#On one hand it makes sense for to him to have it

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[evansbby]

𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+, minors dni, dark, noncon, dubcon, daddy kink, dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, controlling behaviour, cum play, jacking off, lingerie kink, dom/sub dynamic, frat party setting, asshole fratboys, ari levinson mentioned lmao.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: you run into steve at another frat party. this time, it's in his territory. (alternate continuation of chapter two of wicked games, but this has ZERO impact on the wicked games story. again, this does not affect the plot of the original wicked games timeline, it's just a fun little detour, a completely separate story if you will. you can read this without having read wicked games).

“Can we leave? I’m not really in a party mood,” you frown, tugging at the hem of your dress and regretting how short it is. It’s deep purple and form fitted, with a hemline that sits right below your butt. You’d thought the sexiness of it would help you get more into the spirit of things since Wanda had insisted on dragging you here tonight, but clearly that hadn’t worked. 

“Don’t do this right now, Y/N. We need to be seen at these events if we want to be popular.” Wanda smiles and waves into the distance as if she’s recognised a friend. Despite the fact that this is a St. Jude’s party and you know as well as she does that everyone here is a complete stranger to the both of you. 

You wrinkle your nose, “Well, I don’t really care about being popular–”

“Of course you do. Everyone does.” Wanda’s eyes dart around the very crowded, dimly lit basement of the frat house as if looking for someone. 

“But we don’t know anyone at St. Jude’s!” You tug at your dress again, feeling more insecure than ever. 

Tonight was originally planned to be a girl’s night – and you’d already picked out a movie, laid out the facemasks and bowls of popcorn, and pulled on your comfiest pyjamas only for Wanda to show up to your dorm in a slink black dress and strappy heels, telling you there was a frat party at the rival college that the two of you just couldn’t miss, and that she was giving you fifteen minutes to get ready.

“Yeah, but this morning I overheard some cheerleaders, and they said Curtis might be here.” 

Oh. Of course. Now it all made sense. Ever since the night of the last frat party the two of you had been to, the one where Wanda had slept with Curtis Everett… Well, ever since then she’d become a teensy bit obsessed with him. And that was also the same frat party where you and…

“Wanda! If Curtis is here then Ari will be here too! I don’t wanna see him!”

Your best friend rolls her eyes, “Relax. I also heard the cheerleaders say that Ari went back home for the weekend. Sharon Carter was all upset about it, because apparently he didn’t even bother inviting her and she hasn’t met his parents yet. But anyways, keep an eye out for Curtis, would you?”

“Okay…” Begrudgingly, you scan the room. A part of you is happy that Ari is out of town, because it makes it easier not to think about him, knowing he’s miles and miles away. Out of sight, out of mind - that was going to be your motto when it came to him moving forward.

“Looking for someone?” 

The deep voice feels like velvet against your ear, and you inhale sharply at the familiarity of it. Your whole body starts to buzz when you feel a warm hand press against the small of your back, the stranger’s touch brimming with confidence as he easily turns you around. 

You’re faced with a chest. A big, muscly, expansive chest covered in a grey shirt that’s deliciously tight against it. Slowly, you peek up at his face. Blue eyes. Cocky smile. Handsome. Angelic.

“Steve!” you breathe, relaxing at the familiar face, “You’re here!”

He chuckles, casually grabbing your hip and squeezing it, “Well, considering this is my frat house, it would be weird if I wasn’t.”

Your eyes widen, “It is?”

“Yep. Thanks for coming over, sweetheart. I had a feeling I hadn’t seen the last of you after that party.” He winks. And you have to admit - he looks good. All six foot six inches of him, looming above you with that charming smile on his face, that smile being one of the only things you remember from the night you’d last seen him, where he’d been such a gentleman and dropped you home after everything that had happened with Ari.

He’s got a backwards baseball cap on his head, but tufts of his blonde hair peek out from underneath, and his blue eyes sparkle as he watches you, as if he knows you’re checking him out. And unabashedly, he does the same, his pink tongue licking over his lips as he drinks in your body, his hold on your hip tightening. 

“I…uh… yeah,” you feel self-conscious, tongue-tied after the embarrassingly long amount of time you’ve just spent checking him out. “Thanks for giving me a lift home, by the way. I was super drunk.”

He nods, the glint still in his eye, “I should be the one thanking you for that cab ride.”

You blink, “Thanking me? Why?”

For a moment, he just stares at you. And oh, he’s so intense! That’s another thing you remember about him. How his eyes felt like they were boring holes into your very soul.

Finally, he smiles. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart. You looked so cute and helpless, I knew I had to step in.”

“Hey! I wasn’t completely helpless…”

He laughs, “A damsel in distress if I’d ever seen one, and…” he pauses, bringing his thumb up to stroke your lip. Oh, he was so forward too! Considering you’d only ever met him once before and there’d been nothing sexual between the two of you. “Do you remember what I told you that night?”

You shake your head, half in a trance by how he’s just touching you so openly. Except you don’t really want him to stop.

“I told you that if you were my girl, you wouldn’t be allowed to step foot inside a party like that one. Or this one, for that matter.”

You purse your lips, “Fine. I’ll leave then.”

Steve chuckles, encircling both his arms around you as if he owns you, “Too late. I’m not letting you go for the rest of the night.”

“B-But I’m here with Wanda…”

“Who’s that?”

“My best friend. She brought me here, and–”

“Doesn’t matter. This is my house and you’re here with me now. Okay, baby?”

He strokes your cheek and says it so sweetly, that the controlling nature of his request doesn’t even sink in for you. No, you’re way too distracted by the unabashed hunger in his eyes, the confidence in his smile as he yanks you closer, till your chest is pressed up against his, and an embarrassing squeak escapes your lips. 

“I…uh… Steve, I…”

“Say okay,” he commands you, “you don’t have to think so hard when you’re with me, sweet girl. I promise I’ll take care of you just like how I did last time.”

“Uh… I… o-okay…I ju–”

He smirks, “Cute little tongue-tied baby. C’mon, let’s go to my room.”

At that moment, Wanda reappears, a mildly annoyed look on her face. 

“Y/N, didn’t I tell you to keep an eye out for Curtis? What do you think you’re doing–?”

She stops short, her eyes widening when she sees you’re not alone.

“Wanda, this is the guy I met the other night–”

“–Steve Rogers,” Wanda cuts you off, beaming up at him, “What are you doing with Y/N?”

Steve blinks, “Why would I not be with Y/N?”

She looks you up and down, and if you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn her eyes flash and narrow, “Uh, you know she’s with Ari Levinson, right?”

Your jaw drops - why would she say that? She knew you’d vowed never to speak to Ari again!

But Steve looks completely unperturbed, and he lazily throws his arm over your shoulders, yanking you into his hard chest. And you know it’s a display of ownership - he’s been doing it the moment he saw you tonight after all. And it should bother you, but it doesn’t! Oh, it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t!

“You know what, Wilma? I think I saw Curtis outside by the pool.” He flashes her that charming smile that you thought was only reserved for you.

Your best friend’s eyes widen, “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s definitely there.”

“Thanks, Steve!” She sidles up closer to him, accidentally bumping you out of the way – well, you hope it’s accidental. She strokes his chest, her manicured nails scraping against his shirt, “Would you show me where the pool is please? This place is so big, I couldn’t possibly find it on my own.”

A sudden fire ignites inside you, burning its way up to the surface of your body alongside this weird feeling of… well, you don’t really know. But you stand there, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch their interaction unfold in front of you.

But Steve remains by your side, “Up the stairs and outside the sliding glass door on your first right. You won’t miss it.”

“I’ll come with you, Wanda,” you try to shake off Steve’s heavy arm. You don’t really want to leave him, but it’s only right that you go with your best friend.

“Don’t bother, Y/N. I can see you’re busy.” And she’s off without another glance at you, but she makes sure to brush past Steve as she goes, despite the fact that there’s enough room for her to not have to do that. 

Steve snickers, “That’s your best friend?”

“She’s drunk, I think. Usually she’s a lot friendlier…” your voice trails off as you watch her leave the basement in a hurry. “Is…uh… is Curtis really up there? By the pool?”

Steve smirks as he grabs your hand and tugs you to the stairs, “If that bald-headed fuck was anywhere near here, I’d personally kick him out myself. Now come on, let’s go somewhere a bit more private.”

Steve’s room is neater than you’d assume a basketball player’s room in a frat house to be. Not that you have anything to compare it to since Ari had never invited you into his room. But this one is muted, grey, minimalistic with some basketball memorabilia scattered around. 

He’d wasted no time in getting you alone up there, practically half-carrying you through the crowd of people and up the stairs, his grip on you tight and confident. As if you’d been his girl all your life, as if it was a concrete fact that you belonged to him tonight. And it’s like your body was too entranced to even put up a fight to stop him.

Oh, what had you gotten yourself into?

“Good thing I got you out of there before things got too rowdy,” Steve shuts his bedroom door behind him, and you hear the unmistakable click of a lock. And you know you should feel more alarmed than you actually do - but it’s Steve! He wasn’t like Ari Levinson - he was nice! He could’ve taken advantage of you at that last frat party, but he hadn’t! The only person who’d taken advantage of you that night was Ari.

You could trust Steve.

“Do your parties usually get super rowdy?”

“For babies like you, yes.” Again, he unabashedly stares at your body, at your bare legs accentuated by your high heels, your tight dress that hugs your curves, the dip of your cleavage and the way it rises up and down as you breathe shallowly. “As I said before, I don’t want you down there. Not where they can all see you.”

You wrinkle your nose, “No one was looking at me. I’m from a different college, no one here even knows me.”

His muscular arms wrap around your waist with that same charming confidence, as if he’s known you way longer than he actually has. As if he knows you won’t pull away. How does he know that?

“You’re more innocent than I thought, baby girl.” To your shock, his hands press flat against your thighs before moving upwards, straight up under your dress to cup your bare ass cheeks. You gulp, yet remain rooted in place as he gently squeezes the soft flesh. “Skipping into a frat house looking so fucking sexy, and thinking no one’s gonna notice you?”

“Well, I didn’t skip…”

“You may as well have,” He presses his hard crotch against your front, and he’s so much bigger than you that you can feel his boner digging against your midriff, and it sends jolts straight down to your core. There was just something so hot about him being so big, you being so much smaller, him calling you innocent, him being so forward and unpredictable… It actually reminds you a bit of… NO. No, don’t think about him!

“And guess what?” Steve whispers in your ear as he gently walks you backwards to his bed. 

“Wh-What?”

“I’ve rescued you from not one, but two parties now. You owe me.”

You squeak as he sits down at the edge of his bed and pulls you on top of him. Till you’re perched on his lap like a baby, your butt on his knee and your legs draped across his beefy thighs.

Steve smirks, “Comfy?”

“I think so,” your mind’s frazzled, and your body is buzzing with heat. When did it get so hot? Now, he’s pressing his lips against the nape of your neck, his hands rubbing up and down your body in a way that has you shaking on his lap. Oh, it was too much, it was–

“Look, you have another varsity jacket!” You blurt out, pointing at the familiar blue and white jacket draped over his desk chair. Exactly the same as the one he’d given you the night of the other party. “I still have to return the one you gave me.”

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “You keep it, baby girl. It looked cute on you.”

You duck your head, the compliment making you shy. Somehow, him calling you cute had a way bigger effect on you than him calling you hot, “Really?”

He pushes your chin up with his pointer finger, and it’s all these little touches that he’s administering so casually are getting you so hot and bothered, so worked up on the inside in a way that’s so unfamiliar to you. No one’s ever made you feel like this except for one other person…

He licks the shell of your ear, “Yes. I liked how big it was on you.”

“It wasn’t that big…”

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay fine, it was pretty big. But that’s not my fault, you’re literally a giant!” You giggle when he runs his fingers up and down your arm. It’s ticklish but it also feels kind of good.

“You like that I’m so much bigger than you?” Nonchalantly, his finger dips down to hook the hem of your dress.. 

“Well, uh, I don’t not like it…”

“Answer properly.” 

It’s crazy how casual he is, yet at the same time so quietly demanding, so dominating, so in control. How quickly he’s switching from charming and sweet to intensely serious. But it makes you want to do whatever he’s asking of you. 

“Yes,” you squeak, too shy to look into his eyes except he has hold of your chin and is able to keep your gaze locked with his. “Yes, I like it.”

Steve relaxes, “Good girl.”

The compliment makes you feel nice, and you sit there in his lap basking in it for a while. You don’t even notice him hiking your dress up higher and higher, till he snaps the elastic band of your thong. 

“Cute panties.”

“Hey!” Hastily, you push your dress back down, a part of you snapping out of whatever spell he’d cast on you since the moment he’d dragged you up here, and you shoot him your fiercest look. Which only serves to amuse him, the corner of his lip quirking up into a smile. 

“Does the bra match?” 

“You-You can’t just ask that!” 

“I just did. Now answer.”

His brashness should get to you, but for some reason all it’s doing is getting you wet. He was being so inappropriate, and yet it’s like you’re being held prisoner by your own body, which seems to love how he’s touching and petting you right now. How he’s demanding you answer all his questions, how he’s essentially ordering you around. 

“Actually, I have a better idea, baby girl. I think you should show me.” He twirls a piece of your hair around his finger, running his tongue over his lips. His skin is pale, but his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. And oh, he’s so handsome! It makes you want to listen to whatever he says…

“Show you?”

“Yes. You’ll take your dress off and show me what you’ve got on underneath, won’t you?”

“I will?”

Steve smiles easily, smiles like he’s having the most normal conversation on Earth and you’ve just said something funny. “Of course you will. Because you like listening to me. It makes you feel all small and cute, having someone like me be in charge of you.”

Your jaw drops, and yet… Oh, why does him saying that make your core throb?! And you know you shouldn’t… but maybe it would be okay if you did what he asked just this once? After all, he just wanted to see if your underwear matched. There was nothing untoward about that, was there?

A part of you knows you’re being delusional, but you’re also pressing your thighs together subconsciously. As if just him talking like he’s so in charge is getting you so hot and bothered, so turned on. And a bigger part of you, the hornier part of you, can only focus on how big he is, how in control he is, how small you feel in his lap, like you’re his baby and he’s allowed to do whatever he wants with you, and you’ll just let him.

“Stand up,” Steve orders, “Let me see you properly.” 

It’s comical how quickly you scramble to obey him. As if the you who’d arrived at this party feeling bored, irritated and out of place has been replaced by a girl controlled by lust and want, her body betraying her as Steve taps into your most submissive inner desires, and you can’t help but listen to him. 

He nods in approval when you stand between his legs.

“Good. You’re so hot, baby girl.”

“I am?” You beam, despite the fact that you knew you looked good the moment you’d put this gorgeous purple dress on earlier tonight. Despite the time crunch Wanda had put you under, you’d still managed to look more than presentable. And now, a part of you wonders what Ari would think if he saw you—NO STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM. JUST STOP.

”Yes, you are. Now take your dress off.”

“B-But Steve…”

“Do it.”

Cheeks burning, yet pussy throbbing at the same time, you unzip your dress. Trying to make your breathing sound less laboured, you keep your eyes on his. Only because his gaze is so intense, and you’re afraid he’d object if you looked away. 

The dress falls down to pool by your feet, and you stand in front of him in your lacy black set, with high heels to match. Steve inhales deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looks you up and down. And oh, you feel so awkward yet at the same time so turned on when you see that dark look of lust in his eyes. 

“Twirl. Slowly.” He grabs a bottle from the side of his bed, unscrewing it and taking a gulp. You catch a glimpse of the Grey Goose label, vaguely wondering why he has a bottle of vodka stored beside his bed, and how you didn’t know anyone to just drink it straight up like that - no mixers or anything. 

You twirl for him, concentrating on not tripping in your heels. You haven’t had anything to drink tonight, and yet your movements feel sluggish out of nervousness. But you hear a low whistle behind you, before the feel of his large hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze.

“Fuck, look at that cute little baby ass in those panties. Get back on my lap,” he growls. But before you can climb back on, he raises his hand to stop you, “Put my jacket on first.”

“Wh-What–”

He slaps your ass, pushing you in the direction of his desk chair with his varsity jacket draped over it. You gulp, slipping it on carefully. And it’s gigantic on you, the sleeves too long and the hem reaching down to mid-thigh. But Steve only licks his lips, beckoning you over once more. 

“It’s a bit big,” you bite your lip.

Roughly, he yanks you back into his lap, catching your lips between his in a searing kiss. Kissing you like he’s obsessed with you, and your eyes widen as he deepens it, sinking his teeth against your bottom lip carnally. As if he wants to eat you up, and his hands are all over your body, slipping underneath his jacket to touch your bare skin. 

“You’re so sexy, baby girl,” he breathes after he’s had his fill of kissing you. But even then, he pecks your lips between words, and you jolt in his lap when his thumb brushes against your erect nipple through the lace of your bra. He smirks against your mouth, “And you know it, don’t you?”

“No,” you lie, because the way he’s looking at you with such dark, almost carnivorous eyes… Oh, it makes you feel like the sexiest girl in the world!

“Of course you do. That’s why you wore this hot little lingerie set.” He snaps the strap of your bra against your skin and you yelp. “It looks so sexy on you, baby.”

“Thanks!” Most of the fancy lingerie you owned had been bought for you by Ari, but this was one you’d treated yourself with. Which was just as well, because there was something unspeakably awkward about sitting in the lap of one man wearing bra and panties bought by another man.

It was also funny how different Ari and Steve’s tastes were. Ari almost exclusively wanted you in pink or white sets, always something super girly and sweet and innocent. Steve seems to be the complete opposite, with how his eyes are glued to your black lingerie now.

Steve takes his baseball cap off, perching it backwards on your head. Another mark of his ownership, and yet your frazzled mind doesn’t have the capacity to think much into it.

He dips his head, licking a stripe down your cleavage. You gasp, automatically gripping a handful of his hair. He grabs your breasts, pushing them together against his face and nuzzling, licking and nipping as if he’s starved. Pushing the cups of your bra down, he latches on to your nipple, sucking on it roughly. You moan, and it eggs him on, he presses you forward, taking your whole breast in his mouth and sucking hard, covering it with his spit like he’s marking you as his property.

“Such pretty tits,” he mutters, flicking your nipple with his tongue, practically bullying it till it’s hard enough to cut glass, and you’re mewling because it’s so sensitive. But that only eggs him on, and he bites down on it like he’s starved. “Want me to fuck your tits, pretty girl?”

Your eyes widen, and he laughs devilishly. It was crazy how angelic he looked compared to how filthy he was being right now!

Again, he pushes your breasts together, licking down your cleavage like he’s obsessed, a wicked smile on is face when he finally comes up for air. “Every party I’ve seen you at, you’re always wearing some cute little dress that barely covers anything, like you’re some sort of goddamned tease. Tell me, baby. Are you gonna be a tease tonight?”

Meanly, he pinches your nipple, chuckling when you cry out. Your brain is too fried to answer his question properly, and so you just whimper.

Luckily, he doesn’t push it, doesn’t force an answer out of you like how he’s been doing all night. Perhaps too distracted by your chest, his head dips back down. His hands are ruthless, so big, rough and calloused from basketball. Squeezing your tits like they’re just toys to him, like your body is his to play with, and he knows exactly how to touch you, almost as if he’s done it before.

“S-Steve,” you feel lightheaded with pleasure, amped up at how carnal he’s being. How he’s not holding back at all, how he’s acting like he knows your body despite this being the first ever time the two of you have hooked up. How is he even doing that?

“Is that what you call me?” Steve comes up for air, flashing you a warning look before switching to your other breast, flicking your overly sensitive nipple with his tongue and making your breath hitch.

“Daddy,” you moan, finally letting go of any inhibitions you had left. You rut forward, rubbing your panty-covered crotch against his thigh. And oh, the denim of his jeans feels heavenly, and for a moment, you get a strong sense of dejavu that almost knocks you out of your lust-fuelled haze. Almost.

“That’s right, rub your little pussy against me. Don’t think I don’t notice what you’re doing. I noticed last time too.”

Huh? Last time?

“Fuck, didn’t expect you to fall into my lap again tonight, baby girl,” He kisses up your neck, holding his varsity jacket against you because it’s so big it’s slipping off. “Can’t believe you just showed up at my house looking like sex on legs with your cute little doe eyes in your tiny little dress. Did you really expect you were gonna walk out of here in one piece, baby?”

“I…uh…nngh!” You moan incoherently, hardly registering what he’s saying as his teeth clamp down on your neck, and he bites and sucks at the sensitive nape, making you squirm in his lap.

“You thought you could stumble into my party looking like a clueless little baby and not expect to end up in my bed?” He bounces you on his lap roughly, and you cry out in unexpected pleasure, the action sending thrills straight to your pussy. You rut against him in response, growing more desperate and delirious by the second.

“D-Didn’t know this was your house,” you pant, breathless from the way he’s kissing and fondling you, playing with your body like you’re just his toy and nothing more.

“Bullshit,” he breathes, “you wanted to see me again, didn’t you? After that night? You couldn’t forget, could you?”

“I–”

Your voice dies in your throat when Steve suddenly grabs your panties and yanks hard. They rip instantly, and you gape at the tattered lace in his hand. He brings it up to his nose, inhaling deeply.

“You smell like you want to get fucked,” he mutters, his voice deep and thick with lust, his eyes pitch black and intense as ever.

Sure enough, your panties are wet in his fist, and you can smell your own arousal on them even from a distance. Hell, you feel your wetness seeping down your bare thighs, staining his jeans and again you get a fleeting sense of dejavu, like this has happened before. And a hazy, dream-like memory flits through your mind, just for a moment before it’s gone, and you’re snapped back into the present.

Steve, without breaking eye contact for even a second, takes your panties into his mouth, sucking on them while you watch him with wide eyes. He grabs your hand, pressing it on his hard crotch. You squeak, it felt big and almost… alive under his jeans with how it was throbbing under your palm.

“So sweet, baby,” he breathes, “I missed out on tasting your little baby cunt last time. She tastes just as sweet as I imagined.”

Last time? You’ve barely wrapped your head around what he’s just said, but his face is so devastatingly handsome in that moment, so angelic and yet there’s a darkness in his eyes that cuts through it. Makes him look like an angel hell bent on playing his wicked game, and you’re more than happy to be his pawn.

“Steve–daddy, please. I need… I need–”

“Take daddy’s cock out,” he commands, his voice deep and guttural with raw lust. So gruff, so to the point, and it makes him even more attractive in your eyes. Powerful and in control. In charge of you. Using your body for his own pleasure. Fuck. You were so far gone down the haze of lust, there was really no coming back from here.

Steve takes your hand and pushes it past the waistband of his jeans, and presses it against his huge, hard cock. And oh fuck, it feels so fat and throbbing under your dainty palm, so big like it was capable of ripping you apart and you hadn’t even seen it yet. Just touching his hot, rock-hard flesh makes you rub your pussy against his thigh once more, pleasure jolting through your veins in anticipations.

You take it out, a low whimper escaping your throat because of how red and angry and big it looks. Oh fuck.

Steve pushes something into your hand, and it takes you a handful of seconds to register the lace of your black panties. Your pretty, tattered panties that he wraps around your hand before pressing it back on his fat dick.

“Jack me off, princess,” he orders you, his voice all velvety sweet and charming again, and it’s crazy how quickly he’s switched back to that now. “Show daddy what your pretty little hands can do.”

He hisses when you start pumping him, moving your hand up and down and the lace of your panties snagging against his smooth, rock hard cock. And he can’t keep his eyes off it, how your fingers don’t even wrap around half of his fat length.

“I-Is this okay, Stevie?”

SMACK.

“Daddy! Sorry, I meant daddy!” you cry out, your ass blooming with pain after his huge palm cracks down on it warningly.

“Mm, sweet sexy little baby girl,” Steve murmurs, watching intensely while you jack him off with your black lace panties in your hand, running them up and down his thick cock. “Jerking daddy off with your hot little panties that you wore just for me, right?”

“Didn’t-Didn’t know you were gonna be here!” You squeak out, regretting your decision to be truthful immediately when his hand cracks down on your bare thigh in another sharp slap.

“Say you wore your sexy little panties for me.” He bits down on your shoulder, tearing the skin with how hard he does it. As if he can’t help it, and you cry out in pain and yet you’re still feeling so much pleasure from rutting against him, chasing your own high while at the same time serving him and doing what he wants you to.

“Wore them for you,” you whine, bucking your hips with more frenzy now. The way he was speaking to you, oh it was getting you so fucking turned on and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was making your brain melt, only the submissive part of it reigning over every other rational side, and you pant when your clit catches against the denim of his jeans. “Daddy, please. F-Feels…feels…”

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos at you, voice dripping in condescension. And you feel so small, almost like a delicate little fairy in the domain of a literal God. That’s how powerful and big he looks to you in this very moment, like you’re at his mercy and you’d do anything for him. “You like jacking me off, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I – I…”

You’re talking gibberish, and desperately chasing your own pleasure as you continue to rub against his leg. And yet you look down at his dick, how fat and thick it is, how it makes your hand look so tiny. How he’s got you jacking him off with your own lacy panties, how he’s watching it so intently and you can feel his cock hardening even more, if that’s even possible.

“You like my cock, princess? Like how big it is?”

“Yes!”

He grins devilishly, “You want it inside you, baby?”

Your jaw drops. He wouldn’t, would he? Oh, would you let him? Right now, your lust-crazed mind can’t find a single reason as to why not.

“I’d fuck you so good,” he whispers beguilingly into your ear, like he’s the devil himself persuading you to do something that you’re sure you shouldn’t be doing. But why not?! It wasn’t like you had a boyfriend! Ari had made that crystal clear! “Bounce your cute little pussy on my big daddy dick till you pass out on top of me. Would you like that?”

You whimper once more as his hand reaches down between your legs, and you gasp when he spreads your sopping folds. Now, you can feel the rough denim of his jeans even better, your engorged clit practically crying as it throbs uncontrollably. The rough pads of his fingers rub against it rhythmically, and you grind back up against his hand, humping it like you’re nothing more than a bitch in heat.

“Answer me,” he slaps your pussy hard, the squelching sound echoing across his bedroom, mingling with your scream of pleasure which only eggs him on. Again, he slaps you down there, and then another time. Till you’re quivering and crying and humping blindly against his palm, spreading your arousal all over him.

“I’d like it!” you cry out, a part of you ashamed with how easily you’ve given in to him.

“Mm, you know you’d have to be carried out of here after I’m through with you,” he says, manhandling you on his lap, dragging you back and forth on his thigh and creating the most delicious friction you’ve ever felt. “Not that I’d ever let you leave, baby girl. I’d keep you under my wing, in my bed because that’s where you belong.” He gives your ass another harsh slap that has you howling, “Say it. Tell daddy where you belong.”

“I-In your bed,” you manage to get out, feeling like you can hardly string a sentence together because all you can really focus on is the intense pleasure that’s building up inside you. “I…I belong in your bed, daddy, I don’t… I can’t… I…oh!”

Your release takes you by complete surprise. You squirt everywhere, on Steve’s cock, his shirt, and some even lands on his face. He smirks, swiping his finger over his cheek and sucking on it, his eyes glinting darkly. So dark and with such hunger, almost like he wants to eat you.

“Sweet little princess pussy,” he murmurs while you melt in his arms, unable to hold yourself up. Your legs are shaking like crazy, and he hugs you tightly against his chest, although one of his hands covers your own, ensuring it stays pumping his dick no matter what state you’re in. “She tastes so sweet, baby girl. How is she so sweet yet so naughty at the same time?”

Despite everything, his dirty talk has you feeling sparks down there again. Oh fuck.

“Steve, I–”

“Nobody told you to stop, princess,” he says darkly, bouncing his leg underneath you and causing you, in turn, to bounce on top of him. Your poor, sensitive pussy, still reeling from the remnants of your strong orgasm, “Get back to it. Hump your little pussy on daddy’s leg until I tell you to stop.”

Knowing you’re weak to the point of almost passing out, he’s got a firm hand clamped on your own, and he starts making you jack him off again. Rubbing your hand up and down his cock, your black lace panties rubbing alongside. The sight alone gets you going again, and once more you feel a spark of pleasure down there.

The party’s going on in full swing downstairs, heavy music blaring and yet all you can hear is the sound of both of you panting and moaning. His sweet voice uttering the dirtiest of things into your ear as you both masturbate each other. And it’s so raw, so primal, how you writhe on top of him like a goddamned animal, how he’s got the most carnal look in his eyes as if he’s a beast and you’re a lamb and he’s about to devour you.

He kisses you, and it’s so sloppy and animalistic, and you’re shocked at how desperately your lips work against his. How his hand wraps around your neck, how your fingers card through his hair. He spits into your mouth, biting and sucking at your lip till you taste the metallicity of your own blood. Or his. You’re not too sure.

The air is hot and thick with sex, and his dick twitches in your hand, so ready to blow and that’s when his fingers squeeze around your throat.

“You ever gonna walk into a party unattended ever again?” Steve grunts, pinching and bullying your throbbing clit like he owns it.

“N-No!”

“Damn right. Where do you belong, baby girl?”

“In-In your bed, daddy – oh-oh my!”

You squirt again, and this time, Steve follows suit. You watch, entranced, as he blows his load. Streaks of hot, white cum land on your hand, your black panties, your stomach, your face, everywhere. And you cum so hard, you can feel your pussy cramping with how intense the pleasure feels, waves of it radiating through your very being, egged on by Steve who keeps rocking you against him, muttering profanity under his breath as his thumb circles your poor, overwhelmed clit.

“Good girl,” he says after a few moments, looking like he’s barely broken a sweat as he pats your cheek. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl. I needed that.”

And you watch with wide, glassy, fucked out eyes as he takes your poor, tattered panties, the ones you’d used to jack him off, now drenched in his thick cum. He brings them to your mouth, prodding them against your lips.

“Open, baby,” he commands softly. And you do, and to your shock he places the panties in your mouth, a smirk on his face, “Suck.”

You suck Steve’s cum from your own panties, unable to get over how hot your poor, frazzled, cock-drunk mind is finding this debauchery to be. He tastes salty, manly, and you feel so submissive, so under his mercy as he watches you suck like a good, obedient little baby.

“That’s right, swallow it all,” he murmurs, “You like that, don’t you? You like being a little cumslut baby?”

 You whimper out a quiet “y-yeah” and he nods in approval, finally taking the lacy fabric out of your mouth, holding it tight in his fist. “I’d make you put ‘em back on but…” His voice trails off, and he chuckles as he throws your poor, torn panties somewhere on his bed behind him.

All you’re able to do is sit on his lap like a little doll. And he’s not even done with you, still fondling and touching your body, squeezing and hugging you close like you’re a doll and you can’t get enough. He’s particularly enamoured by his cum staining your stomach and chest, and he gathers some of it with a swipe of his finger.

“Does your baby cunt want some?” Steve asks devilishly, and you gasp, again just watching as he puts his hand between your legs again, this time opening your folds and spreading his cum into your poor, sensitive pussy. “Look at that, baby. Your greedy little cunt swallowed it right up.”

“Steve, I…”

“Shhh, baby girl. You don’t need to say anything.”

You’re thankful for that, still reeling from everything that’s just happened. Oh, you hadn’t expected all of this! Hell, you’d been forced to come to this party against your will, and now… Oh gosh, how had things come to this? How did you even feel about it? How–

The bedroom door is thrown open. You yelp, holding the big varsity jacket around you as you turn around to see a burly basketball player standing by the entrance. Steve growls at the intrusion, holding you closer against his chest. “Bucky, what the fuck?”

“Sorry for interrupting, Cap, but they’re all here. The St. Andrews’ assholes. Everett, Drysdale, Levinson… He’s looking for her, I think he knows she’s here.”

What?! ARI WAS HERE?! Oh, how dare he?!

Steve picks you up and places you on his bed before getting to his feet, muttering profanities under his breath. “He knows better than to fucking come here.”

Shakily, you try to get to your feet but to no avail. Your legs are still shaking. “M-Maybe, I should–”

“Stay right here.” Steve says, an air of finality in his tone that indicates he means it as an order with zero objections. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

THE END! guys!! I'm literally so insecure about posting this. Idk, I just feel like lately I've lost my mojo, like my writing has lost it's spark? But I pushed on because I wanted to get something out for you guys. And honestly?? BRO I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE TO END IT bc I wanted this story to continue bc WDYM ARI IS HERE?!?! I wanna see the confrontation lmfao!

But anyways, just to be crystal clear - THIS IS JUST AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE DRABBLE! It has nothing to do with the original wicked games story! That's why I wrote Steve here like how he is in chapter two of wicked games, and NOT like how he is in chapter 3 and 4! He's gone through a lot of character change and development in the original fic, but I didn't want to show that here! THAT IS IT'S OWN STORY HEHE. i know yall get it but i'm still reiterating lmao.

ANYWAYS. what did you guys think??? PLEASE PLEASE let me know! feedback genuinely would mean the world to me. I'm so fucking insecure about this fic it's like I've forgotten how to write!!

BUTTT. as usual here are some questions (you don't have to answer them, you can write whatever feedback you want but just in case hehe)

1 - HOW WAS THE SMUTTT??

2 - Do you think they would've gone all the way and had sex had they not been interrupted??

3 - How did Ari even know she was at this party??

4 - Opinions on our fav gal Wanda in this chapter?

ANYWAYS i love you guys, thanks for sticking by me and supporting my writing especially lately when there hasn't been many updates. LOVE YOU. pls lmk what you think!

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- Heavy angst, hate sex, cum licking, oral (m and f recieiving) choking, smacking, say hi to Gojo, toxic relationship. WC this part- 6.5k

Will be six parts <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!

<<<Part Two - Playlist - Masterlist - Part four (soon)

Part Three

“Fuck…” Suguru’s moaning as he’s filling you, and it’s just too much, too intimate, his silken long locks falling against your skin, his lips hovering over yours, one of your legs wrapped on his hip.

“Fuck you…” Is what you mutter back, as his cock fills you, hitting every damn spot all at once, you’re soaking him, hands gripping the blankets, trying to avoid that desire to grip him instead.

“You love it, don’t you?” You shake your head and he chuckles, slipping his hand down your tummy to toy with your clit, pressing it in circles, making you cum so damn easily. “No?”

“Who c-cares- mnh!” You’re screaming out as he overstimulates you, those lazy lidded violet eyes devouring your face, your nails grip his back on instinct, making him hiss in pleasure.

“Fuck.” He huffs again, as he feels your walls, so slick and tight, pulsating all around his veiny length. “Feel perfect-” He pauses himself, as you gasp, he’s burying his face in your neck again, fucking into you deeper and harder now, taking over all your senses while he hides his feelings.

That he’s obsessed with you should be obvious, it is obvious to fucking anyone besides you, clearly. You haven’t noticed the way he’s non stop in your presence, even as there’s a knocking on his door now, he scowls over at it, you release your nails and he glares at you.

“Put them back.” You scowl right back.

“You’re needed M-Master Geto- oh! Ah!” He’s slamming his cock deeper, using one arm to balance, as the other grabs you by your throat.

“Put them back, now. Are the sheets fucking you?”

“I like them better than y-you.”

“Annoying fucking brat…” He grumbles, shoving his cock so deep as the door knocks again. “What is it!?”

“Plans for Kiyoto, Lord Geto. We have been waiting for an hour.”

“I’m not done yet.” The wet sounds of his cock splitting you in half fill his chambers, as he chokes you harder, looking as you lose oxygen, big hand taking your pretty little neck more and more. “I’ll come later.”

“Kiyoto?” You murmur, and he squeezes harder, slamming his cock even deeper as the bed creaks with the force.

“You can still speak?” He raises an arrogant brow, you’re helpless as the fuzziness of him choking you makes you feel like you’re floating as he slams his cock so deep, tip pressing into your spongy cervix, you pulse all around him screaming silently in pleasure. “There, shut your stupid mouth.”

Suguru releases your throat, slamming his lips on yours, and you’re too weak to fight it, you let him kiss you, clinging to him desperately, and letting go for just one blissful moment. Where you inhale the scent of the sex filling the room, where you feel his taste buds on your tongue, and your tongue moves back, earning his soft little whimper that he hides.

You wish you could let go.

But how do you let go with a monster?

Suguru’s big hand comes to your thigh now, gripping it and shoving impossibly deeper as you whine out, your hips rolling for more. If there is ever a time the two of you aren’t declaring your hate or scowling, it’s when he’s fucking you into that bed, deeper and deeper, kissing you like he could love you. A mix of hatred, desire, and more and more feelings you both suffocate.

A month married to him, in his bed constantly, in whatever position he had you in, last night you’d been on top of him, as he’d laughed while you tried to ride him, but when you’d rolled your hips a certain way, you got that look. The look of whatever real Suguru Geto is inside of this shell, you got a glimpse of his tenderness when he came inside you.

Even now, it doesn’t feel all like hate, not when he slows, and he parts his lips, murmuring something that sounded like beautiful, but when you ever looked at him, asked him what he whispered, he’d shut down and flip you. He’d fuck you harder until you couldn’t remember whatever tender words may have spilled from lips that only produce hate.

You gasp now, looking up at him, when he entwines a hand in yours, it’s too much pressure in your tummy, it’s too intimate really, he shouldn’t fucking do this, and he knows it. “D-don’t…”

“Don’t hold your hand, but I can cum in you?” He whispers back, and you gulp now, nodding, while he shakes his head. “Rather me choke you again?”

“Yes.” He scoffs, slamming his lips back down again, rhythm slowing. “Stop kissing me, fuck…”

“No.” You turn your face and he exhales, biting your throat now, sinking fully in and throbbing inside you. “Fucking brat, I swear.”

“Shut up and finish- mnh!” Suguru leans up and shoves you in that mating press now, looking down at you as his hair falls loose and silky and long, brushing the backs of your thighs.

“Need my cum so bad, pathetic girl?”

“Monkey.” You finish, and he pauses, it’s been weeks since he’s said it during sex to you, shit a week since he said it at all. Any time someone else said it he’d end them, so people don’t talk that way anymore.

But the irony is it’s his creation, calling others that.

“You only shut up when I lick you, even dick apparently doesn’t work.” You flush at that, and he’s spitting down between your thighs now, obscene as he does it, running that rough thumb on your clit again as you scream out. “There we go, you can’t help yourself, feels too good.”

“Hate you. Hate you.” You’re whispering even as you shatter, milking his cock so that he cums right with you, groaning out loud, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Perfect little cunt, fuck…” He’s whispering, as he watches the creamy stripes already oozing from your little hole, moaning as he sees it, releasing your thighs. “You took so much, but you’re just pushing it all out.”

“There’s enough cum, you cum so much, ugh.” You grumble, voice breathy as he chuckles so cruelly, finally pulling out of you, dripping with your slick and his seed, sticky and glistening.

“Clean it up then.” He gets on his back now, yanking you until you’re on his face, you gasp then.

“Suguru…”

“Fuck…” He’s parting your drooling lips as you brace yourself on either side of him, feeling the tip of his tongue flick on your overstimulated clit. “Saying my name? Are you only sweet when I eat you out?”

“Shut it.” You lap at his sticky tip, he jerks in your hand, still mostly hard as he’s moaning against you, making you drip out more of his cum right on his lips, mixed with how slick you are.

“Pretty pussy so beat up.”

“Pretty, hmm?” You are met with him shoving up his cock deep, as you suck as much as you can of him, you’ve sucked him a few times now, times when you can’t help yourself.

You love to.

But you don’t want him having the satisfaction.

Though you’ve never done… this, sitting on his face while he laps you up, his huge hands on your hips, while his tongue scoops the cum pouring, only making you closer again. Your eyes roll back as you suck him deeper, losing yourself in the sensations again, it's hard to remember when his tongue devours you that he’s a mass murderer who ‘hates you’.

“Suguru…” You’re pulling back for a moment, pulling away as he flicks your clit again and again, hot breath right on your core, and he glares, yanking you back.

“Don’t run, now, let me get her ready for me again.” You just whine, pathetically, shaking your head.

“M’gonna cum-”

“Cum, then. Now.” You sure won’t be taking his orders, but he sucks your tiny clit in his mouth, shoving his cock up with a thrust of his hips, and you are cumming, just like he fucking said. Your thighs shake on either side of his pretty face, as he licks you clean, his own cock fully hard and ready again in your throat. “Finally being good?”

“Mmm, never…” He laughs at you, tapping your hips as you shakily get off him, just to yank you on top, sliding his length between your puffy lips. Your hands brace on his chest, your flushed face so gorgeous he can’t think for a moment. “Must we… so frequently? Shouldn’t I take a test?”

Suguru pauses then.

“And if you are, will you stop your duties as my wife?” He asks, while you grind on him, and you’re exhaling, trying to focus.

“What’s Kyoto?”

“Jesus… just fuck me, don’t talk.”

“That’s all we do!”

“That’s all I enjoy to do with you, it’s the only time you’re not a mean little bitch.” You glare now, leaning back and slapping his cheek, he slaps you right back, while he drags you on his cock, and you scream in pleasure, tits right in his face bouncing with the motion. “There you go, can’t help yourself.”

“Hate you… what the…” He slaps your tits now, as you whine out in pleasure, he leans up to suck one in his mouth, moaning, cheeks hollowed as he does. “Tell me nothing, hmm?”

“It’s an attack, okay? Will you focus on riding dick, your technique is pathetic.” You scowl again, rolling your hips just so and grinding with him bottomed out, smirking as you elicit a whimper.

“Whining like a little bitch, the almighty Lord Geto.”

“God I hate you.” He whispers, pulling you by your hair and kissing you again, so brutal and bruising while he shoves his cock up inside you, skin sweaty and slick from the two of you.

“Attack for what?” You whisper, close to cumming again.

“A thousand curses, will take out every non-sorcerer… f-fuck you feel so… mmm… and anyone who stops me.” You pause at that, unmoving, looking at him in horror now.

“What!?” You earn his scowl, he flips you on the other side of the bed, on top again, a hand on your mouth, as you yank at it.

“I’m killing everyone in that city that’s human. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe, you’re with me.” Your parents live in Kyoto, he doesn’t even let you argue, sinking deeper, shaking his head.

“My parents-”

“Your parents, my parents, baby they’re all gonna die soon.” You’re in horror and shock as the door knocks again, and Suguru rolls violet eyes. “I said I’m busy!”

“Satoru Gojo is here, Lord Geto. You may want to… see this.” Suguru freezes over you.

“You’re gonna kill our parents!? Everyone!? Really!”

“Have I ever made it a secret?” He scoffs, pulling out of you and making you flush in embarrassment as he looks at your body. “I said I’d make an exception, why is that not enough? What more must I constantly do?”

“I don’t know- not be a murderer psycho!?” He’s scowling again as he gets dressed, and you hastily follow.

“I’ll be out there in just a moment.” He says gruffly and you’re following him out, earning him constantly glaring back at you. “I’ll knock you out with a sleeping curse if you don’t stop.”

“Thought I was supposed to go everywhere with you, as your wife, hmm?” His jaw locks as you two step outside, the brightness blinding for just a moment, as several of Suguru’s cult members are ready to fight Gojo, who’s just smirking, turning his attention to the two of you then.

“You paid me a visit, figured I’d return the favor buddy.” Satoru says with a big grin, and Suguru smirks so damn evil, while Satoru eyes you behind the veil of white thin material, face softening a bit. “Who’s the pretty girl, and why is she near you?”

“My wife, okay?” Satoru pauses, while Suguru steps closer, crossing his arms under his wide robes. “What’s it to you?”

Satoru pulls up his white wrapped blindfold, one cerulean eye meeting yours, swirling storms that you could never forget, looking back at Suguru, glossy lips turning up in a smirk. Suguru scowls right at him, when Satoru puts his hands in the pockets of his dark blue pants, tilting his silvery locks as he steps just a bit closer, his shoes glinting under the light with each step.

“A non-curse user married to the infamous Suguru Geto.” Gojo whistles now, walking closer until he’s right in front of you.

“Arranged marriage.” Suguru says, making you tense, feeling sick to your stomach, sure you know it’s true, but…

Perhaps you thought you were a little more?

“Ah, need me to take her off your hands?” Satoru taunts, grinning as he puts his blindfold back on, and you watch Suguru stiffen, before he glares.

“The fuck you say?”

“You hate humans, I’ll take her with me. Sure she’d prefer that over certain death, hmm?”

“You won’t take her any fucking where.”

“Why, it’s forced, right?” Satoru’s lilting voice was laced with sarcasm, as he looks right through Suguru, the way you do, the way Shoko had so casually the day he last saw her, the way only people…

People he loved did.

Fuck he can’t, he doesn’t, but as Satoru brushes your hair back gently and you eye him curiously, he grips one of Satoru’s wrists tightly, and he can feel the goddamn gaze behind that blindfold. Knowing, still caring somehow, though Suguru doesn’t deserve his care, nor does he deserve you.

If he loved you enough, he’d let you run the fuck away with Satoru, perhaps he could keep you safe, from the monster Suguru had become.

But he can’t stand the thought of you gone.

“Is it because she’s pregnant?”

“What!?” Suguru demands, and he lifts his blindfold again, eyeing you with those powerful six eyes that everyone knows the Gojo heir has, as you touch your tummy, looking at Satoru in shock.

“It’s brand new, won’t even show up on a test, but you are.” Satoru’s voice is just a little soft, you could feel how he felt horrible for you, but also you could still feel the love he had for his former best friend.

“You can see?” You murmur softly, as Suguru’s lips are parted.

“I can see a lot. I see you care about her, hmm?”

“You need to leave, to prepare for when I come.”

“Suguru!” His name on your lips makes him pause, as you look at him with tears now. “You can’t do it.”

“Oh I can’t hmm?” Suguru’s struggling to remember his motives, all he can think of is that there’s a fucking baby in you already.

“You can’t do this, what life will this baby even have?”

“A better one, when the scum is off this earth.”

“Including her?” Satoru says now, and Suguru’s jaw locks, violet eyes narrowed with his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the wind starts whipping around the three of you, as you feel Satoru’s immense energy. It’s far surpassing Suguru’s, intense to withhold as it surrounds him. “If you hate humans, you hate her.”

“That’s… she’s mine.”

“Your human?”

“She’s my…” He stands in front of you now, as Satoru grins, chuckling just a bit. “She’s my wife and has my heir, she won’t leave my fucking sight.”

Suguru never wants you to leave him, the thought makes his heart clench with fear, his very energy shifting, and Satoru picks up on it. “Oh so you’ll just kill her once she has your heir?”

“No I…”

“Why not, care about someone again?” Suguru bristles at that, at his friend seeing everything with one glance, Satoru has always been that way.

“So perceptive now, are you?”

Satoru’s jaw locks. “Now, yes, and you are blinded, can’t even see what’s here for you, can you?”

“Satoru fuckin leave, go prepare now because I sure the fuck am coming prepared to kill everyone in that city, including you.” Suguru stomps away, as Satoru sighs, stepping closer to you.

“Are you alright here?” He murmurs, you nod then, carefully. “I can get you out of here.”

“You what?” You blink just a bit, and Suguru is shouting your name, glaring at the two of you.

“You love him too, don’t you?” Satoru’s question makes you question yourself, your own heart, things you’re trying to shove back, to avoid. But it’s as if Satoru knows you better than yourself and almost like you can feel the love he himself has, the care radiating under his powerful energy.

“No! God no…” You falter, and Satoru exhales, brushing the backs of his fingers across your cheek, and you feel Suguru summon a curse right around you, making you gasp.

“Back the fuck off.” Suguru speaks through gritted teeth, Satoru just smirks, waving off Suguru’s curse like it’s nothing.

“You see them.”

“Yes, I can, some… family trait.” You murmur softly.

“Hmm, interesting. I can still take you away, just say the word.”

You hate Suguru.

Suguru is a psycho murderer.

Right?

“Or…”

“Or?” Suguru’s now got his people around him, his cult, his minions, making you sick as they gather, as if they’re putting a dent in Satoru Gojo.

“Or… you try to stop him.”

“Me!? He fucking hates me, he thinks-”

“Nah. He certainly doesn’t hate you, in fact… maybe only you can get through to him.” He rubs the back of his neck, as Suguru and his group start stepping forward. “I’ve tried, I’m… fucking tired.”

“If you don’t get through, how can I?” Your voice is hoarse, Satoru leans down a bit, voice dropping to a murmur.

“He feels something. Try to… just buy me some time could you?” You gulp now, as you touch your stomach again.

“I’ll try, Gojo.” He smiles at you then, the smile you remember has changed he's… sadder now.

“You have something on here…” He brushes long fingers against your neck, making you tremble a bit at the contact, then blush. You'd only been with Suguru and it wasn't either of your choices, so you wonder if it's just … someone else touching you? Or if it's his intense energy, but soon you notice a little piece of paper that he's placed there. “In case you need me.”

You nod, tucking it in your robes. “Thank you…”

“Good luck with… all of it.”  He disappears with one more sad look at Suguru, who's now scowling as he walks over to you. “Go to your room until I say you can leave.”

“What!?”

“Now you’ll be seen as a weakness.” He says, in disgust at the thought, looking at you furiously.

“Why, when you don’t care?” Your words make him furious, how can you not know what he feels?

“I do care, that’s the problem.”

“Oh, I’m a problem!?”

“Go. Now.” You shake your head at him, and he grabs you by your chin, squeezing it tightly. “Go to your room for the rest of the night, I will not repeat myself, or would you like your parents dead earlier?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You say through your sobs that are rising in your throat, and Suguru pauses, guilt flashing as he sees what he’s already done to you, and he hasn’t even started.

“Now.” You rush off as he stares, and the others gather, he aches to follow you when you slam that door, when he hears your cries, but he does nothing. “Someone lock her doors from the inside out.”

******

It’s been all night you’ve been stuck in this goddamn room, and of course you have no phone in here, Suguru lets you use a cell phone to speak to your parents but he never really lets you keep it in your room. Finally, it’s gotta be late, you’ve lost sense of time but the locked windows of your room show it’s dark out, the door opens with a resounding click.

You peer and see him then, furious at you as he stands there, and you step up to the doorway. “Locking me away like this is beauty and the beast, huh?”

“Might as well be, isn’t that what we are?” He raises a brow, and you gulp now, shaking your head.

“No, you’re beautiful. On the outside.” You watch Suguru pause now, face softening a bit. “If I’m pregnant, shouldn’t I be allowed to eat?”

“I didn’t say… you think…”

“You’ve locked me in here for hours.” Your tummy growls as if on cue, and Suguru feels like…

God worse than shit.

His best friend had just been there, and now the girl he’s fallen for is starving and apparently… pregnant. If Gojo is to be believed, there’s life inside of you already, and what sort of life would it be when you’re living in constant terror from him? But Suguru is too far down this path, as much as he will make an exception for you, he will not do that for anyone else.

His family and yours included, eventually.

“So you know, your parents are on vacation.” You exhale in relief, but then instantly feel guilty.

What about everyone else?

“Can I have a phone to talk to them, please?”

He shrugs then. “Sure, I’ll have one brought to you along with dinner.”

“So I have to stay here!?”

“Until you calm down.” He shuts the door again as you glare at it, and he’s resting his head on the other side, despising himself.

“Suguru, really!?”

It’s of no use. With dinner and a phone in a little bit, you devour it, realizing then that you are starving, you’d fucked the man all morning and are apparently… carrying his baby, and haven’t eaten anything. The door opens and Suguru stands there once again, crossing his arms and looking down at you.

“You can come to my chambers if you behave.” You’ll behave alright.

Knowing it to be your chance to attempt to get to him in any way, you agree. As you walk down the halls, seeing his daughters giggling as if everything’s fine, Suguru pats them on the head as he pauses, and when they leave, he looks at you. “So if they were human, what would you do?”

“I asked you to behave.”

“Did you think of Gojo and-”

“Forget who you belong to?” He says angrily, hands on your shoulders now, heat burning you through the silk of your robes.

“It’s just all arranged, yeah?” Your retort leaves him breathless, sputtering, as he catches you by your wrist.

“It was arranged, but let me explain-”

“Nothing you say makes any fucking sense!” You're yanking your arm, now he is dragging you to his room, you're stumbling helplessly, following his quick pace until he's slammed the door behind you.

“You are mine, all mine.” He whispers, huge hands on your face, as you bite a trembling lip.

“Suguru, you can’t do this. Please.”

“Stop telling me what I can or can’t do. Why, think I’m not powerful enough?” He slams a hand on one side of your head, making you tense.

“Is that all this is, who’s more powerful? Does this mean nothing?” You take that hand putting it on your stomach now, as he gulps audibly, his already tired eyes even more heavy.

“The heir.”

“The baby, say it.”

“Baby…” He murmurs, almost in wonder for a moment, before stepping back, as you feel your heart shattering. “You’ll stay here, you’ll be safe. I’ll have guards if they come to retaliate.”

“Oh, so it’s all fine then, you’re gonna what, kill other kids!? Pregnant women!? Does that make you feel good, Suguru, so fucking strong?” You shove at him now, and his dark brows lower, jaw clenched.

“You will be safe.”

“For how long, until your hatred overtakes you, and you remember what I am. Say it, huh?” He’s squeezing your wrists, shoving you off him, pinning them above your head as he leans down, the ticking of the clock on his wall matching the rhythm of your pounding heart.

Tick tick tick.

How long until your heart stops beating?

“You’re… more.” He wants to say it then, that he loves you, a human… that he’s never felt like this, even with the love of his friends.

Nothing like it.

You scoff right at him. “Tiny, pathetic, useless, but you’re different, okay? I know that you are.”

“I’m a human. Say it. Say monkey, isn’t that what I am?” He glares at you now, shaking his head, and you laugh then, a mean little laugh. “Can’t now, why?”

“You’re… I… just shut the fuck up.” He slams his lips down on your brutally, your arms are going numb until he releases them, his tongue diving inside your mouth, drinking every bit of you up as you whine softly. “I need you.”

You blink a bit, disoriented at his words, as he picks you up in his arms, and you cling to him, tears filling your eyes. “Why? I’m pregnant now, remember?”

“You think Gojo knows?”

“He knows a lot. He knows you.” Suguru glares now, your back against that wall, as his hands grip your ass, and you feel his hard body against you. “He loves you.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” He’s kissing you again, as you exhale, trying to catch a breath, trying to control the storm inside of you. “No one should love me.” He murmurs against your neck, teeth sinking in, making you cling to him, nails scraping against the silk of his robes.

“Why n-not? You’re not t-too far-”

“Baby, I’m no good.” He whispers now, in your ear, and you know it’s true, you know that Suguru Geto is a fucking monster.

But you also know one thing too.

You’re in love with him.

In love with a monster who wants to end the world.

“Then why do you need me? Huh? Go get one of your girls, I’m pregnant already.” Suguru scowls as he leans back, and you bite back a moan as he moves against your hot, eager cunt.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?”

“Shut up.”

“No! We won’t.” You wriggle until you’re out of his hold, and heading for his door, he presses your front against it, hand on yours on that knob. “Let me go. You said once I got pregnant, you were done. Remember?”

Suguru said a lot, a lot of bullshit.

He called you disgusting, useless, trash, a monkey… but as you look at him the way you do, you’re breaking him, in between making his desire to take you grow by every fucking minute. He cups your face, brushing aside your tears, you always cried over him, didn’t you? He’s not worth them, he’s not worth any of you, yet he’s so obsessed and greedy he still takes.

“We don’t have to stop. We both enjoy this, don’t I make you feel good?” He’s slipping his fingers, moaning when he finds your soaked panties under your pretty yukata, and you clench your teeth, eyes rolling back. “We can give this a chance, having this baby.”

“A chance?” You whisper, in between hiccups of pleasure as he keeps teasing your clit over and over, and you find yourself arching against him.

“To be together. I know they’ll be special- like you.”

“I am a fucking human.”

“No.” He’s sinking two fingers in your slutty little hole, as those sticky walls grip his thick digits so good, as he loses himself in your scent, your feel, the sound of you, every fucking bit. “You’re special, you’re more, I know it.”

“Mnh… I hate you…” You cry out as he pumps more and more, thighs shaking while he works you so damn well.

“I know you hate me. You should… go ahead, cum f’me.”

“Call me it.”

“No.”

“Useless, pathetic- weak, worthless-”

“Beautiful.”

“No!” You’re fighting it, turning in his hold, as he sucks your juices off his fingers, getting on his knees for you, and you’re faltering again. “Don’t call me that.”

“You are beautiful. Do you not know?”

“Shut up. I hate you more for it.” Your tears stream further down your face, as he tries to grip you by the hips, to drag you closer to him. “You act as if you could ever love me.”

Suguru blinks then, pressing a kiss on your tummy for a moment, making you both pause. “We can have a perfect world.”

“It’s a massacre, it’s murder, it’s not perfect! Killing everyone that doesn’t meet your standards? Suguru please just stop. Stop it.”

He scowls now, standing tall, looming right over you, your breath catches in your throat in fear. “I will not stop my plans. Gojo got you this fucked up from one meeting? Maybe you did like him then.”

You scoff now. “Your audacity is batshit. How can you be jealous of your arranged wife who is a human, that you said you didn’t wanna touch!?”

“I… you know I didn’t…”

“I don’t know shit, Suguru Geto. Except Gojo loves you, and fuck, I see glimpses of how and why. I do.” You cup his face then, he jerks back for a moment, like your touch is fire, as you cup the other side of his face. “If you love Gojo, and if you care for me one little bit, you won’t.”

“You assume I love anyone.” His words, lies, tear you apart.

You blink more tears, as Suguru lies right to your face. “You care.”

“So what!? That’s why you’ll be safe.”

“And Gojo? And those damn kids from Jujutsu high, and the people of Kyoto, children, you’ll kill them?”

“Just go. You don’t want to now that you’re pregnant, right? Leave.”

“It’s not that, it’s that I want to know if anything good is fucking inside you, Suguru please just this one thing. Just don’t attack.”

His jaw sets as he pulls your hands off, and they fall to your sides, while he glares down at you. “I’ll give him another week to prepare, you can let him know since you’re suddenly his friend, hmm?”

“He loves you. Don’t you see it? Can’t you still be worthy of it? Of… my love?” You whisper, after he’s turned away, and Suguru laughs darkly.

“You could never love me.”

“How do you know- if you’d just try, Suguru!”

“I’ll give it a week. That’s the best you’re getting.”

“Is there any room for me or this baby in whatever heart you have left, with all that hatred inside you?” You whisper, he turns to open his mouth, but you storm out of his room, sobbing as you rush down the halls, leaving him alone, picturing his friend brushing your hair back.

Gojo would be better for you, wouldn’t he?

But Suguru doesn’t think he could ever let you go, even when he brings you to tears, even when he himself feels moisture that hasn’t been there in so long, memories and images of happiness filling him. Of you and a baby, maybe they look pretty like their mom, maybe they’re fiery like you, maybe they’re…

Human.

He sinks to the ground then, head falling against the door.

What if they’re human?

You’re collapsing on your bed, in tears, trying to pull yourself together, finally getting the number Satoru had conveniently hidden in your collar, pulling it out and dialing it, sniffling. “Hello?”

“I tried… I tried but…”

“Shh, hey, calm down.” Satoru sits up in his empty home, hearing your cries, some odd ache to comfort you filling him.

If anyone knows what it’s like to love Suguru Geto, despite all his flaws and his intentions, it’s Satoru Gojo. But also… you seemed so fragile, so small in a home that all hated you. And yet he saw it in your eyes, pretty eyes, full of fear but also feelings, and then he knew that you care for him, as much as Suguru cared for you, so very clear to Satoru.

“It’s okay… it’s not all on you.” Satoru says, his voice comforting your aching heart now.

“He said another week he would give you.” Satoru sighs then, nodding.

“A week is better, more time to prepare.”

“I tried, he doesn’t… he won’t…”

“I know. You love him.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Neither should I, but I remember my best friend, the only friend I had.” Your heart tears apart for the person Suguru used to be, and now for Satoru, who you barely know, but you feel it, the longing, the loneliness.

“I don’t know if he’s in there. I don’t know if I can face him if he does it.”

“You bought me time, sweetheart, thank you okay? You can only do so much right now.” He says softly, and you take a shaky breath.

“I see why you two were close, you’re kind of comforting.”

“Comforting hmm, I don’t think I was back then.” Satoru remembers being a little shithead, conceited, cocky. “I don’t think I was there when he needed me, when he needed someone. I can’t forgive myself for it.”

“You should.” You lay on your back now, staring up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling, as the warmth of the phone touches your cheek. “What are you gonna do, Gojo?”

“Try to save everyone, of course. Should be a piece of cake.” You snort then, as he laughs a bit, deterring the situation some. “I meant it, I can get you away, somewhere safe.”

“Why would you?”

“You didn’t choose this. You’re just… a girl. You know?”

“Pregnant, really?”

“Mmm, yeah I’m pretty sure. It’s a certain energy I can pick up on, like more than one in your body.”

“I should go, I’ll be fine, I don't think he’d hurt me… in any way other than… hurting others.” He hurts you in his own ways, sure, but Suguru doesn’t realize how much he’s hurting you, pushing you away. You shouldn’t care, you should have known he was this way, but something in you loves him, against it all.

Do you love the monster or the man still inside?

“All right, if you’re sure.” Satoru says softly, cutting your thoughts off as you blink a bit.

“Satoru, will you… kill him if you had to?” He hears the fear, the thoughts he has in his own mind clearly connecting with you, the last thing Satoru ever wanted to do was kill him.

“I’d try everything else first, but I have to defend the kids, and everyone else… if it comes to it, I… shit I don’t wanna think of it.” You hear his emotions, sighing as you come to understand his meaning.

“Is there any of him left?” You ask softly, Satoru takes off his blindfold, pouring himself a drink and leaning against the counter, pressing you against his ear.

“You want to know if the Suguru you met that day is in there?”

“What was he… like, even?”

Satoru laughs a bit, without humor. “He was a little shit.”

“Well, he’s still that.” You both laugh softly, shit it’s the first time you can recall laughing since you’ve been here almost.

“He was arrogant, but he was kind, he thought we should help the weak, I argued with him. He stopped me from… doing some rash things. We lost a few people, and he grew distant, I wish I noticed… or…”

“He wanted to protect the weak?”

“Yes.” You can’t fathom that it's the same man, sighing a bit now, shifting in the bed as sleep starts to tug at you somehow, though you’re scared to even close your eyes. 

“You really loved him.”

“I still do.” He clears his throat a bit now, Satoru’s never really shared how he felt until you, a stranger on a phone, married to his former friend, but for some reason he feels you understand more than anyone. Your voice alone, speaking the words, are something he didn’t know he craved.

“I will keep trying if I can, but I can’t face him right now.”

“Just get some rest, if you need me I’ll get you away. But I hope… I hope he’s still him, somewhere.”

“Me too. Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night.” You hang up, leaving his mind whirling, thinking of your pretty forlorn face, wishing he could save you, wishing he could save his damn best friend, and everyone else. “An extra week, huh…”

You curl up and pass out shortly after, in nightmare after nightmare, hating Suguru, loving Suguru, images of Satoru in there too, of them killing each other, hurting each other. Villages burning, a city in ruins, Suguru’s curses everywhere, so vivid and real you’re tossing and turning, unable to wake up, even as you scream out loud in your sleep.

Suguru is in your chambers then, watching what he’s done, sitting by your side as you toss and turn, gently touching your forehead, sweaty from your exertions. “Shh, Princess…”

Princess.

Why’d he say that?

Why couldn’t he call you it- monkey- anymore?

“Suguru don’t… I love you…” He pauses at your words, on your lips incoherent, tears glistening in the dark room. “Don’t… you’re hurting me… never loved me…”

“I do, fuck I do.” He leans down, holding you, he’s never spent the night with you, of course you wouldn’t allow it, but he’s never even held you.

What’s he done, but fuck you good and try to make you forget how horrible he truly is? As you calm now, blinking a bit, in and out of a daze. “Suguru?” You whisper, fear in your pretty eyes, mixed with more.

He caused this.

How could you even have a baby like this?

“Go to sleep, you were screaming so loud everyone is up.” He huffs, lying to you now, and you pull back.

“I’m fine. Just go, sorry I was having nightmares.” He pulls you back against him now, his strong chest, warmth you ache to sink against, all while you try to picture a world in which he wasn’t evil, wasn’t insane, wasn’t bloodthirsty. A world where he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl, cuddling in bed.

It’s a lovely dream, but you know it’s fake.

“Get to sleep.” His soft order is met with him pulling you even closer, covering you both with a blanket, and for one moment, you let yourself believe the lie, that Suguru could be himself again. That he’d give up this insanity for you.

A beautiful lie, really.

You nestle against him, wrapping an arm around his waist, burying your tired face against his neck, and Suguru feels himself breaking in two. Part of him wants to just… go back to how things were, to be good for you, but there’s still such hatred that’s eaten at him for years. Consuming him.

He knows hatred will win.

But as he holds the girl he loves, he hopes she’ll forgive him for what he's about to do.

More angst cominggg- this will be 6 parts loves <3

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[boyfhee]

엔하이픈───𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥, 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗥

𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗢ㅤ／ㅤso, let me sit on your lap and press dewy kisses on your chest.

CATALOGUEㅤ｡⠀( 245O ) ㅤ&ㅤbf ! enha x fem ! reader, fluff ㅤ 𖥔 kissing, petnames, skinship

ㅤ ꒰⁠ ⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠ ꒱ㅤ..ㅤwrtiting a very very old idea >< as always, happiest reading mwah mwah <3

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks ! °ᯅ°

HEESEUNG

his sunday evenings are for gaming and today was nothing different. you finish up whatever you were doing before deciding to join your boyfriend.

you sneak up to him with a quiet laugh, planting a quick peck on his cheek when he's in the middle of saying something over the headset.

“is that seat taken?” you ask casually, lips pursed. he takes a second to pause the game before looking at you, half flustered half confused, before realisation set in him when he sees your gaze pointing at his lap.

a swift motion and you're already on his lap with your back pressed flushed against his chest. his arms snake around your waist, tugging you closer to him and his breath is warm against your ear as you feel him smirking amidst his words. “only by you, angel,”

JONGSEONG

he has been waiting for you on the couch for fifteen minutes now, all ready with blankets and your favourite snacks for the movie. his eyes never leave the sight of you in your silk sleep set, hair slightly wet from the shower, waiting for you.

and, he's literally giving you those cute pleading eyes when you come around, patting the space next to him, biting back the cutest smile, only for you to catch him off with your next words, “can i sit here instead?”

your finger is pointing his lap and his eyes are wide in amusement. you're such a tease sometimes, it's not healthy for his heart. jay can only chuckle at your request, hands on your hips to pull you down on his lap. “you don't have to ask, doll,”

he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses before gently turning your face towards him by your chin to press his lips against yours— and you might do this again.

JAEYUN

you hate exam season and it's mainly because you get to see less and lesser of your beloved boyfriend. nonetheless, he made time for you, inviting you over to his place, to which to happily agree.

“hi, my love,” he whispers against your lips before pulling you into a kiss just as you enter his apartment. your lips curl into a smile, reciprocating the kiss, sweet, slow and ever so heavenly on your lips as he backs you towards the couch, only to pull back just before the best part. “i have missed you,”

and he's looking at you expectantly, waiting for his long awaited hug, the one where you both just melt into each other's embrace without any care for the world. however, you simply give him a shy look, requesting quietly. “can i sit on your lap instead?”

it would be a lie to say your words don't make him blush, but he's quick to pull you down on his lap, nice and cozy, your arms around each other as if one would disappear the next moment. his face is buried in your shoulder while your fingers trace a gentle pattern on his back, and he sighs contently. “i could get used to this,”

SUNGHOON

it's honestly a sixth sense. he could sense your puppy dog eyes from across his room while he is working on something. a sigh escapes his lips and puts the pen down, looking up at you. “can you stop with those eyes?”

despite his words, your eyes only get more pleading, pout getting deeper— almost like an exaggerated frown. actually, it's painfully hard to ignore you when you're looking so adorable.

“come here,” and sunghoon finally gives in, pushing his chair back, looking at you while you're standing in front of him with the same look as before. you don't even have to say it. he knows exactly what would lift your mood and he does exactly that— pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. “satisfied now?”

he smiles when you nod against his chest, burying your face deeper before looking up at him with the sweetest smile that makes his heart flutter. “very,”

SUNOO

he already knows you're up to something when you lead him into the bedroom and push him down on the bed. well, it's not half wrong that he is expecting something— then you take out something from your drawer.

“let me do your eyeliner,” you chime in with a smile, eyes gleaming with excitement and mischief as you add more words. “while sitting on your lap,”

it takes him a good minute to process your words. you can be quite menacing and he's well aware of it by the look on your face.

he leans back on the bed and takes your hand, tugging you forward and letting you settle comfortably on his lap. your one hand cups his cheek, caressing gently as he kisses the tip of your nose. “i prefer to have you on my lap anyway,”

JUNGWON

a relieved sigh falls off your boyfriend's lips when his eyes catch a glimpse of you through the crowd, walking inside the hall.

he chuckles at the way your nose scrunches up due to the smell of alcohol in the air, the displeasure immediately morphing into bliss when you spot him on a couch in the corner. “i thought you wouldn't come,”

“i changed my mind,” you shrug, eyes looking around at everyone as he takes your hand, trying to make a little space for you on the already packed couch. “it's okay, i'll sit here,”

his eyes immediately go wide at your implication, the way your gaze shifts down to his lap and then up at him. “you sure, princess?”

“why not?” you make yourself comfortable on his lap, one hand on his cheek and the other arm instinctively goes around his neck when he tugs you closer by your waist. “you're my boyfriend,”

and he's not used to it— the word or your boldness. two months into the relationship and you know exactly how to leave him speechless. but then you lean closer, capturing his lips into a slow kiss.

“that i am,” he whispers after pulling back for air, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

NI-KI

out of all things, riki didn't expect you to show up at his place with his favourite snacks and soft drinks. you're in his room, which is quite a mess if he's being honest. he himself is sitting only in his sweats and a tank top, hair messy, scrolling through his phone— honestly, his mom could've at least let him know before letting his dear girlfriend go upstairs to his room.

“wait—” he looks around frantically, not quite sure where to start from, half flushed and half embarrassed. “uh, where are you going to sit. . .”

it's a quiet whisper followed by your soft laugh and you put the bag of edibles on his desk, enjoying how his go red cheeks when you step closer as he instinctively sits back on the chair.

“how about here?” his mouth falls agape and you hold back a giggle when his face turns a darker shade of red. he doesn't say no— eyes spelling yes along with a slow nod. “you're so cute,”

he hides away his face further, hands caressing gentle patterns on your waist involuntarily. “s-shut up,”

[rafesangelita]

♡ baecation sex with rafe

warnings: making out, dry humping, oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, drinking, mentions of both reader and rafe being under the influence, semi-public sex

a/n: i desperately need it to be summer time already!! i can’t wait to make more themed fics <3 also i just came up with this on a whim so i’m very sorry if it’s all over the place..

sex between you and rafe back home was already paradise, but sex when you two were actually in paradise? even better. being away from the outer banks meant that you and rafe had no worries, no time limit for how long you wanted to make love and stay in bed together afterwards, no interruptions. it was absolutely perfect. from the second you walked into the ultimate suite rafe surprised you with, he didn’t waste any time in getting your clothes off, leaving you in nothing but your soaked panties as he dragged your hips up and down his clothed cock.

“fuck—” he cursed under his breath, taking handfuls of your ass and groping the flesh there as you whimpered against his lips. he wouldn’t stop grinding your cunt against him until you’ve came at least two times, leaving behind a sticky mess as rafe kissed you until both of your lips were aching with need. he’d wake you up with his head in between your thighs, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore paired with the cries of his name was like music to his ears. shower sex was always a must, but not before returning the favor.

rafe could never get used to the sight of you on your knees for him. someone who he held up to the highest standard going down just for his pleasure, the idea alone had him painting your lips in record time. getting ready and leaving the suite was nearly impossible since rafe couldn’t keep his hands off of you, especially when you came striding out of the bathroom looking like a world class model in your flowy dress and sandals, the sight of you alone making him believe you couldn’t be real.

“you’re just so beautiful, i can’t help myself..” he whispered, making your lips part as you felt the head of his cock enter you slowly. as time goes on, you’re pleading with him to fuck you harder, but instead he shushes you and tells you there isn’t any rush. “m’gonna take my time, and you’re gonna take it the way i give it to you, yeah?” all objections would die in your throat the second he had his fingertips pressing hard circles into your clit. of course, you’re walking to the bar on shaky legs with the help of rafe’s arm wrapped around waist as he acts like he didn’t just rearrange your insides ten minutes prior.

he chooses a dark spot in the tavern for the two of you to sit at, ordering you both bottomless drinks until you’re giggling in his lap and he’s drunkenly leaving sloppy kisses along your jaw. his hands start roaming your body, and once they manage to slip underneath your dress, you find yourself burying your face in his shirt to muffle the moans leaving your lips. he’s knuckle deep inside your cunt, the aroma of coconut and hibiscus flowers filling his senses. the music is thumping in your chest, and once you’re clawing at his arm and your thighs start trembling around his hand, you’re thankful that no one can hear the half shriek you let out as the band in your tummy snaps and you come undone around his digits.

you two barely make it back to the suite in a fit of laughter, your sandals tucked tightly between rafe’s arm as you pulled him inside. of course, the length of your dress counteracted with your tipsy state and you’re flying to the floor with a small smack! you’re laughing too hard to feel any pain, your boyfriend sobering up for a second in order to rush down and check on you. “i’m okay, i’m okay!” you reassure him, pulling him down on top of you as you kiss him deeply. that’s exactly how you two end up having floor sex, rafe insisting for you to be on top so you weren’t scraping yourself up on the stone surface.

you rode him until he was digging his fingers into your skin, his jaw falling slack as he filled you up with his seed. rafe nearly lost all brain function when you kept up your ministrations, unintentionally overstimulating him as he groaned, his cerulean eyes rolling to the back of his head while you trailed wet pecks up his neck from his chest. rafe has to hold you in place, pulling you tight against his chest in order to regain control and keep you from milking him dry. “holy fuckkk,” he drawls out, cradling your head, “you’re insane.” it isn’t long before he’s picking you up bridal style, laying you down gently in the plush comforter before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

the next morning, you’re waking him up with breakfast in bed, having already made a full recovery from last night. you’re hand feeding him his fruit, both of you just basking in each other’s prescence while the birds sound from outside the balcony. “i don’t want to go home.” you sigh, your head now resting against rafe’s chest. he hums groggily, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “so then we won’t. i’ll extend the reservation.”

[22ayla21]

Disease

You are sick, and your partner is taking care of you. With the participation of: Mydei, Phainon, Anaxa

From the Author: I have been sick for three days now and I would really like some comfort from someone.

• He sits next to you, not leaving a single step, as if guarding your sleep. Even if you say that everything is fine, Mydei remains in the room, quiet and focused, watching your breathing and temperature. If necessary, he will sit silently in a chair all night to help at any moment.

• He brings decoctions and medicines, brewed according to old Amphoraean recipes. They are bitter and smell strange, but he looks so seriously and attentively that it is simply impossible to refuse. Moreover, he always checks that you drink to the last drop, even if he needs to hold the cup himself.

• If you are cold, he takes your hands in his without further ado, warms them with his breath, sitting next to you. His body radiates natural heat, so he can literally warm you, like a living heater.

• If you fall asleep, he will straighten the blanket, remove the hair from her face. He can lightly and almost imperceptibly touch your forehead with his lips, checking the fever. For him, this is not something ostentatious - just a natural desire to be close and protect.

• He will build an almost military regime: medications by the hour, only healthy food, bed rest and a complete lack of physical activity. Any attempts to get up are ignored. He will gently but firmly put you back down, making it clear that he is in charge here.

• Anaxa would first conduct his own "research" of the symptoms, writing down every little detail in a notebook. He would be skeptical of conventional treatment methods, choosing the ideal formula for a balanced tea from the rare herbs of Amphoreus.

• He would strictly ask everyone nearby not to make noise and not to disturb you. And he would only allow himself to speak in a hushed voice, staying near the bed and whispering something like: "Silence helps the body concentrate on regeneration."

• Anaxa would clearly draw up a schedule for your rest, food intake and medication. Any deviation would be accompanied by his serious and condemning look.

• And despite all his scientific approach and bold character, Anaxa awkwardly but sincerely held your hand when he thought you were sleeping and whispered: “Just try to get better... I still need your ridiculous hypotheses.”

• When the fever subsided and you came to your senses, Anaxa would arrange quiet conversations, telling you about what he had read while you were ill. All with the hidden purpose of not getting bored and keeping your thoughts away from the illness. "You don't think I'll let you fall behind in knowledge, do you?" he would say, adjusting her pillow.

• If someone from the Grove of Muses wanted to bother you or impose their "treatment", Anaxa would silently stand in the way, looking lazily but coldly: "She is under my protection. And no, your methods do not stand up to criticism." No one argued.

• For his beloved, Phainon has always been a true protector, and when you got sick, he completely enveloped you in all possible care. He carefully monitors your warmth, straightens the blanket, takes care of the silence around and tries to create an atmosphere of peace, as if with his actions he wants to protect you even from illness.

• While you sleep, Phainon stays close. He spends time reading books, not letting you out of sight, periodically checking your condition. These moments of silence are the most exciting for him - he rarely shows his worries, but when you are sick, he cannot hide his inner anxiety, and silently protects your sleep.

• Phainon tries not only to care, but also to cheer you up. When he sees that you are getting bored or sad, he can unexpectedly add a little humor to his care to distract you. He does all this with a serious look, which is why light jokes sound especially warm and sincere, making you smile.

• The most touching moments happen when you are almost falling asleep. Phainon gently brushes the strands of hair from your face, mentally noting how defenseless you look. It is important for him to know that you will recover, because your presence gives him strength. He rarely allows himself such quiet displays of affection, but it is at these moments that care becomes almost sacred.

• When you are sick, Phainon does everything to create an atmosphere of peace around you. He is not intrusive, but his presence is felt constantly - he remains nearby, even if he cannot find words of comfort. Just his silent attention and willingness to come to the rescue give you a feeling of security.

[leclerc-hs]

tides of us - ln4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary: in which you and lando have phd's in getting underneath each other's skin. warnings: language, NOT PROOFREAD, smut under the cut!!!, bad writing? word count: 11.4k.... author's note: surprise shawtyyyy. MY FIRST EVER LANDO FIC (pls be kind to me). i really went a little crazy on this piece. PLEASE let me know what you think. hearing back is what keeps me writing for y'all xoxo

taglist: @f1fantasys @n3versatisfied @alishamai

Lando is pissed off.

The morning had been difficult since the moment he woke; late, with his phone on low battery, and four missed calls from Max.

He groaned as he rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders before it had truly even begun. The chaotic rush to get out of bed, the frantic search for his charger, and the constant buzzing of his phone— everything, it seemed, was working against him.

“Max,” Lando snapped into the phone, voice low but clipped. “What time is it?”

On the other end, Max’s voice came through—slightly amused but with an underlying tone of urgency. “Mate, we need to talk. It’s important. Where are you?”

His feet barely made a sound as he strode through the hallway, phone pressed against his ear with a growing sense of irritation. His shirt was still half hanging off him as he stepped into the kitchen.

Lando’s gaze flickered over to you and Pietra, the laughter in the air making him feel more disconnected. He wasn’t in the mood for this. His gaze landed on you again, and for a brief moment, he just stood there, watching.

“Listen, I need to tell you about-“ Max began.

“What is she doing here?”

Lando didn’t know who he was asking. Whether it was you, Pietra, or Max, he wasn’t sure. Max’s voice became nothing but unheard chatter after the words ‘needs to stay with you’ were said into his ear as you finally turn around and met his gaze. And for a mere moment, everything seemed to stop. You didn’t look scared, or confused, but something in your eyes made Lando realize just how ridiculous this all was.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face with one hand, then muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “Forget it.”

Lando moved with a cold, almost mechanical precision, his frustration hanging in the air like a thick fog. His hands were steady as he reached for a water bottle in the fridge, but his mind was racing, thoughts darting between everything that had gone wrong that morning, the calls, the uncertainty, and now you.

He took a long gulp from the bottle, the cool water doing little to settle the heat in his chest from your mere presence. When he finally lowered the bottle, he glanced back at you, but your gaze was already on him. It was quiet now, the chatter between you and Pietra paused.

“Look,” he muttered finally, turning towards you, his voice lower than before but still carrying a sharp edge, “I don’t even care to ask what you’re doing in my kitchen.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to defuse the tension he felt deep in his bones whenever you were around. “Just stay out of my way.”

He heard Pietra’s exasperated groan from beside you, but it barely registered. His focus was solely on you. The sound of your laugh, the way you smacked Pietra’s stomach and shot him that big sarcastic smile.

His gaze locked on you, and for a moment, the world seemed to blur around the edges, like he was seeing through a fogged window. The anger, the frustration, the lust — none of it mattered. You had this effect on him, like his emotions narrowed into a single, overwhelming force, and it was as if nothing else existed when you were in the room.

He hated it. He hated how you could make him feel so raw, so exposed, with just a look or a word. But in that instant, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he’d been wrong. That maybe he’d overreacted— again.

But pride kept his mouth shut. 

You smacked Pietra’s stomach with the biggest smile you could muster on your face. “Of course, Your Highness.”

His jaw tightened at the edge in your voice. It was always like this with you— too many layers of sarcasm, too many walls that kept him at a distance. He hated it, but there was something about the way you challenged him, the way you never let him get away with being too much of an asshole, that both irritated and intrigued him. 

And ninety nine percent of the time, he’ll meet you right in the middle. But today— today, he didn’t have the energy.

He couldn’t deal with you, not today.

-

It had always been this way— tension, banter, sharp words laced with sarcasm, and that constant push-pull between wanting to tear each other apart or tear each other’s clothes off. The first time you met, it was a disaster. Lando had been too cocky, too full of himself, and you? You’d been the perfect counter to his arrogance. Quick-witted, just as stubborn, not willing to back down even a little. It was like two forces colliding, neither willing to give an inch.

And somehow, that collision had set the stage for everything that came after.

There were moments—brief, fleeting moments— when you’d find yourselves actually getting along. Moments when you could talk without that edge, when you almost felt like you could understand each other. But those moments always felt like they were just around the corner from the next argument or snarky remark.

It was a dance. One he was growing exhausted by, but couldn’t quit. Quite like an addiction. Something that kept him coming back, even when every part of him screamed to walk away.

The sound of the front door slamming was enough to rattle you and Pietra as you leaned back in your stool and looked at her with a shrug.

“You guys fight like a married couple.”

“Don’t ever mention me and Lando with the word marriage in a sentence again.” You feigned vomiting.

Pietra let out a loud laugh, rolling her eyes at your dramatic reaction. “Okay, okay, point taken,” she said, holding her hands up in a mock surrender. “But seriously, I’ve never seen two people who clearly hate each other but also can’t seem to stay away from each other.”

You glanced towards the door where Lando had just stormed out, the sound of it slamming still echoing in the air. Your eyes narrowed, your annoyance with him still simmering beneath the surface. The last thing you wanted was to be compared to a married couple, especially not with him. But Pietra wasn’t wrong, at least not totally.

-

To say that you and Lando never got along was somewhat of a lie. Sure, most of the time there was an undercurrent of challenge between you two. But if you were being honest with yourself, there were always moments that managed to slip between the cracks of your usual arguments.

It was post-Max’s birthday bash, and the night had taken its toll—everyone was absolutely smashed. The music had faded into the background, the party winding down, and now it was just you and Lando in the kitchen, standing side by side as you both rummaged through the fridge for something to soak up the alcohol. The usual tension between you two felt different tonight, lighter, almost non-existent— probably because of the drinks coursing through your veins.

The fridge light bathed the kitchen in a soft, yellow glow as you both reached for the last slice of pizza at the same time. Your fingers brushed against his, the accidental contact sharp enough to send a jolt through you. You both froze, the moment stretching out between you like a beat of silence. You could feel the warmth of his hand against yours, the proximity suddenly making the air feel thick. 

You pulled your hand back first, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back slightly, trying to mask the awkwardness with your usual sharpness. “So, you were eyeing that, huh?” You said with feigned offense.

Lando wants to blame it on the alcohol. Wants to chalk up the rush of heat, the confusion clouding his thoughts, the throb he feels in his cock, to the drinks he’s had all night. It would be easier that way, wouldn’t it? Easier than admitting it was you— the way your laugh slipped under his skin, the way your nose crinkled after pretending to like a drink, the way your eyes were heavy with that loopy, contented look, like you were floating in your own little world.

His gaze flickers to yours, and there’s something in it—something that makes your pulse quicken against your will. He raises an eyebrow, pulling the pizza closer to him like he’s staking a claim on it. “I mean, it was there, wasn’t it?,” he says, his voice light, but there’s a trace of something else behind the teasing. His gaze lingers on you for a beat too long, and for the first time, the playful banter almost felt real. “I think I deserve it more, anyway.”

You cross your arms, the fridge light casting a harsh glow against you, trying to look unimpressed. “Yeah? And why is that?” 

He grins, clearly enjoying the banter. Then he leans in just a little closer, that confident smirk never leaving his face. “Because, unlike you, I’m a growing athlete.” He winks, as if that settles everything.

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.

“Well, you know you love it.” He says with a grin, his usual cocky confidence softened by the easy humor currently wavering between the two of you.

Before you can respond, he takes a dramatic bite of the pizza, his eyes  dancing with mischief. “What?” He says through a mouthful. “I'm just making sure it tastes as good as it looks.”

You roll your eyes, but the grin that pulls at your lips betrays you. Yeah, it was definitely the alcohol. 

Without warning, Lando brings the partially-eaten slice to your lips, his eyes locking with yours. There’s a dare in them, an unspoken challenge. Like he’s testing you. As if you would ever place your lips where his had just been.

But you’re not about to let him off the hook that easily.

You meet his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips, and you lean in deliberately, pressing your mouth to the exact spot where he’d just bitten. Slowly, you take a bite, never breaking eye contact.

You pull back, making the moment drag out a little longer than it should. Then, as you pull the pizza from your mouth, you exaggerate the motion, letting out a playful, dramatic moan.The taste of the pizza lingers as your eyes stay locked on his. A small dot of sauce is left at the corner of your lips, the perfect bait.

Lando’s breath catches at the sight, his chest tightening as his gaze drops to your lips. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing until his thumb is moving toward your mouth, gently swiping the sauce away. His touch is soft, almost hesitant, but it lingers— just a second too long. His fingers stay there, a slight heat emanating from the contact, as his eyes darken, drawn to your lips like he’s waiting for something.

You find yourself getting dizzy when he swipes it up, waiting patiently for you to make a move. But your brain is short-circuiting as you stand there frozen like a deer in headlights.

Lando tugs the tiniest smirk on the corner of his lips.

“Open,” he said, voice low, almost hushed, as if the words held more weight than the simple request.

You froze for a moment, uncertainty flickering in your chest. But that hesitation was fleeting. Your mouth parted almost instantly—partly out of shock, but also because, deep down, you knew you wanted this. You’d known it for a while, even if you’d been too stubborn to admit it before. But tonight, with the alcohol swirling through your veins and the tension between you two reaching a breaking a point, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

His thumb, warm and steady, presses against the softness of your lower lip before sinking inside, brushing against your tongue. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. “Suck.”

Oh my god.

It takes a moment to realize what is actually happening. That Lando’s thumb is really pressed against your tongue right now. That you’re innately curling your tongue around his knuckle without so much as a inkling of hesitation. What is going on?

The sauce is long gone by now, but you don’t want the way Lando is looking at your mouth to end. So you suck. Hard.

A deep guttural groan slips past Lando’s lips. Along with a soft “fuck”.

Lando pulls his finger from your mouth, smearing the saliva across your lips, before pushing it back in with a little more force than before, pressing your tongue down. 

Its only when the unmistakable sound of a loud laugh echoes from the hallway, followed by the soft shuffle of feet, that the spell is broken. Pietra and Max appear in the doorway, wrapped in their own world, oblivious.

Lando’s thumb retreats suddenly, leaving a faint tingle where it had been. He takes a few steps back, his posture stiffening as he puts space between the two of you. The slice of pizza, once held so carefully, has fallen unnoticed to the floor.

“There you guys are,” Pietra giggles, her voice light and carefree, as Max leans heavily against her. He presses a soft kiss to the back of her neck, the PDA so natural between them that you and Lando have long since grown accustomed to it. “What are you doing?”

Your mind is still spinning, trying desperately to untangle fragments of the moment. It’s as if you’ve been pulled to an alternate dimension, struggling to regain your bearings.

Lando, a little too quickly, blurts out, “Pizza!” His voice louder than usual, almost too eager, and the sharp sound makes you flinch, jolting you into full awareness.

“Yeah, pizza,” you echo, your words clumsy, as you scramble to find a sense of normalcy in this moment.

You watch as Pietra’s gaze drops to the floor where the pizza slice rests, barely touched, and then back to you and Lando. Her eyes narrow slightly, but her smile remains in place. 

-

The dinner party was in full swing, with guests chatting and laughing around the table, but at the far end of the room, Lando and you were locked in a standoff. The small, crowded space was a perfect breeding ground for irritation— just enough people to make it awkward, not enough to escape the tension between you two.

“You seriously had to make that comment in front of everyone?” Lando’s voice was low, dangerous, his jaw clenched tight as he stood rigid, his hands balled at his sides.

You didn’t flinch. You never did when it came to him. “What, didn’t think it was funny?” The words cut through the air like a knife, your tone dripping with its usual sarcasm.

Lando’s eyes narrow, his lips curling into a tight humorless sneer. “It wasn’t funny. It was humiliating. But of course, that’s what you do, isn’t it? Always try to make me look like the bad guy.”

You take a step closer, your heart hammering in your chest, but your voice steady, if not a little venomous. “Excuse me? I didn’t hear you complaining when you were bragging to the guys about your revolving door of women.”

Lando’s face twisted, the smirk now gone, replaced by a bitter glare. “Some of these guys are my co-workers.” His voice was a low growl, the frustration pouring from him. “You love making a scene, don’t you?”

You met his gaze, unflinching, your words with the kind of anger you’d been trying to suppress for hours. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that pointing out the obvious was such a crime. You are a joke, Lando.”

Lando’s nostrils flared, his posture stiffening as he takes a step forward. The anger between you two was palpable, raw, like a wound that had festered for too long. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re so good at pushing people away, it’s no wonder you struggle to keep anyone near.” He spat, the words hitting you like a harsh slap.

You could feel your own chest tightening, the urge to fight back stronger than ever. “Maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to push you away if you weren’t so fucking insufferable,” You shot back, your voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else—just because you’re the Lando Norris.” You say it with so much hatred in your voice, so much disgust.

Lando’s face turns red with anger, his fists tightening as if he is about to lash out. “You don’t know anything about me!” He hisses, stepping closer. “You don’t know anything. You’re too busy judging everyone, pretending like you understand.”

Liar.

“Maybe that’s because you’re impossible to understand!” You shot back, your voice cracking. 

Liar.

Lando’s chest was burning, and for a second, you thought you saw something else in his expression— something deeper, darker. But before you could say another word, the sharp sound of Pietra’s voice cut through the tension, her words laced with frustration.

“You two are exhausting,” she muttered, her hands on her hips as she walks towards you, shaking her head. “Can’t you go five minutes without fighting?”

Max, standing beside her, gave you both a pointed, unimpressed look. “Seriously, take it outside or something.”

The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating, as you and Lando stood there, completely unaware of how much attention you were drawing. 

With a frustrated sigh, Lando turned his back to you, muttering something under his breath as he took a step away, the coldness in his voice unmistakable. “No need,” he said with a forced smile, his expression a perfect mask of calm.

But you could see right through it. You could see the anger still simmering just below the surface, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might break. He had turned it on— flipped the switch to happy, charming Lando that everyone adored—but you knew better. You knew this wasn’t over.

You stayed frozen in place, staring at his retreating form, your blood still boiling, your heart still racing. The party resumed around you, as if nothing had happened, but the cracks between you two had deepened, and the weight of everything unsaid felt unbearable.

-

It was an unsettling realization— almost an entire week has passed without so much as a glimpse of Lando. Not that you were actively looking for him. Still, you were staying at his place for the time being, yet it felt as though he had vanished entirely.

The dinner party had been a mess— more than just the awkward silence that had followed after Lando’s sudden retreat, more than the strained smiles and forced laughter. It had felt like a pressure cooker, each moment pressing closer to explosion. 

You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t mind the distance, that you needed it too. After all, how could you process anything when the tension between you two was so thick it felt suffocating?

-

The apartment balcony door creaks as you slide it open, and the cool night air hits you like a breath of fresh tension. You pause for a moment, taking in the city’s quiet hum from the balcony, when the sound of footsteps from behind you pulls you back into the reality of where you stand. You freeze. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Lando.

You hesitate before slowly turning, your pulse quickening just a little at the sight of him standing there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking impossibly composed—as if he hadn’t been anything but a stranger to you for the last week. His hair is messy, as usual, falling over his forehead like it always does when he’s been running his hands through it, and his eyes lock onto yours, sharp and calculating. There’s no hint of the playful teasing that usually dances there— just a cold, clipped edge. A part of you feels the sting, but you refuse to let it show.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak right away. He just watches you, as if waiting for something to fall into place. His gaze flickers down to your outfit, the sharp cut of your dress, the way it hugs your frame. His eyes linger, just a moment too long. Theres something unreadable in his stare, but its gone before you can truly grasp it.

His chest feels tight, the burn simmering just beneath the surface. It’s an ache he’s learned to ignore. You’re impossible to ignore. 

His thoughts scramble, trying to piece together something, anything, to get him back on steady ground. It shouldn’t bother him. He shouldn’t even care.

But God, it does.

You straighten your posture, trying to shake the weight of his gaze. “I’m just about to head out,” you say, the words feeling almost too light for how heavy everything suddenly feels. You keep your voice steady, refusing to let the knot in your stomach show. He knows you too well to let any cracks slip by.

“Right.” His voice low, casual, but the way he says it doesn’t match the steel edge behind it. He pushes himself off the doorframe, taking a slow step forward, and the space between you feels too small, too intimate.

He tilts his head, his eyes scanning you with that familiar coolness. “Big night?” He’s not asking about the plans. He already knows the answer, or at least he thinks he does.

“Just dinner,” you say, but the words come out too sharp, too dismissive, like you’re avoiding saying anything else. Avoiding the reality that you’re stepping out the door, and he’s still standing there— distant, closed off, and, for the first time, entirely unreadable to you.

His hands are tucked into his pockets, the tension in his jaw hard enough to snap if he moved the wrong way. The silence between you is loud, almost deafening, a total opposite of the usual banter that defines the strange rhythm you share. You can feel him trying to hold back, just as much as you are.

His gaze flickers down for a second, and then he looks back up, meeting your eyes, and for the briefest of moments, there’s something close to what looks like vulnerability, like he wants to say more but can’t. Like he’s trying to insert himself into your brain and figure out what’s going on in your head. He doesn’t reach for the words he’s dying to say, and you don’t either.

You shift on your feet as you feel your phone vibrate in your hand. The last thing you want to admit is just how much the silence between you has been eating at you.

“Have a good night,” he says, and his voice is tight, the words formal, distant—as if the slight tension in his shoulders is something he’s trying to hide.

You pause, staring at him for just a beat longer than is comfortable, and then you nod, your throat tight as you force out the words, “You too.”

And with that, you step past him, brushing so close that your shoulder grazes against his arm. You had almost convinced yourself that you’d made it past the worst of it, that you guys were back to normal. But then, just as you’re about to step out of his vicinity, you feel it.

His hand.

It’s quick, a sharp tug at your wrist that halts you in place. His grip is firm, but not aggressive— more like a desperate plea.

You freeze. Lando’s fingers wrap around your wrist with an intensity that almost makes you forget where you are. He doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t have to. His pulse is quick under your skin.

You turn to meet his gaze. His eyes are darker now, more intense, but there’s something softer too.

“There’s a spare key on entry table for you. Keep it.” 

The sentence lands like a stone, cold and distant, when you’re hoping for something else. You were hoping for an argument, a confession, an apology— but not this.

An apology? From Lando? You laughed to yourself, but its bitter and dies in your throat. It’s almost laughable, the thought go him apologizing, like you could ever expect him to admit fault in anything. He’s always had a way of deflecting, of twisting words until they meant something else, until he was the charming asshole again and you were left wondering if you’d imagined everything.

Lando never apologizes. He never needs to. That’s part of the game, part of the push and pull that you two share. You fight, you argue, you tear each other down in the best and worst ways, but somehow, you always find your way back to the same place. 

You nod, quick and sharp, a simple gesture to acknowledge the words, but it feels hollow.

“Don’t wait up,” You joke, the words coming out a little too forced, a way to reclaim some semblance of normalcy, erasing the awkward space with a quip.

Lando’s gaze softens just a fraction, a flicker of something familiar returning as his lips twitch into the faintest smirk. It’s not much—just the smallest shift— but it feels like a breath of air. 

“Yeah, as if,” he replies, the sarcasm back in full force.

And with that, you step into the night, the door clicking shut behind you.

-

The restaurant buzzes with life, the clink of silverware and hum of voices filling the space as you sit at the round table with your friends. The sun is high, glittering through the windows and casting warm, golden patches across the wooden table. It’s the perfect lunch spot, lively and bright— but all you can focus on is Lando’s gaze burning your skin whenever you aren’t looking.

You try to focus on the conversation, on the joke that your friend just cracked, but every time you glance up, Lando’s eyes are already on you. His jaw clenches just a little when he takes a sip of his drink, and you can see the tension in his posture.

Another gaze at Lando, and it’s like you’ve been slapped back into reality. His gaze flickers quickly before he focuses on his phone again. His thumb taps the screen with purpose, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the furrow in his brow. 

His fingers move quickly over the phone, but his mind is clearly elsewhere. Max chimes in then, pulling him deeper into a conversation.

Mia’s voice pulls you back, and you force yourself to focus on her.

“So, come on. Spill.” She urges, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “how was your date last week? We’re dying for more details.”

Pietra chimes in, her voice light and teasing. “Yeah, seriously. He was so hot. I can’t even—“ She catches herself, looking over at Max as he side eyes her. “Oh, you know I love you. Now hush.” Pietra waves him off playfully, but her eyes are still on you, expectant, waiting for you to continue. 

Lando’s still playing the part, pretending like he’s not listening, but he can feel the irritation stirring in his chest at the mere mention of your date.

“Well…” You swallow, trying to keep your tone light as you picked up your mimosa, taking a quick sip before placing it back on the table. “It was nice. We had dinner, talked a bit…” You trail off.

It’s not like it was a bad date—far from it— but the way Lando’s eyes keep flickering back to you, the way his jaw clenches just a little tighter, it’s like everything’s suddenly wrong.

“Nice? Just nice?” Mia’s voice pulls back, her expression teasing as she crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed with your vague answer. “Come on. We need more than that!”

Max’s gaze flicks to Lando, and you notice the way his eyes narrow slightly, that familiar edge to his expression that suggests he’s just as aware of the growing tension between the two of you. You can feel him pulling away from the conversation. His fingers tap once again on the rim of his glass, but it’s harder this time— almost angry.

He didn’t care. He told himself that a thousand times. He hated you, or at least he was supposed to.

He was supposed to laugh off the bickering, keep things casual. That’s what it was supposed to be with you. A dynamic filled with nothing but playful jabs, insults, the kind of messy, tangled friendship that made sense to no one but the two of you.

But now? Now, every glance from you, every word you said, twisted something inside of him. It was a slow burn, the kind that spread through him quietly but powerfully, a pressure building beneath his skin. He tried to ignore it, tried to turn his focus back to the conversation with Max, but all he could think about was the way your laugh echoed in the back of his mind as you chatted with the girls.

He doesn’t want to care, but he does. Why?

He’s supposed to hate you. He wants to hate you. So why does it feel like something else is gnawing at him instead?

“It’s not like it will last long,” Lando adds, the words like a bitter aftertaste. They sting in the way only a deliberate jab can, meant to sink into your skin and burn as they make their way under your ribs.

The moment they leave his mouth, a silence settles. He doesn’t want to see the hurt flicker across your face, doesn’t want to feel anything that might suggest he crossed a line. And yet, his pulse quickens, a tight knot of unease forming in the back of his throat.

“Seriously, Lando?” Mia’s voice cuts through the silence, her tone sharp and incredulous. She leans forward, clearly annoyed by the bite in his words. Pietra follows suit, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern.

Everyone knew that the two of you fought, but Lando was never a dick like this in front of everyone. Your fights were usually more playful, more teasing.

“It’s fine. Ignore him.” Your voice comes out a little too quick, a little too sharp, but you don’t care. You force a smile, though it feels brittle on your lips.

Just another stupid fight. The same back-and-forth you’ve been doing for forever.

But it’s not.

-

Mornings are routine. You both rise at your own pace, not a word exchanged. The sound of coffee brewing fills the kitchen as you both move in sync, neither of you needing to ask for the things you want— Lando’s mug always pulled from the top cupboard, your cereal bowl set in the same spot on the counter. You don’t look at each other, but the air between you feels…habitual.

Sometimes, Lando will pull the milk from the fridge and hand it to you with no words. You just move around each other, existing in the same space.

Evenings are a little different. Lando will crash onto the couch, usually with his headphones on, diving into whatever he’s binge-watching. You’ll be in the kitchen, making dinner, the clatter of utensils and the hum of the stove filling the air. 

Occasionally, you’ll both look up, catch each other’s eyes for split second, and then quickly look away.

Dinner, if it happens at the same time, is pretty quiet. Lando eats his food quickly, never really talking about the day. 

Tonight, was a little different.

You’re curled up on the couch, lost in your book, one leg tucked under as you read with a concentrated frown. Lando, on the other hand, is sprawled across the other end of the couch, remote in hand, eyes glued to the screen.

“So, what’s the book about this time?” Lando’s voice is playful. He’s not really looking at you, more like staring at the screen, but he knows you’ll respond. You always do.

You don’t look up, eyes scanning the page. “It’s about a woman who solves mysteries while also balancing her dysfunctional life. You wouldn’t understand.”

He scoffs, but there’s a smirk on his face. “What, like you solving mysteries? I can barely get you to figure out where I left the remote.”

You finally glance over the top of your book, narrowing your eyes at him.

He wants to kiss you in this moment. It’s like an itch under his skin. 

“I can find the remote just fine, thank you very much. It’s just that you leave it in the most random places.”

He turns to face you now, his expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “Yeah, because the fridge is totally where I’d put it.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you spend majority of the day looking for it only to find it buried under a pile of laundry.”

“Don’t even start with me about laundry, Lando,” you shoot back. “If you less time working out and binge-watching every season of whatever show you’re obsessed with this week, maybe the laundry wouldn’t look like a crime scene.”

His grin widens, clearly enjoying this. “Oh, so now I’m the problem? Maybe if you did laundry instead of curling up with your book every night, we wouldn’t have to live in a mountain of socks.”

You can’t help but laugh, lowering your book just enough to shoot him a playful glare. “Well, maybe if you didn’t leave half your wardrobe in the living room, I’d have a clean place to actually read.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that this is your apartment too.” He says, raising a brow.

You roll your eyes, feeling your smile tug at your lips despite yourself. “I’ll be out of your hair in a week.”

A week. You’re leaving in a week. It’s so matter-of-fact, but in that moment, it lands like a punch to the gut.

Lando’s heart skips a beat at the thought. A week?

Did you get back together with your ex? Did you find a place so soon? A million questions ran through Lando’s brain.

“Wait, what?” His voice is quieter now, not his usual teasing tone.

You glance up at him, a raised eyebrow signaling curiosity. “What?”

“I—” Lando cuts himself off mid-sentence, the words faltering as he glances away, as if he's sorting through a million things in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. A quiet, nervous chuckle escapes him, but it’s strained, almost like he’s trying to laugh off something he doesn’t want to confront. “I mean… a week? Really?”

You pause for a moment, the question lingering in the air between you. You try to keep your expression neutral, but the unexpectedness of his reaction hits you harder than you want to admit. “Yeah. What’s the big deal?” you reply, tilting your head slightly, keeping your voice light, but the quiet edge of confusion still wraps around your words.

Lando hesitates again, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable in a way you don’t often see. He seems to be weighing whether he should say more, but the words slip out before he can stop them. “I don’t know. Just… don’t rush it, alright? I mean, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

The room feels suddenly smaller. His words, unguarded, hang in the air like a challenge to everything you thought you knew about the dynamic between you two. You stare at him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see the vulnerability that always hides beneath his sarcasm and bravado. The surprise in your eyes is so clear, it almost hurts. What exactly is he saying right now?

Lando clears his throat, breaking the tension for a split second, but his gaze flickers anywhere but at you. He shifts awkwardly, his voice losing its usual edge as he continues, his words trailing off like he’s unsure how to finish the thought. “I mean, it’s not like you’re in my way here. It’s your choice, but…” His voice falters. His entire demeanor feels rawer than usual, like he's exposing something that wasn’t meant to see the light of day.

You bite your lip, trying to swallow the shock, trying to make sense of what he’s just said. Your mind is racing, caught between wanting to ask more, to make sure you didn’t misinterpret his words, but at the same time, something inside you is afraid of hearing too much.

Lando rubs the back of his neck, clearly frustrated by the silence that’s settled between you. His usual bravado is cracking, his carefully constructed walls slipping just a bit. “Look, forget it,” he mutters, quickly backpedaling, the familiar deflection creeping back into his voice. But there’s a tremor in it, a slight crack that betrays the vulnerability he’s trying so desperately to hide. “It’s nothing.”

The weight of the moment lingers between you, heavy and thick. You’re fighting to keep your composure, but his words are chipping away at the routine, at the easy distance you’ve always maintained. You can feel something shifting in him, and if you're being honest, it shifts in you too.

You can't help but tease him, just to deflect from the heaviness he’s left hanging in the air. “Is the Lando Norris telling me that he’s actually okay with me in his personal space?” you ask, feigning shock, raising your brows in exaggerated disbelief. “Well then, I must! Thank you, Your Highness,” you add with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

But it’s a moment too late—Lando's lips twitch, and that familiar smile finally breaks through. It’s small, but it’s real. The tension dissipates, but something else remains. He looks at you, and for just a heartbeat, he lets his guard down, dropping the sarcasm. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, half smiling. “But I guess I’ll survive you for a little while longer.”

-

You don’t know when it happened, but somewhere between the third and fourth drink, the bitterness in your chest had started to settle into something darker, something more dangerous. You glance back toward to reserved booth, just for a moment—just enough to catch the scene that you already knew was unfolding, but still had to see for yourself.

Lando’s laugh, that easy, carefree laugh, rang out over the pumping music of the bar. He was practically hanging all over her—his hand on her thigh, his body pressed against her’s. It should’ve been something you could brush off. Something you used to actually pay no mind to. 

You turned away quickly, trying to focus on the glass in front of you. The guy next to you, some acquaintance from the group, grinned at you. “Another round?” His voice was too loud, but it didn’t matter.

You nodded, trying to shake off the discomfort eating at you. “Sure, why not?”

The bartender slid the next round across the counter, and you downed the glass almost immediately, the burn of the alcohol hitting your throat like it might do something— like it might fix something.

Nick’s hand is now on your back, guiding you through the mass of bodies as you both step onto the semi-crowded dance floor. His fingers are light against your skin, but there’s something about his touch that feels different. But tonight, you don’t care. It’s not about him; its about the fact you cant stop thinking about the way Lando looked at the girl in the booth. The way he ignored you, like you were scum on the bottom of his shoe almost.

You find yourself pressing closer to Nick as the beat drops, your body swaying with the music, the alcohol in your system making everything feel a little more intense. He grins, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you in. His lips find yours before you even know what’s happening—fast, heated.

For a second, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, trying to silence the voice in the back of your head. 

But then, a forceful shove breaks through the fog, and you stumble back, your breath catching in your throat as a hand reaches for you, steadying you. And you find yourself staring at the angry face of Lando.

“What the hell?” Nick mutters, his voice low but full of confusion.

Lando doesn’t even spare him a glance, his eyes fixed on you. He looks pissed—furious, even—and there’s something dangerous in the way his eyes bore into yours.

“What the fuck is this?” Lando’s voice is tight, barely controlled, as his eyes finally flick to Nick.

“We’re just having fun,” you say, your voice a little too sharp, too defensive. 

Lando’s eyes narrow, his posture rigid, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze lingers back to you like he’s trying to figure you out.

You can’t help but feel a little thrill in the way his attention is all on you.

“You don’t need to do this,” he mutters, his words a mix of frustration and something else—something you can’t decipher.

You know what he’s talking about. The drink in your hand, the kiss with Nick. It’s messy. It’s reckless. But Lando, of all people, should know that you’ve been drowning lately. That your recent break-up—hell everything—has been eating at you, pulling you under. And crashing at his place? It wasn’t just because you had nowhere else to go—it was because, your friends knew you needed someone around.

You try to look away, but you can’t. His eyes hold you captive, and for a moment, you swear you see something break behind them—longing? You’re not sure.

“I can do whatever I want,” you say, your tone more bitter than you intended, but you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

Lando doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. His breath is warm against your skin as he leans down towards you. 

“Yeah, I guess you can,” he says softly, his voice almost dangerous. He looks down at you for a long, drawn-out second, his fingers flexing at his sights, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and drag you out of here. But instead, he steps back, his gaze softening, his jaw relaxing ever so slightly.

He gives you one last, searing look, before he turns and walks off, leaving you standing there, your heart racing, your mind reeling.

Nick glances at you, clearly unsettled by the scene, but you barely notice.

The music continues to pulse around you, but all you can hear is the sound of your own breath and the quiet pounding of your heart.

-

The night air is cool against your skin, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement as you and Lando stumble back toward the apartment. You’re both slightly drunk, more than a little tipsy, still in that pleasantly buzzed state where everything feels lighter, more carefree.

You both move to the kitchen, in dire need of a snack to soak up the alcohol. He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching as you rummage through the fridge.

“You going to see Nick again?” He asks, eyes still on you.

“Yeah, I might,” you reply trying to sound casual, but theres an edge to your voice that you can’t hide. “What’s it to you?”

He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of something passing though his eyes. None of which you see, you’re too focused on scanning the fridge. “Nothing. Just…” He begins, struggling to come up with a reason.

“I’m just having fun, Lando. I’m not yours to keep tabs on.” You turn to face him now, leaving the fridge wide open as you bask in its light.

The words are sharper than you intended, but they’re out before you can stop them.

Lando stands there, his expression unreadable, before he finally uncrosses his arms. He takes a slow step forward, his gaze flicking down for just a moment before he looks back up at you, his voice low. “I didn’t say you were.”

Lando swore he could’ve passed out right then and there. Not because of what you said, but because of the overwhelming sense of deja-vu that washed over him. He blinked, the scene in front of him shifting for a moment, and he was back there— a year ago, in the same kitchen, the same familiar silence between you two.

You stood there, just like now, same expression in your eyes, only this time there was no pizza sauce on the corner of your lips. But still, he remembered it. 

He swallowed hard, trying to shake the image away, trying to clear his head, trying to prevent the hardening of his cock as he thought of your tongue wrapped around his fingers with an eagerness.

He dropped his head back, pinching his eyes shut, with a low groan.

He’s so fucked.

-

The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sparkling sea as the yacht cut through the water effortlessly. The salty breeze whipped through your hair, making you laugh as you leaned over the railing, the fresh air filling your lungs. You’ve been needing this— a break. Just a few days to recharge with friends, laughter, and some much-needed distance from everything else.

You were surprised to see how well it was going. Sure, you’d been hesitant about this trip, especially with lando on board. But so far? Everything felt…easy. You caught Lando’s gaze from across the deck as he cracked open a cold drink, his usual smirk pulling at his lips as he noticed you watching. His swim shorts hung low on his hips, his tanned skin glowing seamlessly in the sun with unbuttoned white linen shirt slung over his shoulders.

It was days of nothing but sunbathing, dinners, and resting. It was probably the most carefree you have ever felt. 

The music from the speakers drifted lazily across the deck, and you caught yourself moving to they rhythm of it, not caring if anyone was watching. The sun was working its magic, loosening every knot of tension in your body. 

“We should definitely black out tonight,” Pietra laughs, bringing a shot of tequila to her lips and then carelessly throwing her hands in the air to the sound of the music.

Lando couldn’t help but stare at the way your eyes crinkled as you smiled, and his chest tightened. 

“You in, Lando?” She teased, her grin mischievous as the rather large group of friends littered the boat in shouts and squeals.

Lando blinked, a little too lost in the way you tilted your head back, taking the tequila shot and laughing freely. He cleared his throat, “Yeah, sure, why not?” He muttered, his lips slowly curling into a small smile.

-

The night had stretched on longer than you’d anticipated, the laughter and music fading into the background as the alcohol worked its way through you. The yacht was quiet now, with only the sound of the waves gently lapping against the hull. The rest of the group had scattered, some slumped on the couches, others finding spots to crash under the stars. You, however, were a little too tipsy to be completely asleep.

The hallway was dimly lit as you made your way past the scattered rooms. You had intended to go to your own—at least, thats what you thought until you remembered someone had made themselves at home there, sprawled across your bed with no intention of moving.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, peeping your head into all the rooms until you finally found an empty one. Without so much though, you pushed it open, your movements uncoordinated, and stepped inside before throwing yourself happily onto the empty bed.

“I always knew you’d end up in my bed.” 

You barely registered the sight before sitting up with a small shriek that was quickly cut off as Lando grasped your wrist pulling you towards him and covering your mouth. “God, can you ever just be quiet.”

The room was bathed in soft shadows, the low hum of the yacht's engine barely reaching your ears as the night stretched on, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. The alcohol buzz still lingered in your veins, but the proximity of Lando, the heat of his body near yours, made it hard to focus on anything else.

You blinked again, trying to shake off the fog, but his figure still stood out clearly in the dim light. His shirt carelessly thrown across the room and his shorts discarded at the foot of the bed only made him feel more real, more present in this moment. The way his body filled the space, the way his eyes burned into you—he was magnetic, and you couldn’t look away.

Lando caught your gaze, his expression lazy but full of something else, something you couldn’t quite name. A smirk played at the edges of his lips as he leaned back, watching you carefully, his posture casual but his eyes sharp. 

“Someone’s in my room.”

Your heart was racing, and for a second, you couldn’t remember why you had come here in the first place. Not with the way he was looking at you. His voice, low and teasing, sent a shiver down your spine. But you couldn’t quite process it—everything in your head seemed clouded, tangled between confusion and something else that pulled at your chest.

You opened your mouth to speak again but the words were caught in your throat, your body reacting instead. You simply sat there, feeling the weight of his gaze, and the distance between you both seemed to collapse.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your moment of hesitation. “Right,” he murmured, pushing himself up onto his elbows, the light catching his bare chest as he leaned forward slightly. “And here I thought you just wanted in my bed.”

Your stomach flipped at his teasing tone, but you didn’t have the energy to argue or deflect. You were too caught in the pull of the moment. Too caught in the way his voice sent shivers through your body, the way his eyes held yours so intently.

“I didn’t…” you began, but your voice faltered, and instead of finishing the sentence, you just let out a long, unsteady breath. Without thinking, you collapsed next to him on the bed, your body sinking into the soft sheets. The coolness of the fabric did nothing to offset the heat that spread through you.

He didn’t say anything right away, but his gaze lingered on you, intense and searching.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you muttered, trying to steady your breath, the words coming out more like a half-baked excuse than a statement of fact.

Lando didn’t answer immediately. He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes studying you, weighing something in the space between you. Then, his lips parted into a slow, deliberate grin.

“It means nothing,” he agreed softly, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way he looked at you, the way his eyes darkened just the slightest bit, made it clear that he knew it meant something—even if neither of you were ready to admit it.

-

The thing about Lando is…his body has a mind of its own in the early hours of the morning. The sun has barely peeped over the horizon when he feels the throb of his cock against the band of his underwear. The pressure of something pressed against him that he involuntarily flexes his hips forward, a soft groan pushing past his lips.

You stirred slowly, on the verge of breaking a sweat from how warm it was. Why was it so warm?

You felt hot all over. Your nipples were hard, the pressure of a bulge grinding into your backside, and the warmth of a body brewed a seeping hot energy low in your tummy. 

Your brain was foggy, barely aware of what was happening. All you knew is that you needed this. 

A hand caressed your waist, slipping under your t-shirt, grazing along the softness of your skin until it reached the cusp of your breast, the pinching of one of your nipples had you pushing back into his groin with a soft moan. 

It took a few moments for your body to fully understand what was happening. For your brain to catch up with your body as Lando slowly grinded his hips into you, his fingers toying with your nipples.

You both were too sleepy to care. Too horny to care.

“Wait,-“

“Shh.” Lando cuts you off, trailing his hand up to your neck, and squeezing it just enough to elicit a soft moan from you. “No thoughts. Just feel, yeah?”

Yes.

“This means nothing.” You moaned, your hand reaching behind your head, grasping the back of Lando’s neck to pull him closer, to cradle you closer.

His heavy breaths were hot in your ear, and only made you burn hotter. 

He slipped his hand down further, his fingers trailing down and slipping past the band of your sleep shorts. It wasn’t until you felt his fingers press small circles to your lace covered core that it had you arching your backside even harder against his groin, your fingers tightening over the curls that fell on the back of his neck.

“This means nothing, yeah?” His voice was hot in your ear.

 “My God, you’re fucking soaked.” He let out a guttural groan.

His fingers trail back and forth, spreading your slick, before he pushes a finger in. You’re a mess. Nothing but moans as he pulls his finger out, coating your clit, and pushing back in.

“Bet I could slip right into you,” His words are broken by heavy breaths, like he’s struggling to control himself. “Take m’cock so easily. Would stretch you nice and good, mm.”

You outright cried at his vulgar words, slipping your hand from the nape of his neck to the waistband of your sleep shorts and underwear, slipping them down enough to leave you bare. The cool air of the room did nothing for you as your skin burned against his touch. His fingers pushing in and out of your core with such a lazy pace, it had you pushing your hips onto his fingers to try to speed it up.

“Tsk, tsk.” He clicked his tongue. “So impatient.”

“Now look who needs to shut up,” You knit your eyebrows together in frustration.

“More.” You needed more. 

He pulls his fingers from you, slipping his underwear low enough to finally free his cock from the tight fabric that was nearly suffocating him. “So demanding.”

Pumping himself a few times, you feel him slip his cock in between the folds of you, coating himself in you. Teasing you.

“Lando, I swear to-“ 

He pushes himself in a single thrust, bottoming out as you both exhaled sharply. 

It started out with slow and lazy thrusts, both of you nothing but groans and sweaty bodies pressed together. The sun began peeping through the tiny window of the bedroom, casting a soft glow on both of you, tangled in the white sheets of his bed.

“That’s it…feel so good f’me,” His voice was like pure sex in your ear as he slowly thrust his hips into you.

Feeling your heat wrapped around him was something he never want to end. How your perfect cunt swallowed him up.

He hummed in your ear, pressing hot open mouth kisses to the crevice of your exposed neck for him as you laid on your side. So compliant.

It reached a point where neither of you could no longer take it. The force of Lando’s hips driving harder with each calculated thrust he could maneuver as he pushed your shoulder down into the mattress, hovering over your backside he fucked into you hard.

His hips were merciless, like he couldn’t slow down if he wanted to. You felt too good. You were too good.

His hand pressed into the back of your skull, pushing your face into the mattress as it muffled out your moans.

“You take it so nice,” He groans, his head lulled forward as he leans over your frame. Sweat begins to perspire on his skin, the veins in his neck more prominent as he works himself towards the edge.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Full speed with no warning as you spasm around his cock, sending him tumbling over the edge to his as he pulls out quickly, hot spurts of it landing onto your lower back.

“Christ,” He breathes through a small laugh.

You lay limply on the bed, your eyes following as Lando collapses next to you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You open your mouth to say something as it finally dawns on you what just occurred but Lando cuts you off.

“Don’t make it a bigger deal than it needs to be,” He stares at the ceiling as he mutters the words, his eyes half-lidded in contentment.

You close your mouth.

“No thoughts, just touch.” You repeat his previous words. Like it’s some silent agreement. Some inside joke.

-

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a fucking car,” Max groans as he flops down onto one of the cushioned seats at one of the yacht’s dining tables.

You glance around, scanning the whereabouts of everyone, and everyone looks like a complete train wreck, to say the least.

The sky was a perfect shade of blue, stretching out endlessly above you, and for a moment you just smiled to yourself.

Lando was sprawled out across from you, lounging on one of the nearby deck chairs. He had on his sunglasses, his legs stretched out and his shirt unbuttoned, looking as laid-back as ever. His usual smirk was there, though this time is was softened.

Pietra called out from across the deck, her voice awfully cheerful compared to everyone who was hungover. “Let’s have a fucking day!”

Max groaned, burying his head into the crevices of his folded arms. “It’s gonna be a long fucking day, innit?”

-

The heat of the afternoon sun and the gentle rocking of the yacht had you longing for a cool dip in the ocean. After hours of lounging on the deck, you and Lando exchanged glances, both of you clearly getting restless as most of the others napped or played card games at the table.

“You know,” Lando started, his voice playful, “the water’s looking pretty great right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look but also nodding your head in agreement. You stood up, slipping your white cover up over your head with ease, before striding toward the edge of the deck, your feet already starting to get warm from the sun-kissed wood.

The skimpy black string bikini leaves little to the imagination as you wiggle out of the cover-up, and Lando swears he might just collapse at the sight of it.

Lando follows, a wide grin growing as he matches your pace, before reaches for the back of your legs and slips you over his shoulder with ease. 

“Lando!” You shout. But it’s no use. You don’t even get to finish yelling his name before you are sent over the deck’s edge, plunging into the water with Lando glued to your body. “You’re insane!” You sputter, wiping salt water from your eyes, and though you’re furious, you can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

“What? You weren’t gonna jump in?” He teases, his voice light, but theres a glint in his eye.

You both tread the water for a moment, floating side by side, as the sound of the ocean mutes the sound of your friends yelling over a deck of cards. 

Lando smirks, tilting his head, his usual dark unruly curls, now slightly lightened from the days spent in the sun, is slicked back and dripping from the dive. 

Your stomach flips as he draws a little closer, and for a moment you can’t help but think back to earlier this morning. The way he spread you out and filled you with his cock. 

Lando reaches out, his fingers brushing your skin lightly, sending a shiver through you that you can’t quite shake off. 

He notices the glaze in your eyes, the way the goosebumps form on your skin from his touch, and the way your nipples have pebbled through the thin material of your bikini. He leans in a little, just enough that his lips hover near your ear. His breath warm against your skin as he speaks, his tone almost a whisper, “Can’t stop thinking about earlier. Your cute little moans. Need to hear more of ‘em.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, and you feel a rush of heat spread through you.

“Come to my room tonight, yeah?”

-

You really don’t know what you were doing. The soft creak of the yacht’s deck is the only sound that accompanies you as you slip down the hallway, heart pounding faster than normal. The dim lighting in the hallway barely registers in your mind as you stop in front of Lando’s door, a quiet exhale leaving your lips. You’d convinced yourself you were just going to sneak in, just to talk for a little while, but now you’re here. Again.

Everyone left to go out on the land, while you and Lando decided to hang back. No one suspected a thing, not that it mattered if they did.

Lando shifts on the bed, his eyes still fixed on the TV screen, as you quietly close the door behind you. You take a few steps forward, just close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating from where he’s lying. 

Lando finally glances over, a lazy grin spread across his face as he watches you slip into his bed. “Wanna watch a movie?”

You nod, making yourself comfortable, leaning back onto the bed and propping yourself up on your elbow. Lando all but gives you one minute, before he’s pulling you closer, and tucking you under his arm. His body heat mingles with yours, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It just feels natural—like this is the way it was almost meant to be.

-

“You seriously think that was a good ending?” Lando’s voice is incredulous. “That was such a cop-out! It doesn’t make any sense. That’s just lazy!”

“Lazy?” You laugh. “It’s a story about life, Lando. About how not everything can be wrapped up in a nice little bow. Sometimes, you don’t get closure. Sometimes you don’t get any answers. That’s the point!”

Lando pushes himself up. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Whats the point of it all if the story doesn’t actually go anywhere? It just—ends.”

Your heart is pounding now, you don’t even know how something as simple as a movie ending resulted in you two fighting. But it was no surprise. You guys loved to argue.

It was almost like your own version of….foreplay?

“You’re so stubborn,” You spit, releasing a sarcastic laugh. “You can’t just let something be, can you? You always have to control it, make it fit your idea of how things should go.”

Lando reaches towards you, his eyes never leaving yours, as he corners you up against the plush pillows of his bed. “And you think you’re any different?” His voice is low, dangerously calm now. “You think you have all the answers to who I am, hm?”

“Fine,” You snap. His chest is just centimeters from yours. “Maybe I don’t. But at least I’m not acting like the world owes me something. Maybe that’s why you’re always so angry.”

He leans forward, his breath hitting your face. “I’m angry?” Lando’s voice drops to a whisper. “Maybe I’m angry because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing when it comes to you.”

Your heart skips a beat. You blink, suddenly aware of just how close you are, how he’s looking at you with something completely different in his eyes now.

“Maybe I’m angry because the only time I’ve managed to get your slutty little mouth to shut up was by having my fingers in it. Or with my cock shoved up your cunt.”

And then, without warning, Lando moves. It’s fast, but not reckless. He reaches for you, one hand grasping the back of your neck as he leans in, just close enough to where your lips can brush against each others.

“Tell me you want this again.” His voice is low, rough.

Your breath catches in your throat. You try to speak, but the words come out as nothing but a shaky exhale. You want to tell him yes, to beg him to close the distance, but you’re paralyzed. Is this really happening…again?

Lando brushes his lips against the apples of your cheeks before bringing them to the crevice of your ear.

“C’mon, tell me you want this as badly as I do, yeah?” 

You nod. “Please.”

And then, in a blur of movement, he’s there—his lips against yours, hard, desperate, and all-consuming.

It’s not a kiss; it’s a collision— a meeting of two forces that have been fighting against each other for far too long. His mouth is warm, and when it presses against yours, its with such an intensity that you feel the world shift. He’s taking, but he’s giving just as much. His hand slips down to the crevice of your waist, squeezing whatever he can get his hands on.

The kiss deepens, and its not soft anymore—its needy, frantic, each of you chasing something that’s been building for ages. The fingers of his other hand curl into your hair, tugging you even closer, until you feel like you might melt into him. You respond in kind, hands moving to his chest, fingers slipping beneath his shirt, your palms feeling the heat of his skin. You want more.

You’re not quite sure how it happened but one moment you’re pressed against the plush material of the mattress clothed, and the next your clothes are strewn across the room with Lando pressed between your legs.

Lando lowers his face, and you’re happy to find that the curls of his hair tickle at your face when his lips meet yours again.

He kisses you like he has all the time in the world; like he should be doing nothing else but kissing you for the rest of his life. His hands move to your hips as his tongue glides our from his mouth in-between your lips, to meet with yours. 

You taste sweet against his tongue and your gasp is muffled by his tongue as he presses his hardened cock right into your warm center. You tighten your legs around his hips, and buck up against him with a small moan stuck in your throat.

He pulls apart from your lips, much to his dismay, but still hovers over you and trails his lips across your face, down to your neck. 

“You argue too much with this mouth,” He mutters, raising his arm over his head to remove the black t-shirt that adorned his body. 

You feel flustered and hot all over as you nod in agreement, pulling at the fabric of your lacy bra that was left on.

His thumb traces the pout of your lips, a dribble of saliva smearing over them from your recent make-out. “Should put it to other uses, yeah?”

Your eyes lock with his as you nod. Utterly speechless but the clench you feel in your stomach and the heat between your legs more than enough for you to realize just how turned on you are.

“Would you like that, baby?” Lando lets the pet name slip mindlessly, it stirs a swirl of butterflies in your tummy. “Just let me shove my cock in your mouth whenever I need you to shut up? Anything to fill your throat up, yeah?”

You audibly moaned at the thought. Yes.

The smirk that tugs on his mouth is almost lethal and you swear he might just be your undoing in this moment.

“No thoughts. Just touch?”

“No thoughts. Just touch.” You confirmed.

[a-path-beyond84]

Here is a different perspective, one that is much less reactive and emotional.

Zelenskyy has recently been making unforced errors and in a way it is emblematic of Ukraine's larger problem with Russia.

Ukraine is not a powerful country. It is not particularly populous, nor productive. It has a very long border with Russia, a far more powerful country, a country has a much larger population and much larger economy. As a result, Ukraine needs to appease Russia, not necessarily to the point of self effacement, but on matters that aren't of existential importance to Ukraine but cause anxiety in Russia the rebuttal presumption is that it yields to Russia.

This isn't entirely Ukraine's fault. America and NATO more broadly gassed them up and made them believe they had more leverage than they really did over Russia, and America also participated in the coup which drove the pro-Russian government out of power in 2014 which raised Russian anxiety. Ukraine is right on Russia's border, and Russia has a rough history with land invasions (Russia might have lost more soldiers in one battle, Stalingrad, than America has lost in all of its wars put together).

Ukraine wound up getting invaded by Russia. Russia was willing to negotiate terms early in the conflict, but the west gassed up the Ukrainians again and Ukrainians walked away from a peace deal.

Three years later, there is a new Administration in Washington. Donald Trump has staked his reputation on being able to bring the war to a conclusion. Zelenskyy has now repeatedly publicly feuded with and embarrassed Trump, a man who is known to be particularly prickly about criticism and public attacks.

Ukraine is not a powerful country. It is losing a war against Russia. Ukraine's only hope is the continued material support of the world's most powerful military alliance, NATO. NATO is dominated by the United States, a nation more powerful than the rest of NATO combined. NATO's support doesn't even give Ukraine a reasonable chance of winning, as Russia has held out despite 3 years of NATO assistance and has continued to wear down Ukraine. Zelenskyy is in effect a beggar who has shouted and yelled and spat at the man walking down the street who usually reaches into his wallet to offer him a few bucks. Should such a beggar really expect this man to hand over the cash he desires? So just as Ukraine failed to take Russian anxieties into account in its domestic and foreign policy, Ukraine is now failing to take into account the attitude and opinion of the President of the United States. With the United States on side, Ukraine might at least get to keep the majority of its territory. Without it, the entire country may well be conquered by Russia.

And now we have someone on Tumblr thinking it would be a brilliant idea for Zelenskyy to have actually physically assaulted the President and Vice President of the United States in the White House. Zelenskyy would be lucky if the secret service didn't delete him. But if so, he would have made the most powerful man in the American government not merely an enemy but viscerally so. Such an act would be so catastrophic that it would not be out of the question to wonder if Zelenskyy was a Russian agent the whole time. Thankfully Zelenskyy at least had enough sense not to do that.

That said, the guy is not a great leader. Turns out the TV comedian was not the right person for the job of waging existential battle against a great power. In fairness to Zelenskyy, it was always Russia's war to lose.

president zelenskyy is a stronger man than me because if two ignorant and deluded men like trump and vance started demanding i say please and thank you and calling me disrespectful like im a naughty child instead of a very traumatised and frustrated man trying to save his country from putin id have put them both in the ground with a single fucking punch

[plethorawrites]

How would the vampire Batboys react if their GN human partner/reader offers them their blood? Maybe reader offers because the boys aren’t lookin’ good/aren’t drinking enough as they should, or maybe reader offers as a way to show them their trust, or build intimacy? :3c

Yes!! I did something similar with Dick previously, but I can totally see this concept with the others as well. (TW: Mention of blood)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

Bruce: Deep down, I think he'd always imagined feeding from you one day. Maybe as some fantasy or maybe a part of him just knew you well enough to know you'd offer. It wouldn't phase him much, but he'd be elated internally. Still tender, though. He'd make sure you had a glass of wine or tea or something beforehand and sit you in his lap, having you lean your head against his shoulder to expose your neck and he'd definitely hold it firmly the entire time, even when you started to squirm in pain.

Dick: Like in a previous post, I think he'd limit his use of drinking from his partner because he's worried about losing control/getting addicted. It's a treat or a desperate measure and he has to really focus on your heartbeat and how hard you're gripping his arm to make sure you're not starting to panic or lose too much blood. Afterwards, it would just be continuous praise, thanking you over and over and muttering how much he loves you and how he promises to never take too much from you.

Jason: Is terrified when you suggest it. He's spent his whole life being viewed as a monster, even in his own eyes and once finding someone who doesn't immediately fear him, he doesn't want to ever risk making you change your mind. But he's lethargic, out of blood bags in the fridge, and too tired to go find a fresh source. You're right there; of course it makes sense. He's still apprehensive the entire time, physically in pain when he keeps himself from indulging but refuses to let himself. Instead, every single sharp inhale or slight whimper of pain makes him stop, even if it hurts, to check on you.

Tim: Has to do a double take, making sure he'd heard you correctly. But when you nod a second time, his open jaw closes, turning into a grin. He wouldn't pounce right away, not wanting to seem too eager, even if he was. But a few days later, when you're over, cuddling in his bed, he'd be tracing your neck like he often did, imagining how it would taste. His breath would be warm when he whispers in your ear, asking you if you would let him have a snack. Of course you would nod. And of course he would take your hand, letting you squeeze it as tightly as you needed to when he sunk his fangs into your neck, humming in content, just leaving them there for a moment. He adored the puncture marks that lingered for a week.

Damian: Would be confused, at first. He'd stop in the middle of whatever he was doing— training, getting ready for bed, etc. and just stare. You were his partner, not his blood bag. Why would he put you in a position where he could hurt you when he was meant to protect you? It takes some explaining from you, telling him how you want to know what it feels like and for him to know you trust him, that he even entertains the thought. He's still hesitant, but at your request and his own hunger, he tries. He has to pause when you make a sound of pain, but doesn't stop until he's satisfied and you're dizzy. Then, he just wraps his arms around you, kissing the puncture marks to erase the remaining blood.

[quinny19]

Title: Sleeping my way to victory

Bakugo had never met anyone as infuriating as you.

You were quiet. You were lazy. You slept through class, slept through fights, and somehow, somehow still managed to be one of the strongest people in Class 1-A.

It didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t fair.

And worst of all? You never took him seriously.

Every time he challenged you, you yawned, stretched, and beat him without even trying. It was humiliating, and he swore on his future as the number one hero that one day, he’d wipe that smug, half-asleep look off your face.

Until then, he’d keep challenging you. Over and over.

Scenario 1: A Typical School Day (ft. Bakugo Losing His Mind)

Class 1-A’s morning routine was always chaotic.

Iida was lecturing someone about being on time. Uraraka and Mina were chatting about their favorite snacks. Midoriya was furiously scribbling in his notebook.

And you?

You were fast asleep at your desk.

Like always.

Head resting on your folded arms, steady breathing, completely unfazed by the noise around you.

Bakugo, sitting one seat away, twitched violently. "HOW the hell do you sleep through this shit?! It’s morning, dumbass, wake up!"

You made a vague noise of protest, cracking one eye open to look at him. "Mmm… too early."

"IT’S NOT TOO EARLY!"

Kirishima chuckled from behind Bakugo, nudging his shoulder. "Dude, you should be used to this by now."

Denki leaned over, grinning. "Yeah, man, it’s kinda cute how much you care."

Bakugo froze. "I DON’T CARE!"

"Ohhh, sure," Denki teased, wiggling his eyebrows. "That’s why you always try to wake them up, right?"

Kirishima smirked. "Yeah, what’s up with that, huh? You like watching them sleep or something?"

Bakugo turned bright red. "I—WHAT—SHUT THE HELL UP!"

Meanwhile, you had already dozed off again, completely missing the chaos you had caused.

Scenario 2: Another Challenge, Another Loss

"Oi, lazy-ass. Get up."

You groaned, rolling onto your side on the training field’s grass. "No."

"GET UP AND FIGHT ME!"

You sighed heavily, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. "Again?"

Bakugo growled, cracking his knuckles. "I swear, I’ll win this time."

You gave him a slow, amused blink. "Mmm. Didn’t you say that last time? And the time before that? And before that?"

"SHUT UP AND FIGHT ME!"

You yawned, stretching. "Fine. But if I win, you have to buy me lunch."

"LIKE HELL I—"

"You’re the one challenging me, Kacchan. It’s only fair."

He clenched his fists, then snarled, "Tch. Whatever."

The second Aizawa gave the signal, Bakugo launched himself forward, explosions propelling him toward you. His palm sparked, ready to finally land a hit—

And then—

You dodged.

Not just dodged—sidestepped without even looking, like you already knew where he was going to attack.

He gritted his teeth. "You—!"

Another explosion. Another effortless dodge.

And then, as if to mock him, you let out another yawn.

During the fight.

"Are you—ARE YOU SERIOUSLY SLEEPY RIGHT NOW?!"

"Mmm," you hummed, blinking lazily. "You move too much, Kacchan. You should try relaxing."

"RELAXING?!"

And then—before he could react—your quirk activated.

A sudden wave of pressure rippled across the battlefield, and before Bakugo knew it, he was airborne, sent flying backward by a controlled burst of your power.

He crashed into the dirt, groaning.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Told you so."

Aizawa called the match. "Winner: (L/N)."

Bakugo sat up, seething. "You… lazy… bastard…"

You walked over and crouched beside him, offering a hand. "Guess you’re buying me lunch, huh?"

He slapped your hand away. "LIKE HELL I AM!"

From the sidelines, Denki and Kirishima snickered.

"Man, Bakugo, you get your ass kicked by (Y/N) a lot, huh?"

"Shut up!"

"Are you sure you’re not just doing this to spend time with them?" Denki smirked.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

Scenario 3: The Simulation Training (Or, How You Slept Your Way to Victory)

U.A.’s latest training exercise was a massive simulation—designed to test endurance, battle strategy, and survival skills.

It was an all-out free-for-all.

Students had to eliminate robots, avoid hazards, and outlast each other in a controlled battlefield.

Bakugo was ready. He was determined to finally, finally beat you.

Except—

Twenty minutes in—

You were asleep.

Like, actually asleep.

Sitting on a rooftop, arms crossed, napping.

And somehow? Some-fucking-how—

You were still in first place.

Bakugo nearly had a stroke watching you take down an entire fleet of enemy bots while half-asleep. You barely moved, just flicked your fingers and redirected energy waves that erased everything in your path.

He was losing to someone who wasn’t even awake.

"OH, COME ON!"

At the end of the match, the rankings appeared on the screen:

1st Place – (L/N) (Y/N)

Bakugo stared at the scoreboard, trembling.

Denki patted his back. "Damn, dude. You lost to a sleeping person."

Kirishima grinned. "That’s gotta hurt."

Bakugo turned to you, absolutely fuming. "HOW THE HELL DID YOU EVEN WIN?!"

You blinked sleepily at him, rubbing your eyes. "Mmm… dunno. Maybe I dreamed of me winning?"

He twitched. "DREAMED?! "

You yawned again, giving him a lazy grin. "Guess you’re just not strong enough yet, Kacchan."

Bakugo’s face turned scarlet. "I SWEAR TO GOD—!"

Denki snickered. "Damn, (Y/N), you’re really good at making Bakugo mad."

Kirishima smirked. "Or flustered."

Bakugo choked. "I’M NOT FLUSTERED!"

You just shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. "Wake me up when you’re strong enough to win, Kacchan."

And with that, you walked off—completely ignoring the way Bakugo stood there, fists clenched, steam practically coming out of his ears.

Denki grinned. "Man… he’s so down bad for them."

Kirishima nodded. "Yup. Definitely."

Bakugo whirled around, furious. "*I AM NOT!"

[imreadng]

simon was able to leave the base early. you didn't know. — hurt / comfort . tw depression

20:38. 2 days before the date of his expected arrival.

ghost had been on a long deployment. it was one where he had to limit contact with you as much as he possibly can. during the time period, he had only managed to call you twice, where the first one was him letting you know that he had safely arrived at base. there was nothing else after that — no calls, text messages, nor voicemails sent to your phone. nothing else... until nearly a week ago when he shared the date for when he would be coming back home.

this wasn’t the first time ghost had gone on deployment where contact is restricted. it was a common occurrence, and the both of you doubt that this one would be the last of its kind. despite the hardships, the loneliness, and the uncertainty of it all, the two of you persist. having to endure the difficult days alone is nothing if it means being able to hold each other at the end.

as ghost stands in front of the apartment door, he feels a slight tug at his chest, and a pit starts forming in his stomach. he couldn’t give a name to what he was feeling. was it apprehension?

he did forget to tell you that he would be coming back early. once he got the permissions needed to leave the base, he was swift in gathering his items to shove in his duffle bag. when the thought came, his phone’s battery had already died, and he was just a few steps away from boarding the plane. he could only hope that you wouldn’t mind his quick arrival too much.

ghost turns on the overhead light of the dark foyer. it was action that did nothing but deepen the pit that threatened to turn his blood cold. as he drops his bag to the floor with a grunt, his gaze wander to the shoes that sit on the racks. you should be here, and yet the whole damn apartment is pitch black.

he pushes down the growl from within his throat. with his heavy boots still on, he trudges to the living room. a part of him wishes that you would be around the corner to scold him for getting dirt all over the place. instead, he was greeted by the mess of blankets and pillows on the sofa.

you’re not here.

he makes his way to the kitchen, his movements precise and deliberate. he flips the switch and finds himself staring at the dirty dishes that pile in the sink. by now, his brows have already furrowed, and he fights the urge to clench his jaw.

you’re not here either.

he passes by the bathroom door, but no light can be seen through the gaps. his mask starts to feel a little too tight, as if it’s restricting him from breathing in the oxygen in the air. he makes quick work of taking the bloody thing off his head and his sweat goes to smear across his forehead.

there is one last place he hadn’t checked.

the door to the bedroom slowly creaks open. the room is softly illuminated by the glow of the moon that seeps through the window curtains. his eyes move to focus on the lump that lay on the bed, and his breath shudders.

simon calls out your name. his hoarse voice cut through the excruciating silence that dares to suffocate him in each passing second. it was a sound so raw, so vulnerable, he might as well set his heart out with both of his hands.

he watches as the bundle shrinks in on itself, burrowing further into the mattress. the action, although minuscule, brings him slight relief. with calculated steps, he walks across the clutter on the floor, where he would soon reach the bed. the soft breaths he heard gave a sense of tranquility, but the deep sigh that followed not long after carried a weight to it that can only be described as exhaustion.

glimpses of the past flash through his mind — glimpses of the routine you both have settled into. he is reminded of the times you would wait for him in the living room so that when the door opens, you can run towards his hulking frame with your kind smile. the house would be clear of any mess, and you would feed him your meals made with all the love and care you have for him. laughter would echo in the room as he cuts off a piece you have unknowingly burnt.

“i swear i can cook better than this!” you'd exclaim, and he would shake his head, refusing to pull a stupid grin at the predicament despite the chuckles he disguised through gruff coughs. he wasn't being smooth at all.

“sure you can, lovie,” simon would reply, and the face you give him out of annoyance would make his eyes soften just the tiniest bit. “never doubted y’r skills, and will never do.”

was there something he wasn't aware of? him? someone who was supposed to be attentive to all of your needs? he has to stop his arms from tensing, the muscles pulsing with the burning urge to release the anger he has for himself, the disappointment. he should’ve been there for you, and he doesn’t know how, but he should’ve.

when his eyes go back to focus on your form, all was silent yet again. there was no more of the reprimanding, no more of the questioning. in the end, you remain unmoving within the sheets of the bed. he wants to touch you, to feel the fight inside of you.

“didn’t know you’d be home early.”

a weak voice mumbles out from under the covers. for a moment, simon could only stand beside the bed, refusing to move a muscle. it’s unusual for him to hesitate at any situation, especially when he works such a dangerous job that a single pause could either mean life or death. when it comes to you, he discovers that he falters at the smallest uncertainty. hurting you is the last thing he would ever want to do.

simon lowers himself on the edge of the mattress as you clutch the blanket wrapping you with clenched fists. you’re so close yet so far. he allows himself to rest, to take in the sight of you in front of him. with a careful hand, he reaches out for your warmth, longing to feel your touch. when you start to stir in the sheets, he pulls away and tries his best to ignore the ache coming back in his chest.

you push yourself up to sit on the bed with your gaze away from his. there was a growing tension in the air, one that’s keeping the two of you from uttering a word. for once, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking, even more so what you were feeling. if there’s one thing that he knows, it’s that the look in your eyes is making his stomach want to give in.

“i’ll clean the place,” you whispered from underneath your breath. it was barely audible, but simon was able to catch each and every word.

“just…” you pause, and he tilts his head up to get a better look at you. “just let me sleep for a few more minutes.”

your heavy eyelids flutter as it battles with fatigue. another sigh escape your lips. before you could slide back down to hide under the covers, simon wraps his strong arms around your body and — in one swift motion — pulls you onto his lap.

if you hadn’t been all worn out, you would’ve gasped at the sudden change in your position. you don’t even remember what you did today that could make you so tired. did you even do anything at all during the past month? and yet you’re here, unable to leave the bed.

you push at simon’s chest as a weak attempt to protest. he brings you closer to him, and you want to shake your head for how gentle he has been. you don’t deserve this, you think. you couldn't even give him a proper welcome home with the usual dinner meals and a clean house. he does so much and all you had to do was the bare minimum. you wish you could hide yourself so he wouldn’t have to see you in such a state. if he can’t see you, he wouldn’t be able to comfort you. he wouldn’t be able to hold you with his soothing touch.

“‘s okay. no need t’ worry ‘bout tha’, sweet’art.”

the deep rumbling in his chest sends a shiver down your spine. the close proximity doesn’t help, with how his words practically vibrated through your entire being. you want to tell him that no. it’s not okay. everything’s not okay. but then he coos at you, as though he’s lulling the persistent noise in your head to go take its slumber.

your eyes start to feel warm. soon, it stings. the next thing you know, there’s tears falling down your cheeks in wet streaks. a hand goes up to caress your hair, and you could only choke out sobs in response. you shut your eyes close and desperately cling onto simon’s clothes for any semblance of stability.

“im sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry—” you stammer with shuddered breaths. you try sucking in a large amount of air, but it leaves you coughing for dear life instead. simon’s free hand goes to rub at your back, and you could vaguely hear him telling you “none o’ tha’, lovie. none o’ tha’.” his lips meet your forehead and he murmurs against your skin with a “breathe f’me, sweet’art. c’mon.”

you wheeze and you hiccup and god, its so hard. keeping your consciousness is a strenuous task when the air won’t even enter your lungs. it nearly makes you panic, but simon… oh simon. he’s so good to you. he doesn’t let you go, no matter how much you squirm and whimper in obvious distress.

it wasn’t easy trying to breathe, but you do it anyway. through the struggle, you quiver with trembling gasps, and you fight the urge to choke on your own tears. simon, in spite of his rough fingers, strokes the hair away from your face in a way so soft, it’s as if he’s handling delicate porcelain. it was a touch that whispered his utter devotion, his promises of protecting you.

the desire to push him away becomes a faint memory. it was one you’d cease to remember as you lay limp in simon’s embrace, completely exhausted. you can feel the throbbing pulse in your heart slowing down, and for once, it doesn’t feel as heavy.

simon lightly brushes a hand below your arm, trailing against the skin until it reaches your fingers. he intertwined them with his, a grasp that’s tight yet tender all the same, a hold that tells you he’s never letting you go. he rests your head on top of his chest and hugs you closer to him, lowering the two of you so that you’re both laying in bed. it’s warm, comfortable, and you almost doze off to the gentle rise and fall of his body.

“don’t ya worry ‘bout anythin’ right now,” simon hums, and your eyelids droop to the sound of his gruff voice. his grounding presence puts you at ease and finally, you can sleep with only the weight of simon’s palm on your back. with him, you are reminded that life still has its good bits. because even if simon may never consider himself as someone who is good, he is a good man to you.

[beatlblog]

#i love this set#john helping#paul's shirt#the stupid bracelet#the soft emo vibes#these two have a popular youtube channel and do a retro low-budget vintage rainy beach wedding (via scurator)

#i love these pictures#theyre so homie and relaxed (via scienceandpuzzles)

#homoerotic (via visionsofelle)

#the fact that we have so much photographic evidence of the domestic year#just proves we live in a benevolent universe#JESUS YOU TWO WERE IN LOVE (via adriennefrombrooklyn)

#this was so pure#a day in the sun#they needed to be domestic to be happy (via thefortunateisle)

#in the summer of love (via scurator)

#there's like a crowd with them but who cares (via crumblingcookies)

#:’) I never noticed that he’s playing the regular guitar upside down/left handed#I mean it only makes sense for him to borrow one of john’s guitars while at his house but it still makes me soft (via big-barn-bed)

#two young hot rich geniuses in love#they could’ve had it alllllllll (via majinmelmo)

#ah to sit in the garden at kenwood in the summer of 67#the mood the vibes (via nikidontsurf)

Sunny Day in Kenwood, (John’s House) in the summer of 1967. From Mark and Colleen Hayward’s Collection.

[peter-pumpkin-eater]

Bite

Caleb x gn!reader

summary: Sitting on Caleb's lap while sleepy might be a bad idea (you'll do it again)

warnings: slightly suggestive (nothing mentioned but hinted at), yearning, one (1) gendered pet name (pretty girl), biting

word count: 607

You were curled up in Caleb’s lap. Something was playing on the tv but you weren’t paying attention. Your half lidded eyes weighed heavy with exhaustion. It also didn’t help that Caleb’s fingers were running absentmindedly on the outside of your thigh that was tucked against him. Caleb dropped his head in the crook of your neck and stifled a yawn against your skin - the puff of hot air making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You melted further into him, his warmth seeping into your bones. He dragged his lips up your neck before resting behind your ear and taking a deep breath. Your scent flooded his senses and he wasn’t thinking, he was too tired and the feeling of you pressed against him was overwhelming. His lips ghosted back down your neck and the sleepy tilt of your head giving him a little more access was his breaking point.

He opened his mouth slowly and the feel of his teeth grazing across your skin set you on fire. You were suddenly wide awake. Before you could fully process what was happening you felt his teeth sink into your neck. It wasn't a hard bite, but you know that it’ll probably leave a mark.

“Ah~” You gasped before throwing a hand over your mouth. The sound you made not only startled you but also Caleb. He froze against you before you could feel the curl of his lips against your skin.. 

“You like that?” Caleb’s gravely voice chuckled against the shell of your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, still having a hand over your mouth. Caleb wrapped his arms tighter around your torso, the hand that was on your thigh snaking under it pulling you closer against him. 

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure Caleb could feel it through your back. His lips moved to your shoulder and you shivered. 

“Talk to me, baby.” He purred against your skin before sinking his teeth in again, gentler this time. You think you could feel his tongue run over the bite mark.

“Mm!” you moaned against your hand before dropping them to claw at Caleb's arm around you. You needed to get off his lap before you embarrassed yourself further. Another chuckle puffed against your ear. 

“Does my pretty girl like being bitten? Naughty.” He teased. 

“Caleb. Need t-” you gasped using both hands to try and peel his arm from you.

“Need to, what?” He spoke as he ran his nose against your pulse point. He was taking this too far. He should stop. He doesn't want to scare you away, but the way you're shaking on top of him and those oh so pretty sounds falling past your lips were a drug he will never stop trying to get now that he’s had a taste. 

You wiggle against him trying to break free. “I- I need to get up” You stuttered out.

Caleb had to let you go now. It was getting harder for him to control himself and if anything, this was a perfect test to see how far he could push you. He loosens his arms around you and you bolt from his lap and up the stairs. He sighs heavily with a smile on his lips and leans into the couch. He adjusted his sweats and was sure you had felt his own reaction to this against you. 

Upstairs you had locked yourself in the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face. You looked up at yourself in the mirror and groaned at the very obvious bite mark on your neck. You were fucked.

[beloveds-embrace]

Ok Duke au but only one of the boys fell for user! Maybe it was when she first came to the castle/ house, yk if Price ain't gonna give her love then let him!

Or maybe feelings showed up slowly, finally realizing that maybe he should go finally interact with her grace, seeing as she avoids any interactions with others.

Sorry if it makes no sense, I tried to make the decision of which boy falls only for user up to you, minus price >:)

i didn't want to make this too angsty fjddkcj </33 so it's more of the normal dukedom au

Kyle knows he shouldn’t; it isn’t part of the arrangement.

You were meant to be a formality, a necessity, a woman to fill a role, nothing more. And for a while, you had been just that. Sweet and competent, always carrying yourself with quiet dignity no matter the murmurs of high society. A wife in name, a duchess in duty, a friend of theirs, but never a true part of their world.

John had expected you to remain at a distance, and in return, you had been given a life of luxury and protection. That was the agreement. That was how it should have stayed.

But Kyle should’ve known better.

He should have known the moment you leaned over his shoulder one evening, peering at his bookkeeping notes with genuine interest instead of mere obligation. He should have known the moment you scolded Johnny for burning his hand, or when you’d pressed a cool cloth to Simon's temple after a headache instead of calling for a servant.

He should have known when you stopped seeing them as just your husband’s lovers.

But the real moment of downfall- the moment that shattered any fragile delusion he held- was when you smiled at him.

Not a polite smile, not a passing pleasantry.

A real smile.

It had been late. You had been working over estate documents at the desk, and he had lingered, pretending to tidy up, pretending to have something important to do. And then, you had looked at him, eyes warm, lips curving in a way that made something in his chest lurch.

"You work too hard, Kyle. Come sit down with me ?"

You had said his name. Not 'Mr. Garrick,' not 'the head butler.' Just Kyle. And it wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time it made his heart ache something fierce and longing.

Because it was too soft. Too familiar. Too much like a wife speaking to a husband.

And now, he is here, standing beside John as you make your absurd little request, completely unaware of the way his hand clenches against his side.

You are oblivious, as you always are, so innocent in your own kindness. You do not see the way John’s gaze darkens, the way Kyle stiffens at your words.

"I am merely a bit… unsatisfied."

Your voice wavers slightly at the admission, and Kyle wonders- if he had been the one to claim you, if he had been the one to hold you at night, would you ever have been unsatisfied?

He bites the inside of his cheek and looks away, even as John’s fingers tighten around his glass.

Something tells him neither of them will let you remain unsatisfied for long.

But he knows the truth.

Even if you are claimed, even if you are made theirs, it will not be by some stable boy.

And that knowledge alone fills him with smug satisfaction.

He doesn’t miss the way John’s grip tightens around his glass, and he knows that if the other two were here as well, Simon's jaw would have tensed and Johnny would have lost all his amusing charm. You are oblivious, of course- always so sweetly naive, thinking you can simply ask for something like this and have it granted without consequence. But this? This will never happen.

John would never agree to this.

And Kyle is relieved. Relieved that your foolish little request will be swiftly discarded. Relieved that you will stay exactly where you belong- here, with them, under their watchful eyes.

You don’t even realize what you’ve done, do you? You think this arrangement is still just convenience, that they merely tolerate you. But Kyle sees it- the way even Simon looks at you during dances, the way Johnny slips you extra sweets as if bribing you into affection, the way John has begun watching you more intently, possessively.

You’ve wormed your way into their hearts, tangled yourself so deeply into their lives that they can’t ignore you anymore.

And Kyle?

Kyle is pleased.

Because it means you are theirs, whether you realize it or not. And no matter how much you pout over John’s rejection, you’ll never be anyone else’s. Because even if he'd been the first to fall for you, he did not need to worry about the others not liking you as well. And now, he will not need worry about anyone else taking you from them.

Not now, and not ever.

[mixingandmelting]

Heavy Blanket

Summary: You were cold and needed a blanket. He decides to be that blanket only to get too comfy and lay on top of you longer than needed

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You’re hot. Sweltering. Wheezing. Lungs close to collapsing. And no matter how many times you tell him, he won’t. Get. Off.

“Simon, please.” You gently nudge his shoulder, trying to get him to look at you. “I’m suffocating here.” 

He simply grunts, nuzzling his face into your chest as his arms tighten around your chest. You suppose it’s your fault, having told him that you were cold and not wanting to get off the couch to get a blanket. You just.. didn’t expect him to take it quite literally and provide you a heavy, weighted one (i.e., him). 

You sigh. Maybe you could push him off…? You glance down only to be reminded how massive he is, easily engulfing your being so that it looks like there’s simply a single person on the sofa. Hell, the only indication you’re even lying there is your head and arms poking out from underneath. No body, just ligaments. 

Yeah. It’s Not happening. As if sensing your disgruntlement, he lifts his head so his eyes would be looking into yours. For a moment the two of you stare, waging a wordless battle.

“…For a person called ghost, you’re so cheeky.”

He snorts, going back to comfortably resting his head on your chest.

“Only to you, love. Only to you.” 

Took the words right out of your mouth. 

Shaking your head in exasperation, you card your fingers through his hair. Welp. laundry is definitely not getting done today. 

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

“Johnny?”

“No.”

“Johnny.”

“No.”

“John Mactavish.”

That gets him to lift his head up. You try not to snort at the offended look he gives you, his eyes asking if you had seriously just used his full name over something like this. Instead, you take this chance to finally get some precious O2 in your lungs and enjoy weight being lifted off of you. Literally. 

You had forgot and now remembered his biceps are the size of your head when he props onto his elbows, bright blue eyes staring directly into yours. 

“Luvie, I’m not John Mactavish to you. Am I?” 

“No. But,” you shuffle to get around but he doesn’t budge. Dammit. “You are a furnace. Heavy, hard, and exuding only heat.” 

Instantly you regret saying that, recognizing the glint in his eyes. 

“Heavy and hard, aye?”  

One hand to cover your burning face, you use the other to smack his chest. You and your stupid mouth. Him and his stupid, smug, smirk. Chuckling, he moves and gets comfortable before snuggling you again. At least he’s being mindful this time, making sure you aren’t feeling as if you’re being flattened into a pancake. As for you, you nuzzle your face into the junction where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s going to take a while for you to function, the embarrassment still fresh and searing your soul. 

Kim Hong Jin "Horangi"

You swear you’re dating a giant cat, not a tiger. The ones that enjoy pushing a glass off the table while you’re looking and begging with your eyes not to. Smiling as some crying lady points at them over a salad. 

You’ve been shoving and pushing him by the shoulders, and so far you’ve successfully freed half of your upper body (more like that’s the only leeway he’s willing to give but you choose to ignore that).

“Hong Jin.” You pant between each word, exhausted and having much of your strength sapped out of you. “You need to let go.”

“싫은데?“ (Don’t want to?) 

…This man and his nerves. 

“No, seriously.” You nudge him, hoping it would get your message across. “I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Just five more minutes.” His groan coming out muffled from him burying his face into your tummy. 

Five minutes ago he said that. Which was also what he said five minutes before that. Now you’re uncomfortable, feeling the half of you he’s holding onto sweat while the other feels chilly from the sudden loss of heat. Worst is how effortless it is for him to keep you still, lazily lying on top of you being enough to stop you from worming yourself out. Like sure, you do enjoy how well-built he is but not like this! 

Sucking a breath in, you go back trying to pry yourself off as he stays where he is, eyes closed and a grin plastered on his face. 

König 

A king-size mattress. That’s what he is. And certainly feels that way too with how he easily engulfs both you and the bed. 

“Konig.” You gently shake him, only for him to turn his head. 

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry though, at the moment, it would hurt if you do either. Every time you try calling him out or getting his attention, he’d turn his head where he’d lie on one cheek then flip to the other. He doesn’t even make a sound. No harrumphs, grunts, or a sigh. All of you wanted to do was go get ready since the two of you are supposed to meet with his friends. Now? Not happening. 

“We need to get ready. It’s already quarter past five.” 

He squeezes your waist in response, snuggling himself into you. Just like a petulant kid, thinking if he doesn’t say anything and pretends to not hear you, you would stop. You try to slip from being underneath him, not enjoying being the filling in the mattress sandwich. Unfortunately for you, fortunately for him, you give up in less than ten seconds realizing how much you’d have to go through to just get a hand out. 

You raise your hand to place it on his shoulder until he stops you by grabbing at the wrist. He drags and presses it against his cheek, making you feel stubbles under your fingertips. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and mentally count from ten. 

“You better text them we’re not going.” You grumble, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Already did.”

You shake your head. This man. 

[curmemini]

And if it means any thing, the every day american isn't too happy about it either. JD Vance and his family visited Vermont to go skiing today (the day after the above show) and was greeted with waves of Ukraine flags and anti-Russia sentiment. I know multiple resorts refused to serve him - I am not sure if they did get to ski.

More, the 25-year-old snow reporter for Sugarbush included a long pro-democracy message before her report on the weather conditions. At the risk of expanding the post terribly, her message read:

Mar 1st, 2025, 6:49 AM: Today of all days, I would like to reflect on what Sugarbush means to me. This mountain has brought me endless days of joy, adventure, challenges, new experiences, beauty, community, and peace. I’ve found that nothing cures a racing mind quite like skiing through the trees and stopping to take a deep breath of that fresh forest air. The world around us might be a scary place, but these little moments of tranquility, moments I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy as a direct result of my employment here, give me, and I’d guess you, too, a sense of strength and stability.

This fresh forest air, is, more specifically fresh National Forest air. Sugarbush operates on 1745 acres of the Green Mountain National Forest. Right now, National Forest lands and National Parks are under direct attack by the current Administration, who is swiftly terminating the positions of dedicated employees who devote their lives to protecting the land we love, and to protecting us while we are enjoying that land.

This Administration also neglects to address the danger, or even the existence of, climate change, the biggest threat to the future of our industry, and the skiing we all so much enjoy here. Burlington, VT is one of the fastest-warming cities in the country, and Vermont is the 9th fastest-warming state. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association (NOAA), a resource I use every day for snow reporting, is crucial in monitoring extreme weather events and informing public safety measures, and is also experiencing widespread layoffs and defunding at the hands of the Administration.

Sugarbush would not be Sugarbush without our wonderful community. Employees and patrons alike, we are made up of some of the most kind hearted, hardworking people I have ever met. Our community is rich with folks of all different orientations, ethnicities, and walks of life, who all contribute to make this place what it is. They all love Sugarbush because it is a place where they can come to move their bodies, to connect with the land, to challenge themselves, to build character, to nourish their souls with the gift of skiing.

Many of these people are part of the LGBTQI+ community. Many (well, that’s a stretch, we all know this is an incredibly white-washed industry) are people of color. Half are women. Many are veterans or adaptive skiers who, through Vermont Adaptive, are able to access snow sports in part thanks to federal grants through the Department of Veterans Affairs, which is also facing devastating cuts. Many of our beloved employees moved across the world through an exchange program on the J1 visa to help this resort run, and they are not US citizens. ALL of these groups are being targeted, undervalued, and disrespected by the current Administration.

The beauty of National Forest land, is that anyone and everyone is welcome to enjoy it. Anyone and everyone can buy a lift ticket. I also imagine it is incredibly difficult, and likely impossible, to say “No” to the Secret Service. I hope that, instead of faulting Sugarbush management or employees for “allowing this to happen”, you can direct your anger to the source — the Administration that, in my oh-so-humble opinion, is threatening our democracy, our livelihoods, our land.

I want to reiterate how much I admire and respect my fellow employees and managers — they work so hard to make this place operate, to keep you coming back and enjoying it and making lifelong memories. Many of them may feel the same way that I do, but their hands are tied, and for good reason. They have families to support, they have benefits and health insurance to receive, they face far greater and more binding pressure from Corporate. I am in a privileged position here, in that I work only seasonally, I do not rely on this job for health insurance or benefits, and hey, waking up at 4:30 AM isn’t exactly sustainable. Therefore, I am using my relative “platform” as snow reporter, to be disruptive — I don’t have a whole lot to lose. We are living in a really scary and really serious time. What we do or don’t do, matters. This whole shpiel probably won’t change a whole lot, and I can only assume that I will be fired, but at least this will do even just a smidge more than just shutting up and being a sheep.

I am really scared for our future. Acting like nothing is happening here feels way scarier than losing my job. I want to have kids one day, and I want to teach them to ski. The policies and ideals of the current Administration, however, are not conducive to either of these things, because, at least how things look now, I’d never be able to afford a good life for a child anyway, and snow will be a thing of Vermont history. So please, for the sake of our future shredders: Be Better Here. It has truly been a pleasure writing your morning snow reports — I hope this one sticks with you. With love, peace, and hope, Lucy Welch

My point in adding this is that for every brazen display by the executive branch, more and more people are emboldened to speak out. More and more people realize what they truly value.

We will see the day that fascism ends. We will see a free Ukraine.

So this was a pre-planned (and likely paid for by the Kremlin) show: to invite Zelenskyy, scold him like a kindergartener in front of the press, present him with an unreasonable "deal" - an ultimatum - knowing full well he will refuse it (as anyone in this position would). And then tell the world: "Look, our mighty Orange King could've ended this horrible war in a day, but this poorly-dressed, warmongering, ungrateful twat just doesn't want peace! It's not our fault, we did what we could!"

The show is so cheap, so transparent, yet still effective for so many brainless people.