei chimed in, at least the drama was interesting.

"I wasn't going to kill him," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "I just needed to knock him out long enough to get rid of you—"

You pause, the pieces clicking together.

"Goddammit. Valentina." You muttered under your breath.

That bitch. She'd really sent you to kill your ex husband without even telling you. What is he going to think about you? That this is what you'd turned into?

"Wait–you work for Valentina now?" John asked, like the words physically hurt, like he couldn't believe that's the path you had taken.

"It's not like that, John," you sighed, suddenly aware of how many eyes were watching. "I was angry at everything. At you. I figured... if running helped you escape your life, maybe it would help me too."

He didn't speak, but you saw it in his face. The guilt, the disbelief.

Had Val gotten to you the same way she got to him?

"She told me she lost a facility to some rogue agents" you explained, more to yourself than to anyone else.

"Yeah" Yelena cut in, "Because she tried to kill us."

You blinked. And suddenly, it all made sense.

You turned back to John.

“She didn't tell me you were one of them."

Your eyes locked on his, for some reason needing him to believe you. To see the truth in you, if nothing else. He barely nodded, but it was enough.

And then, from the corner, Ava scoffed.

"Pfft... perfect family" Ava muttered under her breath, shaking her head at the lie he'd told.

It had been perfect once, you thought. The dates. The proposal. The wedding. The honeymoon. The house with the porch swing.

The high school sweethearts who got married right after graduation because you couldn't keep your hands off each other.

The partying, the late night drives, the making out in parking lots, it was reckless and "romantic", all that was okay as teenagers.

But running wild has a way of turning volatile.

And then suddenly you were grown ups, trying to build a life, a home, a future. But your boy? he only knew how to fight. Maybe for the country. Maybe with you. Maybe both.

That's what he loved, really. The fighting. The heat.

Screaming, slamming doors and then fucking it off was the usual. The real break? Was when there was no more yelling, the unbearable silence.

Silence in a home you thought was built on love. Turns out it was just paper house you burned out.

All that "marry your high school sweetheart, build a dream life behind a stupid white picket fence" bullshit?

Propaganda. Nothing more than that, a fraud.

You weren't perfect, you knew that. Maybe you were even selfish. But was it selfish to want to be wanted?

To want John to look at you like your company meant more than his next mission?

It didn't seem fair.

You thought you had your lives figured out. But then he was made Captain America. You were there when he went to the army. When he lost people. When the world turned its back on him.

But when he got the serum? It was different.

All that pressure. The eyes on him. Expectations he could never live up to, no matter how right he tried to follow the orders.

And he tried. God, he tried. But the weight of it all twisted something in him.

He started carrying it alone like he had to. Like letting you see the cracks would make them real. He stopped talking, started shutting you out.

And in the end, the silence between you became permanent.

So it wasn't the fight, the heat, or that stupid shield what got to you.

It was the quiet between two people who forgot how to ask each other for help.

—

It all happened too quickly. Even for John.

One second you were helping a little boy who fell, the next he saw you dive straight to push Yelena, shoving her away from a collapsed beam.

You barely dodge it.

But now there you were, in the middle of the chaos, standing directly in Sentry's line of sight.

John saw the way your body stiffened. You knew it. And he knew it too.

You made eye contact with him, just long enough to hold the blue of his eyes. That look, carved into his memory forever, like you were trying to memorize his face, like this would be the last time you'd see him.

He was horrified. He wanted to scream. He did scream your name so loud, so broken, it tore through the chaos and made the others flinch. But not even his enhanced speed could reach you fast enough.

One second you were there, and then the next ... nothing.

You turned to nothing more than a black shadow spilling on the ground.

John stopped dead in his tracks, wide eyes staring at the shadow where you stood. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he just saw.

No. This wasn't happening to him again.

The ringing in his ears drowned out the screaming around him.

Not again. Please, not again.

It was Lemar. It was Afghanistan. It was everything all over again.

It was you, gone.

No, this couldn't be real.

He didnt give Bucky enough time to grab him. He didn't even think twice about it. He ran straight into the void, his footsteps so heavy they tore through the pavement, cracking it beneath his boots.

All he knew is that he couldn't fail at another thing in his life.

When darkness surrounded his eyesight, he crashed onto a wall. His ragged breath was the only thing he could hear as he came to his senses, and realized he was thrown into the same memory, that same room he had stepped in before.

"You're leaving already?"

Your voice behind his back startled him, and he whipped around expecting to see you. The real you. But it was your ghost.

"No, fuck that" John growled, marching forward. "I'm not watching this again."

He grabbed the shoulders of his past self who kept stuffing clothes into the bag like it wasn't costing him everything.

"Look at her, you fucking idiot!" He yelled at himself, shaking his body. “She’s right there!”

His past self looks at him with that same smug, distant, uncontrolled anger he used on everyone else.

John barely had time to react before he was spun around and yanked into a chokehold by himself. His arms crushed his windpipe like a vice.

"Should've done that when you could Johnny" Past John muttered coldly.

John fights to free himself from the chokehold, kicking wildly, clawing at his own arms, struggling against his own brutal strength.

He could feel his breath giving out.

"She’s not here anymore, John" You said, and if felt like adding salt to the wound.

This was it. This was the punishment. Watching himself ruin everything and then being choked by the same hands.

And then, it stopped.

The grip vanished. He collapsed onto the carpet, coughing, gasping for air.

The scene resets.

"You're leaving already?"

"No, no, no" He grunts, dragging himself up from the floor, looking around for a way out.

He spins, breathless. "Nice place, Bobby” he mutters bitterly under his breath, looking around like a caged animal.

He slams himself into the wall next to him, bent shield first. Nothing. The plaster doesn't even crack.

I have to find her. Where is she?

"Come on, baby. Where are you?" He spins again, searching for something, anything. A door, a window, a crack in reality.

His eyes catch on two mirrors standing side by side against the far wall. They shouldn't be there, they weren't before.

Both reflecting something different from what they were supposed to.

Two different scenes.

He steps towards the first one and sees those fucking pillars. The blood stain on the concrete. The day Lemar had–no. He turned his face away violently, he'd save that one for his nightmares.

He turns his eyes to the other mirror and catches the sight of an office. Your lawyers office.

He finds a silhouette across the room, watching the scene unfold on repeat. It’s you. The real you.

He puts his bent shield in front of him and pushes through the glass, landing hard in a new memory.

The crash doesn't startle you. You stand frozen, eyes glazed, watching the scene replay again, the end of your marriage looping in front of you like a broken film reel. Your back is to him.

John doesn't move forward, he can't.

He feels like throwing up when he sees it. The mahogany walls. The glass table. That goddamn vanilla air freshener like this wasn't the worst moment of your lives. 

The moment he signed the papers.

You were separated by that long glass table. You sat beside your lawyer, hands fiddling in your lap, eyes glued on him. He was across from you, beside his lawyer.

And worst of all, his past self doesn't look at you. Not even now.

He just sat there, head hung low as he fiddled with the corner of the page. Your fresh signature next to his empty spot mocked him.

He'd told himself that day he couldn't take your angry eyes. But looking now he sees the truth. You weren't angry. You were grieving.

Hoping he'd just meet your eyes one last time. Like maybe if he did, you could still fix it. Maybe he'd remember how he used to look at you, like you were everything.

Like he still had some love left for you.

The pen next to the papers laid untouched for too long. He was dragging it out.

"We just need your signature, Mr. Walker, and we'll be settled" your lawyer said. Her voice slices through the tension like a knife.

It made him flinch, of course she was in a rush. For her, it was another Tuesday. For you, it was the end of the world.

And for him, it was losing the love of his life.

He gathered the guts to finally reach for the pen, signed with one quick stroke, and tossed it back onto the table. The glass cracked where it fell.

Then came the screech of his chair, echoing off the polished floor, and the sound of his boots walking away.

The scene restarts. 

John takes a shaky step forward. "Hey" he whispers, voice rough. You flinch. "It wasn't supposed to end like that"

"You just ... wouldn't look at me" You reply, your back still turned away.

"I couldn't" He blurts. "I couldn't see you not wanting me anymore. Wanting to end it all"

You spin around, voice breaking with anger. "Look at my face, John. Did I look like I wanted to end it?–I waited. I thought if you just looked at me, maybe we could salvage something. But you didn't. You never did"

He can't speak.

God, he'd thought about that day a thousand times. About every way he could've stopped it, every word he should've said. But right now? that you're in front of him, sobbing and shaking, he was speechless, too ashamed.

"I tried to be there for you. After the captain America mess, Lemar, the government turning their back on you" You cry, remembering all the shit they put him through. "But you kept pushing me away, like being out there was the only place you mattered. Like having me wasn't enough for you."

"It wasn't like that" he said, shaking his head.  "After everything I ruined, the field was the only place I felt like I was doing something right."

You cut him with just one line.

"I'm sorry our home didn't feel like that to you."

The pain in your voice hits him like a train. His pathological need to feel useful, needed, like his skills still held some value, had already taken so much. Then he gave it the last thing that still loved him. You.

"I used to think I knew everything about you" you whisper, shaking your head. "But then you got the serum and it turns I never really knew you. God, I really tried to."

You wipe your eyes, and John feels the earth drop from under him.

"I know I made too many mistakes. But it was real" he says, desperate. "You did know me, you loved me as much as I loved you."

He still remembered everything. The way your laughter filled the room after he made a stupid joke. The way your hands always found his, in crowds, in private, even in your sleep. The way you looked at him like he was worth saving, even when he wasn't sure he was.

"We were never what they made us out to be" you said, bitter. "We thought we were in love, but we were really just in pain."

You lie. Because it's the only way left to protect yourself.

Because you still remember too.

The way his arms felt around you, safe, strong, like the world couldn't touch you as long as he held on. The rasp in his voice when he was half asleep, mumbling nonsense against your neck. The way he made love to you like it was the only way he knew how to say I'm still here.

And the way he looked at you, like you were the one good thing in a world that had taken so much from him.

But you also remembered when it started to change, when the look in his eyes started to fade. The never ending fighting. How the conflict just kept escalating, becoming bigger than it should've.

And it hurt like hell.

He wants to punch a wall. To throw himself into that void he'd seen earlier. He sees right through you, he knows you're lying. He knows you remember as much as he does.

And the scene kept playing behind you, over and over.

"No" He snapped. "We loved each other. I loved you. I still fucking do."

He points at himself with both hands, and that's when you see it.

A glint of silver poking out under his left glove. His wedding ring.

And that's what breaks you.

Because you can't answer. You can't admit you still love him too, not after all he's done. Not when he still wears the symbol of a promise he broke.

He steps forward, hesitating and you turn your face away, but he doesn't stop, not this time. Cause all you ever needed was for him to stay, to fight for you the same way he fought out there.

And now? He would crawl to the ends of the earth if you asked.

So he keeps walking, until he's in front of you. 

Your hands cover your face as the sobs tear out of your chest, and his arms wrap around you without hesitation. One hand on your back, the other pulling you into him as he rests his chin on your head.

Your cries break against him.

How could he have hurt you like this?

You don't know how much time passes as he holds you. How many times you heard the pen crack the glass. All you felt was the pressure of his arms wrapped around you.

And slowly, your sobs soften. All that's left is the quiet shake of your chest against his.

"I'm sorry" his voice cracked the silence. This time, he means it with everything he has left in him.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Because what do you even say when the apology comes years too late? When the damage has already carved itself into the walls of who you are?

So you just stand there. Wrapped in arms that used to mean home. Sinking into a chest that once felt like safety. Trying to remember how it used to feel.

And maybe that's the tragedy, that after everything this is the closest you've felt to him in years.

And it wasn't enough, not now not ever.

“Please…” he breathes, his voice scraping at the back of his throat. “Please, just… let me try to make things right.” his voice cracks, it’s raw.

And for a second, you freeze. Just long enough to feel it, something you wanted to hear too long ago.

Then you pull away, not harsh, but before he can say more.

You don't want to hear it, not his pain, not his regret, not his late promises.

But his hand catches yours.

“Don’t leave me again, please.” His eyes search yours, desperate.

“John, you left me first” You shake your head, pulling your hand but he doesn’t let go.

“I don’t know if I can fix what I broke. And I know I lost the right to ask for anything from you. But if there’s a part of you, even a small one that still thinks of me when it’s quiet, then let me try. Cause I sure as hell think about you all the damn time”

You look at him, and it’s like he finally lets you see through him. Like he finally opened up the gates he shut on your face all those years ago.

“I was so scared” he admits, eyes looking to the ground. “Of all the weight, of failing, of not being enough for that shield or for you. And I didn’t know how to say it without sounding weak. So I fought everything instead, even…even you.”

“I would give anything just to go back to before I fucked it all up. To that night in the kitchen, when you asked if I still saw you in my future… and I stayed quiet.”

You feel something twist in your chest at that memory, the way his silence echoed louder than any fight you had before.

“I should’ve said yes. God, I should’ve said yes.”

There’s too much in you, too much pain, too much tired, too much history.

But for one second, you let yourself look at him. And it’s just your John in front of you. Bruised and begging.

And maybe that’s what love looks like sometimes.

Just the quiet, broken voice of someone asking for a second chance, even when they know they don’t deserve one.

Your throat feels tight, that fight in the kitchen.

You remember the way you leaned against the counter, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to break while your heart thudded like a war drum.

“Do you still see me in your future, John?”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with eyes that didn’t hold an answer.

And now here he was, years later. Begging to rewrite a chapter that had already been printed and bound in the pages of your life.

You take your hand back, gently this time.

“You always had perfect timing” you say quietly, voice steadier than you feel. “Just never when it mattered.”

His hands twitch, like he’s ready to beg, to reach, to hold on, but you shake your head.

“I don’t know what this is anymore,” you whisper. “What is left of us, or if there’s anything left at all.”

His silence says more than words ever could. You let it stretch for just a second too long.

You meet his eyes, steady, unwavering.

“I need you to understand that I’m not her anymore. I’m not the girl who built her life around you.”

He nods slowly. He’s not the same guy who did that to you either.

You take a breath, slow and shaky, fingers lifting to the collar of your suit. For a second, you hesitate, then pull it down just enough to reveal a chain.

A ring dangles there, silent and gleaming like a ghost.

His breath hitches like you just knocked the air out of him. His eyes drop to the ring, and for a second, he forgets how to stand.

You still have it, you didn’t discard it, you carry it with you.

Just like he does.

“You kept it…” he says, barely above a whisper.

His voice cracks like a fault line, and your chest tightens because you weren’t supposed to make this harder. You were supposed to walk away and leave no room for what ifs.

John takes a slow step forward, not touching you, just standing close enough that you can feel how badly he wants to.

“Can I…” His voice falters. “Can I still try?”

You say nothing, just looked at him. Really looked at him.

The dark under his eyes, the tired weight in his voice. The ache of someone who finally understood the cost of his actions.

You bit your tongue. You wanted to say yes, that was the worst part.

And maybe that’s the moral of the story. Some mistakes get made, that’s alright, that’s okay. In the end you choose what you think it’s better for you.

Even if sometimes it meant to throw yourself back again into what once destroyed you, because maybe, just maybe, it’s the only thing that can put you back together.

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━ comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

[aeribbon]

PASSPORT IS NEEDED PT1

include; little moments of you and your boyfriend in melbourne, shanghai, suzuka and sakhir stops on the '25 calendar - headcanons series

starring; lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, alex albon, max verstappen, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri and isack hadjar

warnings; english isn't my first language + not proofread yet

an; taking requests if you guys ever have an idea :) + likes and reblog are appreciated ;)

navigation masterlist series masterlist request

MELBOURNE - AUSTRALIA

⋆˚꩜｡ lewis hamilton

lewis wanted to teach you how to surf so bad but you're terrified at the idea of the ocean wildlife in australia. after hours of him gently coaxing you into the water, you finally give it a try—and end up doing pretty well thanks to the best teacher you could ever ask for. you end the day lying on the beach, tangled up in towels and saltwater kisses, the sound of waves and his laughter still in your ears.

⋆˚꩜｡ carlos sainz

carlos abruptly stops on your evening walk when he sees a street band playing some spanish tune. without hesitation, he starts dancing and grabs your hand, pulling you in. a little embarrassed, you giggle as he twirls you around—and then you notice a crowd forming around you. that night, he won't stop humming the rhythm of the song until he fells asleep, arms wrapped around you like he’s still dancing in his dreams.

⋆˚꩜｡ alex albon

alex insists on visiting a koala center for your date on his free day. you're a bit nervous when he tells you to hold one for a picture... but when the koala starts climbing on your head you start to freak out and alex just films you, laughing hysterically. you threaten him on the spot. later that day, he posts that video of you not thinking much of it... until the next morning when he finds his toothbrush replaced with a eucalyptus branch and all his bathroom stuff swapped for koala-themed items. your koala karma have stroke.

⋆˚꩜｡ max verstappen

max takes you to an amusement park he spotted the day before on his way to the track. he acts like he’s not really into these kinds of dates, “amusement parks are for kids,” he says. but he’s willing to go for you. you quickly understand the real reason on your first rollercoaster: he’s lowkey terrified. to tease him, you suggest riding an even bigger one which he seems a bit reluctant at first but when you ask him if he's scared he runs to the rollercoaster ride saying he's scared of nothing. this ends up in max screaming and holding (or should you say crushing) your hand the entire ride.

⋆˚꩜｡ charles leclerc

charles lights up when he sees there’s a piano in your hotel room. one evening, he sits down and, as you expect something sweet and romantic, he suddenly breaks into the rickroll meme. playing it perfectly while staring straight at you with the most smug expression. you threaten to throw a pillow at him. he just laughs and plays it again but burst out in laughs when you actually throw the pillow.

⋆˚꩜｡ lando norris

lando planned a whole day-date for you, he took to beautiful places throughout the day, ends it at the best seafood restaurant he could find. you never stopped smiling during the day calling this day ''the best date ever''. what you don't realize is him vlogging the day, sure you saw him taking pictures of you but not videos. until late that day when he sends you a file named ''made my fav person happy today''.

⋆˚꩜｡ oscar piastri

oscar is your own local tour guide.taking you to all his favorite hidden spots and old food truck haunts. “Just need to check if they’re still good,” he says like this is serious research. you both eventually crash into a food coma in the middle of a park and end up laying down under a tree for a little hour, your head on his chest. you both don’t say much, you don’t need to. it’s one of those quiet moments you know you’ll remember forever.

⋆˚꩜｡ isack hadjar

you guys spend a whole day at the beach , constantly reminding Isack to put on sunscreen or he’ll regret it. he brushed you off as he is to busy playing in the water. fast forward to the hotel that night, you found yourself rubbing aloe vera on the sunburns on his nose and back. trying not to laugh. “i told you so,” you say sweetly. he glares. as you kiss his cheek anyway.

SHANGHAI - CHINA

⋆˚꩜｡ lewis hamilton

lewis insisted on scheduling you both a tai chi session with your hotel in a park surrounded by locals. he’s shockingly graceful and you, you're… doing your best. when you trip over your own foot mid-move, he catches you effortlessly and let out a small laugh at your clumsiness. later he takes you to a tea salon and whispers dumb jokes in your ear the entire time which made you spill your tea from laughing.

⋆˚꩜｡ carlos sainz

carlos dragged you into the chaos of a night market. he’s got one mission: try every single street snack. you end up with sauce on your face and a boyfriend trying to haggle for matching panda hats. you say no but he buys them anyway in order to go full mode into tourists. he eventually falls asleep on your shoulder on the taxi ride back home.

⋆˚꩜｡ alex albon

alex insisted on taking you to a calligraphy class in which you both suck. at one point during the activity, he looks at your paper and goes ''why does that character look like it’s crying?" you flick ink at him. he retaliates while bursting out of laugh. the instructor is horrified and tries to actually help you. later, he gives you a scroll he actually tried hard on, with your name written beautifully, and says, "don’t say I never give you nice handmade things".

⋆˚꩜｡ max verstappen

max decided that he wants to find some “rare” racing video game that was only released in asia years ago. you tagged along expecting to be a quick outing in shanghai. but instead he drags you through a maze of stalls stacked with wires, neon-lit keyboards. eventually, he finds a guy selling an old-school simulator and starts bargaining like it’s a hostage negotiation. after long minutes of negotiation max sees you're pretty annoyed at the time he's taking so quietly says ''help me get this game and you’re playing against me tonight.” you end up playing until 2an in the hotel. he lets you win once, just once.

⋆˚꩜｡ charles leclerc

charles made you visit this tiny hidden museum under an apartment complex. you’re skeptical at first, but he’s got that “trust me, it’s cool” look in his eyes. inside, it’s walls and walls of vintage propaganda posters, loud colors, bold slogans, and intense history. he walks around quietly, reading every little plaque with way too much focus. you thought he’s being deep and thoughtful… until he turns to you, showing a poster of a very serious man pointing toward the horizon and whispers, “This is me telling you to stop buying overpriced matcha latte.”. you choke on air. now it’s a game: who can find the most dramatic poster and caption it with something ridiculous.

⋆˚꩜｡ lando norris

you dared lando to eat the spiciest hotpot you could found in shanghai and he immediately accepted to do it not knowing the level of spices in china... two hours after dinner he's still agonizing from the spices and you feel a bit guilty, so you lead him through neon-lit streets and buy him boba. he gladly takes the boba from you but he's still pouting, annoyed with you for not telling him how spicy it would actually be.

⋆˚꩜｡ oscar piastri

oscar found a quiet garden temple and brings you there “just for a peaceful moment.” you sit under cherry blossoms, enjoying the moment, sharing snacks and watching koi fishes swim lazily in a pond. you expect silence, maybe a deep convo. but he randomly turns to you and goes, “do you think koi fish believe in love?” you blink, surprised by his question. he grins, “cause i believe in us !”. you blush really hard and giggle of shyness.

⋆˚꩜｡ isack hadjar

isack dragged you into a dumpling-making class. he thought it’d be romantic but instead, you started a war. you smears flour on his nose, he launches dough at your head. you throw a whole dumpling into his mouth to shut him up. he chokes and laughs simultaneously. you end up finishing the class all messed up but hey at least the dumplings were very good.

SUZUKA - JAPAN

⋆˚꩜｡ lewis hamilton

it started with a midnight drive through the glowing streets of tokyo, just the two of you, neon lights blurring past, engine humming low, the city alive but quiet. lewis has a borrowed car, something fast and way too low to the ground. and that dangerous twinkle in his eye should have prepared you for what was coming. you end up somewhere on the edge of the city, empty backroads, slick pavement, and soft drizzle starting to fall. lewis grins, shifts gears, and then the tires scream against the asphalt. he drifts like he’s dancing with the car, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to rest on your thigh like it’s second nature. Your heart’s in your throat, the skyline glowing behind you, your name a soft curse on his lips between every corner. when he finally stops, the air is electric. you’re breathless, laughing, completely spun out.

⋆˚꩜｡ carlos sainz

you find yourselves on a rooftop somewhere in shibuya after midnight. you weren’t supposed to be there, it was a “quick detour” after dinner. you’re both tipsy off laughter, your pockets full of vending machine cans neither of you can read. carlos leans against the edge, city lights sparkling in his eyes, you crack open a drink that tastes like carbonated peaches and hand it to him without asking. he pretends to hate it, then finishes it. he tosses his jacket over your shoulders when you shiver, then acts like he’s freezing just so you’ll lean into him. you end up slow dancing to music only you two can hear, your laughter echoing off into the night. carlos doesn’t ask for a kiss cause he doesn't have to.

⋆˚꩜｡ alex albon

after watching 'lost in translation' a few months ago with you, Alex sweared he wouldn't leave japan without doing karaoke. somehow, he convinces you to duet “PONPONPON.” he sings with way too much emotion and you can't stop laughing. he grabs your hand, bows deeply, and says, “we could be j-pop idols”. surprised at his comment you jokingly answers that he wouldn't survive a day in this industry.

⋆˚꩜｡ max verstappen

max insisted on visiting the suzuka track on his off-day “just to walk it.” you thought he was serious and probably needed it for his strategy plan. until he challenges you to a race on foot. halfway through, as he's loosing to you, max tackles you into the grass. he ends up flat on his back, you lying on top of him, both breathless with laughter.

⋆˚꩜｡ charles leclerc

charles prepared on a day trip to nara to feed the sacred deer as soon as he heard about this activity. it started off peacefully, soft sunshine, cherry blossoms drifting, deer politely bowing for crackers. you're both enchanted, having a really good time. but then he buys too many crackers. you watch in horror and amusement as a growing herd starts following him. within minutes, he’s full-on sprinting across the park, dropping crackers like peace offerings while the deer chase him like he’s part of a wildlife documentary gone wrong.

⋆˚꩜｡ lando norris

it's 2:11 am and you’re both still buzzing from the blowing night adrenaline and sugar high. you're really tired but lando insists in stopping one last time. he pulls you into a 7/11 with an evil grin. he's got a mission for both of you: choose one snack, one drink, and one cursed item to surprise each other with. you end up with a random melon soda, seaweed chips, and pokémon-themed eye masks. he comes back with a matcha latte, mystery onigiri, and a packet of fake mustaches. 2:47am you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed, face mask on, laughing your heads off. he tries to take a selfie but ends up accidentally opening the front-facing cam while mid-bite of his rice ball, it becomes your new lock screen 3:07 am, you're both passed out diagonally on the bed, snack wrappers around you.

⋆˚꩜｡ oscar piastri

you've been asking oscar for days to go to a cat café. he reluctantly agrees and here he is, trying to act cool but one tiny kitten climbs on his hoodie and he melts instantly. he won’t admit it but you catch him whispering to the kitten. when you tease him about it, he panics and tries to deny it—until the kitten curls in his lap and he just sighs, “fine. i'm in love, with the cat tho not you." you fake a gasp and laughs at him.

⋆˚꩜｡ isack hadjar

isack asked you to got to an arcade for your last day in japan. he's having a really good time as he silently obliterates you in every game. you demand a rematch everytime. he pretends to think, then says, “I’ll let you win one… if you kiss me.” you smirk, “make it two.” he laughs at that but then you beat him in mario kart. he claims sabotage as you brag loudly.

SAKHIR - BAHRAIN

⋆˚꩜｡ lewis hamilton

lewis booked a private jeep tour for just the two of you, he says it’s for the “vibes,” but he 100% wanted to do donuts in the sand. you're laughing, gripping the roll bar, wind and sand in your hair while he yells “hold on!” like you’re in an action movie. eventually, he parks at the top of a dune as the sun sets over the horizon offering you one of the best sunset you've both ever seen. you're silent, appreciating the moment and stars starting to appear. you thought the chaos was over, until he pulls out a bluetooth speaker and invites you to slow dancing in the middle of the dunes.

⋆˚꩜｡ carlos sainz

you both get talked into sandboarding and it started off surprisingly well. carlos wipes out once and eats a full face of sand, and you coincidentally filmed it. he then steals your board in revenge as you have to sprint up a dune screaming threats. at some point, you both collapse in the sand, exhausted and sun-warmed, limbs tangled, laughing so hard you’re wheezing. he leans over you, hair full of sand, eyes golden in the light. "best fall of the day,” carlos grins, before kissing you with sand still stuck to his lip.

⋆˚꩜｡ alex albon

alex wanted to go through the manama souks on a mission for “something weird" since he set foot into bahrain. he barters so dramatically for a brass lamp, convinced it’s magical, then pretends it’s haunted for the rest of the day. every time something minor goes wrong? “that’s the lamp’s fault.” he says. you decided to buy matching scarves and spices at the souk but your boyfriend decided he wasn't done and he bought a falcon figurine. that night, he sets it on the bedside table like it’s protecting you both. the next morning you find the figurine wearing your sunglasses. alex is dead asleep and pretending to snore. he definitely did it !

⋆˚꩜｡ max verstappen

max took you to a beach lounge with low cushions and string lights for your last night out in bahrain. he orders fancy and traditional food for you but he also order a shisha intrigued by it. he take multiple drags out of it then immediately coughs dramatically after trying the shisha. you nearly fall off your seat laughing. he tries again, acts like it’s fine, then accidentally inhales too hard and gets dizzy. you have to feed him water and stop him from declaring his love in panic because "he might be dying." later, when the air’s warm and the chaos has passed, you rests you head in his lap while the ocean waves roll infront of you. he whispers, "i meant the love part, by the way" like it’s no big deal. but he’s blushing and so are you.

⋆˚꩜｡ charles leclerc

charles rented a dune buggy for the evening and immediately tries to drift over sand hills with you screaming beside him. after three "almost-flips" and one stuck tire, you finally get out and just sit on a dune, sweaty and laughing. "that was one of the craziest date i've ever been on" you say, he jokingly agrees and kisses you.

⋆˚꩜｡ lando norris

lando convinced you to sneak up to the hotel’s rooftop pool after hours. you’re both whispering, giggling, trying to be quiet, until he cannonballs in without warning and splashes water everywhere. you threaten him and he dares you back. you started a splash war. at some point, he lifts you up on his shoulders, nearly slips, and you both go under laughing. you end up floating side by side in the water, the city glowing below you. he brushes water from your eyelashes, and for a second he’s not teasing, just soft as he lean in to kiss you.

⋆˚꩜｡ oscar piastri

you persuaded oscar to go on a stargazing tour, even though he’s suspiciously silent the whole drive. turns out he was just insanely overwhelmed by how quiet the desert can be. you lay back on a blanket while he paces at first, arms crossed, looking at the stars like they’re threatening him. eventually, he lies down next to you. after a while, oscar softly points out a constellation. then another. you glance over, and he’s already looking at you like you’re the whole sky.

⋆˚꩜｡ isack hadjar

isack bought way too much food from the hotel buffet for your bonfire date night. you end up on a quiet stretch of beach with a not-to-loud speaker and marshmallows he definitely doesn’t know how to roast. he tells you it’s your turn to “do something romantic,” so you draw a heart in the sand and he trips over it like five minutes later. He fake cries and calls it fate. in the end, the fire dies down and you sit there under the stars, fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie. isack leans over and mumbles, “i hope we do dumb stuff like this forever.”

[honeekyuu]

stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

or

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

------------------

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you. 

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse. 

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough. 

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying. 

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling. 

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

-

Fuck Tsukishima Kei . 

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you. 

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum. 

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random. 

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!” 

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?” 

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it. 

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?” 

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?” 

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given. 

Now he feels like he’s losing you. 

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you. 

That’s what this is about? 

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much. 

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -” 

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down. 

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh. 

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ” 

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning. 

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest. 

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him. 

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard. 

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit. 

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?” 

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly. 

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.” 

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe. 

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?” 

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further. 

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

[dreamlandbarnes]

f1 fic recs

a compilation of all the fics i've been reading in the f1 rpf tag on ao3! please leave comments and kudos for the authors, and check the tags before reading. sorted by pairing, and summary and word count are provided. none of these fics are mine.

if your fic is on here and you want it removed, please let me know!

part 2

charles leclerc / max verstappen

bloodsport by 140445 | 37,711 words | M

“I don’t care about then, you are here now,” Charles says. “You are on my side now.” Max is on his side. It’ll feel like that, too, at some point. Surely. Or: Max and Charles as teammates for the 24 hours of Le Mans.

such murderous and vengeful desire by foggystars | 20,676 words | E

Where Carlos’ girlfriend has her fingers crossed, keeps covering her eyes as if she can’t bear to watch, Max is focused, mouth set in a hard line. He’s leaning in, balancing on the edge of his seat. To anybody else he looks intent, focused on the screen. To Charles, he looks like a bird, poised to take wing. Like he’s about to fly right through the screen and take the steering wheel from Charles’ clumsy hands, get in there and drive the car himself. When Max Verstappen suffers a career ending injury, he pours all his effort into turning his old rival, Charles Leclerc, into a worthy champion. Five years and two world championships later, they finally decide to talk about it.

like in love with me by linearity | 7,800 words | T

Austria 2019, a two-person house party, Abu Dhabi 2021, a silly lover’s quarrel, and a stove-side morning proposal.

Anonym by additiv | 13,971 words | E

The truth is, Max finds Charles unbelievably annoying. He’s chaotic and unpredictable. He’s staring at Max across the room one moment, and in the next, seems to have forgotten he exists. He swaps clothes with people at random, whipping off his faded Gucci t-shirt in the middle of the dance floor, to trade it for some girl’s crop top, laughing and crowding close to block the view of her body while they make the exchange. When he disappears to the bathroom, Max never knows whether he’ll reappear with glitter on his eyelids, or white powder on his nose. He flirts with every person in the room, and probably sleeps with them too. He ignores Max completely, then goes home with him. He’s always gone when Max wakes up; nothing left behind, nothing missing. He refuses to stay the night, but refuses to let Max get over him. And, he refuses to let Max know anything about him.

when you cut me open by triangularity (linearity) | 44,900 words | E

Well, Charles concedes, miserably. He did die last night. A few days staying with his vampire ex-boyfriend probably isn’t the worst thing he’ll have gone through in January.

a life in your shape by weiwuxian (BreathOfDream) | 29,431 words | E

“Oh god, not you,” Charles groans, crossing his arms on his chest. The Batman visibly rolls his eyes (blue, of course, because all men that messed with Charles’ life had that in common apparently) at his reaction, but another look at Charles makes him step closer. “Yes, always a pleasure. Are you ok?” or: 5 times both Max and the Batman makes Charles' life a lot more complicated than needed + 1 time he doesn't

Frecheit by additiv | 208,723 words | E

The first time that Max heard the name Charles Leclerc was in 2022, just after winning his first WDC. Maybe it only stuck because he heard it twice in one night; first as Leclerc was announced as the 2022 F3 champion. Second, as Helmut lamented not signing him to the Red Bull driver development program. Now, Max is ready to put the newly-promoted Ferrari driver in his place. The problem is, Leclerc seems to think his place is on the top step of the podium. And he is not playing by the rules. An age-difference fic, where they never got to work out their differences as kids. 3-time WDC Max's experience of being personally victimised by baby-Charles.

in dream by 140445 | 81,025 words | E

Charles tried to figure out the dream on his own. In the morning he sat down with a cup of coffee, trying to make sense of what he had seen—he even googled it. Surely, Charles couldn't be the first or only person to dream about someone he shouldn't. But there were no search results for my professional rival is suddenly also my soulmate or soulmate dream of someone i'm not supposed to want???.  (In a world where soulmates identified each other by sharing a dream, Charles dreamt of the last person he expected.)

heart of the wind by pipitass | 13,830 words | M

There’s a slip of paper taped next to one of the doorbells — third floor, second door. It should, in theory, be the one directly across from his own. Max V. “Yes?” “Uh— hi.” He clears his throat. “It’s your neighbor. From across the street. Your, your clothes…” He doesn’t really know what to say after that. Hi, I got into a street fight with your bedsheets yesterday. Welcome to the neighborhood.

charles_leclerc ✔️ posted: 😘 by ninetqs | 11,500 words | M

Charles posts a photo with a mystery man and casually breaks the Internet in the process.

cameras in the traffic lights by c_e_1 | 9,958 words | M

Pop Crave @PopCrave • Aug 13 2023 Popstar Charles Leclerc has put his instagram on private after fans spotted Formula 1 driver Max Verstappen in the background of his vacation photos 303 comments | 1.6K retweets | 10K likes

(don't read) the last page by mintchocolatechip97 | 7,475 words | E

Max feels a light tap on his arm, and turns to see the beautiful door-opener, chestnut brown curls fluffed up on his head like he’s been running his hands through his hair. “I have been on a set a time or two,” the man says, trying and failing to wink, “but this is my first time in a writers room, so you are not the only rookie here.” He clearly speaks English fluently, but has a smidge of a European accent, which Max thinks might be French. “I’m sorry,” Max says, a little annoyed that this stranger is speaking to him as if they know each other, “I didn’t catch your name?” Several emotions flit over the man’s face, in such quick succession that Max can’t quite catch them all. In the end, he looks mortified. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he says, “This is going to sound terrible, like I am the worst kind of person, but I thought you would know who I was.” Dr. Max Verstappen gets hired as the expert medical consultant for a new Netflix show. Charles Leclerc, former teen heartthrob, stars.

all i know of love is hunger by 140445 | 28,509 words | E

Anger flares in Charles’ chest. Not the kind that he feels in the car, when he’s on Max’s tail, when they are braking late and later. The one that’s been looming over his head ever since Max announced his retirement. The one he hasn’t been able to tame until now, until he can give it a name. Betrayal.

hollywood and highland by japrufrocks | 26,730 words | E

Max had left New York a week before Charles had, seven days exactly. Max had gone to Hollywood; Charles had gone to a hospital. Now they're starring in the same film. Hollywood gives its darlings everything. It takes everything too.

straight lines (that unwind you) by 140445 | 16,330 words | E

“Do you know him?” Arthur asks. “No,” Charles decides. Because he does not. He knows Max is a mathematics major, and that he plays chess. And that he hits the gym. And what he looks like when he comes. Details.

all to play for by linearity | 49,300 words | E

Charles Leclerc is not at Red Bull to win races. He is here to win championships.

my thoughts will echo your name by witchee_writer | 38,826 words | M

“Do you think you’ll ever want to do Le Mans one day?” asked Max, glancing sideways at the man sitting next to him. Charles’ eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. “I think I want to win Le Mans one day.”

heart on your sleeve by nyoomfruits | 4,812 words | T

The thing about having a racing helmet that constantly displays your emotions for the whole world to see, is that you kind of get used to it after a while. These days Charles almost forgets it’s even a thing. Almost. But then he goes and falls in love.

ghost of you by nyoomfruits | 3,436 words | T

“All right, are you now finally ready to explain why four time world driver champion Charles Leclerc is currently in my living room?” Max says, as Charles towels off his hair. Charles pauses, lets the towel fall into his lap, stares at Max with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say four time?”

The HR Situation by thearchercore | 3,027 words | Gen

Jacob found out many things during his first month in the new HR role - Mary and Connor from Aero Engineering were dating. Thomas and Nick from Comms got recently divorced and it's a sensitive subject. Eddie from Legal had to go to an Anger Management class but hasn't had any issues since his return. Oh, and also - Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were fucking weird about each other. or: Charles and Max go to Mercedes and the HR Department is in shambles.

Sawtooth by nottonyharrison | 40,305 words | E

In another universe, Max rejected karting at the age of fifteen, no longer prepared to be a proxy for his father’s dream. He moved back to Belgium to live with his mum and sister, excelled at school, and eventually went on to complete a Masters of Mechanical Engineering. Now 27, after four years working for Alfa Romeo and Sauber, first as a junior performance engineer and then on the pit wall for Zhou Guanyu, he’s put forward for a job with Ferrari when Carlos Sainz is left without a race engineer thanks to the increasingly hectic F1 schedule. The problem is, Max has a crush on Carlos’ teammate. A huge, obvious, embarrassing crush that leaves him stumbling for words, face burning every time he’s within six feet of the guy. What makes it even worse is that sometimes he’s sure that Charles is looking right back.

leminiscate by weiwuxian (BreathofDream) | 27,799 words | E

Charles tries to imagine Max, on the opposite side of the kitchen. Eating bread too, like he did that first morning of the After—gross and charming. Tries to think about the way he would hold him, maybe. Of the softness of his lips, glossed by butter; and how he would laugh and push him away. His phone dings and he blinks himself awake once again.

achilles comes down by sincerelylancelot | 21,068 words | M

The World Championship trophy rests in his trembling hands, his name etched in fine gold. It isn't until he's staring down at it—his name nestled close to Max’s—that he realises his dreams have always been carved out of someone else’s pain. Jules. Max. And now, maybe even himself.

charles leclerc / carlos sainz jr

a bad recompense for your love by steviethenarwhal | 65,162 words | M

“I do not want to date you,” Charles says. Carlos’s eyes slide warily over to him. He tries to explain. “I do not date men. It would be… not smart.” “I don’t want to date you either,” Carlos says. “I do not date racecar drivers.”

translation theory by linearity | 9,500 words | E

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s golden boy, their Il Predestinato. He likes it up the ass and likes getting fucked by rockstars who have more tattoos than thoughts in their brains. What a fucking joke.

semiotic study by linearity | 8,600 words | E

Carlos knows. He knows what this is and what this is not. This is not romance, this is not love, but Charles makes it so easy to slip into that illusion. Charles makes it so hard, and Carlos cannot be without.

last night by venerat | 24,259 words | E

Rule #1: When you go to America, don't lose your virginity to your best friend's roommate. Charles fails Rule #1.

Good Boy by chiliconcarlos | 8,445 words | E

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault. ~~ Or: the one where Charles and Carlos want to settle the question of who's better in bed.

at the dinner table with god and my father by Cloudcollector | 4,599 words | M

There is a table in his house that knows more about him than his father. Or, Carlos and his father. And the family dinner table through the years.

win or lose (it's how you play the game) by chiliconcarlos | 18,321 words | E

It all starts because of a stupid bet.   Or: Carlos suggests a hickey bet for their '23 season, and it goes about how you'd expect.

darling by magnificentbirb | 6,579 words | T

The pet names begin as a joke.

carlos sainz jr / oscar piastri

take it or leave it by venerat | 6,771 words | E

r/relationships: My (22M) coworker (29M) keeps irritating me at work

he just turned in like i didn't exist by linearity | 36,500 words | E

Oscar doesn’t have a problem with his soulmate. It’s his soulmate who has the fucking problem.

Happy Death Race by powerfulowl (playmyace) | 28,390 words | E

Carlos gazes up at the fake blue sky. Dopey grin, contrapposto pose, head as empty as the cottony clouds above. “Look, look. Look, Piastri. It is always daylight.” Oscar imagines pushing him into the piss water canal. "Yeah, cool. Stop dying!" (Oscar is in a time loop and Carlos won't stop dying.)

when both our cars collide by buildyourfences | 8,483 words | M

It’s race day, which means his phone shouldn’t be ringing. And yet, it is. “Carlos, why are you not at the track yet? We are waiting for you.” “But–” “I sent you the updated schedule last night, please get here as soon as possible.” The call ends. He blinks down at the phone in his hand. Friday, March 1. Well, that’s not right. Carlos is trapped in a time loop. He can't stop crashing with Oscar.

at a constant speed by wisteriagoesvroom (bobaheadshark) | 11,676 words | E

“Are you close?” Oscar asks. “What does it look like?” “I wasn’t expecting it to be, uh, so…” What? Oscar wants to add. Hot? Desperate? Pathetic? All of the above? --- Or, carcar get themselves into a situationship, and it just keeps situating.

left a calling card so they would know that it was me by xxxdeerlordxxx | 6,139 words | E

Carlos continues to sit there, in the cockpit with his back to the wall, pieces of the torn advertisements raining down on him. He can see a big screen from where he’s at, the replays they show over and over, of Carlos spinning out, of Oscar driving away from the incident like nothing happened. Because of course no one believes him. But Carlos knows that Oscar’s to blame. Just not in the way people might think.

hatred cradles you by foggystars | 6,829 words | E

“You see?” Carlos asks, hanging up the phone. “He does not pick up.” Oscar shrugs, unsure why Carlos seems to think this is his problem. Just because Oscar’s his teammate doesn’t mean he knows where Lando is at all times, like some sort of twink-seeking missile. Then Carlos says, “I wait for him in here,” and nods to himself. He’s walking into Oscar’s hotel room before he can stop him, and all Oscar can do is blink stupidly at the empty stretch of hallway where Carlos once stood.

in midnight’s jaws by Springsteen | 30,806 words | E

Werewolves are fiction, the stuff of books and movies just like witches and zombies. Men do not turn into wolves, or fly on broomsticks, or raise the dead. There must be a logical explanation for the restlessness in Carlos's blood, for the waves of pain so sudden and intense it feels as though his bones are trying to break free of his body. Surely there is a perfectly good reason for Carlos to have woken in the dirt the morning after a full moon, with no idea where he is or how he got there. And surely there was a reason he turned to Oscar Piastri, of all people, for help.

pulling teeth by arboretics | 9,030 words | Not Rated

Oscar is very private, very in control. Carlos pretends he is both of those things, too. But after a late night collision in Baku 2024, things spiral between them into something straddling a game and an uncomfortable intimacy. A year on, Oscar and Lando are battling for the championship, Carlos is fighting for low points finishes, and Oscar loses his grip on the whole situation.

the better half of a good time by antimonyandthyme | 4,413 words | E

“Most guys, they look at the date.” He manages to make it sound both admiring and chiding. Oscar is very quickly losing control of this conversation. “Do you make a habit of just giving your license out? To every stranger you meet?” “Only those I really like.”

reckless attention by crescenteluce | 4,290 words | E

It’s probably on Oscar to be the bigger person here, to tell Carlos if he can’t do it sober, he shouldn’t be doing it at all. But that’s the thing about Carlos – he doesn’t exactly inspire Oscar to be the best version of himself.

george russell / max verstappen

winning mentality by linearity | 18,500 words | E

It’s not, like, a thing. It’s only happened twice, if you don’t count the time during the pre-season when Max shoved a thigh against George’s crotch, and George, touched-deprived and broken-hearted, let out a sharp gasp and came instantly. Max, looking shocked and frightened, stormed away.

cut your teeth by 140445 | 9,224 words | E

And that is the thing that brought George here. Eat or be eaten. It’ll happen either way. Maybe here, he will like the taste.

full throttle by calenmirel | 3,397 words | E

Later, Max will turn to him, meeting his gaze head on, and ask if George truly hadn’t seen him in his mirrors at turn eight, like George had claimed. He'll rub his hands on his racesuit as he says it, like he'll be rid of the phantom feeling of George's hair from between his fingers if he wipes them hard enough. George will look back at him, licking the taste of Max from the back of his teeth like he can savour it, and will reply, “of course I didn’t,” lying through his smile.

alexander albon / george russell

a feeling all brand new by ginnydear | 16,481 words | M

Alex is halfway through his sandwich when he starts to feel talkative, so he takes a sip of his tea and waits for Logan to finish chewing before he says what’s running through his mind at full speed. “I think I’m homophobic.”

nothing but teeth by crescenteluce | 25,057 words | E

“Oh, come on.” Alex says, poking George in the thigh again with his foot. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done a little-” Alex makes a complicated hand-wavy gesture that has the contents of his glass nearly sloshing over the sides. “At your fancy boy schools, a little stiff upper-lipped make-out amongst the chaps? In between rounds of cricket and fox hunting?”

carlos sainz jr / max verstappen

ease the madness by magnificentbirb | 12,231 words | M

Max signed away his soul on his sixteenth birthday.

pierre gasly / charles leclerc

a long time (maybe forever) by strongestavenger | 10,021 words | T

AITA: homophobic but only to my roommate/best friend? First of all, I swear I have never been a discriminatory person – I have lots of gay friends and my little brother is bisexual. I know that sounds stupid as hell but it’s my only defense right now. My problem is that I (Marc, 26M, straight) have a roommate (Jacques, 28M, gay), who has also been my best friend since we were kids, and I think I’ve started to feel homophobic towards him? (or: Charles needs some outside help to figure things out.)

miscellaneous / general / multi

One thousand laps of jeddah by in_in_in_in_in_in_in | 68,585 words | Gen

George feels sick for the whole ride to the track. He has no idea how he got from breakfast to the car, let alone how he shook off Alex. He knows that he said ‘for god’s sake, Alex, I’m not on drugs’ about a hundred times, even though he’s not at all sure that it’s the truth. What else could have happened to him? Did he dream the race last night?

eat them alive by linearity | 57,000 words | E

Oscar lost Lando a championship and left McLaren. There was still a year in between.

the condominium community committee by jusst_you_wait | 36,452 words | T

the condominium community - 2:36pm Oscar and Logan have been added to the chat George Hello, welcome to a group chat we have for the Formula apartment building! There are only 18 (20 now) of us so we like to keep in contact about the building maintenance and other neighbourly orders of business. I’m George, and I liaise with the building manager on behalf of all of us when there is a building specific issue rather than an apartment issue. Welcome to the building! Lando do u copy and paste that from ur notes every time Alex I bet he has it memorised ~ or, the ridiculous chat fic where the f1 grid all live in the same apartment building

temperature get to you by minieggs11 | 9,339 words | E

It’s Logan’s last ride of the night, it’s clearly two drunk tourists going back to their hotel. As long as they give him a five star rating, he doesn’t care what happens.

sugar and spice by pipitass | 10,785 words | E

“Do you know already? Who you’ll pick?” Oscar frowns. Eyes still closed, scrunched now. Sharp brows downturned, meeting in the middle of his face. “When you win.” The frown deepens for a second. Then his face releases, and he shrugs. Shuffles as he goes to lay down, kicking his shoes off before he brings them up so his toes are poking at Max’s thigh, settling in. “Someone nice.”

triple header by 140445 | 7,890 words | E

Because Oscar isn’t here with Charles. And he’s not here with Max. He doesn’t get it, this thing between Max and Charles. They look like they’re here together, share glances that make Oscar feel like an intruder—but Max brought Oscar back to the booth to sit with them. For Charles to flirt with him. As if it’s some kind of game, where Max brings back prey for Charles to take.

somebody else by piastrism | 31,252 words | E

Oscar misses the color lilac — the color of the twilight sky behind Charles as they drank wine on Sedici, and the long-faded color left behind on his hips by Max’s fingertips.

we'll take the shadows (since the limelight isn't ours) by magnificentbirb | 2,177 words | T

Lando hears the screech of tires on asphalt behind him, the distant crunch of carbon fiber colliding with a wall. He glimpses only the aftermath of the carnage—the dust and smoke, the flashing lights, the unmistakable gleam of bright red—and then he’s clear. And that’s when the seconds slow down.

possessed by light by Anonymous | 6,885 words | Gen

It is a lesson you learn alone. Or that you are supposed to learn alone. At some point you will look at yourself in the mirror and see not just flesh and blood. You will see the capabilities beyond that. You will see your body as a ladder to forever ascend, to always want more. You will see just what you’re made of—and you will realise it has to be used. You will learn not to waste it. Charles did not learn that on his own.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡Ｇｏｏｄ Ｆｏｒｍ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!yunho x chubby!fem!reader x best friend!mingi

♡ Genre: smut/a lil dash of fluff

♡ Summary: When you decide to have some late night fun with your boyfriend in the kitchen, the furthest thing from your mind is that your best friend might walk in and see you but when he does you're both more than happy to have him there.

♡ Word Count: 3k-ish

♡ Warnings: Yunho gives dom vibes. Mingi's a bit shy at first. Threesome (the boys don't touch each other though). They have a real thing for your chubby body. They're overall obsessed w/ you truly. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Oral sex (f & m receiving/heavy on the f receiving). Fingering. Multiple orgasms. Nipple play. Tit sucking. Hair pulling. Nibbling. Ass slapping. Overstimulation. Cum swallowing. Cum swapping. Squirting. A lil edging. Clit slapping. I use the word "pussy" cause I'm not a "cunt" gal. Lots of bodily fluids. Pet names (baby, angel)

♡ A/N: I've been writing a lot of really thoughtful, emotional pieces lately and this...is totally not one of them. It has it's moments but really it's 3k words of filth. I'm for sure gonna do a part 2 because I feel like I can do more with this but for now enjoy your hot girl moment, babes. You deserve it.

You'll never grow tired of this sound...

Yunho slurping down your juices, his soft lips pursed around your clit. Every decadent, unpredictable stroke of his tongue makes your thighs tremble. Three long, dexterous fingers pump in and out of your core drowning you in pleasure.

Yunho had sincerely wandered into the kitchen for a midnight snack when he stumbled upon you here. Bent over in the fridge with your deliciously plush ass peeking from the bottom of your red lace panties, you instantly became the only thing his taste buds craved.

You had your hand on an ice cold bottle of water when you felt two strong hands spreading your thighs apart. “Up a little late aren’t you?” he teased, stroking your slit through the barely there material. Your breath hitched, the cool air from the refrigerator the only thing to ease the heat consuming your body. “I couldn’t sleep and I—mmm—I just wanted—ah.”

Yunho tucked your panties to the side, sinking his middle finger into you. You were already so needy and wet, so easily turned on at the slightest bit of attention from him, that he could've never stopped there. “Just wanted what, baby?” he whispered, dropping to his knees, “Tell me what you want.” It tickled when you felt his lips brush against your skin, leading a trail of kisses around the curve of your ass and down your thighs.

“Yunie, I can’t—fuck, I can’t think” you moaned, holding onto one of the shelves to keep your legs from giving out. “Aww, baby” he smiled, slapping your ass hard enough to make it jiggle, “You don’t have to.”

Yunho knows where your sweet spot is. How to rotate his wrist and curl his finger at the perfect angle to make your body surrender to him. He had you wrapped around his finger—clenching—literally. You were dripping by the time he slipped your panties down to drink from you like the sweetest fountain. He made sure you came twice before he lifted you onto the counter and spread your aching legs open to taste you more.

Backed into a corner, one foot up on each side of the counter, you’re completely at his mercy and this is exactly where you want to be. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you stare down at him with those beautifully glossy eyes of yours.

Yunho tilts his head up to meet your gaze, fluffy dark brown hair framing his face, and it’s obvious he’s as blissed out as you are. He suckles at your clit as he pulls back just enough for you to see your sensitive bud twitching in response to him. Without warning he buries his face between your legs, humming with pleasure as he completely devours you.

You throw your head back, stars illuminating your vision. “Yunie, please don’t stop” you beg, fingers tangling in his hair as he wrecks you in the best way. Just when the pressure inside of you reaches its peak, your pussy ready to turn into a waterfall, you notice a figure standing in the doorway.

Mingi? Fuck. You’ve been so swept up in the moment, blinded by lust, that you completely forgot Mingi was staying over tonight.

It’s coming up on 4 years since you met Yunho and Mingi in a cramped club your friend’s band was playing at. The crowd that night was completely out of control. A swirling pit of drunks in desperate need of therapy. Just trying to get to the bathroom was a death wish. Yunho and Mingi didn’t have to step in to protect you but they did and they have ever since.

It never occurred to you to ask why they helped you. You saw it in the way they watched you at the restaurant after, like you were some shiny new toy they had acquired. Only Mingi treated you like a collector’s item, too delicate to take off of the shelf. He thought it better to admire you, imagine what it’d be like to play with you, but could never get the courage to do it.

Yunho, on the other hand, wasted no time taking you out of the box. Everything about you was too alluring for him to deny. His hunger for you then was as intense as it is now and he needed to indulge or he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Mingi hides it well, at least he thinks he does, but he regrets it. He wishes you knew how badly he wants you to be his in every sense of the word. Could you even fathom the things he’d do to trade places with his best friend right now?

Mingi knows that he should turn around—go back to the guest room, pretend nothing ever happened—but he’s too hypnotized by you to do it. “Hi, Mmm-Mingi” you giggle, noticing the thick bulge in his sweatpants. Mingi follows your gaze down to a cock hard enough to split you in two. You smile at him like you’d love to see him try it. You would. “Yunie,” you coo, tapping him on the back of the neck, “We have company.”

Yunho doesn’t register it at first, too intoxicated by your pussy to process anything that comes out of your mouth as coherent language. Mingi’s eyes widen and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head. He’s scared out of his mind and insanely horny, a combination of things he’s never felt before and has no clue what to do with. Yunho’s motions slow as he deprives you of his tongue. His fingers slide out of you, soaked in your arousal.

“Company?” he asks, rising to his feet, lips dripping wet.

You nod, pointing to Mingi, “I think we woke him up.”

Yunho lets out a low, playful chuckle, turning only halfway to greet his best friend. “Fuck,” Mingi mumbles, frantically scanning the kitchen for something else to look at. “I wasn’t looking! I swear! I came to grab my…” Spotting the spice rack beside him, he blindly grabs the first thing he sees. “Chili pepper flakes? Yeah, they’re so good for a late night snack, you know?”

Unconvinced but amused by his attempt, Yunho turns back to face you. He lures you into a kiss, sharing with you the delightfulness of your taste. He rests the back of his hand against your core, knuckles grazing your clit just enough to keep you on edge. “Can I share?” he asks between the feverish clashing of your tongues. “Mmmhmm” you gasp, your back arching at the return of his touch. Yunho shakes his head, hands riding your curves up to where your nipples poke through your shirt.

He takes your supple breast into his hand, massaging it as he rolls your nipple between his fingertips. “Baby, that won’t do. I need to hear you say it this time. Tell me what you want.” You tilt your head to the side, taking in the tall, handsome blonde watching you. “You can share me, Yunie” you whisper, breath tickling the side of his neck, “I want it.” He pinches your nipple, locking his other arm around your waist, “Aah, good girl. That wasn’t so hard was it? Now hold onto me.”

You do as you’re told and cling to him in time to be lifted from the smooth marble counter. Yunho kisses you once more as he spins you around. A dizzying transition that ends in you draped across the kitchen table. “Are you joining or are you just gonna watch?” Yunho asks Mingi, too distracted with the cute squishy belly poking from the bottom your shirt to actually face him.

Mingi can hear his heart thumping its way out of his chest. He has to be hearing things. “Oh, I—you can’t be—are you s…” he stutters, squeezing the life out of that poor bottle of chili pepper flakes. Yunho nibbles at your exposed belly before turning to confront the confusion on Mingi’s face, “Serious? Yes. I’m serious. I know you’ve always wanted her so…come get her.”

Mingi hesitates, still unsure if it’s a trick or not. The chance that Yunho will murder him if he actually tries seems higher than this not being a fever dream. Shifting to get more comfortable on the table, you hold your hand out to Mingi, your body calling to him like a siren beckons sailors to their doom. It’s enough to make him drop everything, to abandon all these years of pretending.

Mingi carefully makes his way over to you, taking your hand in his. You’re beautiful at any angle but there’s something about this one—you staring up at him from the filthiest position with the most innocent eyes—that really gets him.

It’s the perfect angle for you too, one your boyfriend knows you’ve fantasized about. These two broad shouldered angels looming over you, bathing you in their admiration. “Kiss me” you whisper, palming Mingi’s cock through his thick sweatpants. Mingi grunts at the euphoric release of tension as his lips latch onto yours, his kiss ravenous and sloppy. His platinum hair falls into your face, immersing you in the crisp floral scent of his shampoo.

Yunho watches as Mingi snatches your shirt up, taking his time to enjoy how your tits bounce when they pop free. Pushing your legs back, Yunho drags his fingers between your lips to pull back the hood of your clit. He flicks his thumb up and down, smiling as you arch and wiggle beneath him. Mingi sneaks a glimpse down at Yunho, breaking the kiss to hear your moans. For the first time he doesn’t have to listen through the walls, you’re making all those sinful noises right before his eyes and it’s glorious to behold.

“You’re so cute” Mingi says, cupping your fluffy cheeks. “You—ah—think so?” you ask, tucking a finger into the waist of his sweatpants. You slip your hand inside, taking as much of him into your hand as you can. Mingi pulls them down for you and you audibly gasp at the gorgeous cock that springs free. You glide up and down, circling the head with your thumb. Mingi cups one of your breasts, kneading the plush flesh as drags his tongue down to your nipple. “Mmhmm” he hums, stuffing his mouth full of you, “So fucking cute.” 

You lay there breathless—trying to talk your trembling body down from your next orgasm—when you feel the throbbing head of Yunho’s cock rub up and down your entrance. “You ready for me, baby?” he asks, raising your legs up to balance your ankles on his shoulders. When he does it presses him into you a little bit further and you cry out, raising your hips for more. “Mmm—ready for you Yunie.” Yunho snaps his hips, bottoming out in one thrust that sends electricity dancing through your body.

A soft tug brings Mingi in close enough that you can turn and lick the precum leaking from the tip of his cock. “Fuck, that feels so good” he moans, rising to push deeper into your throat. Your tongue curls on the underside of his cock, the textured roof of your mouth dragging along it as he fucks your throat.

This is what they’ve wanted since the night you met. What you’ve wanted too. It’s so satisfying, like scratching an itch you never could quite reach, to let them take you together. Their hands glide across your velvet smooth skin, exploring every inch of you. They’re so careful with you, matching paces to keep you comfortable. All you have to do is lay here and let them take care of you—let them worship you.

Yunho caresses your legs, fingers digging into your hips, “I feel you clenching, baby. You close?” You know he expects an answer even if you’re currently drooling around Mingi’s cock. You give him a muffled, “Yes.” But that’s not nearly enough for either of them. Mingi grabs you by the hair, pulling out to leave your mouth painfully empty. “Your voice is too pretty not to hear” he says, stroking your lips, “You ready to come for us, baby? Gonna let me see how good you look coming on your boyfriend’s cock?”

“Yes, Mingi. I’m gonna c—oh my—ah…” you whimper only for Mingi to shove himself back inside of you before you can finish speaking. Not that you’re complaining. The men exchange a brief glance, returning their attention to you with something new in mind. They move faster and harsher, struggling as much as you do to keep it together. They could both come right now from the way you pulsate your walls around Yunho or the way your throat muscles flutter around Mingi. But there’s no question that it has to be you first. 

Your eyelids grow heavy, the pressure bursting inside of you, and suddenly gravity doesn’t exist anymore. Mingi holds your hand and Yunho rubs your belly as you squirt down his length. Yunho licks his lips at the mess you've made of his pants, the wet spot growing the more you bounce down onto him. “That’s it, baby. Use my fucking cock, angel.” He lays his hand flat on your clit and slaps it just enough for you to feel the sharpness of the contact.

It makes you clench even tighter—the tightest he’s ever felt you—and he can’t take it anymore. He spills into you, filling you so far beyond your limit that your pussy’s gushing it back out at him before he’s even empty. Mingi plays with your nipples, pinching one and then the other, switching every time you get too used to the feeling.

Your mouth falls open, your overstimulated body beginning to go limp. You keep it open, tongue hanging out to welcome the thick ropes of come Mingi empties into your mouth. It collects in the back of your throat making your moans sound like tiny gurgles. What’s left leaks from the corners of your mouth and Mingi kisses you quickly, swapping the warm, salty liquid back and forth between the two of you until it’s nothing.

You stay entangled with them for an amount of time you can’t really grasp, coming down together. The room slips into silence. The only sound you hear is the symphony of heavy, uneven breaths. You look around at each other, the reality of what you’ve just done setting in. No one regrets it, you’d all be up for it again if one of you had it in you to ask, but it’s hard to know what to say.

You love each other more than anything. What you share is so special that you’ve all done everything to keep from fucking it up. To think that this might be what does. That the next thing to come out of your mouth could destroy it all. It’s terrifying.

Yunho clears his throat, stretching your legs for you so you don’t cramp up. “Can I get you anything? A snack?” You poke your bottom lip out, contemplating your snack options, “Uh, nah. I’m okay.” Noticing your throat sounds a little dry, Mingi grabs a bottle of water from the fridge—the very one you had your hand on earlier—and brings it to you. He twists the cap off and raises it to your lips, “You need to hydrate. I’m not asking.”

“Ooh, when’d you get so bossy?” you ask, taking a sip of water, “I like it.” Mingi takes a sip for himself before passing it to Yunho who chugs down the rest. “Shower?” Yunho says, swishing some water around in his cheeks. To you and Mingi it sounds like “swishwer”. Mingi squints his eyes at him, “Swishwer?” “I think he means ‘shower’” you whisper, trying to channel enough energy to sit yourself up. Yunho nods, swallowing the last few drops. “Yes! That! Shower. I’ll go run the water and you…” He points to Mingi and then to you, “Grab her and be careful. She’s expensive.”

Yunho walks off to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. You finally manage to sit up and swing around to face Mingi. He puts his arms around you, kissing the bridge of your nose, “Don’t worry about holding on but just…don’t scream.”

“Don’t scream? Wh—”

Mingi throws you over his shoulder and you do in fact scream. “What are you doing to my girlfriend?” Yunho shouts from the bathroom, flipping the shower on. Mingi carries you down the hall, your feet kicking as you giggle. “She’s fiiiine” he sighs, rolling his eyes, “It’s not like I’m gonna drop her.” Stepping into the bathroom Mingi pretends to trip for the fun of it.

“Put me down you psycho!” you whine, your life flashing before your eyes.

Mingi pouts, nuzzling his cheek up to your side, “I wasn’t really gonna drop you. So mean.” He lowers you down, letting you hold onto his arm while you gain your footing. You go to take your shirt off, it’s barely on, but the room still feels like it’s spinning.

“I got it, baby. Come here.” Yunho pulls you over to him and helps you out of your shirt. In return you help him out of his pants, tossing them off to the side. Yunho hops into the shower and you’re back at Mingi’s side, pushing his shirt up over his head. You never break eye contact once, committing every detail of each other’s naked bodies to memory.

You lead him into the shower and find yourself happily positioned between the two of them beneath the warm running water. Yunho cuddles you from the front and Mingi holds you from behind. The three of you fit together perfectly, like you were always meant to be like this.

Eventually you’ll have to say something. You’ll have to have an honest conversation about where things go from here. But for tonight you’ll stay in this moment together, letting your hearts revel in feelings your lips may never speak of again.

[lucymmiller]

Check Me Out

Two stressed souls meet in the check-out lane of a grocery store. 

Pre/no-outbreak AU. Single-dad!Joel x fem!Reader. 

Word Count: 2.4k 

Tags: meet-cute, no reader description, reader uses she/her, Joel and his Southern manners, fluff, slice-of-life, ooh Joel Miller has a crush, mentions of Sarah Miller, mentions of Tommy Miller if you squint, shitty puns, profanity, no y/n, Joel is kinda smug, but also mildly-insecure!Joel, dinner party chaos, missing watch batteries, alcohol, slow-burnish? 

Author’s Note: I had so much fun writing this!!! Inspired by an interaction I had yesterday at the store lol. I’m thinking of writing their date in a different part, maybe I make this into a mini-series, who knows. Let me know what you guys think :) 

—-------

“Yes, I know she’s vegan, that’s why I’m swapping out the- what? You told me she was vegan last week, what do you-” You sigh, stopping in the middle of the produce section, hand hovering over a block of tofu. 

“Well, if your fiancée makes another dietary decision between now and when I leave the store, just give me another call.” You hang up on Chris, your dearest friend from college, just a tad too quickly, already frustrated with the last-minute shopping you have to do for your dinner party tonight. 

Technically, your fault, considering you’ve had this planned out since last month. 

It’s fine, though. You have the last of the things you need in your basket and a bottle of wine waiting for you when you get home. 

The grocery store is fairly busy today, riddled with tired parents stopping by to get groceries after work and older folks armed with their coupon books. All of the check-out lanes have a line of at least three shoppers in each. Fucking perfect, of course, when your dinner party guests arrive in just a little over two hours.

You wait anxiously at the end of one of the lanes, the line you’re in long enough to bleed into the baby formula aisle. You feel yourself start to stare off into space when, in your periphery, the light on Lane 4 flicks on. 

You melt with relief and start to march over, piling your items onto the conveyor as the cashier, a middle-aged woman named Linda with her hair up to God, greets you. You expect the worst to happen as she reaches for the first item to scan, as if Chris is going to call and tell you his fiancée actually prefers the tempeh from some pricey fucking organic store across town, or the register somehow stops working, or-

“S’cuse me, ma’am.” 

You don’t expect this. 

You whip your head up to look at the source of the voice. Tall, scruffy, clearly exhausted. There’s a bunch of bananas balanced atop a container of formula in his left hand, his right reaching up to palm at the back of his neck. 

“Mind if I uh-” He gestures to the display of gum that stands tall next to the conveyor belt. You let out a little oh before you step aside, letting him reach over and grab a packet of sugar-free spearmint. 

Your eyes dart down to his left hand again. No ring, you notice. You look back up at his tired face. 

“Did you wanna go ahead of me? You’ve only got a couple items.” 

You should be in a rush. You should be ignoring this ruggedly handsome man with the bananas and the formula and the gum and be speeding home right now, throwing your groceries onto the counter and pre-heating your oven to 375°. You’re not evil, though. 

“You sure? Seemed like you were in a rush, earlier.” 

He’s observant. Cute. 

“It’s fine, really. I’m sure you’ve got more important places to be.” You give him a polite smile and step aside, your lower back pressing into a rack of candy bars as he squeezes by. He smells a bit like coffee and sawdust and baby powder. 

“S’real nice of you, miss. Thank you.” He nods, mirroring your smile as he sets down his items. 

“Came here looking for watch batteries. Left with stuff for the baby, as always.” He lets out an awkward breath of a laugh, right hand coming down to slap the face of his watch on the left. When you glance at it, its hands remain still, and there’s a peek of paler skin beneath its green straps. 

“None in that uh- shelf near the gift cards?” You inquire. “No ma’am.” He mumbles. He steps forward to collect his bag of items. 

You expect him to thank you again, give you a curt nod and be on his way. But he stays. Stands there and watches as Linda scans your plethora of items. 

“What type’a batteries are they?” You sputter out when you realize he isn’t leaving. Why in the world would you ask him, as if you’d know where the hell you’d find watch batt-

When he reaches into his pocket and fishes out the tiny coin cell battery, you realize that you in-fact do know where to find his watch batteries. Because you fucking have them. 

“Shit, wait- I have those. Bought ‘em a while ago when my nephew’s robot thingy needed a replacement, but I still have the rest of them, if you wanted.” You shrug. 

“Oh, no, that’d be askin’ for too much from you-” He starts to shake his head, and the threads of silver hair near his temple sparkle against the harsh overhead lights. 

“You didn’t ask,” you retort. “I offered.”

“Hmph.” He gives you a once-over, seemingly amused by your kind stubbornness. 

“This has been real cute to watch, but I need y’all to move. Got a line.” Linda interrupts your stare-off with the man, prompting you to look behind you. You’re met with the unpleasant scowls of three coupon-wielding seniors with full shopping carts. “Sorry,” you chirp, quickly paying and reaching over to gather your bags, only to realize that Mister Watch-Battery already took them for you. He nods his head sideways towards the exit, already walking ahead of you. 

“Never got your name.” He says as you lead him toward your car. 

You give him your first name, then ask for his. 

“Joel. Miller.” 

“‘Kay, Joel Miller, listen-” You rummage through your purse for your car keys, popping open the trunk and watching as he hauls your groceries into it like they weigh nothing. “I’ve got people coming over for dinner in about two hours, so I can’t get your watch battery to you right this instant…”

“Oh, s’okay, really, I’m in no rush to find-”

“What time is it?” You tilt your head as you ask him the question. 

He straightens his left arm, knocking the cuff of his flannel out of the way before lifting it up to read his watchface… which is still frozen in time. 

His face drops and you can’t help but giggle. 

“Not gonna know when you need to get home to feed your baby bananas ‘n’ formula f’you don’t got a watch, Mr. Miller.” You glance up at his sulking figure with a smirk as you scribble something down onto the back of your grocery list. 

You hand the crumpled paper to him. “My address. Stop by later and I’ll give you your battery.” 

“Shouldn’t be giving your address out to strangers.” He chides. 

You shrug. “My apartment’s about to be full of tipsy psychos so… it’s your call.” 

He hovers by the car door once you get into the driver’s seat, pocketing the paper before leaning a hand against the roof of your car. “Good luck cookin’ for your uh- dinner party.” He leans down, eyes darting around the interior of your car, looking at anything but your face through the rolled-down window. 

“Thank you, Joel. Hopefully you’ll get there before the food’s gone.” You smile. 

“We’ll see.” He grumbles before knocking on the roof and taking a step back. 

When you back up and honk to say goodbye, clicking your blinker to merge onto the main road, you see him in the rearview mirror. He hasn’t moved from your parking spot yet. 

—-------

Your tiny dinner table is packed, everyone’s three glasses of wine in, and your friend Aubrey put a record on your player in the living room and cranked the volume to the max about thirty minutes ago. 

You’re too busy trying to portion leftover tofu stir-fry into take-home tubs to notice someone knocking at your door. 

Chris had excused himself to the bathroom not too long ago, so when he hollers your name loud enough to break through the stringy rhythms of Steve Earle, you jump a little. 

“There’s a… guy. At the door.” He says as you approach him with a concerned look. 

You peek past his tall stature, expecting the “guy” to be your divorced-dad of a neighbor frowning and asking you to turn the music down. 

To your surprise, it’s not your neighbor. 

It’s Joel Miller. 

“You actually came,” you breathe, eyes widening. 

“You offered.” He says smugly. Asshole.

He clears his throat, then awkwardly lifts a bottle of wine you hadn’t noticed he was holding. “Brought this as payment for the battery.” 

“Oh, you didn’t have to-” You start, but before you can even finish your sentence, Chris is taking the bottle from Joel and sauntering off back to the table with a lazy smile. Your lips fall into a flat line. 

You step aside to let him in, leading him through your narrow foyer before taking a sharp turn right into your kitchen. 

“Steve Earle.” He hums, barely audible over the music that’s somehow gotten louder. 

“It’s one of my dad’s old records. Was my favorite as a kid. Stole it before I moved out.” You smile, reminiscing as you search through your junk drawer for the batteries. 

“You got good taste.” Joel nudges your shoulder with his. Flannel against skin. 

Your apartment starts to feel a little warmer. 

“Who is this?” You hear a sing-songy voice glide in next to you. It’s your friend Bea in all of her tipsy, curly-haired glory. She’s eyeing him like you would a stranger at a bar.

“This is Joel, met him in the check-out line today. He’s lookin’ for batteries that I should have but can’t seem to find.” You grumble, slightly panicked as you continue to sift through a box of spare metal bits from an IKEA shelf you assembled the other month. 

“Hmph,” Bea bumps her hip with yours, and you already know where this is going. “Wish he would check me out.” She mumbles, and you nearly knock the wine glass out of her hand. Before you get the chance to actually do that, she scurries away with a giggle. 

“Sorry about that.” You mumble, shooting Joel an apologetic look.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” his lips curl up into a gentle smile, “You warned me about ‘em earlier, didn’t you? Tipsy psychos.” 

“I did.” You concede. “Sorry this is taking so long, I swear I have them.” 

“You apologize a lot,” Joel notes, his eyebrows furrowed with amusement, “been here all of five minutes, sweetheart. Take your time.” 

While you continue your search in a different area, the linen closet turned storage closet near your bedroom, you ask him about himself. 

“I’m assuming the uh- baby formula wasn’t for you to consume. You got a kid?” 

He laughs and nods, leaning against the wall next to the closet. “Mhm. Sarah. Curls for days,” he shakes his head, and when you look up at his face, there’s clear admiration for his kid. “Turnin’ six months soon, thought we’d give bananas a shot today.” 

“What’s the verdict?” 

“Loved ‘em. Started mushin’ ‘em up in her hands and just-” He cuts himself off, mimicking his little girl’s movements with his own hands and a chomping mouth. It makes you throw your head back in laughter. His grin grows wider. 

You eventually stop searching completely, too engrossed in Joel’s stories about his almost-six-month old, finding yourself admiring his admiration for his baby. 

Halfway through a story about spit-up, you’re reminded of why he’s here in the first place. “Shit, let me find your batteries. Get you out of here and back to the wife and kid.” You test the waters. No ring, you know, but that could be for any reason. You’re not even sure why you’re questioning it. 

He’s quiet for a moment, simply watching as you find a box with an Energizer logo half-ripped. 

“Just the kid. My brother’s watchin’ her right now.” 

You fight back a smile. 

You nod, too afraid to look at him, worried you’re going to say something stupid if you do. 

“Ha, here they are.” You lift up the flimsy cardboard sheet up victoriously, two of the coin cell batteries gone from the plastic packaging. You pop two of them out, lifting your hand to drop them into Joel’s. 

“Take one for the road too.” You joke. He smiles.

“Can’t thank you enough.” He mumbles as he takes his watch off, popping the back panel off and slotting the battery in. He flips it back over, and you both breathe with relief when the hands start tick tick ticking away. 

He secures the green straps back onto his wrist before dropping his hand, looking at you as if he has more to say. 

“Let me walk you out.” You nod your head in the vague direction of your front door. 

“BYE JOE!” You hear Bea shout over the scratchy record and shake your head with a chuckle. Joel lifts his hand with a polite goodbye, stepping over the threshold of your door. You lean against the doorframe with crossed arms. 

“Can I repay you?” He asks, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. 

You’re immediately shaking your head no. “It’s just a couple batteries that I forgot I even had before you showed me which ones you needed, you don’t have-”

“Dinner.” He blurts. 

“What?” Your eyes narrow with confusion. 

“Let me take you out to dinner.” He breathes, like he’s been holding onto those words this entire time. 

You freeze, still in disbelief that you even managed to convince him to even stop by to retrieve his fucking batteries. When he raises his eyebrows expectantly, you manage a few words. 

“That uhm- sure, I mean, yes, dinner sounds.. great.” You both stare each other down. You expect him to bail, to realize how ridiculous it is to ask you out, just because you did him a favor. He expects you to bail out on him, because he took you away from your friends at your own dinner party, because he’s an exhausted single dad whose hamper is filled with spit-up stained shirts. 

But neither of you do. 

“Next Friday okay?” He looks at you with hopeful eyes. 

You nod. “Next Friday is okay.” 

“Okay. G’night.” He smiles. 

“Goodnight, Joel.” 

When you close your door, you nearly collapse in your foyer. Just as your heart rate starts to slow down, your friends pop out from the corner leading into your kitchen, all wide-eyes and toothy grins. 

“Our girl’s got a date!” Aubrey yells, prompting the rest of them to cheer. 

“You guys are so stupid,” You mutter, masking your bashful smile by pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. 

When you turn to circle next Friday on your calendar in the kitchen, you’re met with a surprise. 

Thick handwriting, undeniably Bea’s, scrawled onto the date a week from today with Sharpie:

CHECK HER OUT!!!

[love-fictional-ppl]

First Blowjob

Summary: short headcanons on virgin!Bakugou getting his first blowjob!

Pairings: virgin!Katsuki Bakugou x gn!reader

Warnings: NSFW under the cut.

A/N: both reader and Bakugou are aged up.

I just know part of the reason he was such a dick in U.A. was due to his lack of action. And I don’t mean fighting villains.

I imagine Bakugou fresh out of U.A. who wants to experiment but has no clue where to start, his friends have all given him advice but none of it worked for him.

By chance you and Bakugou met at some bar that he and his friends hangout at, the two of you swapped numbers that night and started hanging out almost every week.

Of course Bakugou thought you were hot, he would be stupid not to think so. He just had not clue if you felt the same sort of attraction towards him.

Lucky for the blonde bastard, you confirmed it for him.

The two of you were having one of your normal hangouts, at your apartment, watching some cheesy “horror” movies you didn’t know the name of.

No doubt you had been wanting to hook up with Bakugou, only thing stopping you being a fear or rejection, till tonight.

When you looked over at the male on the other side of your couch, you caught him on his phone. You took that as a sign that he was as disinterested in the movie as you were.

“You wanna do something else?” You broke the silence making Bakugou look over at you.

“Sure,” he responded, putting his phone down.

“You want me to suck your dick?”

And just like that you were sucking one of your newfound best friend’s dick.

Bakugou threw his head back trying to contain all noise and hoping he didn’t blow his load too quick.

Make him suck on your fingers, he loves it. And it’s such a hot scene.

Poor baby likely won’t last long with the way you’re sucking out his soul, and with him sucking on the ring and middle finger of your right hand while your left hand fondles his balls

Him cumming is such a reward, he loses his composure for just that minute and it’s so rewarding to watch. When Katsuki cums he releases all the noises he tried so hard to keep in and his legs spasm ever so slightly.

Keep sucking even while he’s cumming, he looks adorable when he’s overstimulated.

Once you pull away from Bakugou, you get up to go grab a cloth and water bottle for him. When you return you simply hand it to him.

Katsuki looks over at you with his go-to smirk, “So, can we do this again?”

[dear-ao3]

Sorry i tried to scroll past but, i know nothing about f1 other than max verstappen is fast, my dad doesnt like lewis hamilton, fast car goes in a loop and sometimes expodes. Could you give me a crash course in f1 drama? Im very intrigued. Whats the tea as it were?

a terribly loaded question, but i will do my best. i’ve talked about some of the drama before like the red bull second seat and the chronicles of haas but allow me to briefly try my hand at explaining the nightmare that is the upcoming silly season

under the cut we go

silly season is when the drivers go through contract renewals, extensions and switches. usually it’s confined to the first half of the season (march-july) but it has been known to extend all the way to the last race of the season and they like to switch people around at random sometimes. driver contracts are complex, there’s a lot of money involved and basically You Are The Face Of The Team so if you have a shit season then you make the team look bad. but at the same time you could have a shit season because you have a shit car. it’s sticky stuff.

so. there are only twenty seats in formula 1. 10 teams. each team gets two drivers. (there’s also reserve drivers but we’re not going to get into that). who ends up with a contract is largely up to the teams, they can pull the contract out from under people they can also cut you mid season. they’ve done it before.

of the 20 drivers on the grid, 14 of them have contracts expiring at the end of the year. yes. 14. you see how this could get complicated.

so let’s meet the teams.

red bull racing. they came first this year (and last year) in the championship. like aggressively first. like they won the championship by over 350 points. they are definitely the team to beat. but if you end up with a seat at red bull, you do have to deal with max verstappen being your teammate and he won all but three of the races last year. he’s the golden boy. red bull are also notoriously silly when it comes to contracts and famously swap people mid season who aren’t performing.

mercedes. merc is home to 7 time world champion lewis hamilton and they have won the championship a great many times, though not since 2021. they are kind of in their flop arc and their car the last 2 years has been pretty garbage, but they have still made it work because they were able to come in second last year.

ferrari. god help the poor little meow meows with a ferrari contract. ferrari is a notoriously great team and they’re trying to get back to the top again but their strategy every single time has fallen short. to the point where their drivers are the ones doing the strategy in their cars while driving. they came in third last year and have been decently consistent at getting first in qualifying and then getting beat by max verstappen on race day.

mclaren. they’ve definitely worked their way up over recent years. they ended fourth last year and have had some championship wins before but not nearly as many as say merc and ferrari. their team ceo (owner? director?) is a little interesting and their car started out a pile of flaming hot garbage at the beginning of the year but they did manage to get their shit together.

aston martin. they are owned by canadian billionaire lawrence stroll, father of lance stroll (one of the drivers for the team). they’ve undergone several name changes over the recent years (force india, racing point, etc). they positively slayed at the start of the season and then one day they sucked. they finished fifth in the championship.

alpine. the frenchest french team. they’re (i think?) still partially owned by the french government. both of their drivers are french. (their drivers also hate eachother but we’ll get to that. just know they’re in the middle of a modern french civil war). they had the opportunity to have a good rookie driver (oscar piastri) this past year but in a thrilling twitter battle, he publically flamed the shit out of them and went to mclaren instead (and slayed). they're usually solidly middle of the pack. they ended sixth in the championship.

williams. williams has been one of the back of the grid teams for the last many years but they have finally started to get their shit together and don’t quite suck as much as they used to. all of the points this year were scored by only one driver though (except one but we’ll get there). they came in seventh.

alpha tauri. they are the sister team of red bull. so technically redbull owns both teams (meaning they can swap drivers between teams. they like doing this.) they’ve just kind of been There for awhile but they did slay towards the end of the season when one of their drivers led the race for several laps. basically tho, this team is the gateway to redbull. they came in eighth.

alpha romeo. recently renamed to stake f1 team (but sometimes they are going to be called kick sauber. this is a whole other drama post and i’m not getting into it). they’re also just kind of there. generally unproblematic. seems that really great drivers who get ixed out of a contract for a younger driver end up here or young drivers who are in their early years are here before they go to a better team. they ended ninth this year.

haas. oh haas. goofy team. they suck. point blank they suck. they keep loosing sponsors because they suck, they don’t win ever (one time they came first in qualifying last year). they cursed themselves in australia in 2018 by not tightening their tires and its been downhill ever since. they came 10th. their team principle got let go (fired?) who’s to say today.

so those are the teams. it is important to note that:

-there is a cost cap. each team is allowed to spend no more than 135m per year.

-not all cars are equal. some things are standard. they all undergo the same testing. but the cars are all very different. so you can be a good driver but stuck in a shitty car. which makes it impressive if you are doing well in a shitty car.

let’s meet our drivers!!!

starting with the guys who’s contract is not ending in 2024:

max verstappen. 3 time world champion. 26 years old. general beast on the track. he dominated the whole season. he’s currently racing for red bull and has a contract with them through 2028.

lewis hamilton. 7 time world champion. 39 years old. he drives for mercedes. he will not leave mercedes until he retires. he really really wants to win an 8th world championship and is willing to stick it out a few more years as long as merc still believes in him. his contract expires in 2025.

george russell. the other merc driver. 26 years old. hes aggressively british and says thinks like blimey unironically. walking meme. got his merc seat in 2022 right when they entered their flop arc by getting his tractor of a williams to finish second in qualifying in the middle of a rainstorm. his contract expires in 2025.

lando norris. mclaren driver. 24 years old. he has notably never won a race in his five years of formula one (mostly because right when his car finally was good enough max verstappen was 20 seconds ahead of anyone) but he is regarded as Very Good. he has only ever driven for mclaren. and even though there is another year left on his contract there is mass speculation that he will not renew his contract with mclaren after it expires and he may move up to one of the top teams (red bull, merc, ferrari) (tho i think he doesnt hate himself quite enough to go to ferrari). his contract expires in 2025.

oscar piastri. the other mclaren driver. 22 years old. this was his rookie season and he positively slayed. like people compared his rookie season to lewis hamiltons rookie season. he also had the positively funniest start to his rookie year because alpine announced that he would be driving for them (he had been their reserve driver and in the alpine academy) and he posted a tweet that basically said yeah thats false i never singed anything with you and im going to race with mclaren instead (he dodged a bullet) and then alpine tried and failed to sue him for $4m USD. he signed a contract extension with mclaren this year and his contract expires in 2026.

lance stroll. aston martin driver and son of the aston martin owner. hes doing ok, tho there was conspiracy that he wanted to quit and have a tennis career awhile ago. but basically since his dad owns the team it seems that hes guaranteed a seat for as long as he wants one.

so now. moving onto the good shit. the people who have contracts expiring in 2024. hold onto your hats people.

charles leclerc. (everyones favorite slutty little soup can). 26 years old. he is currently at ferrari and he has been since 2019. notably, he was given the longest contract in the history of ferrari after a stellar rookie season at sauber (renamed to alpha romeo, renamed to stake f1) where he got the tractor of a car consistently into the points. having the longest contract in the history of ferrari was a flex at the time, but now its likely how he will introduce himself at therapy sessions. ferrari have fucked this man left right and center up the ass with a plastic lunchroom spork. hes talented, he can drive, and he can drive well. but the strategy that ferrari has absolutely sucks. either something is wrong with the car (see him blowing out his gear box on the formation lap in monaco, his car completely crapping out and spinning into the barrier in brazil before the race even started) or they fuck up his pit stops or put him on the wrong tires and honestly its just frustrating. but will he leave??? likely not. you'd have to pry ferrari out of his cold dead hands and at this rate that might be where this is headed though there has been some minor speculation of him going to another team like merc or red bull, but merc doesnt have any open seats and red bull is a whole other dumpster fire of drama. ferrari are going to have to pay him a boatload of money to make him stay.

carlos sainz. the smooth operator. 29 years old. ferrari driver. previously carlos was at toro rosso (renamed to alpha tauri), renault (renamed to alpine), and mclaren before signing with ferrari. he has been at ferrari since 2021 and has voiced that he would like to stay with them for however long he can. there is speculation that lando might replace him at ferrari (but landos contract is not up until 2025) and there is also some speculation that alex albon might replace him. while charles is clearly the golden boy at ferrari, carlos is slightly slower but also definitely consistent. he was THE ONLY non red bull driver to win a race this past year, in Singapore after max verstappedn was knocked out of qualifying by alpha tauri reserve driver liam lawson (more on him later) and because he basically came up with his own strategy in the car while he was driving.

sergio perez. aka checo. red bull driver. 33 years old. and oh boy here's where we open the can of worms. checo was previously at racing point (renamed aston martin) and it was very near the end of the 2020 (?) season and he was out of a contract. he had a bonkers race where he was knocked to the back of the grid and then overtook everyone and somehow ended up winning (there is more to that story but just trust me) and christian horner, red bull team principle, mr ginger spice and definite disney villain called him and said congrats sir you have a seat at red bull! well. fast forward. hes been causing problems. problems as in crashing a lot, generally not doing great and pissing the crap out of red bull. it is basically guaranteed at this point that he will not be getting a contract extension. there was actually talk this year of him losing his seat mid season to one of the alpha tauri drivers, because remember, red bull owns both teams and they can switch them whenever they want to (and they have!) but ultimately this did not happen. even though checo has a seat at red bull until the end of 2024, its mass speculated that he is going to get switched with an alpha tauri driver, probably daniel ricciardo (more on him shortly) mid season because there is a speculated clause in daniels contract that says that if checo isn't performing well in the first few races daniel is getting his seat.

daniel ricciardo. 34 years old. alpha tauri driver. man oh man what a guy. outside of being the prankster of the paddock, he has one of the most batshit careers of anyone currently on the grid. he started out at red bull and was showing real talent and skill and was on track to win things (and was!) and was there until the end of 2018 when max verstappen (his teammate) started getting preferential treatment and also red bull started having a lot of problems with their engines (which were being outsourced from Renault (now alpine) and another team on the grid) and well very very long story short he made the surprise move of the century and decided to sign with Renault (which makes no sense they're the one with the engine problems) and was there for 2 years before moving again to mclaren where he was reportedly not treated very well and had a hard time driving the car so they mutually ended his contract with them early and he basically retired at the end of the 2022 season and became a red bull reserve driver. then halfway through the 2023 season alpha tauri ixed one of their drivers, nyck de vries, because he wasnt doing well and promoted daniel back up to a full time driver at alpha tauri (which we know is only a step down from red bull) but then he broke his hand in a crash in zanvort (?) and then he was replaced for a few races by formula 2 driver liam lawson (who we will also talk about) and then he came back to finish out the season in alpha tauri after he was cleared. daniel has admitted openly that he never should have left red bull and he was given bad advice to do so. hes towards the end of his career at this point and its well known that he Really Really wants to finish out his career at red bull again. he and max have already been teammates before and they do work well together and daniel is great driver (see his comeback in texas (or maybe it was brazil?) this year). so. Pretty Sure that daniels going to get either an extension at alpha tauri or go up to red bull. thats what we all want. get this man in a red bull we need him there biblically.

liam lawson. now technically liam is not actually a formula 1 driver. hes a formula 2 driver, but he was daniels replacement for five races and there has been some speculation and some confirmed news about him so hes getting included. when he was racing for f1 he was at alpha tauri. hes 21 and looks like he belongs in the movie grease. no one was expecting him to slay in formula 1 and he positively knocked everyones socks off. the scene: Singapore. which, if you'll recall, is the one race that a not red bull driver won. this was largely because liam lawson slayed the absolute game in qualifying. the qualifying part of racing determines what order the cars start in on the grid for the race and theres three parts, the first two parts the bottom 5 drivers each time get knocked out and then the top 10 complete for the last 10 spots. liam lawson knocked BOTH max verstappen and checo perez out of qualifying in the second round by going very slightly faster than them, effectively fucking up red bulls race and allowing carlos to win. and he also scored points in that race, which no one was expecting. now thats all fine and dandy, but here's the speculation: hemlut marko (im pretty sure) (who is somehow decently involved in the decision making at red bull though i couldn't tell you how) said that he thinks that liam lawson will be in an f1 seat no later than 2025. meaning that he will probably get offered a contract this year. and hes already raced for alpha tauri. red bull have sunk a good amount of money into him. they clearly want him. so if he gets offered an alpha tauri seat in 2025, that means theres a good chance danny rics is going to red bull. do you SEE how the plot here is THICKENED

yuki tsunoda. age 23. currently at alpha tauri. and fun fact, the only alpha tauri driver to race there the whole year. he had three separate team mates. he is slaying and hes often slept on. he has a bit of a temper and likes to shout on the radio and also hates working out (they had to force him to move to italy or something to work out, long story) but hes been kinda killing it. he led several laps in the abu dhabi race this year and hes decently consistent. people think theres possibility that he could get moved up to red bull on account of the fact that he is younger than daniel and clearly has more years in him,, but there is also possibility that he might not because red bull like to make stupid decisions. and if he doesnt get moved up to rebel, will he stay with alpha tauri? we don't know.

alex albon. age 27. currently a williams driver. alex albon is another one with a batshit career. he started out his rookie year in 2019 at alpha tauri then got moved up to red bull halfway through the year when red bull decided that pierre gasley wasnt doing a good enough job (more on him later) and stayed with red bull for a solid year and a half until he lost his seat in 2021 to checo. he has been with williams for the last two years and is basically carrying the team. like. williams as a team scored 28 points this year. and alex albon scored 27 of those 28 points. and as we know, williams is still kind of in their shit arc (though they are doing much better. they didnt score any points for a solid 2 (?) years. so this is an improvement.) and if you can get a shit car to perform you catch the eye of bigger teams. now, alex has already been a red bull driver. and he was on the cusp of podiuming two separate times when lewis hamilton ran into him. this (among a few other things) basically killed his chances at getting resigned at red bull because he wasnt ""performing"" and red bull are bitches who love to win. but some people think that red bull should give him another shot. like daniel, hes already been max's teammate and he can definitely drive. but theres also talk he might go to ferrari because ferrari think that he might compliment charles's driving style (or something). but going to ferrari at this point is kind of suicide. so.

logan sergeant. age 23. the only american on the grid. the other williams driver. he just finished his rookie year. he scored a grand total of one single point this season, in texas, and it was because charles leclerc and lewis hamilton both got disqualified because the floor of their car had more wear (by literally less than millimeters) than it was allowed to, bumping him up from 12th to 10th. he has never done better than alex albon. he was also the very last driver to get a contract for 2024, with williams waiting until i think december of 2023 to announce his contract extension. clearly, hes on thin ice. but people have also said that he needs time to get used to formula 1 (other people have pointed out that oscar piastri slayed his rookie season this year and this statement about needing time is largely false). where logan ends up next year though will largely depend on how well the 2024 season goes for him.

fernando alonso. 42 years old. many people like to point out that oscar piastri is actually younger than fernando's racing career. he won tiktok creator of the year (somehow) and is also a 2 time world champion. he retired a few years ago, just to show back up again and slay. during the first half of the season when aston martin had a zoom zoom car he killed it, and then they had problems on top of problems and he didnt do well. except for that one race in brazil where he came in third, beating checo by literally .05 seconds. he hasn't really made any hints about retiring a second time and he is kind of carrying aston Martin right now (he scored 205 points this season, coming in 4th and tying in points with charles leclerc, lance stroll only scored 74 points this year.) and they did have their best year yet this year. (though they are relatively new).

pierre gasley. 27 years old. french. drives for alpine. the french team. previously he raced with toro rosso (now alpha tauri), then got promoted to a red bull driver in 2019, then halfway through the season they decided he wasnt doing a good enough job and he got demoted back down to alpha tauri. then he won a race with alpha tauri just to stick it to red bull. after the great oscar piastri contract twitter war, he was signed as alpines second driver, with Esteban ocon being the other driver (more on him soon). estie bestie and pierre (both french) were childhood friends and now hate each other for unknown reasons and basically feuded on the track for most of the season. french civil war at alpine. he scored 62 points in 2023 and came in 11th. not really sure where he will end up, it is possible that he will stick it out at alpine.

esteban ocon. 27 years old. also french. currently driving for alpine. another one with a silly bonkers career. he started out at force india and had a baller few seasons there but his teammate at the time was checo, and checo didnt really cooperate with him too much and caused some drama that cost estie bestie some places and some points. max verstappen also beat him up in the garage once. thats not really relevant but it did happen. anyway, after the owner of force india was arrested for .... i don't remember what maybe it was embezzlement or bankruptcy or something money related, the team was backed by lawrence stroll and became racing point. but all of that happened mid season and lawrence was basically like look ill back you guys for now but next year my son gets a seat (lance) so one of you two (checo and estie bestie) have to go. and ultimately they let estie bestie go even though he was more consistent because checo had more sponsors and they needed money. so he was out of formula 1 for a few years (but was a merc reserve driver) and then went to Renault, which then became alpine. he did come in 12th though overall this season, just behind pierre. so. will alpine keep both him and pierre and keep the civil war going? whos to say.

nico hulkenberg. 36 years old. haas driver. in his 200+ f1 races he has never been on the podium and he really really wants to be on the podium. unfortunately this will never happen in a haas because haas fucking sucks. and everyone knows it. he is getting towards the end of his career though. though! stake f1 will become the mario Andretti and audi team in 2026 (don't question it) and they have supposedly voiced interest in nico. so we will see if he hangs on that long to end up at audi. for now tough, hes definitely hating it at haas. though, haas are going to have a different team principle next year so maybe that will change things. i have a sneaky feeling through that haas will probably end up with another 2 rookie drivers because everyone else is smart enough to not race for them.

kevin magnussen. 31 years old. haas driver. hes another deeply interesting character. he has had one podium. in his rookie season. in his first race. and none since. kevin started at haas in 2017 and then left at then end of 2020 when he basically got kicked off because the team needed money and they wanted to bring in drivers with more sponsorships. these drivers were mick schumacher and nikita mazepin. so kevin basically was forced to retire after the 2020 season. this went decently well for haas. until russia invaded ukraine right before the start of the 2022 season and, well, nikita was Russian and it was never distinctly proven that his dads company (who was sponsoring the team) wasnt also funding the invasion. so nikita got fired and they were literally like 2 weeks out from the start of the season, down a driver. who are you gonna call? kevin magnussen! and hes been back ever since. but hes clearly getting annoyed with haas. there was one great clip from this year where his car caught on fire and he kind of just stared into to, clearly hoping it would burn for a long time. so the likelihood of him extending his contract is looking slim.

valtteri bottas. 34 years old. currently a driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo, kick sauber, whatever you wanna call it). previously, he was a mercedes driver and notoriously helped lewis hamilton win a great many championships, until he lost his seat to george russell in 2022. there was a rather awkward part of the 2021 season where valtteri knew that he was out of a merc seat the following year and kind of just chose violence. he slayed. then he went to alpha romeo, grew a mullet and made a calendar of his ass. quite the glow up if you ask me. hes also very interested in cycling. honestly though, i have my own personal speculation that hes going to retire at the end of this year.

zhou guanyu. 24 years old. driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo/kick sauber, etc etc). hes doing alright. he just finished his second season, in his first season he was majorly out qualified by valtteri but this past season he managed to out qualify him a good 6 times. which is decently good for the tractor of a car hes driving. its possible that he could get a contract extension, but like logan, its probably going to depend on how the 2024 season goes for him.

and thats all the drivers. theres also a few others i didnt talk about, like some other f2 drivers who want seats and mick schumacher, who is currently a merc reserve driver, all of which could be contenders for f1 seats. but one things for sure. this is going to be the silliest fucking silly season.

feel free to add on and peer review me

[doiliedaze]

your writing is sooo good!!! i loved your vamp sev!!!(⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠) can you write reader coming home horny af and finding sevika taking a fat nap so they borrow her prosthetic to use it as a sex toy, sev wake up to her moaning and whimpering like a bitch in heat ☺️ (i've seen this ideia around but not a single fic about it.)

Freak Hoe

Warnings: somno, dub-con, established relationship, using Sevikas arm, reader has back dermals, reader going through extra miles with these positions lol, desperate reader, mean! sev, Sevika instructs reader, mutual masturbation, tribbing, tongue sucking, spit swapping, reader begging, choking (s! receiving), degradation, impact play, praise

Genre: smut

A/n: Marking as a dark fic just in case!! I literally saw this and went y’know what hell yeah LMAOOOO but thank you so much for the compliment anon it’s deeply appreciated ٩( ᐛ )و I’m excited to bring this fantasy to life! After seeing a comment on me using this song I had to use it as the title lol! I CANT BELIEVE THERES 501 OF YOU ALL OMG HUGS ALL AROUND WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE OUT PRIDE🫶🏿🩷

───────┈ · ·

The whole day your clit was throbbing. Didn’t matter how you walked or sat, nothing slightly eased it…even masturbating a bit in the bathroom at your job.

All you had in mind was your girlfriend, how she could take care of the ache!

You damn near swing the door open and call out to her, only to be met with silence. Is she not here?

Solemnly you walk into the shared bedroom until you were met with the soft snores of your girlfriend. You almost jump up and click your heels because today is the day you need some!

You place your stuff down and change into some pj’s.

“Sev wake up!” You pout as you shake your girlfriend to no avail. To see if she was fucking with you, you flash her…nothing

“That usually works…fuck!” You fall to her side all hope lost till you feel something cold, hard, sturdy…

Just one of her prosthetic fingers twitching as it does when she sleeps. A little lightbulb shines over your head as you peer over to see how asleep she really is.

“She wouldn’t mind…I mean she always says, “I’m always of use if you need me baby” or something like that.” You mutter to yourself.

You don’t know why you’re pretending to have some composure. With a quickness you strip bare and position your pulsating hole over the propped hand.

At first you had a hard time getting her fingers in so you just humped her palm. It was some good stimulation but it wasn’t good enough! Irritated you pick up the hand and grasp her middle and ring finger and fuck yourself back on it.

You feel a sense of relief wash through you as her thick fingers stretch you out. Your body is shaking especially your ass and hips and you’re panting out her name tongue lolled. Drool coats the sheets as you reach your free hand back to play with your neglected clit. You feel close just off this alone but you crave more! So you fumble around stretching your arms back to get another finger in.

The scene is pathetic, face down ass up fucking yourself back on your sleeping girlfriends fingers until you feel her curl them. All movements stop, not knowing if the sleep is causing the movement or she woke up.

“Don’t stop ‘m tryna watch doll” she rasp sleep sewn into her voice. Slowly you get back to the groove of things but a shyness hits your chest. “C’mon you can be louder than that? You didn’t think about your volume when I was fucking sleeping so don’t think ‘bout it now.” She states with sims bass in her tone.

You let out a shaky sorry and she sighs, “let go of my fingers” she says softly and you do. She re-positions the both of you where you’re on your back and she’s above you.

“Gonna listen to me right?” Desperately you nod ready for her to take you!

“Wanna see you fuck yourself, don’t stop till you cum.”

Disappointment fills your voice, “but-”

“But nothing bitch you’re lucky I’m staying awake right now c’mon”

“Sev please touch me, this isn’t gonna do anything for me please!” You damn near cry wanting her to just give you what you’ve been craving.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself” she says slowly.

With that you sink three fingers deep inside yourself and start off on a fast pace. It didn’t take you long to cum already having some buildup.

Before you can come down from your high she slaps you with her prosthetic hand.

“Again” she orders having little regard for how you feel. Which breeds lust into your stomach.

This time her prosthetic hand slips into her hand and rubs her fat clit. Her cunt getting wet watching you touch yourself. Her grey eyes studied your body as your free hand plays with your nipple, irises blown, drool on your chin. So perfect for her.

As Sevika feels her orgasm building she pauses to strip her lower half, string of wetness attached to her boxers.

“Move” she mutters as she takes out your fingers. Placing her warm clit against yours the feeling enough to drawl a moan outta the both of you.

Her thrust were fast and sloppy, cunts sliding against each other. You pull her in close for a kiss, shoving your tongue down her throat. Causing her to choke and gargle on it.

To catch her breathe she pulls away a bit and you whisper suck it and stick out your tongue. The grinding almost gets slower to match the pace of Sevika bobbing her head on your tongue, saliva dropping in-between y’all.

A whimper came from her throat as you choke her, digging your nails in to add some pressure. You pull back to whisper, “fuck me faster.”

Her hips catch up in speed, aiming to please you. Sevika moans as you add more pressure to her neck.

Her hips stutter as she stuffs her face in the crook of her neck and bites down to alleviate pressure.

You moan out her name and buck your hips up as they stutter against hers, finally getting the orgasm you’ve been craving all day.

───────┈ · ·

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos @artemisdreamfairie @ellabswife

Dividers- @dollywons

[joeldarling]

The View Between Villages (Part I) - Oldman!Joel x F!reader

Summary: Based on a request I lost, you are immune and Oldman!Joel saves you.

Warnings: Glasses!Joel mentioned, no reader description at all, no smut on this part but there'll be on the next one, a bit of angst and slowburn, stubborn!reader x caring!Joel, Abby doesn't exist here. Mentions of violence but nothing graphic. Joel just want to fix things and make reader happy.

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: Anon, I lost your request and I know that wasn't what you asked but I promise I will make something else, I just wanted to say I got REALLY inspired and it turned out something totally different, your idea was amazing and IT WILL BE SOLID ON MY NEXT WRITING! English it’s not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any typos. I enjoyed so much this one and the next part will be out in two days with the smut! I just felt like writing some angst background was necessary. You can find more oldman!Joel in my masterlist as well. Feedbacks are utterly appreciated and my requests are always open. 💌

When you arrived in Jackson on a hurried, blood-covered night, carried by a stranger and utterly terrified, you never imagined the community could feel so familiar, so much like home, as if the end of the world wasn't a primary concern. Here, people arrived from all corners, given the chance to reinvent themselves.

And you did the same, leaving your old life behind and deciding that your new beginning wouldn't depend on anyone's help. You were born to be alone, and you were—and always would be—a lone wolf. That no longer bothered you as it did when you were younger and less experienced, almost a burden to those who carried you like unwanted baggage. You had sworn to yourself that you'd never count on anyone again, a vow made the moment an exorbitant number of clickers had chased your last group, decimating all of them except for you, for a peculiar reason.

You were immune—and of course, you had climbed the highest tree you could find and hidden for two entire nights, unsure if you would survive.

You'd always known you were different. As a child, you were left almost dead by a group of revolutionaries after being bitten, but two weeks later, you were still alive, hungry and alone. The wound seemed to heal at a snail's pace, but it didn't kill you. That seemed like a secret to keep, especially with radical scientists looking for a cure. And when one of them finally captured you, you thought it was the end of the line, thinking that maybe what you deserved after tricking death so many times.

Joel Miller was a skeptical man, but few knew the violence that had led him to be so gentle.

Tommy and him had been investigating the same group that had taken Ellie years ago. Even with the significant loss of that damned doctor that Joel had killed, the doctor who was willing to sacrifice a child for a cure he clearly couldn't provide, they hadn't rested. They continued searching for those immune to Cordyceps. When they discovered a part of the group's hideout, Joel was the first to question whether they were holding hostages—people who had a chance to survive and live full mediocre lives—for an almost impossible greater purpose.

It was obvious Tommy didn't approve of his decision. But Joel wanted to understand Ellie; he wanted her to live in a world where, if someone else like her existed, she might feel a little better within Jackson's fragile walls.

Perhaps then, she could forgive him.

He embarked on a journey alone in the middle of the night, giving the excuse that he had swapped his patrol shift with some young boy he couldn't even pronounce the name correctly. He rode all night until dawn when he reached what appeared to be an abandoned hospital, experiencing the same flashbacks of years earlier when his heart raced at the possibility of losing his daughter—again.

Because Ellie was his daughter; he couldn't deny it. Not to himself, not after so much effort and sacrifice had been made to ensure she was breathing safely miles away.

Joel heard loud screams, which sounded like a woman, a desperate one, and didn't hesitate to enter the location with his gun ready to kill whoever was necessary. The place was empty somehow, with only a female figure chained to a gurney, wearing little more than a hospital gown, though it seemed she still had on her underwear. She was scared, appeared injured, and still had two IV access points in her arms.

"Ain't here to hurt ya," he said, his accent echoing strong and gravelly. Despite being almost sixty, Joel was still in good shape, except perhaps for the prominent belly from all the beer he used to drink at Tipsy Bison with Tommy almost every night, and the knee pain he always ignored until he had to take a day or two off patrol to recover. "M'gonna take those access out of ya' and then I will give you m' jacket, okay?"

He slowly described everything he was doing to keep you from screaming, but your eyes were pure panic, as if you were completely dissociating, a way to make everything less painful. And well, the doctor and nurses weren't gentle at all; your arms would certainly be all bruised later if you made it out alive, and the wound around your waist had been roughly shaved so they could examine it. Gods, they didn't even have the right equipment for it. You screamed, begged for them to stop.

It was useless.

But as Joel tried, you nodded. It would be better to die by a bullet than slowly from pseudoscientific experiments.

Joel carefully removed the access points, adjusting the dirty piece of cotton as best he could to prevent any bleeding. Once he got you sitting on the gurney, he took off his own jacket and put it on you. It would be a long ride to Jackson, and you two hadn't much time before they returned. Joel had promised himself he wouldn't kill anyone unnecessarily, knowing how much Ellie would disapprove if she found out. He was tired of being a monster, but he wouldn't leave you to die to the whims of chance or fate.

You didn't say anything, no sound emitted except for a few moans of pain when your bare feet hit the cold, dirty floor. Joel agilely lifted your body and, even with his back aching, carried you with surprising gentleness to the back exit where his horse was tied. Getting onto the animal was a little difficult, but when he managed to adjust your body in front of his, trying as much as possible to keep your body warm in a respectful way, he didn't hesitate to move as fast as he could. Even during the small, breathless pause he took in the middle of the dark and silent woods, you refused the food he offered, not out of fear, but because you felt the horse's swaying would make you vomit at any moment, still groggy from the excessive amount of medicine they got you. Joel remained silent, his expression worried. He had briefly seen the wound that should prove your immunity when he put you on the horse, your body still trembling, but he said nothing. It was none of his business anyway.

You certainly didn't remember when you had fallen asleep, but when you did, you only woke to the sound of metal creaking and distant shouts. A group seemed to be on standby in case they needed to go looking for Joel, but they began to disperse when they saw the old man riding back to the gates, almost two days later, given his figure, holding a young woman in his arms, especially as she clung with all the firmness she could to his thick plaid flannel, which wasn't much, completely weak and hurt.

From that, you were taken to a doctor, received proper care and a new chance, without ever crossing paths with the man to whom you owed your life out of pure stubbornness.

He seemed hesitant whenever he saw you, always about to say something but never doing it. You gave no opening, afraid he would tell others about your secret or feel too intimate to be a regular part of your life.

However, Ellie Williams, or whatever her name was, seemed willing to break down all your walls effortlessly. She struck up conversations during lunch and all other meals, invaded your space, offered to walk you home even if she filled the silence the whole time with chatter and you couldn't even pay attention. It was more like she wanted to be listened to, and later you discovered that she was Joel's adopted daughter. He saved her just as he saved you.

It was one afternoon while she was skipping beside you that Ellie revealed Joel had told her about your immunity — you froze. It wasn't his secret to share. You opened your mouth and closed it, still unsure what to say to a teenager who genuinely seemed to want your friendship. You didn't want to hurt her feelings, but the anger was boiling your blood.

"I am like... this. No one knows it, of course, it's still dangerous even here but... Joel told me the day you guys arrived and made me promise I wouldn't act weird." Her voice was low, as if the two of you were sharing a secret, and in fact, you were. "I thought I was a monster but... You don't look like one. That just means I'm not alone."

A knot formed in your throat as you continued walking, your gaze fixed on your own feet. The wound, a constant reminder of your past, seemed to sting a thousand times more now, burning with shame. It was painfully clear that a girl like her, Ellie, was just lonely. And though you were still frustrated with Joel, you started to understand his perspective. It wasn't his fault, or yours, or hers. You simply didn't know how to handle it.

"I don't like talking about it." You cut the conversation short, something you'd never done before. Ellie looked upset, clearly taken aback by your sudden shift, but you didn't care. You'd reached your house anyway. Slowly, you climbed the steps, crossing your arms, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You stepped inside and slammed the door shut, unable to shake the annoyance. All of this felt like a curse, and honestly, you didn't care about a cure. Not when, after all these years, it clearly wasn't going to work. You were alone, and there was no reason for you to sacrifice yourself for anyone. Selfish tears streamed down your face as your body collapsed onto the sofa. You didn't even notice the fireplace was lit, as if someone had been there, not until you read the note left in rough letters on stained paper on the wooden coffee table.

"Figured ya'd could get cold. The house needs some fixing, let me know when you're available. — J" 

You weren't alone; all those people wanted to help you. Still, the only thing you felt was rage, having spent so long surviving on your own that any display of affection felt like the end of the world. You didn't feel worthy; you felt dirty.

But you weren't the only one. You weren't a freak of nature. You could handle this.

You should.

You fell asleep right there, and when you woke, sunlight had already faded, giving way to the stars and the full moon, another cold night. You searched for Joel’s jacket, the only one you owned, and put it on, deciding to head outside. The clock read nine o'clock; dinner had barely begun.

The leather still carried his scent. You hadn't mustered enough courage to return it, and it was warm, lined inside, preventing the dampness from reaching your other layers of clothing. For the first few days in your new home, you even wore it to sleep, not because you were cold, but because it felt familiar, something you couldn't recall feeling throughout your entire life.

As you walked toward the community hall, shrinking further into the jacket, your mind drifted far away. You knew you should apologize to Ellie; after all, you were the adult, and despite everything, she deserved answers too. You understood more than anyone how lonely Jackson could be. Maybe if you found her there, you could tell her how sorry you were and start again.

Your dissociative state, however, shattered when your body collided with another, sending you sprawling to the ground, your tailbone protesting with a loud crack from the sheer lack of exercise.

“Jeez’, doll!” You'd recognize that voice even with your eyes closed, but staring at his worn and heavy boots was enough to confirm it was Joel offering his large, calloused hand to help you up, a worried look on his face. He was wearing another thick, dark jacket, a scarf, and his glasses seemed fogged by the cold. His curly, graying hair was slicked back as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. “Didn’t saw ya’, my bad. Was lookin’ for ya’ the other day and…” 

His eyes lingered on your body as you stood, brushing dirt from the jacket. Joel would never admit how much his chest swelled with satisfaction seeing you still wearing his jacket. It was certainly too big, but even so, it looked better on you. His gaze softened on your rosy lips, on features he found so beautiful he almost forgot the years that separated you. You were certainly in your mid-twenties or so, but he was still sixty and could be your grandfather.

"I…" You started, trying to form a sentence, but since you'd arrived in town, you hadn't exchanged a single coherent phrase with him, stunned and scared. Joel seemed to understand. "Thank you, Joel. For everything."

That's what escaped your lips, and he nodded, the phrase heavy with meaning dissolving the earlier anger. Because above all, you understood he was just an old man who wanted the best for his daughter, who wanted to understand her world, and yet, he was generous enough for that to involve saving strangers in hospitals and risking his own life during the process.

"Ya' don't have to thank me," he mumbled back, realizing he was still holding your hand and making no move to let go. "Hope I didn't burn your house down with the fire today."

"No, you did not," you replied, pulling your hand from his and burying it in the jacket's pockets, feeling your cheeks burn with a shyness you didn't know still existed deep inside you.

Joel cleared his throat, sounding as awkward as you felt, but instead of moving on, just as he was about to take a step away, he looked at you again.

"Ellie told me ya' got a bit upset today. It was my fault, not hers. She likes you a lot. Don't be mad at her," Joel confessed, sounding somehow emotional. "It was the first time she really talked with me in months… When I rescued you, I told her the reason but… Today was the first time she…"

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't know she wasn't talking with you." You were sincere. "I was going to apologize to her. Maybe we could walk together? I… suppose you're heading to dinner?"

You stumbled over the words slowly, captivating Joel's attention with every second without even realizing it. He wasn't going to dinner, no. It was rare for Joel to have dinner; he usually spent his nights at the Tipsy Bison and ate whatever he found at home afterward since he hated all the chatter in the community hall and all the lines, the stress of choosing a group to interact with due to the lack of individual tables… Well, he was kinda a lone wolf too.

"Yes, sure," he grunted. It was funny how Joel's grumpy demeanor extended to everyone but you. How he seemed to ignore all the waves, especially from all the middle-aged women, as he walked silently beside you, hands in his pockets, toward the community hall.

Before you could even step inside, voices were already audible and you flinched. Joel seemed to notice, looking at you with a raised brow. You certainly hated the stares you attracted; it wasn't as if you'd arrived in Jackson as a refugee or anything. Joel had gone out on his own and returned with you, and whatever his reasons were, clear to you, they certainly weren't—and shouldn't be—to the rest of the community.

"I have sum' stuff at home I could cook for us. I know how… suffocating it can be," he offered gently, as gentle as his husky voice allowed, which sent shivers through your entire body. You knew you shouldn't accept, knew you should continue your life as alone as possible because you viewed all attachments as weaknesses.

That's what they had taught you your whole life. But here… here, affection was present in absolutely everything, and it made you long for something you couldn't have.

Even so.

"That would be nice…" You agreed, sighing in relief. The great food wouldn't compensate for the small talk that churned your stomach, all the filtered parts of your past during a thirty or forty-minute period.

You both began walking in the opposite direction. Joel had a long stride but seemed to make an effort not to let anxiety consume him, adjusting his pace to match yours.

"I saved ya' that day because I was looking for someone like Ellie. Maybe a child or a young man but… that wasn't… just fate. These damn so-called-doctors are stalking people down and treating them like a fuckin' experiment." He sounded almost angry, and you wondered if that's how his and Ellie's lives had crossed.

"I never stepped in to say thank you properly," you began, feeling utterly embarrassed. "I was alone since my last group left me to die, and I… Well, these people you rescued me from, whatever they are called, found and knocked me down. The last thing I remember was being tied and having my bruise scalped and…" Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, the air suddenly thin, and you couldn't finish your sentence, clearing your throat and looking up at the starry sky.

You rarely saw stars in the dense forest; they seemed almost a miracle, a gift.

"I just want you to know that I was alone my entire life, and it's hard for me to let people help… That doesn't mean I'm not immensely grateful for what you did for me. You saved my life, and I owe you forever." You said, your voice still thick with emotion.

"You owe me nothing, darlin', just be happy, and I'll be satisfied." He seemed sincere. Joel was difficult to decipher.

You walked for a bit longer before he pointed to his own house with his right hand. He lived at the end of the street, with a rather beautiful view of the surrounding fields and mountains. When he opened the door and let you in, it felt much more like a home than yours. The furniture was of the same worn standard, but picture frames were scattered about with the few photographs he had: an unknown girl in a purple shirt, placed directly above the fireplace in a photo where he was smiling and looked years younger, even before everything happened. A photo of Ellie and another one of Tommy beside a younger Joel. They weren't many things, but they felt personal.

The sofa held a beige blanket, and the fire in the fireplace was almost dead. He attentively switched on the lights and gestured for you to make yourself at home.

Joel wasn't good at small talk but neither were you and the silence felt comfortable. You settled into one of the chairs around the not-too-large table, entertained by what looked like a cube full of colors that never seemed to align correctly.

You hadn't seen much of the world, never even had the opportunity as you were born after everything had fallen apart. Deep down, you held onto the belief that you couldn't miss something you'd never experienced. Still, you knew life was about more than just surviving, eating rabbits, and leaving a trail of blood wherever you went.

"It's called a 'magic cube,' you have to match the colors right," Joel said, his tone almost playful, as he put pasta into a pot of water and searched for other ingredients to make what was presumably a sauce. "I never solved it; it's quite impossible."

"Indeed it is," you agreed, examining it with curiosity, trying to find a solution.

"How old are you?" he asked, using another pot and pouring ingredients into it.

"Twenty-four. I'll be twenty-five next spring. I just don't know the day, so I just assume it's the first one after that." You answered, still too focused on the cube, but deciding to put it aside the moment you realized it truly seemed to have no solution, letting out a single laugh to yourself. “It’s funny.” 

“You can take them. Ellie has plenty of those. She lives in the garage.” He explained, seeming hopeful that maybe his relationship with his daughter could improve.

Joel continued to unravel the mysteries in his own kitchen and you started to feel slightly useless just standing there. Rising from that feeling, you moved to the sink, beginning to wash whatever he dirtied and set aside for more than three seconds. It was almost like a silent connection. You both seemed to function well, your bodies nearly touching, sharing the small space in synchrony with the warmth you both emanated.

You knew Joel was a broken man, and like you, he carried demons he'd never dared to face. Perhaps, that was the most beautiful part of him.

When everything was ready, and he set the food on the table, along with the plates and glasses filled with cold water, you moved towards your chair, bumping into him for the second time that night. This one, however, instead of letting you collide, Joel caught your waist, and your faces were forced to meet. His breathing seemed labored, and his strong arms were exposed by his moss-green t-shirt, having shed his outer layers minutes before for better mobility.

"Watch out, beautiful," was the only thing he said, making no move to release your waist, his touch deepening, as did the tension between you. He looked at you almost as if he were starving, and the confusion in your eyes didn't seem to be an impediment, because deep down, you felt the same thing. 

Joel finally looked into your eyes, and all you knew was that the entire world had fallen silent, as if it were waiting for something.

[e1e4n0r5]

Opposites Attract

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: College AU. Jock Vi x Class President Reader

Words: 5366 (not including text messages)

Synopsis: As the star of the football team, Vi Lanes can't risk her reputation by associating with the nerdy Class President. It won't stop her fucking you, though.

Warnings: Vi is kinda mean, alcohol (college party), top!Vi, bottom!reader, teasing from peers, spanking, mild choking, bondage/wrist restraint, edging and ruined orgasm, pussy slapping, fingering (r! receiving), oral sex (Vi and r! receiving), strap on (r! receiving), reference to strap as cock, hair pulling, name calling, Vi wipes her fingers 👀 on your face, smidgen of aftercare

Notes: I know nothing about American football, so neither does Reader! I've also never written college AUs before and yet this is the second one in a week 😂

Vi Lanes had beer running down her throat, upside down and weightless, as the crowd around her chanted like she was a goddamn legend.

She dropped down from the keg stand, wiping her mouth with the back of her bandaged hand to a round of cheers and someone slapping her on the back hard enough to knock her forward. She grinned, flushed and victorious, and took a dramatic bow.

And that’s when she saw you.

The Class President. In the chaos of a keg party.

Across the room, you chatted with Mel in the hallway, laughing genuinely, holding a can of premixed Cosmo.

Oh, this was too good.

“What she doing here?” she asked Jayce beside her.

He groaned. “Vi, you may not like her, but other people do! She’s CP, for fuck’s sake, a good one too!”

“Be right back,” she muttered, a small sway to her steps.

She cut across the living room, dodging a couple making out near the coat rack. You hadn’t seen her yet, too busy being charming and composed in the middle of this trainwreck.

Vi drawled your name, coming to a stop next to you and Mel. “Didn’t think you knew how to party without a sign-up sheet.”

You turned your head, your eyes doing a full, deliberate examination of her tank top, ripped jeans, and boots, and then came back up to rest on her face.

“I’m surprised you’re still upright,” you replied smoothly.

Vi smirked. “Aww, you worried about me?”

“Just don’t want any accidents,” you said. “Lots of paperwork and PR when college students end up in hospital with alcohol poisoning.”

“You think one little keg stand is gonna put me in the hospital? Cupcake, I’m offended.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Is this you trying to flirt with me?”

Vi tilted her head. “Trying?”

Neither of you noticed Mel slipping away with a grin on her face.

You gave her a tired look, but she didn’t miss the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

“Why you here?” she asked. “Figured you’d be home…Alphabetising colour-coded spreadsheets or somethin’.”

You glared, stiffening a little. “I was invited,” you folded your arms. “I might leave soon anyway. Always got loads of work to do.”

Vi stepped just a bit closer, bracing her forearm against the wall next to your head. “Need a ride?”

You frowned. “You’re drunk, you can’t drive.”

“Not drunk, sugar, I can handle my shit.”

“Still wouldn’t pass a breathalyser. My house is only a few minutes away, anyway; I walked over.”

Vi looked down at your feet. “In those heels? Damn, Cupcake, you’re tough.”

You smiled back as you wiggled your toes. “I swapped out my flats when I got here.”

She regarded your feet in your heels. “Well, what do you say we head back to yours and you put those heels on my shoulders?”

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

She smirked back. “First time with a girl?”

“No.”

“Great. Shall we get going then?”

You regarded her closely. “You're serious?”

“Deadass, baby.”

“This isn’t a joke?"

“No joke.”

“We’re going back to my house, together?”

“Yup.”

“To do what?”

Vi smirked. “I got a few ideas. Want me to tell you all of ‘em?”

You blushed. Why not? Violet Lanes might be a dick, but you only live once, and you couldn’t deny how hot she was. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She put her arm around your waist, escorting you to the door. She pushed aside the couple still making out by the coat rack, handing you your coat and mesh bag with spare flats, and pulled on her own leather jacket.

As Vi opened the front door and ushered you out, Jayce and Mel watched you leave. With a groan, he pulled out his wallet, took out a $10 bill, slapping it into her hand.

She smiled back, tucking it into her bra. “It's only taken them two years.”

Vi practically fell into the armchair opposite Jayce and Mel as they sat curled up on the sofa in their shared house. “Sup,” she greeted.

They both grinned at Vi, who was oblivious as she cracked open the tab of her drink.

“Hey,” Jayce greeted. “How are you feeling after last night?”

Vi swigged her drink as memories of you flooded her brain. The sounds you made as she fucked you with her fingers, her name spilling from your lips like a prayer; the smell and feel of your perfect pussy on her face, your soft, warm thighs clamped around her head; the sight of you on your knees in front of her, looking up at her with those beautiful eyes as you ate her out. It definitely hadn’t been your first time eating cunt. Her clit throbbed as she remembered how many times you’d made each other cum. She thought she got you to eight screaming orgasms before you almost passed out on your bed.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Yeah, good.”

“Just good?” Mel asked, teasing somewhat. She’d been texting you since the night before, just checking in, but you hadn’t read her messages until only an hour before (something unheard of for you), saying you were exhausted after the party and had slept all morning.

Vi frowned. She looked at Mel closely. “I’m fine. Why?”

“No, no reason,” she evaded, still a mischievous glint in her eye.

Jayce covered a laugh with a cough. “What happened to you at the party? I couldn’t find you anywhere, it wasn’t even late.”

Vi shifted nervously. “Yeah…No…I just got bored, decided to head home early.”

He nodded along, still stifling a smirk. “Alone?”

Her eyes widened. How could he know? She hadn’t told anyone, and she was sure you wouldn’t. You didn’t seem like the kind to kiss and tell, that was why she took you home in the first place. You were hot, sure, in your little skirts and nerdy glasses, carrying those little folders everywhere, but you were still the Class President. She was on the football team – practically college royalty – she was going to be famous one day. She couldn’t risk her reputation with you. But you were hot, and she’d been horny for you since freshman year, so she'd figured what damage could one night do?

“I gotta go. See you around.”

Practice on Monday morning was great, it was good for Vi to clear her head after obsessing over you the whole weekend. She’d avoided Jayce and Mel the whole time, running out of the house first thing in the morning before class, just in case they tried to talk to her at breakfast.

The college’s gym for the group training session afterwards was when it started.

“Hey, Lanes!” one of her teammates called. “Hell of a party for you on Friday, huh?”

Vi looked up from adjusting the bandages on her wrists. “What?”

“Yeah, the CP. You two get it on, or did she just recite the college rules all night?” he snickered, some others joining in.

“Section 8, sub-section 12 – oh god, yes, yes!” one of the players moaned loudly.

Vi clenched her fists and shook her head. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously? You leave a party with our Class President and we’re not allowed to ask if we should call you ‘First Lady Violet’ now?”

She forced a laugh. “Wow, you guys have gone crazy. I’m hittin’ the benches, you freaks do whatever you want.”

Vi tracked you down as fast as she could, running through the corridors until she found you. You stood at your locker in the main building, flipping through your planner as you mentally organised your week ahead.

“People know.”

You startled as Vi suddenly appeared next to you, speaking in a low, urgent tone.

“What?”

“People know,” she repeated. “About,” she quickly looked around the hallway but there weren't a lot of people around, “About what happened. Between us. People on the team have been cracking jokes, making these little comments about us...Jayce and Mel too!”

You paused, processing that. “Oh. Interesting.”

“No, not ‘interesting’! Who did you tell?” she accused.

You shook your head. “I haven't told anyone-”

“Yeah, because it's embarrassing!” she interrupted.

You glared back. “I haven't told anyone because my private life is just that: private. It’s no-one else's business what I do in my free time. If people have found out, maybe it's because you approached me at a party and we left together? Loads of people probably saw us,” you pointed out sarcastically.

“Well, you gotta deny it, okay? If anyone asks, you says it's not true, they're crazy, you don't know what they're talking about.”

“Okay, firstly, that's called gaslighting. Secondly, why would I deny the best sex I've ever had?”

Vi blinked, totally caught off guard. “B-because it's humiliating for me,” she spluttered. “Okay? I'm on the football team, I can't be associated with the nerd Class President. You're such a goody-goody, it'll ruin my reputation!”

You let that sink in, allowing the hurt to roll through you. You breathed slowly for a second, letting out a calming breath through your nose. “Fine,” you said, shutting down. “There's no need for us to associate with each other anymore. Good luck with Friday’s game.” You looked back at your planner, trying to focus on it but really you just needed to look anywhere other than the woman who just ripped you to shreds.

“Are...Are you gonna be there?”

You scoffed. “Trust me, it's not how I would choose to spend hours of my Friday night but I have to go; as Class President, I'm expected to attend all major events, and sporting events against rival universities, unfortunately, count.”

Vi nodded, adjusting her jacket. But then she paused. “I-I'm sorry if I was kinda harsh-”

“It's fine, I get it. Image is very important to you,” you assured numbly, flicking through pages but not reading anything. Your eyes started to burn with unshed tears. You needed her to leave.

She nodded again, feeling weird in her chest. “Well, see ya around, I guess...?”

You nodded. “Goodbye.”

She walked past you just as your lip started to tremble. You closed your locker and calmly but quickly headed into the nearest bathroom. Thankfully it was empty as you entered a stall, locking the door behind you, and allowed yourself to cry.

The game was going well. Dressed warmly for the chilly evening weather, school’s colours painted on your cheeks, you stood with your friends in the stands, cheering and whooping when your team earned points. You really didn't understand the rules or the scoring, but you were enjoying yourself as much as you could.

Violet, you hated to admit, was on the top of her game. She'd already scored multiple times for your team, earning loud cheers and applause that only grew with each success. Little did you know, it was you spurring her on.

She hadn't wanted to, but she'd looked for you in the crowd before the game started. When she saw you, her heart skipped a beat, and she found herself wanting to prove her skill on the field. Every time she scored, she looked your way, soul lifting when she saw you cheering. She knew you weren't cheering for her, but she didn't care. She had made you happy, even just for a second.

Fuck. And she was the one who’d told you to stay away.

Your school won the game, with an excellent score (according to your friends). As was expected, you headed down to the field along with university leadership, and congratulated every member of the team, many of whom winked or smiled at you knowingly. When you got to Violet, you made a show of being polite and professional, with a handshake and stiff “well played”. She just smirked back at you as she shook your hand, her helmet tucked under her arm.

It felt like forever until you finally got home after the game, exhausted after the long day, yet you still had work to do. The life of a Class President often felt relentless. You made yourself a cup of herbal tea and headed upstairs to your room. Settling down at your laptop with some lo-fi hip hop music playing, you got to it.

Some time passed before your phone buzzed. Pausing in typing an email, you checked your screen. A DM from Vi. You cursed under your breath. What did she want? You sighed and unlocked your phone, going to your messages.

Your eyes almost hurt from rolling so hard. Seriously? Was she actually messaging for a booty call after what she said only a few days earlier? You paused and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. It could be something innocent. You wouldn’t know until you asked.

“And there it is,” you mumbled. Shaking your head, you replied.

You couldn't believe the audacity of this woman. She seduces you first in public, gets upset when people find out, yet now she wants to do it again?!

You stood up in a panic. Would she really come over? It had been her insisting that the two of you stayed away from each other, given how embarrassed she was by you. Yet here she was, not just flirting but spelling out exactly what she had in mind.

Before you could panic more, your phone buzzed again in your hand.

She was serious, she was coming over.

Fuck! You ran into your bathroom, stripped off your jeans and underwear, and freshened up your pussy with a washcloth. You applied some deodorant to your underarms, a quick spray of perfume, and swilled some mouthwash. Your make up still looked fresh, though you hadn't taken the school’s colours off your cheeks. Realising you couldn't wipe them off without ruining the rest of your make up, you cursed and left them on. You didn't have time to take the braid out of your hair, so that would be fine.

You pulled on a robe to cover your bare lower half, but then panicked over whether that looked too desperate. You pulled on a pair of fresh panties, not too fancy but not too casual, and some sleep shorts.

Fuck, what was this woman doing to you?

You didn't have time to do anything else; the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside your house rang through your bedroom. You ran downstairs but paused behind the door. No, wait. Don't seem eager. Let her knock.

You waited until footsteps approached your door and the doorbell rang. It took everything in you to wait and not answer it immediately.

“Princess, I know you're standing right there. Just open the door.”

You could practically hear her cocky smirk.

You groaned in annoyance but did as she said. Taking off the chain and unlocking the door, you opened it. There she was. Freshly showered, she was indeed smirking rather smugly at you. Leather jacket, tank top, ripped jeans, and a shit-ton of arrogance.

“What do you want?” you challenged.

It was pointless. You both knew why she was there.

“To fuck that attitude outta you, that's what,” she drawled, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

You balked. “Presumptuous.”

“What, are you not gonna congratulate the star of the game? I won that for us tonight.”

“I did congratulate you all, at school.”

She shrugged, stepping closer to you. “Eh, that was only your ‘official duty’ as CP. You not gonna do it properly?”

You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the after party? People will notice you're not there; what’ll you tell them when they ask where you were? Because, remember, you can't embarrass yourself and tell the truth.”

She just chuckled. “Oh, so feisty tonight. I sure hope you've given yourself the morning off tomorrow, you're gonna be sore.”

“Oh, am I-?”

You squeaked as she reached out a hand and took hold of your throat, just hard enough to stop you mid-sentence. Your eyes widened as she pulled you close, something firm pressing against your stomach. Her free hand cupped your ass, squeezing firmly.

“What was that, Cupcake?” she smirked, leaning in and pressing a kiss just below your ear. You shivered. “You gonna be a good girl now?”

You tried to protest, then she spanked you. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Plenty more where that came from, sugar. Now, be a good girl and get that ass upstairs before I do something I'll enjoy.”

She released your throat with a little push, nodding her head up the stairs. You backed away a few steps and watched her lock the door, put the chain on, and turn off the porch light. When she was finished, she turned back to you.

“What did I say, sweetheart?” she advanced on you threateningly, like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey.

You scrambled up the stairs and hurried to your bedroom. Just as you were about to reach your doorway, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into a strong torso.

“Too late, Cupcake.”

You were lifted clean off your feet. Vi walked forward into your room and put you down over the end of the bed, your body pressed against your neatly made bed sheets, legs hanging off the edge. She eased your robe off you, throwing it onto the floor. A firm hand between your shoulder blades kept you pinned.

“Violet-” you started to protest but she cut across you.

“No Sunday names here, princess, not with what we're about to get up to. Give me your hands, sweetheart,” she instructed in your ear. You hesitated. “C'mon now, give me those hands.” When you hesitated again, she stroked your hip. “I'm not a monster, Cupcake. If you don't want this, just say so. But if you do, you've got ‘til the count of three to be a good girl.”

You looked at her as best you could out of the corner of your eye. She looked back at you, her face unreadable.

“One.”

Your mind raced. Did you want this? Did you really want this? After everything she'd said to you just a few days ago, how cruel she was, did you really want to just give her your body like this?

“Two.”

On the other hand, you hadn't lied when you'd said it was the best sex of your life. Vi was incredibly skilled and generous, and you had no doubt tonight would also be incredible. You only live once, right?

“Thr-”

You put your hands behind your back, crossing them at the wrist.

Vi chuckled in your ear. “Cut it pretty close there, sweetheart. Glad you made the right decision.” With one hand still pressed against your back, she unbuckled her belt, pulling it free of the loops on her jeans. “Don't move, baby.” She removed her hand from your back and started passing her soft leather belt around your wrists. You whimpered as she did, realising just how vulnerable you were about to become.

When she finished, she patted your butt through your shorts. “These are coming off though.” Tucking her thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, she eased them down your hips and off your legs, tossing them on top of your robe. She traced the lace across the cheeks of your panties. “These are pretty,” she complimented.

“Thank you,” you whimpered as she slipped her finger through the back, bunched the material together, and pulled upwards a little. The pressure on your clit made you mewl weakly. “Vi…”

“What is it, baby? What do you need?”

You pled, “Don’t tease me.”

Vi tugged your panties harshly and delivered a harsh spank. “You’ll take what I give you and say thank you, Madame President,” she mocked.

“Fuck you, jock,” you snapped.

She just laughed. “Oh, you think you’re so tough. Baby, I’ll have you begging for more soon enough.”

You hated that you knew she was right.

And just as she said, you were. Vi had spanked your ass red, switching casually between your cheeks as you whined and humped her hand as she rubbed your clit. Just enough to torment you but never enough to let you finish. You tried to resist, to be strong against her cockiness, to prove you didn’t need to beg. Alas, you caved. Your thighs wet from your juices, your ass stinging, your clit almost painful, you finally begged.

“Vi, please! Please, god, let me cum!”

She rubbed your clit faster and harder, finally using enough pressure to properly stimulate your bundle of nerves. You moaned and rode her hand, quickly building to a peak. You climbed and climbed, your toes starting to tingle as you drew closer. You finally reached your climax…

And she stopped, releasing your panties and snatching her hand away from your clit.

You whined loudly at the ruined climax and she turned you over, sitting you up on the edge of the bed. You cried out as you were forced onto your raw cheeks. With a hand holding your hair firmly, her other dragged your soaked underwear down to your knees. She started to torment your pussy again, slowly, gently, as she leant in close.

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?”

Even in your clouded state, you knew what she meant. Take what she offers outside of the bedroom and be grateful, don't ask for more.

You groaned and didn't answer.

She tugged your hair and slapped your pussy. “Answer me, baby. If you don't, I'll leave right now. Hmmm? Leave you here all high and dry? Well, you're soaking wet, but you know what I mean,” she taunted. “You gonna be a good girl? I'll fuck you good, and you'll say thank you. Best sex you ever had, remember?”

“Ohhh, fuck you,” you argued.

She slapped your pussy again, followed by your inner thighs. “You feelin’ brave tonight, huh.”

You whined her name, lifting your hips when she slid her fingers into you. She pumped inside you until your pussy started to squeeze her fingers, then she withdrew them completely.

“No! Vi, stop it, just let me finish!” you panted.

“Not when you're being such a brat,” she shook her head. “You let me know when you're ready to be a good girl; I've got all night and two hands.”

You don't know how long it lasted or how many times Vi tormented you, working you to the edge but never letting you go over. Again and again, she promised you pleasure but took it away each time. After a while, she swapped hands nonchalantly, mockingly wiping your own juices across your face before holding your hair again.

You whined as the familiar sensation started building inside you yet again. “Please...”

She shoved her fingers deep inside but then held them still. “Are you gonna be good?” she asked again, getting right in your face, smelling the faint scent of your pussy on your face.

“Fuck!” you cursed. “Yes! Yes, I'll be good! Please, please just let me cum, Vi, please.”

She chuckled, “Good girl.” She pushed you backwards on the bed, spread your legs and started feasting on your cunt. You keened as she licked up and down your slit like a woman dying of thirst, sucking on your clit.

“I'm gonna cum,” you begged, your legs shaking around her head. “Oh god...”

She stayed between your legs, her hands pressing your thighs against her head, holding you in place as she brought you to a real and powerful climax. Your moans filled the room as you trembled and shook on the bed, calling her name in a series of pathetic whines.

She waited until you stopped shaking, then released your legs. Leaning over you, her chin wet with your juices, she wiped them off with her palm and then rubbed them on your cheeks, smearing the colours painted on your face.

“You done being a brat now?” she mocked.

You wanted to curse her out, tell her to go fuck herself, to get out of your house...But all you could do was tremble and moan.

She laughed. “I'll take that as a yes.” She pulled her tank top over her head, followed by her sports bra. She unzipped her jeans, slipping them and her underwear down her muscled legs. When she straightened up, your eyes widened.

“You done this before?” she asked, stroking the thick toy attached to her strap. You didn't answer, just stared at the cock that you knew would soon be fucking your brains out. She called your name, but you still stared. She grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks. “I said, have you done this before?”

You nodded dumbly.

“Oh, thought it would be cool to pop your cherry. Maybe I'll pop the other one soon,” she winked. Roughly flipping you over onto your belly, she shoved a pillow under your hips. “Well, would you look at that?” She lifted your head and forced you to look up.

On the wall in front of you was your mirror, offering a perfect view of the two of you on your bed. She struck a powerful image behind you, toned torso beautifully lit from your desk lamp, chest out, strap on display.

“That's such a pretty sight, don't you think?” she teased, leaning down and tugging your ear lobe with her teeth. “Look how fucked you are.”

You did indeed look fucked. Hair a mess, make up and face paint smeared, mouth open in a dazed fucked-out look. You whined pitifully, closing your eyes.

“Poor baby,” she cooed, releasing your hair. “But we're not finished yet, sweetheart.” She ran the tip of her toy through your wet and swollen folds, gathering your juices for her entry. “Say please, baby.”

You just whined into your sheets.

She spanked your ass, one on each cheek. “Say please.”

“Vi...” you begged. Begged to be fucked or begged for mercy, you didn't know.

She spanked you again. “Say please,” she repeated.

“Violet,” you cried, some tears escaping your eyes against your will. “I-I can't...” you hiccupped.

“Yes, you can. You're a big girl. It's one word. Say please.”

You cried and whined but she was patient. After a few seconds, you weakly lifted your head. “Please, Vi.”

She leant down next to your ear and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple. “Well done, sweetheart.” She slid inside you slowly, drawing out a long moan from both of you. “God, you're so perfect, baby. So good for my cock.”

She filled you with long and deep thrusts, nudging your cervix every time. You groaned when she did, your cunt pulsing. Vi could tell when you humped your hips back against hers with every thrust. She held herself low over you, her chest pressed to your back, filling you slowly and deeply.

“So pretty,” she praised in your ear, watching your reflections in the mirror. “Open your eyes, baby. Watch yourself get fucked.”

You obeyed, forcing your head up and your eyes open. You watched your face as Vi filled you, watching how your mouth dropped open a little at the top of her thrusts, your eyes glazing over just a little more every time.

“Pretty...” you mumbled as you looked at Vi’s reflection.

She smiled back at you - smiled, not smirked – as she knelt back on her knees, held your hips, and started fucking you into oblivion.

You cried out as she did, not expecting the sudden change of pace and force, but with your arms still behind your back, there was nothing you could do. Your only option was to lie there and get fucked. You moaned at the thought.

Vi’s smile switched back to her usual smirk. “You like this, huh? You like getting fucked raw?”

You let out a long, low moan, nodding your head pathetically. It felt so good, her strap stretching and filling you in the best ways.

Never slowing her thrusts, she unravelled her belt around your wrists, tossing it to the side. She moved your arms for you, resting them in front of you, rubbing your shoulders, the tenderness completely at odds with the animalistic nature of her thrusts. She rubbed up and down your back, soothing your muscles as she fucked you senseless, one long moan pouring from your throat.

“You gonna cum again already, sweetheart?” she taunted, massaging the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You nodded, your head dropped into the covers.

“You know what I'm gonna say?”

“Please!” you cried.

She chuckled. “Good girl. You can cum now.”

With permission given – something you never realised was so hot – your pussy clamped down on her strap, your body trembling beneath her. She praised you through it, rubbing your back and hips until you stopped moving.

“Was that good, baby?” she asked, earning a weak nod. “Who said we're done?”

Vi suddenly pulled your hips up, bringing your ass against her strap. With a hand tangled in your hair, she resumed her punishing pace. You screamed as her thrusts hit your end, assaulting that tender spot inside you. She squeezed and spanked your ass, holding your cheeks in her hands.

“Fuck, look at this ass,” she groaned to herself. “It's so pretty. Look how it moves, baby, watch it as I fuck you.”

You were only just able to lift your head, chin still resting on the covers as you watched Vi fuck you. Your ass cheeks rocked back and forth with every thrust, captivating as you watched. Vi squeezed your flesh as she fucked you, delivering alternating spanks, your skin rippling.

“Fuck’s sake, baby, I won't last,” she moaned as the ribbed inside of the strap rubbed against her clit. She threaded her fingers into your hair from behind, slowly pulling you up onto your elbows. “You like this, Cupcake? You like getting fucked like the slut you are?”

You whined in excitement.

She ran her tongue over her teeth as she smirked. “I knew you would, I know what you're really like. You act all proper and goody-goody, but under all that you're just a little slut. Not a problem for me, sweetheart, I'll fuck you like a slut any time you want.”

You moaned deeply. “Can I cum, Vi? I need to cum.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Have you earned another one? Have you been good?”

“Yes, yes, I have! Please!”

“Tell you what: admit you're my little slut, and you can have another.” You pouted, earning some hard spanks. “Don't be a brat,” she scolded. “Brats don't get to cum, and you want to cum, don't you?”

You nodded desperately, pushing your hips back against her strap. “I want to cum, Vi, I need it.”

“Then say it like a good girl and you can.”

You pouted again, mumbling, “I'm a little slut.”

Vi shook her head. “You can do better than that. C’mon now, say it properly.”

With a desperate whine, you spoke louder. “I'm a little slut.”

“Whose little slut are you?”

“Yours.”

She moved her hand from your hair, sliding it under your hips, and starting to rub your clit. Your legs started shaking. “Say it again.”

“I'm your little slut.”

“Louder.”

“I'm your little slut,” you panted, humping Vi’s hand and strap.

“Louder, sweetheart.”

“I'm your little slut!”

“Then cum for me,” she demanded in your ear, and you gladly obeyed. Moving your hips like a bitch in heat, you panted and whined on her strap, just as Vi’s thrusts became erratic and she thrust into you for the final time, moaning long and low in your ear.

You panted together as she draped herself over your back, her head down over your shoulder. You reached up and gently stroked over her hair, resting your head against hers. After a few minutes, you wiggled, her weight becoming a little too heavy. With a groan, she rolled off you, her strap slipping out of you. Lying next to you, she threw an arm over your hips.

You laid together for a short while, catching your breath and cuddling close. Vi eventually shifted away.

“You want ice cream?”

You were barely able to lift your head, but you forced yourself to look at her, utter confusion on your face. “What?”

“You've earned a treat. You want some ice cream?” she asked, pulling on her jeans.

You didn't have the strength to argue, just pulled the covers over you. “Strawberry. And it better be the good stuff.”

End

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

Need fluff with logan and a southern reader pretty pretty pls!!!

I’m from a hawt place so a winter man in a winter cabin is needed right about now. Please can I request headcanons or a one shot about the reader that bakes him so many sweets/makes so much food for winter he gets chubby and notices, maybe they swap recipes or bake together? Just so much domestic fluff

It’s a primal need to see this man happy, unbothered in the Canadian wilderness, thriving with anything his heart wants and I know I can make that happen lmao

taste of home

bigdaddy!loganxsouthern!reader

a/n: i got so inspired by this request that I started and finished in one session! was definitely needed to whip up some cute cozy feel feel-good after the hours of writing smut for Ravish. thank you for the request, my asks are always open! hope y'all enjoy it! <3 a/n: i got so inspired by this request that I started and finished in one session! was definitely needed to whip up some cute cozy feel feel-good after the hours of writing smut for Ravish. thank you for the request, my asks are always open! hope y'all enjoy it! <3

wc: 1k

18+ MDNI | sexual themes, FLUFF, the name daddy is used.

summary: Y/N has been a little homesick lately and found a temporary cure through baking for Logan.

"What're you getting all dolled up for?" Logan cooed from the doorframe he was leaning on, his arms crossed. 

Your eyes met his reflection in the mirror of your vanity. 

"Nothin', just felt like being pretty." You smiled up at him as you put on your pearl earrings. 

It was true, you had nowhere to go. Logan's cabin was located in quite literally the middle of nowhere. Miles and miles of trees surrounded the property secluding you both from any and all civilization. 

Back home, it was part of your routine to get ready for the day even though all you'd do was stay home. There was something fulfilling about looking your best every day: if you looked good, you felt good.

You had felt a little homesick lately.

 Logan had dragged you deep into the Canadian forests for the winter because he couldn't stand the southern heat that you were used to. At first, you weren't a fan of the idea, but seeing as how happy it made Logan, it made the move all worthwhile.

He'd let go of his negative ways, he was now affectionate, talkative, and adventurous. His being away from all the stress allowed him to show you some of his other colours and vibrant ones at that.

"What do you always say... as pretty as a plum?" He snorted.

"As a peach. It's pretty as a peach." You giggled. 

"Well then, darling, you're as pretty as a peach." He corrected himself, pushing off the door frame and walking up behind your chair.

"Why thank you, Daddy," You blushed as he placed a gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder. 

"God, I love it when you call me that." He groaned into your skin, giving you a soft bite. 

You giggled from the slight pinch and finished getting ready with a few final pats of powder. 

"Mmm, as much as I'd want to do that with you right now, know what day it is. It's my baking day, Lo'." You tipped your head back and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. 

"Can't you do it tomorrow baby?" He huffed.

"You know it's tradition, Sunday is baking day. Do you want more sweets or what?" You raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, mam'." He chuckled, taking a seat on the bed and letting you get to your  work station.

He knew how serious you got about your baking, it was your primary way of curing your homesickness. 

You'd always keep a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge and cupboards stocked with fresh bread and goodies. Logan could not bring himself to complain, he had developed a major sweet tooth since being with you. Every time you'd make new batches they would be gone in a matter of a few days. It's as if he'd eat one each time he'd pass by them. 

You didn't mind though, it warmed your heart to see how much he enjoyed your baking. Often you'd find some powdered sugar left in his beard. 

"You should watch it with those," You'd warn him as he devoured them, one by one. 

"I got bones of steel. No need to worry baby, sugar is the last thing that'll take me out." He mumbled with his mouth full, not being able to control himself around your delicious treats.

His favourites were your peach cobbler, lemon bars and peanut butter-chocolate fudge. Those were also conveniently the easiest ones to make. You had tried to teach Logan how to make them on his own, but it never stuck. 

"Why are they flat like pancakes? I followed your recipe," He had come to you while you left him unsupervised in the kitchen. You put your embroidery down and peered into the baking pan. 

"Did you use baking powder?" You poked the gooey top of his 'cupcake.' 

"Yes." He grumbled.

"Are you sure it was baking powder and not baking soda?" You tasted the batter, making a face. Salty.

"There's a difference?" His eyebrows furrowed.

Baking didn't come naturally to Logan, and that was okay. You had your strengths and he had his, which is what made you two work so well together. 

You spent the entire day working up a storm in the kitchen. 

Multitasking the different steps for each recipe with ease. You had spent so much time of your life baking that tackling multiple projects at once didn't even make you break a sweat. Logan turned his leather armchair to face you from across the house so he could watch you. 

He enjoyed watching you get lost in your little head as you worked. The way your plump lips wrapped around your finger when you taste-tested the recipes, making sure they were just right for him. The slight lift of your dress as you bent over to grab some pans from storage. Your flushed skin, glowing underneath the kitchen light. That little sigh of relief would escape you as you tied your hair up from the heat of the oven. Just like that, silently, he'd ogle you from his corner, sipping his favourite whiskey, and watching his favourite doll. 

Of course, at any chance he'd get he'd be there to come help you when you needed him to reach some things that were too high up or lift the heavy sac of flour on the counter for you. 

Today, you had made the biggest batches yet, pans of cooling sweets covered your entire kitchen surface. 

"Whoa baby, what're you feeding, the army?" Logan teased as he walked by shirtless. 

When you first started seeing Logan, he was in optimal shape. He was nothing but an angry mess of hair and muscle. But since he moved you into the cabin, he had started putting on a few extra pounds, most likely from his overconsumption of your treats. 

"No, I'm feeding a Wolverine that's clearly getting ready for winter." You teased back, poking his stomach. 

 He stopped in his tracks and peered down at his hair-covered gut. 

In no way shape or form did he look bad with the added weight, if anything you like him having a few extra layers? 

"You callin' me fat?" Grinned mischievously. 

"I was just playin- ah Logan!" You gasped as he threw you over his shoulder with a swift motion. Holding your ass right next to his face with his arm. He hoisted up your dress with his free hand, revealing your white bow panties. Your legs kicked in protest. 

"Daddy, stop it- you're not fat-" 

"That's not very nice baby, gonna need to punish you." He chuckled giving you a hard spank on the cheek, then placed you back down. 

"Now if you will excuse me, I've gotta get ready for winter." He winked as he grabbed the cookie closest to him. Sinking with teeth in it with that smile you oh so fell in love with. 

🏷️: @babey-fruit-bat <3

If you'd like to join my tagged list and be notified whenever I post new content, click ->-> HERE<-<-, instructions will follow.

->->masterlist<-<-

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Two ideas. You don’t have to do headcanons for both, it’s just a thought. Do what you want :3

I have been watching WAY too many scare pranks and I wanna know how Harley would react to his s/o pranking him constantly. Not just him, but other employees as well like Leith, Stella, Eddie, etc*. That poster from chapter 1 with the rule that says: “Do NOT hide behind doors to scare Leith Pierre” I’m sure that rule didn’t apply to (y/n). And I think Harley was described as paranoid at one point and I feel like he would be SO. DAMN. JUMPY. S/o’s got it on camera.

2. How do you think Harley would react if his s/o nearly dies at work?? (I just wanna see tears and angst from him tbh)

Oh, he would be livid. (alsso the second one I had another anon request similar to this and I did it, if you're interested you can check my page)

Harley already operates with the baseline assumption that everything is a potential threat—so the idea that you, of all people, would exploit that for amusement? Unforgivable. But the worst part? He can’t do anything about it. Because you’re not some random employee—no, you’re someone he tolerates. Which makes it so much worse.

Harley’s Reaction to His S/O Constantly Pranking Him

The first time you pull a prank, he doesn’t react. Not outwardly. But you know you got him. His eyes flash, his posture stiffens, and for a single, glorious second, you see the faintest flicker of unease before it’s smothered by a glare so venomous it could kill a lesser scientist on the spot.

The second time? He’s prepared. Or so he thinks. You somehow manage to time it just as he’s in deep concentration—muttering about some experiment, tapping his pen against his jaw. You drop something behind him, loudly, and the way he jolts? Beautiful.

The third time? He knows you’re going to do something. And he still falls for it. Because you’re unpredictable. You change the pattern. Maybe it’s not a loud noise this time—maybe it’s something subtle, like swapping his coffee with tea (he hates tea). Maybe it’s something so minor it makes him second-guess himself. You’re in his head now. He hates it.

Harley Sawyer, the Paranoid Scientist™️

He starts checking things before using them. Inspecting his chair before sitting down. Looking over his shoulder more often. You’ve made him worse.

But instead of stopping you outright, he gets petty. He messes with your paperwork. He waits until you’re in the middle of something important before suddenly calling your name—just to make you flinch. He memorizes your habits, waiting for the perfect moment to retaliate.

You’ve effectively started a war, and now, neither of you are safe.

The Other Employees (A Collateral Damage Report)

Leith Pierre: Absolutely your favorite target. You know he’s the reason that rule exists. You exploit this knowledge mercilessly. Harley, begrudgingly, respects your dedication.

Stella Greyber: Surprisingly, she doesn’t get pranked as often. Not because you don’t want to—but because she pranks you back. You’ve met your match.

Eddie M. N. Ritterman: Poor Eddie. He doesn’t deserve this. But that doesn’t stop you. He’s just so… easy to startle. His glasses have flown off his face more than once because of you.

The Breaking Point

One day, you go too far. Maybe you rig his lab coat so it zaps him with static when he puts it on. Maybe you record him getting startled and show it to the other employees. Maybe you set up a prank so elaborate that he has no choice but to respect it—even as he’s plotting his revenge.

And that’s when it happens.

He stops reacting.

He stops falling for it.

You don’t know when, but at some point, he adapted. He starts predicting your moves. Avoiding your traps. And then, one day—when you least expect it—he turns the tables.

You’re in the lab, minding your own business, when you hear it.

Click.

You look down. Your pen is glued to the table.

Harley’s smirk is slow, deliberate, and deeply satisfied.

"Checkmate."

Would that stop you? Probably not. But it would make you realize—pranking him is a game of escalation, and he plays to win.

[changisworld]

Cum Swapping with Hyunjin

Word count:2,116

18+, MDNI!! smut below the cut

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

Fourth part of my 8 part masterlist of the extension of this & this headcanon of the members!!;3

Kinks & pleasures masterlist here Main masterlist here

-> SMUT WARNINGS: Cum eating (both), cumshot, spit, Piv, Jinnie is a loverboy cuz duh, soft sex, marking (Hyun rec), mutual masterbation, praise, squirting, a few pussy slaps, choking (Hyun rec), edging, literally 100% smut

You were never surprised when you came to the realisation Hyunjin loves messy sex. Spit, cum everywhere, squirting, period sex, facials, you name it, he is obsessed with it.

You had tasted each others cum before, obviously, but it wasn't until today that you both got to switch your orgasms with one another, & you mentally slap yourself over it because god, has it became both of your new latest kink.

You're both sitting opposite one another, your feet planted on the bed as you lean against the headboard, Hyunjins legs inside of yours, forcing you to keep your own open as they tend to shake when you're close to an orgasm, Hyunjin leaning against the stack of pillows he has nabbed from the bed to keep himself up.

You're both comletely naked, looking into each others eyes, Hyunjin teasing the red, leaky tip of his cock, swirling the pre cum that is dribbling out, into the skin as your eyes dart down to the sight every once in a while as your fingers are teasing your folds with light touches, pulling your folds in a 'V' shape, exposing your already beyond needy clit for him, which his eyes struggle to move away from.

"Look at your clit hunny, it looks so sore, you gonna touch it f'me?" he questions, already knowing the answer & just to his assumption, you follow his words as if he is a siren & your index finger slides over your wetness & your stomach makes you lurch forwards as your feet dismount off the bed for a split second, the sensitivity almost making your brain short circuit as you rub small circles, matching the same pace as Hyunjins on his cock.

"Jinnie, want you to touch me instead" you whine, growing more impatient as the seconds go by, your mouth threatening to spill all the building up drool simply from watching the hottest man to ever walk the earth, jerking off in front of you, nibbling his bottom lip, it a darker shade of pink by this point.

"You know what we agreed to, cum for me first n then I'll think about it, mkay?" he retorts, a pretty smirk wiped across his face as he watches your eyebrows furrow, his abs tensing up ever so often at the feeling of his own hand, slowing down every time the pleasure starts to get too good.

You grumble at his response, getting slightly agitated as you grow even more needy, you pick up your pace slightly as your fingers sometimes slip from your clit due to how wet you’ve gotten so quickly.

“look how wet you are, slide a finger inside for me jagi” he asks as he spits into his hand before bringing it back down to his aching cock & picks up his pace slightly, his balls twitching as he does so & he has to make a conscious effort to not throw his head back, because why would he when he can watch you?

You do as he says without any hesitation & you slide your middle finger inside & you shudder at the feeling & you bite down on your bottom lip & you start to finger yourself at a decent pace, not enough to make you cum but a good build up.

“You’re so hot Jinnie, cock is so big, i want it” you purr, trying to keep your voice steady as you decide to add a second finger & you & hyunjin let out a small moan in unison, you because of the tiniest stretch & hyunjin because he is addicted to the way he sees your pussy swallow your fingers, he would prefer if it was his but he loves this sight too.

"Want you too hunny, wanna cum for you, want you to see how pretty you look for me, look how wet you are" he groans as he reaches out to caress your thigh as he tightens his grip on his cock, precum coating his hand & he works it into his cock like lube, his heart racing & he can't stop himself from blushing, honestly flustured by what's going on & you're no better.

"Wanna make you cum Jinnie, cum with me please" you plead as your fingers graze against your soft spot, not nearly as well or as quickly as Hyunjin can do but it's something.

You are visibly clenching around your own fingers as your thumb is nudging against your clit & your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, your legs hitting against Hyunjins & if it wasn't for his legs being on the inside of yours, they would have shut by now.

"Gonna cum" you rush out as your toes curl & your body burns under his & your own touch & you clench so hard so you are forced to pull your fingers & you slap your cunt lightly a few times & you orgasm from the feeling as your cum squirts out of you, coating your hand, the bed, your thighs & also Hyunjins thighs, a few drops even landing on his balls & he has to rush to pull his hand off his cock, edging himself, because he knows what he wants to try & he needs to last.

You rest on your elbows as you catch your breath, your hair sticking to your skin, a bit uncomfortable, but you quickly dismiss it as you lean forward just enough to grab his hands & you lean backwards while holding them, pulling him on top of you.

"You didn't cum with me Jinnie!" you whine & Hyunjin doesn't respond straight away & instead takes the hand that is completely coated in your juices & slurps it off your fingers, looking into your eyes as he does so & you both share a small hum.

"You taste so good, I wanna try something a bit different, you wanna try?" he asks, his hand playing with your hair as he reaches with the other to cup your tit, kneading it in his fingers, making you arch into his touch.

"What is it you have in your mind, hmm?" you question, because you have no idea he could even have in mind because you genuinely think you've tried everything by this point.

"It's a surprise, trust me" he giggles to you as he flips you both over so you're straddling him, his hard cock poking into your soaking cunt & you instinctively grind against it.

His hands come down to cup your ass as you lean down to lock lips with him, your tongues tasting each others as his plump lips hug yours & you reach back & grab onto his hard on & position it to your slightly stretched hole but as you slide down onto him, you can't completely ignore the tiny painful but huge pleasurable feeling & you & Hyunjin groan into each others mouths.

"You're so tight no matter what, I swear, you're so perfect." he whimpers into your mouth & you bite down on his bottom lip playfully & you clench around him, making him release another deep groan, his hands gripping onto your ass even tighter as he helps you start riding him at a good, quick pace from the start.

Hyunjin readjusts you both slightly, just enough so he can suck on your tits, swirling his tongue & his teeth nibbling down on the hard bud & you let out a small shriek, his cock hitting into your G-spot, way more than your own fingers were no longer than ten minutes ago & you pick up the pace as much as you can without forcing Hyunjin to let go of your tits.

"Hyune, you look so- feel so good, shit." you splutter, the sounds of your sweaty skin connecting clapping throughout the room along with your moans & whimpers.

Much to your own dissatisfaction, you pull away from his mouth & you lean down until your connected, chest to chest & you nuzzle into his neck & you nibble on the sensitive part of his neck, making him hiss as he holds onto your hips as he helps you keep fucking onto him since he knows you so well & he can tell that despite you not verbally saying it, your thighs are starting to burn.

You suck a dark spot onto his pretty, smooth skin as his tip kisses your cervix & bullies your G-spot & your eyes furrow shut as you try ignore the burning of your legs to keep riding him, the pleasure far too good to ever stop.

You slither your hand up to rest against his neck & you squeeze it slightly & his breath instantly hitches, a whimper leaving his throat as he melts into your touch.

"You're so g-good y/n, g'na cum" he blabbers before he is flipping you both over so you're on your back & he pulls his cock out, trying to prolong his orgasm until you cum one more time.

Hyunjin lets a glob of spit land on your pussy & you wince at the coldness as your hips buck, your clit & folds swollen from stimulation.

"Hyune, put it in!" you beg as you try sit up to latch onto him but he is quick to push you back fully onto the bed & he leans over you as he pushes himself back to the hilt, getting that tiniest bit deeper in the new position & the words lodge in your throat, a croaky whine being the only thing that leaves instead.

"Open up f'me" he purrs & you open your mouth & go the extra little bit & stick out your tongue, already knowing what he is gonna do & you purr back at him as he spits into your mouth & you swallow it proudly.

"You're so good for me, you know that? My perfect y/n." he mutters as he is fucking into you like a bunny & you have your hands wrapped around his back, your nails accidentally digging into his back, scratching him, not that he minds though, a moan leaving his mouth as he leans into your touch.

"Wann- gonna cum Hyune, so deep." you cry as you move a hand to feel over his toned stomach & he reaches down to play with your already pulsating clit & when he does this mixed with the way his perfect dancer hips are moving, your second orgasm gushes out of you, landing all over you both & you clench so hard, his cock is forced out of you but just from the sight, he cums with you this time, ropes of his orgasm landing all over your lower stomach, his legs threatening to give way as he groans at the feeling, his head refusing to throw itself back, instead, watching the way his cum lands & sits on your skin.

"come n cuddle me Hyune, so sleepy, so good." you blab but he hums a 'nuh uh' & you open your eyes to look up at him, his hair dripping with sweat & his red face as he moves back enough before leaning down & licking a strip from your cunt before slowly working his way up & licking his own cum off your stomach, not daring to leave a single bit, before worming his way up your frame & grabbing onto your cheeks, guiding you to his face before spitting it into your mouth.

"Hold it there, mkay?" he says in a soft tone before he takes his fingers & drags them through your folds, gathering more of your own cum before suckling it off his fingers.

He holds the taste in his mouth & he then leans in & kisses you & you whimper in surprise as you exchange juices, but you'd be lying if you didn't say you weren't more horny than you ever have before.

You both break away from the kiss after you both lose all your breath & you swallow it. "That is what I wanted to try, that was the hottest thing i think we have ever done." he chuckles to you as he lifts you up to help you to the bathroom.

"Couldn't agree more, dirty Jinnie. Bath n sleep?" you ask, already knowing his incoming response, it is basically your daily routine together now & he just nods, gigging as he sets you down to turn on the tap.

->Taglist is open!

->Anon list is open!