#That is everything I could want from something like that

[dumbbitchgalore]

Old Man!Price craves a pretty little housewife to waiting for him at home 🎀

As John gets older, he has this visceral urge to domesticate you that it also seems obsessive of him.

Hand in hand, John'll bring you back home to his cottage in the Cotswolds causing your eyes to widen at the home in front of you. As if your pinterest board has come to life, stained glass windows and a garden full of peonies. 

“God, this is exactly how I imagine my dream home to be like,” You say in awe before shrugging your shoulders, “Well that is if money wasn’t an issue.”

Your words earn a chuckle from John as he ushers you inside, giving you a tour of his home while you such over every little detail. 

‘Oh, that backsplash is literally my dream!’

‘Oh my god, a reading nook?!’

‘No way, you have a bloody walk in the pantry?!’

The smirk ever leaves John’s face as you continue to gush over his house well into dinner.

John is a very committed and detail-oriented man and that is why he needed to get everything perfect according to your Pinterest boards. He never leaves anything up to chance so all he did was look through your phone, browse your inspiration boards getting an idea of what you’d call home. 

His plan was coming into fruition. John had the house and now he had you inside of the house now all he has to do is to ‘accidentally’ get you pregnant. But there was a nagging fear at the back of his mind, a fear of potentially ruining an unborn child’s life with his obsession. As much as he wanted you to be at home taking care of his kids and tending to his house, John did not want to be a bad father. 

Every time he’d fuck you raw, John would try with all his might to cum deep inside of you over and over again until your pretty cunt could no longer hold his cum in anymore as it seeps out of you causing John to plug you up with his fingers. But every single time, John would back out at the last minute opting to cum on your back or something. 

He wanted to baby trap you but at the same time, he didn’t want you to blame him for everything that might go wrong in his life. The guilt will weigh too heavy for him to think that he ruined your chances of a better life without him. 

So when tonight you suggest for John to wear a condom because you forgot to pick up your birth control, John doesn’t hold back. He on longer has that stupid harpy of a voice in the back of his mind telling him not to ruin you and to ‘fucking not destory the one good thing in your bloody life, John!’

Rutting into you like a teenage boy who stuck his cock for the first time into an actual cunt, John thrusts were quick and deep bringing you to the brink of an orgasm over and over again only to stop his hips for a few seconds to once again pummeling into you, his cock bully your sweet, sweet insides. 

For once John is grateful for a condom, cumming inside you without a guilty conscience knowing that the condom didn’t let his cum paint your insides. He slumps against you, rolling onto his side as he holds your body flushed against his own, kissing your forehead and muttering words of thanks for ‘putting up with his old arse.’

It came to a shock when John sees the positive pregnancy test in your hands, the two blue lines mocking his efforts to not get you pregnant. A day later, he takes you ring shopping and proposes that same night. 

Now who’s gonna tell John that you were the one who poked holes in his condom?

[y3sterdaysproblem]

the shift - c.s.

takes place after this

cw: yelling, crying, mentions of drug use, implied sex

wc: 4.2k

part of the fwb!chris series

it’s been weeks.

weeks of radio silence from chris, and you weren’t giving him anything to work with either. in your head, you said what you needed to say, and the ball was in his court.

he never responded after the last message, more than likely trying to pick up the pieces of whatever relationship he had, for whatever reason. she didn’t seem worth it. she seemed boring, innocent, annoying. every time she spoke it sounded like nails on a chalkboard and you had to check to make sure your ears weren’t bleeding.

ever since the party and the incident, you’ve kept yourself as busy as possible; picking up shifts, going out with friends, cleaning your entire apartment every few days, just to avoid thinking about how badly you fucked everything up, just to avoid the chris sized hole in your life.

being alone was never something that bothered you, always enjoying time by yourself to do whatever you wanted to do, even if that was just rotting and doom scrolling, nobody could tell you you couldn’t do it.

you’re doing exactly that, body wrapped up in a blanket as you lounged on your couch in comfortable clothes, legs tucked under you. the tv was on a low volume in front of you, and at first you thought the knocking was coming from the show that played lowly, but when you paused it and heard it again, you realized it was your door that somebody was banging on.

you didn’t want to move, hoping that whoever it was would just leave you alone eventually, probably trying to sell you some shit you didn’t need anyway, but when your door rattled for a third time, you huffed and threw the blanket off of yourself, standing up and walking towards the door. “i’m coming!” you yelled, approaching the door and finally ripping it open, your eyes widening and heart dropping to your stomach when you saw who was on the other side.

“it’s been a long time since i’ve heard you say that,” he says, a slight smirk forming on his lips.

you’re unamused, staring at him across the doorway silently. he rolls his eyes at your lack of response, pushing past you until he was inside your apartment. you didn’t say anything, shutting the door and turning around to face him, eyebrows raised like you were waiting for him to speak.

chris turns to face you and sighs, realizing you weren’t in the mood for jokes. “I left my favorite lighter here,” he says, and you can’t help but scoff out a laugh. “a lighter? a fucking lighter? you’re here because you left a lighter?” you shake your head in disbelief and push past him, knowing exactly which lighter he was talking about. it was on your coffee table getting daily use from every time you lit a blunt when you would smoke at night or on days off like this. “you’re the most ridiculous person i’ve ever met,” you mumble, mostly to yourself as you reach for the lighter, spinning around on your heels to hand it to chris.

you knew he was following you into the living room, but you had no idea he was standing as close as he was, and the second you were facing him, he was closing the distance.

chris’s hands reached out for you, one hand landing on your waist and the other wrapping around to the back of your head, pulling your body closer to his as he leaned down and slammed his lips on yours, sighing softly once they finally made contact. you’re caught of guard, hands held out on either side of you as you process what was happening, the lighter slipping from your fingers as you finally move to grasp onto the front of his shirt, holding him close for a moment before pushing him back, pulling your head back to stare at him confusedly. “chris, what the fuck?” you question, and his hands never leave your body as he dips his head down to bury into your neck, lips pressing against your skin fervently, teeth nipping like he couldn’t get enough. “i’m sorry,” he whispers against your jaw, pulling your bodies together again, closing the gap you created when you pushed him away. “you’re right, I was out of line, we were both at fault, forgive me.”

you felt like you were dreaming, partly because you’ve never experienced chris apologizing before, especially not so profusely, and also because your body was melting into his habitually, like no time had passed, like you’d never been angry at all. “chris,” you breathe out, head tilting away from him as your eyes fluttered shut. “you can’t just come into my house and fuck me and think everything will go back to normal.”

“i’m apologizing at the same time,” chris responds, pulling his face away to stare down at you. “you were right, she’s too boring for me. I was so mad because I felt like someone finally gave me the time of day, felt like I could be myself around her but I couldn’t. I wasn’t myself around her and I can’t be myself around anyone except…” he pauses and sucks in a small breath before sighing out again. “listen, i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. I feel sick to my stomach saying this out loud but I missed you,” he pauses after he says this, eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness.

it was hard not to give in instantly and forgive him, especially with the way his fingertips dug into your skin, desperate to feel you as close as he could. he couldn’t pinpoint why he felt so needy, so eager to feel you on him, all he knew was apologizing was the quickest way to have you sprawled out underneath him just the way he liked, but you were still far too angry to crack just yet.

“chris, do you even remember what you said to me?” you question, still wrapped up in his arms but with enough distance to glare up at him. “do you remember what you called me? how you backed me into a wall and made me cry? how you embarrassed me in front of all of our friends? or do you only care about making up so we can go back to fucking?”

you start push away from him fully as you speak, his hands falling to his sides as he watches you back up and create a bigger gap between you both. his mouth opens to speak, then closes again, his shoulders drawing up into an awkward shrug. “I know I was mean but I was mad,” he defends himself, dismissing it like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “you might as well have left a hickey on my neck, it gave the same impression.”

you let a small breath of air puff out from your nostrils, a mix between a scoff and a laugh, unable to believe the words coming from his mouth. “mean?” you sneer. “you think you were just mean? you yelled at me in front of everybody, called me a whore, called me exhausting, said nobody would ever deal with me, you said I was stupid and that I ruin everything, but you think you were just mean? chris, there’s been days that I lay in bed half the day because all I can think about is if what you said is true or not.” you’re unaware of the way the tip of your nose starts turning red and your cheeks turn blotchy, a clear indicator that you’re about to start crying, only realizing it once you see chris’s expression change and the way he shifts uncomfortably between his feet. that’s when your nose starts to burn and your eyes start to flood with tears.

“I didn’t mean it, I was just mad,” chris tries to console, taking a step closer to you again, but you back away to keep the same distance. “listen, we say rude shit to each other all the the time, what’s the difference now?”

“the fucking difference is you did it in front of twenty people!” you yell, a fat tear sliding down your cheek. “I can handle you being mean, don’t think I can’t, but you berating me like that just proves how awful of a person you really are!” chris is stunned into silence, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, but only for a few moments as he’s never been too good at keeping his mouth shut. “berating is a little much, don’t you think?” he starts, already starting to feel himself get annoyed by your accusations. “sure, I was mad, but you left fucking lip gloss on my neck! I mean, how do you think she felt knowing I dragged you off to talk and then I come back with shit all over my neck?!”

“how do you think I felt?!” you yell back, not caring about the fact that your neighbors could definitely hear you. “who gives a fuck what she felt, she’s a fucking nobody! what about me?! why do you never stop to fucking think about the way your words affect me?!” you’re fully sobbing now, cheeks covered in thick tears, voice cracking as you choke out your words. “i’m supposed to be your friend over everything. fuck the sex, fuck the weed, fuck the stupid little bitches you bring around that you let get between us, you’re supposed to be my friend before all of that and you showed me that you care more about some attention from a prude than the feelings of somebody you’re meant to care about.”

chris reaches his hands up to his face and rubs it harshly, groaning into his palms as he processes what you’re saying. “can you stop with all these jealous little comments? she wasn’t just a prude or some girl that got between us, she was nice and funny and pretty and she didn’t care about fucking me or smoking my shit. she didn’t care about what I had, she just listened to me and liked being around me. she saw me.” his hands drop back to his sides and as his eyes refocus on you, he can’t help the twinge of sadness that pangs in his chest as he sees your expression, sees how distraught you really were. he even considered cutting this conversation short to pull you into his arms and apologize until your tears had dried. chris was a little bit too much of an asshole for this, though.

“she saw you?” you laugh wetly, running an anxious hand through your hair. “what exactly did she see? did she see the way you play with your lips when you get nervous? did she see how you always place your phone face down when you’re with people so it doesn’t distract you from the moment?” you take a couple steps closer to him, close enough to reach out and touch him if you wanted to. “did she see how you always eat your fries before your burger even though that’s fucking weird and wrong? did she see the way you flinch every time someone says they love you, even if it’s your fucking brothers, because you can’t even grasp the concept of love existing when it involves you? I bet she didn’t see any of that shit, because she doesn’t care about you.” you pick your arm up before you can stop yourself, sniffling loudly as you jab your finger into his chest, staring at it as you made contact to avoid his eyes that watched you intently. “not… not like I do.”

chris furrows his brows together at your words, head tilting down to glance at your finger pointed into his shirt, then brought it back up slightly to look at you again. “like you do? is that a joke?” he asks, voice quieter than before. you groan and slam your palm into his chest, pushing him away again before turning around and starting to pace in your living room. your heart was beating so loud you could feel it in your ears, the sound rushing through in a rhythmic boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom. “listen, i’m sorry that I yelled at you, but she actually meant something to me whether you believe it or not. she actually wanted to be around me and spend time together.”

chris tries to reach out to stop your pacing, but you only shoved his hands away as they came closer to you. “so what are you doing here, then?” you snark, looking up at him as you walked a straight line, then stopped and turned around to walk it back. “shouldn’t you be with her, your perfect princess?”

he groans at your attitude, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. “oh my fucking god,” chris mumbles under his breath, almost like he was speaking with the omnipotent being for the strength to deal with you. “i’m not interested anymore,” he tells you finally, bringing his head back to look at you. “I told you. you were right, her and I aren’t compatible no matter how much attention she gives me.”

your feet stop on your carpeted floor, turning to face the man in front of you. “so what, you wanna go back to just fucking all the time? is that what you’re here for?” you ask him, crossing your arms over your chest. chris shrugs his shoulders awkwardly. “I miss the sex yeah,” he starts slowly. “but I also miss… the other stuff.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him, not appreciating his vagueness. “other stuff?” you question, and chris nods. “like… going for drives together, or watching movies and eating leftovers. listening to you ramble on about shit I don’t care about. I think I miss just being around you. i’m not sure, though, i’ve never really felt that with anybody else.”

your heart felt like it couldn’t beat any faster without risking the chance of it actually beating out of your chest, pounding so hard now you were sure chris could see it under your ribcage. “you actually just miss me?” you ask in disbelief. he nods again, nervously playing with his fingers. “yes,” he admits. “can you just forgive me and we move on?”

you narrow your eyes at him, mulling over his words carefully. “no,” you say flatly. “what?!” chris sputtered, holding his hands out in annoyance. “what else do you fucking want?! I was wrong, i’m standing here in front of you admitting my faults, I don’t know what the fuck else you could actually want from me!” he’s beyond frustrated now, ready to give up and walk out.

you tilt your head, keeping eye contact with him as a small smirk appears on your lips.

“I want you to admit you’re in love with me.”

chris’s chin tucks into his chest, head shaking as he processes what you just said. “you what?” he questioned, taken aback by your request.

“you heard me,” you respond sassily. “there is no way the only reason you’re here is because you miss me. you said it yourself, you want all the little things back. when was the last time you just wanted to be around a girl?” you take a step closer to chris, your eyes locked on each other’s as you reduced the space between your bodies.

“I don’t fucking know,” chris responds defensively, bumping into the coffee table as he tries to back away. “i’m not-“

“don’t even,” you interrupt. “i’m not in love with you!” chris shouts. “you think i’d be dumb enough to fall in love with a girl that would never love me back? I took a step away for a fucking reason and tried to put my energy in somebody that would actually return my feelings.”

“maybe if you fucking told me what your feelings were I could tell you if I returned them or not,” you groaned, infuriated by his dumb boy-ness and lack of awareness. “don’t,” chris sighs out, his fingers itching to reach out for you. “you don’t get to say shit like that and get my hopes up.”

you reach out and sling your arms around chris’s neck, stepping up so your bodies are pressed against one another. “chris, please let your guard down for fucking once and be honest with me,” you say in a soft tone, staring up into his eyes that are starting to soften, his hard exterior damaged under your gaze. “I can’t,” chris chokes out, his own hands coming up to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. “yes you can,” you coax, threading your fingers gently through the hair on the back of his head.

chris licks his lips slowly and stares down at you, drawing in deep breath after deep breath to try and ground himself, feeling like his heart was going to crawl up his throat. “i’m sorry,” he says softly, shaking his head a bit. “I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” you sigh and drop your head forward to rest on his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment. “i’m right here,” you tell him. “just let me in, chris.”

he lets out a shaky breath and brings his left hand around to your back, sliding it up under your shirt to feel your skin under his own, his right hand sliding up to your jaw to tilt your head back, allowing him to lean down and press your lips together again, slower this time, like he was trying to savor it.

you relaxed into the kiss, feeling the familiarity seeping back in as your chests pressed together and his hands held you close. “tell me,” you beg quietly against his lips, feeling him pull you closer as you spoke. chris slid his hand around to the back of your head, holding you firmer against him. “shut up,” he breathes, moving his mouth over your cheek and to your jaw, leaving gentle kisses in its wake. “chris, there’s no way i’m the only one feeling like this.”

“you already know how I feel, why do I have to say it out loud?” chris asks, teeth dragging along your skin carefully. “because if you know that I love you, I want you to tell me you love me, too.”

chris pauses his movements, pulling his head away to stare down at you. your head is tilted up to look at him and his hand still rests on the back of your head, gently holding you in place. “you what?”

you swallow thickly, realizing that there’s no backtracking now. you’ve already crossed an irreversible line and had to double down on your words. your next words were whispered softly, but it felt like the sound reverberated through your whole apartment.

“I love you, chris.”

“don’t mess with me, please, I can’t-“

“i’m serious,” you stop him, seeing the look on his face. it was one of pure desperation, almost begging for you to be telling the truth. “i’m in love with you.”

chris releases a shaky breath, one full of nerves and adrenaline. “fuck,” he whispers, leaning back down to slam your lips together again, this kiss full of passion and desire. “say it again,” he begs, voice muffled against your mouth.

“I love you,” you soothe, sliding your hand that didn’t rest in his hair up his chest, feeling his heart racing under your palm. “i’m right here.”

chris snakes his own hands down your body until they reach the backs of your thighs, scooping you up into his arms so your legs wrap around his waist, a small squeal leaving your lips at the sudden movement. he started walking towards your room, using your back to push the door open before taking a few steps to your bed, leaning forward to lay you against it, then keeping his place between your legs to settle above you.

“are you serious?” he asks, needing reassurance more than anything. “because if you’re fucking with me, I swear to god i’ll-“

“can you stop freaking out?” you ask, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth. “do you want me to be in love with you or not?” you raise your eyebrows up at him, your expression clearly saying ‘well?’

“yes,” chris rasps, nodding his head and pulling away a bit more to take in more of your figure. “yeah, more than anything.” you nod in response, reaching up to grab his shoulders to pull him back down towards you. “okay, well then if you can’t say it back, at least fuck me like you love me.”

“yeah, okay. I can do that.”

you’re laying under the covers, body pressed up against chris in every way possible; your head on his shoulder, arm over his stomach, leg draped over his, both of you relaxing into your post sex bliss. you didn’t even know how long you’ve been in your bedroom, too exhausted to keep track of time.

“chris?” you say softly, breaking the silence. he hums quietly to let you know he’s listening as his fingers trail up and down your back gently. “why are you so against relationships?”

chris pauses his movements for a split second, not expecting you to ask a question so deep. “uhh,” he starts awkwardly. “I don’t know.” you push yourself up on your elbow at his answer, staring down at him inquisitively. he reaches forward and gently moves some hair off of your shoulder, eyes trailing over your naked frame in admiration. “you definitely know,” you push.

he sighs and meets your gaze again, knowing that you weren’t going to drop the subject. “of course I know, but… it’s not exactly the most fun conversation to have in bed with the hottest girl i’ve ever met.” you shake your head and gently tap his nose. “you’re not getting out of this with compliments!” you tell him determinedly.

“alright, alright,” chris caves, shifting a bit underneath the covers. “my parents got divorced when I was really young and it really messed with my brothers and I but especially me. I was so dependent on being around my brothers at that time and my parents couldn’t even be in the same room without arguing so they never had a set schedule for who would have which kid and when. there would be days at a time that I would only see matt or nick while I was at school because they were at my dad’s house and I was at my mom’s. I hated being separated from them and I always blamed my parents. I blamed their relationship and their lack of commitment and lack of trying. in our eyes, it looked like they just gave up one day. when you’re a kid and you see love seemingly just disappear overnight, it doesn’t put the best taste in your mouth, so, I was like… eight years old when I decided I never wanted to love anybody.”

as chris speaks, you run your hand over his body gently, wherever you could reach; his chest, his collarbones, over his cheek, pushing hair out of his face gently, gazing down at him attentively to let him know you were listening. “that’s a big commitment when you’re that young,” you say gently, and he nods, pursing his lips and avoiding your gaze. “yeah, but… it’s worked.”

“has it?” you question hopefully, tilting his head towards you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours apprehensively. “can we not talk about my feelings?” chris asks, turning on his side to face you, his arm wrapping around your waist tightly. “it’s bad enough talking about my shitty upbringing, I just want to lay here and look at your pretty face.”

your cheeks burn red as his body pushes you onto your back again, hair splayed out on your pillow as he hovers above you. “i’m so lucky,” chris hums, dipping his face down to latch his lips to your chest, pressing gentle kisses on your skin as he moves the blanket off of you. “you’re not lucky yet, chris. you haven’t locked anything down,” you tease, trying to ignore the goosebumps forming on your skin. “shut the fuck up, you’re mine and you know it.” chris grumbles, tightening his grip on your waist.

“yeah, yeah, whatever, bitch. why don’t you put that mouth to better use and eat me out?” chris pulls his head away from your body to stare down at you with wide eyes. “you’re lucky you’re hot or I would smack your bitch ass,” he tells you, but despite his words starts moving down the bed, settling himself between your spread legs. “good boy,” you tease, patting his head gently.

chris grips your thighs tightly and pushes them further apart, sinking his teeth into the fleshy skin, eliciting a small whine from you.

“ouch!” you pout, grabbing onto his hair and trying to pull him away, but he stays put, sucking a dark, purple mark into your thigh. when he’s done, he pulls away and smiles at his work, then looks back up at you where you’re watching him with a longing expression. “see?” he says proudly.

“all mine.”

a/n: don’t get excited and think this is over, yall. they are toxic after all.

fwb!chris masterlist

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @rafesapprentice @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbratt333 @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @colorthecosmos444

[fangdokja]

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Various! Otome Isekai Characters x Fem. Reader

♡ Word Count. 3,171

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who has always been entitled to everything—land, power, wealth, and most importantly, you. His right to you is absolute, written in blood and ink across every history book that dares to speak of the royal line.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who was never promised anything but carved his way through battlefields, knee-deep in the viscera of fallen foes, until he stood before you. Not by birthright, but by the sheer will to survive where others fell.

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who sits beside you, hands clasped over yours like a steel shackle. "You don't need to lower yourself to common filth," he murmurs, gaze locked on the War Hero. "You were made for palaces, not trenches."

♡ Yandere! War Hero who only grins, boots kicked onto the palace table, still stained with the dried blood of a hundred men. "And you were made to sit on your ass while others do the killing. Forgive me if I find that unimpressive."

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who tightens his grip on your fingers, a barely restrained tremor running up his arm. "You’re nothing but a hound."

♡ Yandere! War Hero who flashes a wolfish smirk. "And yet, she feeds me scraps. Doesn't that make you feel insecure?"

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince whose smile is all polished gold but whose rage is a quiet execution. "The difference between you and me, mongrel, is that I own what I love."

♡ Yandere! War Hero who laughs like the last dying breath of an enemy. "And yet, here she sits, leaning towards me. Looks like your leash slipped, your highness."

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who has held a blade to his general’s throat for less.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who doesn’t flinch at the Crown Prince’s threats because he’s had worse. The last man who tried to kill him succeeded—for five minutes, before he was dragged back to life by battlefield surgeons who stapled his soul to his bones.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who is obsessed with the way you placed your palm against his blood-slicked cheek after he returned from battle, as if he were still human, as if war had not made him something else entirely. Who still hears your voice over the screams, the thunder, the cacophony of steel meeting flesh. He doesn’t believe in destiny, but he believes in you.

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who stares, seething, as you sit beside the War Hero, dabbing at a cut along his jaw. His fists clench.

“You forget your place, soldier,” the Crown Prince hisses, voice low, dangerous.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who meets his gaze, unbothered. “And you forget yours, my lord. You are the heir to a kingdom. I am the shield that keeps you from wearing your guts like a sash.”

“You think that shield will protect you from me?”

The War Hero shrugs. “Try and find out.”

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who very much would love to, if not for your hand on the War Hero’s wrist, grounding him, soothing something feral just beneath his skin. That is what enrages him most. Not the defiance. Not the insolence. But the fact that it’s working. That you can calm the storm with a touch.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who smirks, tilts his head. “She chose me.”

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who intends to undo that mistake with blood and fire.

———

♡ Yandere! Archduke who catches you at the opera, dressed in silver and moonlight, sitting in his private box like you belong to him. And then there’s a crash—

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who swings from the rafters like a damn circus act, landing with a bow as if breaking into an event full of armed guards is just another Tuesday.

“Really? This is your plan?” the Archduke drawls, unimpressed. He lifts a glass of wine as if toasting to the sheer audacity. “You thought you could just waltz in here and steal her?”

“Oh no, Your Grace,” the Master Thief grins, flashing something sharp and gleaming between his teeth. “I don’t waltz. I prefer the tango. More hands-on.”

A gunshot. The Master Thief dodges. Your ears ring. The opera continues. Nobody reacts. The nobility is used to bloodstains on the carpet.

♡ Yandere! Archduke who never misses a shot but isn’t aiming to kill. No, he’s aiming to maim.

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who laughs, dashing across the balcony with inhuman agility, plucking a jewel-encrusted knife from an unfortunate lord’s throat. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

♡ Yandere! Archduke who sneers. “Says the one who thinks theft is a love language.”

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who winks. “It is when you do it right.”

♡ Yandere! Archduke who places a gloved hand over yours. “She isn’t yours to steal.”

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who twirls the stolen dagger. “Then let’s see if she wants to be taken.”

You, who really just wanted to enjoy the damn opera.

♡ Yandere! Archduke who burns down an entire village because you let the Master Thief steal a kiss from you. "Collateral damage," he sighs, boot on the charred remains of someone’s grandmother. "Next time, I’ll aim for a city."

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who breaks into your chambers nightly, the smell of fresh blood and stolen perfume lingering in the air. "Shame about the guards," he grins, slipping a diamond ring onto your finger. "It’s a perfect fit. Like it was always meant to be there."

♡ Yandere! Archduke who sits on his throne, dagger in his palm, knuckles white. "You reek of him," he murmurs, voice colder than the corpses he stacked just to see you smile. "Tell me. Did he make you laugh?" His grip tightens, knuckles cracking. "I’d rather tear out your tongue than let you amuse another man."

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who laughs at the execution order with his name on it, flipping the royal decree between his fingers like a cheap playing card. "It’s cute, really. You think bars can hold me? Your Archduke should know by now—I steal more than just gold."

♡ Yandere! Archduke who drags you to the highest tower, the wind howling like the ghosts of everyone he's butchered in your name. "Look down. See that? That’s what happens when you pick the wrong man." He tilts your chin up with the edge of his blade, smile thin as a razor. "Luckily for you, I’m still willing to forgive. If you beg."

———

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who doesn’t need to see through dimensions to know when a threat is coiling around you like an unseen parasite. Who can taste betrayal like an iron tang in the air. Who can hear the pulse of magic in every living being, except when you smile at him, because that? That is utterly dead inside.

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who materializes in a crack of golden light, robes billowing with unspoken fury, and says, "Ah. So you’ve taken to harboring rats in your bed. How quaint. Should I fetch the plague doctor, or would you prefer to let it fester?"

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who grins at him from his place on your couch, casual as a corpse cooling on the battlefield. Who doesn’t bother to get up, just keeps one hand on your thigh like a brand, like a claim, like he’s daring a man who can rewrite reality to try something.

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who lifts a hand and waves lazily. "Well, if it isn’t the arcane psychopath. I was wondering when you’d show up. You always get so twitchy when she has company."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who doesn’t react, because he doesn’t need to react. The air warps with unspoken threats. Your entire apartment creaks, the walls tightening as if reality itself is afraid of what he will do. "Your presence here is a mistake, spy. One I am going to correct."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who exhales, all long-suffering patience, and pats your knee. "See, this is why we can’t have a healthy social life, sweetheart. Your little pet magician thinks anything that breathes near you is a threat."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who steps closer, not bothering to touch the ground, because why should a god walk when he can hover like the nightmare he is? His voice is a blade wrapped in silk. "That is because everything near her is a threat."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who rolls his eyes, leans in closer to you, and mutters, "He’s not wrong."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who obliterated an entire country in a fit of rage once. Who still has the map with that nation’s name scribbled out in blood. Who claims it was a scientific experiment in large-scale elemental magic. Who insists it had nothing to do with the fact that you had been taken there as a prisoner of war.

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who personally designed the magical chains shackling the enemy spy to his dungeon wall. Who carved sigils into his flesh with a surgeon’s precision. Who watches, with the detached amusement of a scholar, as the spy’s body twists and heals around the enchantments. Who calls it "an intellectual curiosity." Who calls it "a favor" to you.

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who sneers through bloodied teeth. Who only laughs when Supreme Mage’s spellwork attempts to break his mind. Who survived the war solely on instinct, subterfuge, and the kind of unholy endurance that makes lesser men shudder. Who grins, sharp and defiant, as he croaks, "You should let her decide, shouldn’t you?"

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who nearly detonates the entire fortress at the mere suggestion.

"Decide?" His voice is an earthquake barely contained. His robes ripple like liquid shadow, edged in embers. "What is there to decide? A parasite does not negotiate its way into a host’s body. A stray dog does not ask to be let inside. You think yourself an equal? A competitor? You're a mistake of nature, a statistical anomaly."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who only grins wider, spitting blood onto Supreme Mage’s pristine white marble floor. "You sure talk a lot for someone who’s scared."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who moves too fast to track. One moment he’s across the room, the next his hand is buried in the spy’s chest, fingers curled around his still-beating heart. Who leans in, slow, deliberate, his breath scalding. "I could make you forget her name," he whispers. "I could wipe every last thought of her from your mind. Your love, your obsession, your entire self—gone."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who, despite the pain, despite the mind-breaking agony, still smirks. "And yet," he wheezes, "you haven’t."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who yanks his hand back, seething, as the spy collapses into ragged, victorious laughter. Who turns to you, his golden eyes alight with something feverish, something frantic. "Say it," he commands. "Tell him he is nothing. Tell him he does not exist to you."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy, gasping, wheezing, forcing himself to sit up. "Or..." he rasps, tilting his head, "tell him you like me better."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who is one syllable away from setting the entire continent on fire.

———

♡ Yandere! Demon King who built his empire on charred corpses and centuries of conquest. Who sits upon his throne of ivory bones, fingers idly tapping against an armrest carved from the skull of a fallen archangel. Who looks at you like a relic from a past life, something fragile, something beloved, something that must be locked away lest the world taint you. Who commands with absolute authority, but speaks your name like a prayer, like a secret only he should be allowed to know.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who has killed more kings than he can count, but never this one. Who has worked at the Demon King's side for millennia, yet the moment you entered his line of sight, he knew he would tear down empires for you. Who moves in silence, in shadows, in the spaces between light and dark, but his voice is a rasp against your ear, whispering things he knows the Demon King will kill him for saying. Who stands with knives in both hands, one for his enemies, one for the man who dares to keep you from him.

♡ Yandere! Demon King who does not know the meaning of sharing. Who watches you speak to the assassin with a gaze so searing the air warps around him. Who clenches his jaw hard enough that his fangs pierce his own tongue, and the taste of his own ichor only fuels his fury. Who has conquered dimensions, obliterated civilizations, and yet the worst betrayal he has ever known is watching you, his beloved, listen to another man.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who has spent centuries perfecting the art of killing, but only now does he feel alive. Who watches the Demon King unravel with a sick sort of amusement, knowing he alone has gotten under his liege’s skin. Who stands just close enough to you, his presence a silent claim, his movements too fluid, too casual, as though daring the King to react. Who lets his fingers brush against yours when handing you a blade, his smirk widening as the Demon King’s aura cracks the stone beneath them.

The throne room is a masterpiece of destruction. The walls still drip with the remains of some poor fool who displeased him. The air is thick with the scent of burning marrow, but it is not enough to drown out the suffocating silence between the two men.

“You’re awfully bold today,” the Demon King murmurs, voice like smoldering embers. His clawed fingers drum against his throne, slow, deliberate, like a war drum before the first strike. His eyes, the color of old blood, do not leave you. “Are you enjoying this?”

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who grins, unbothered by the killing intent in the room. “Immensely.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who stands, and the entire castle groans in response, the weight of his wrath fracturing the very foundation. Who does not appreciate amusement unless he is the one indulging in it. Who steps forward, each movement a barely restrained act of violence, a king whose patience has run dry.

“Come here,” he commands, but it is not to his assassin. It is to you. To his treasure.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who laughs under his breath, stepping in your way before you can move. “She’s not a dog, your Majesty.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King whose smile is a thin, sharp thing, carved from disdain. “No, but you are a corpse.”

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who tilts his head, eyes gleaming. “Try me.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who does not lunge—kings do not lunge, kings do not brawl. No, he merely lifts a hand, and the walls explode with jagged obsidian, the floor splintering into a pit of hellfire at the assassin’s feet. The room screams with infernal energy, a tangible force meant to bring lesser beings to their knees.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who does not flinch. Who rolls his shoulders like this is a game and he is a predator that has just caught the scent of something fun. Who flicks his wrist and summons a thousand shadows, each one an extension of his will, a sliver of darkness with a killing edge.

♡ Yandere! Demon King who clenches his fist and the assassin’s shadows shatter.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who raises a brow, impressed but not deterred. “Touchy.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who does not take well to insolence. Who does not take well to you still standing beside the assassin.

You, who sighs in the middle of the impending bloodbath, utterly unphased. “Are you two done?”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who turns to you like you’ve personally betrayed him. “You’re defending him?”

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who smirks, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Adorable, isn’t it?”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who snaps, his power manifesting in a cacophony of screams from the walls themselves. Who reaches for you, but the assassin is faster, grabbing you by the waist and yanking you into his grasp, pressing a blade to your throat—not to hurt you, never to hurt you, but to taunt the king.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who grins against your ear, voice a ghost of amusement. “So, who do you think would win?”

♡ Yandere! Demon King whose eyes glow with hellfire, whose fangs glint like a beast denied its prey. “You will die screaming.”

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who kisses the top of your head, just to make it worse. “Maybe. But I’ll die with her.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who does not like that answer. Not one bit.

———

But here’s the thing.

Did they really think you were an idiot?

You, who has watched their egos clash like titanic beasts, who has dangled yourself like a prized trophy between them, knowing full well what you were doing. You, who let them think they were winning.

You, who used every second of their pathetic posturing to plan your escape.

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who turns, realizing you’re gone—

♡ Yandere! War Hero who curses under his breath, scanning the battlefield—

♡ Yandere! Archduke who demands his spies find you immediately—

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who suddenly wishes he had locked you in a cage when he had the chance—

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who reaches out with his magic, only to find—nothing—

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who grins, because honestly? He saw this coming, and he's a little impressed.

♡ Yandere! Demon King who roars, shaking the very foundations of the underworld—

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who merely chuckles, licking a stray drop of blood from his blade.

You, vanishing into the night, leaving behind nothing but chaos, war, and the memory of a coldblooded glare.

After all… if you can’t fight the system, might as well use it.

Let them tear each other apart.

You? You have better things to do.

You walked away.

Free.

Fucking imbeciles.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

[sluturu]

GAG ON IT .ᐟ — N. KENTO ୨‧₊˚✩

about. the only thing you want more than anything in the world is to get your boyfriend off but… you don't know how. luckily, nanami kento is a great teacher.

pairing. nanami kento x f!reader (non-sorcerer au)

wc. 2.6k

cw. dom!nanami, sub!virgin reader, (messy) oral (m. receiving), humiliation kink (if you squint), reader has a heavy praise kink, f!masturbation, pet names, face f!cking + deepthroating, head-pusher nanamin <3, slight angst (again, if you squint), reader is kinda insecure about lack of experience, lots of praise and validation ♡

kit’s note. hi, i'm (sorta) new here so pls forgive my writing and any mistakes... i haven't written in, like, 84 years and this really wasn’t supposed to be as long as it is. nonetheless, i hope u enjoy my very first jjk fic — kit ୨ৎ

nanami kento was one sexually experienced man. 

you knew this. from the very first glance, it was undeniable. something in the way he carried himself, the gravity of his presence, told you—no, assured you—that he would unravel you, reshape you, and leave his mark in ways you couldn’t yet comprehend.

and, of course, you were correct.

you, however, were his perfect contradiction, a stark contrast that bled into everything you had built together, evident in every moment, every choice, every collision of your worlds.

nanami was your first boyfriend, and while school had offered its version of ‘sex education’ and the internet had no shortage of explicit material, none of it had ever translated into real experience—well, until him.

you’ve been turned on before, no doubt about it. you’ve given yourself a few weak orgasms with an amazon vibrator, sure. but the carnal desire you got when nanami was around was a feeling you’d never experienced before. how could a man be so hot and sweet and turn you on without even trying? he was perfect. beyond perfect. 

and he was respectful. always so respectful. he wanted your first time to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of because he knows that’s what everyone deserves– it’s what you, above all, deserve. that’s why he decided to take it slow regardless of his personal desires. 

it started with soft pecks. the teeny tiny ones that had you aching for more. those slowly led to real kisses, his tongue seeking solace in your mouth, roaming and exploring the new territory. then came the make out sessions, him leaving love bites on your neck while you rocked yourself against him subconsciously. which finally verged on him eating you out with his thick, long fingers fucking in and out of your cunt. 

he was amazing– so mind-boggling that you couldn’t make sense of it. while you knew that he knew what he was doing, it had you appalled. he could make you cum one, two, three times in one sitting and you’ve never even heard of anything like this in your friends’ sex lives. 

there was one miniscule problem with nanami, though. when you would ask if he needed help with the big… issue in his pants, he’d brush you off with a “don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” like the gentleman he is.

the more and more he refused your helping hand, the worse you felt. why should you be the only one that gets to feel good? especially when it’s at the hand of someone as compassionate and caring as nanami. 

the insecurities had been festering within you for a while now. all you wanted was for him to feel good. you wanted him to have the same toe-curling experiences that he gives you. you wanted him to cum for you, because of you.

you’d hoped that one day, he might ask you for help to get him off, yet that day never came. 

it’s why you decided to take matters into your own hands, asking him to come over to your apartment and dropping to your knees the second he entered your home. you gave him the biggest doe eyes and pout you could muster. 

he was stunned, mouth ajar and eyes widened. you’re not usually so bold with him, which was fine. admittedly, he always thought your aversion to talking about sexual things was kinda cute. 

still awestruck after a minute, he breathily asks, “sweetheart, wh-what are you…” 

“well, ken, i’ve been thinking about you and me a lot lately and i realized… you’re always so giving… ‘n you’re always taking such good care of me.” you shyly trail off him as your hands itched to touch him… to take his cock into your hands– into your mouth. “i wanna take care of you now, if you’d let me?”

“you don’t have to do that, my love. i do those things because i want to, not because i have to. you should know that.” he says, airly. a voice that you’ve only ever heard a handful of times. one that makes your cunt pulse. 

“i know. i jus’ want you to use my mouth, ken. you’re… you’re always making me feel good,” you beg with your eyes. “wanna make you feel good, too.”

“oh, baby,” he smiles softly at you, hand cupping your cheek while his finger brushes over the pout on your lips. “but you always make me feel good.” 

you slightly open your mouth allowing his thumb to enter. your lips wrap around his finger, eyes fluttering close and a broken, needy moan sounding in your throat. you suck the way you’d actually suck him off, hand coming to wrap around his wrist while your tongue swirls around him.

nanami holds back his moan at the sight of you crazed and depraved. he’s seen you needy before but never to this degree. never so eager to please.

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your saliva over your lips. he pulls your bottom lip down, “you want it that bad, princess?”

 you nodded, “please— so bad, kento.” 

and he could never say no to you. especially not when you’re giving him teary eyes and that voice. 

so he nods, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down. the sound alone excites you, yet you can’t help but feel the apprehension of being face to face with his cock. 

nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you. while you’d felt him through his pants during your messy makeout sessions, his intimidating size exceeded your expectations by a mile. you accepted the challenge, nonetheless. 

and now, here you were struggling to take his cock down your throat. and while he’d been praising you like crazy, you knew good and well he wasn’t getting off anytime soon. it’s when he suggested eating you out instead, you knew that your attempts were futile.

“you wanna try again, baby?” nanami coos softly as he strokes the top of your head. “we can stop if you wanna… i can eat that pretty pussy instead, i don’t mind at all.” the suggestion makes your heat throb but you shake your head incessantly. you can do this.

you look up at him through your wet lashes and he twitches in your dainty hand. “i wanna make you cum for once.” the words tumble out of your swollen lips in a mutter. 

he frowns, hands coming back to your cheeks, only this time, the pads of his thumbs meet the wet, heated skin, brushing away the remainder of your tears.

you might be too good for him. you don’t even know how many times the thought of you alone has gotten nanami off. you don’t know how many cold showers he’s had to take, how much self-control it takes to be around you.

he sighs, squishing your face and forces you to look up at him. “alright, sweetheart, open wide for me, yeah? i’ll guide you.” his hands force you to nod. your heart skips a beat and the kaleidoscope of butterflies swarm wildly in your stomach. 

you oblige almost immediately, parting your lips, ready to (try and) take him again. 

“‘kay, we’re gonna go slow. remember to breathe through your nose– and no teeth.” he instructs and you’re nodding, wrapping your pretty lips around his gorgeous length. “i’ll let you lead, you can move your head down a little more when you’re ready, yeah?”

nanami sharply exhales when he feels the warmth of your mouth. heat spreads through his toned body like a wildfire– you drive him crazy. 

even more crazy when you suddenly remember what you’ve seen in the pornos your friends forced you to watch. you look up at him through your lashes, letting your tongue swipe against the slit of his cock. “fuck, that’s it, sweet girl. use that tongue.”

you don’t know why, but the whispered curse that slips from his plump lips– lips that are raw from the way he can’t stop gnawing at them– has you arching into him. your cunt is begging for friction, so much so that it has you weeping. your eyes and your pussy. 

his praise spurs you on and you push your head down some more. it makes you gag, yes, but you remember what he said, breathing heavily through your nose. you’re already crying and looking back up to see his face contorted in pleasure has you taking him deeper and deeper. you need more of these reactions– you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more, but that could be the need to please clouding your judgment. 

nanami can’t resist the urge to fuck your cute little face when you look at him like that. the tears… the big, wide eyes trying to keep contact with his eyes… the way you look like a complete, utter mess all for him. 

he moves his hands to dig into your hair before pushing you some more. the tip of his cock gets lodged in your tight throat and he loses it when he feels you attempting to swallow around him.

he throws his head back and lets out an echoing moan. “you’re suuuch a good girl. take my cock so well, pretty. ‘m so p-proud of you.” he praises. “so good f’me, aren’t you?” 

you choke, letting the tears fall without an ounce of shame, but you nod with your mouth full of cock. you could care less about the way he’s actively bruising your throat, you’re making him feel good… and that makes you feel good. so good that you’re subtly fucking the air in hopes your boyfriend doesn’t notice.

“yeaaah, you are…” he hums, looking back down at you, taking him like the good girl you are. of course he notices you, he has a keen eye for these things. “aw, look at you. so needy… ‘s sucking me off getting you hot ‘n bothered?”

you whine in agreement, vibrating him to his core. you choke at the words, spluttering all over his cock creating bubbles of saliva at the base. his hands tug on your hair, pulling you off and it leaves you heaving, soft sobs ripping from your throat. 

“tell me, sweetheart. i wanna make sure my girl is always satisfied.” he demands in a somewhat authoritative tone.

“k-ken, don’t care ‘bout that– i-i wan’ you to cum,” you practically beg to have him back in your mouth, but his hands in your hair hold you still. 

he shakes his head, “uh-uh, none of that. go ahead and play with yourself for me, just like i taught you. you remember that, don’t you, my love?” 

he makes your head nod again, his cock throbbing at the sight of your drool covering the entirety of your chin. 

you let out a shaky breath as your hand moves from his muscular thigh to the waistband of your shorts. as you slip inside, your fingers find your desperate clit, rubbing it in circles the way he taught you. “k-ken, pl-please,” you moan.

he shudders, stomach flipping and cock twitching eagerly like he’s some teenager who’s never been touched. “please what, pretty girl?” he asks, his attempts to mask his neediness were vain and it was starting to show. 

“please, fuck my face, kento. ple–” your words are muffled by nanami shoving his cock back into your mouth. 

he lets his composure fly out the window, the guttural groan he’s been keeping down comes out loud– loud enough to make your eyes widen. “g-god, sweetheart– you’re… you’re gonna drive me–” he pushes your head down, squeezing his eyes shut as you swallow around him again. “insane. fuck, you’re so good, so good for me– fuck, baby, you’re making me feel so good.” 

nanami knows he’ll probably regret rambling like this later, but, unbeknownst to him, it has you rubbing your clit like your life depends on it. messy circles over the unduly sensitive bud while he thrusts into your mouth with just as much vigor. 

you gag and gag and the only thing it does is make nanami whine. he will definitely hate himself later for losing his self control, but right now? he’s madly in love with you and he’s showing it by giving you exactly what you want. pounding his cock into your mouth, using your face just like you asked. 

your eyes roll and brows furrow in ecstasy, the now-familiar knot in your tummy forms with zeal. 

“sweetheart– ugh, forgive me.” he moans, voice cracking handsomely. “fuck, baby. ‘m gonna cum– y-you’re making it so hard to hold back.” 

why would you want him to? that’s the exact opposite of what you want. you try to relay that by snaking your free hand to the back of his thigh and pulling him towards you. 

he hears your actions loud and clear and, before you know it, you feel the ribbons of seed painting your throat as his cock twitches uncontrollably. 

the groans that leave his mouth are sinful. you’ve never heard him sound like this in the entirety of your time together— so unhinged and feral. you find that what’s coming out of his mouth might be your favorite sound ever and it’s definitely become your favorite side of him. the side of nanami where he’s the complete opposite of his otherworldly, chivalrous self. the gentleman you’ve grown to know and love is a hungry, filthy, masked freak and you fear that you’ve just released a beast upon you. not that you mind in the slightest. the thought only excites you further.

“god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” he says through gritted teeth. “so pretty and perfect, all for me. my good girl.” 

your fingers work faster at the praise and your muffled whimpers grow louder. all the while, your mouth overflows with his heavy load and you feel it beginning to leak from the corners of your lips. 

once nanami notices, he pulls himself out of your mouth and you cough, choking over the exorbitant amounts of cum in attempts to swallow all of it. 

“k-ken,” you heave, your voice hoarse. your fingers are still rubbing at your clit, uncoordinated, yet it’s getting the job done. “did i do okay?” 

nanami’s still coming down from his mind blowing orgasm, chest huffing and puffing, but when he hears you seeking validation, he’s on his knees before you in an instant. 

his hand slips in your panties and finds yours, your nimble fingers toying with your bud. 

“so well. now c’mere,” he mutters. his fingers guide yours— he’s simply moving yours for you— and his other hand comes to cup your cheek. hungry for a taste, he slams his lips against yours, tongue invading your mouth despite the fact that he just came in it. 

his fingers move yours faster and faster and you don’t even realize he’s pushing yours aside to take over. 

you’re so weak when it comes to him. with him tonguing your mouth and his fingers working you, it’s no wonder you're coming undone in less than a minute.

you moan a mantra of his name into his, your body going taut as the knot in your tummy unravels. 

he lets you ride it out, playing with your cunt till your shaky hands wrap around his wrist and you pull his hand away. 

he moves his lips to your cheek, trailing wet pecks all the way to your ear. he whispers in your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.

“i might be addicted to your pretty little mouth, sweetheart.”

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

[meo-eiru]

Since I'm busy working on a valentines day drawing I thought we could do something different until I'm done with that. Trivia night! I'll be writing what's basically a compilation of fun facts we've already established or haven't learned yet. We will also learn more about their backstories.

For tonight we have Silas

Silas has a mom and dad but isn't close with neither of them

As a child he was quite needy compared to other elven kids

Elves almost never stray too far away from the elven village but Silas liked to play in the depths of the forest

He learned about humans from a story book he found while playing in the forest

He was amazed by the colorful imagery and the familial relationship depicted in the book and wanted to have the same, which kickstarted his human hyperfixation

He's currently the most knowledgeable elf in humans within the village

His house is located quite far away from the village, he can still reach there by walking but it's not somewhere where the other elves can just stumble upon

He likes sweet things like fruits or honey but dislikes the taste of meat so doesn't feed it to you much as well

He, just like the other elves, while natural with most other living things, hates all demonic creatures

He's very nice and sweet with you but wouldn't glance twice at other forest creatures and is actively hostile towards demons

Of course he would never let you see him make that kind of face

He thought of using magic to make you live as long as he does but it feels like tempering with your humanity so if you die he's planning to die with you

He's actually not that good at magic compared to other elves, he just knows the basics and relies on books for the rest

He's average height for an elf

He doesn't like leaving bite marks or hickeys on your body because it feels like dirtying your perfect form

But he really likes it when you mark his skin, whether they are hickeys or wounds

While more compassionate than other elves, Silas does have a bit of a superiority complex like them

For example, unlike other elves he does see the intelligence of humans but would still say elves are smarter

He doesn't have any ill intentions with it, to him it's just like saying a unicorn is be better than a horse

He doesn't like eating carrots because he thinks they look like elf ears

He loves learning more about you but dislikes hearing about your family

He doesn't want you to have pets, only the two of you are allowed inside his house

He does have a bathroom in his house but it's just a replica of what he saw in books and isn't actually that functional

If you want to use the bathroom for your baths instead of the river like he does, he just carries the water from the river to his house then uses magic to make it rain on you like a shower head

Even if you don't allow him inside the bathroom he still watches from the window

He has a diary where he writes everything you do in a day, from what activities you did to how many times you blink on average

If you offered to live in a human city with him he would refuse, while he likes humans you are his utmost priority and it's better for you to be inside his house away from everyone's reach

[on-the-clear-blue]

So yall know that the League of Assassin's are like, an eco terrorist thing right? Well I just had this idea.

Sam, coming into Danny's room and just face planting on his bed: Ugh...

Danny, who was sleeping, awoken as his friend who had gone missing 6 moths ago flopped onto of him: OH SWEET-NOCTURN IF THIS ISNT REAL I AM GONING TO SOUP YOY SO HARD...

Sam, reaching up and slapping her hand on his mouth:Shhh, less screaming, more sleeping, escaping murder cults takes more energy than I thought.

Sam produces to pass out and sleep for three days straight.

---

Tucker, lookingnup from his PDA: so...you joined what you thought was a peaceful protest and some how ended up in a eco terrorist death cult of assassins? I mean...shit now I have to do something interesting...

Danny, choking on his drink: Nuh uh, your the normal one Tuck, I died and now have a magical girl transformation and Sam got kidnapped by ninjas and somehow even more bad ass, you...you can still get out of this and just be a normal person.

Sam, nodding sadly: Yeah...don't conform to our standards Tucker, be your true, weak little boney self.

Tucker, sniffing:I am so going to not do that.

---

Just the idea that Sam not only got League training but also got out is hilarious to me, like yeah, that is the kinda bs that would happen.

Alsoni can just see her dropping random lore shit.

Sam, bored as the boys study: Did you know thst the Demon Head dunks himself in corrupted ecto? Yeah it's gnarly man, didn't taste good.

Danny, going to speak before pausing and thinking, before sighing:Yeah I would have licked it too.

Tucker, frowning as he finishes his "Evil invention-enator": You both have so many issues.

---

Sam, trying to teach Danny the basic league hand to hand:Come on dude! It's not that hard!

Danny, falling flat on his ass after not even touching Sam: Ow ow ow...fuck yeah it kinda is!

Sam, rolling her eyes: If not only the Demon Heads six year old grandson can learn but also Ellie? You can too.

Danny, mutterinf under his breath before pausing completely:ELLIE? What was she doing with a murder cult? I thought she learnt her lesson after the last one!

Sam, shrugging before putting kicking at Danny on the floor: I don't know she was following a guy around who was catatonic, said something about being angry at him for not answering her pen pal messages or whatever, I was more busy training to really care...like you should be doing!

---

Years later Sam is joining Danny and Tucker in Gotham, Tucker because he was scouted by both WE and Lexcorp, he wanted to choose the evil company because poorer work place regulations and the likely hood of him getting a powerbost was much higher, but was bullied by his friends/partners into choosing WE.

Sam, coming to the R&D labs late one night bringing Tucker dinner so he doesn't starve working a late shift, blinking as she sees a short boy sneaking out of the lab: Biraeam? (Sprout in Arabic) what are you doing here.

Damian, blinking right back, experimental tech Bruce has yet to clear for the field clutched under one arm and the blueprints for a new type of explosive batarang in the other: Manson...I-I could ask you the same.

Sam, raising an eyebrow and staring down Damian: bringing dinner to my husband...who works here...and I can only think that you do not. So I ask that you put those things you have down and tell your bastard of a grandfather not to step back in this place.

Damian, eyes squinting, he hadn't been around his grandfather for ages at this point but still felt offended at her tone: I don't think I will.

---

An epic fight produces where they both try not and spill/destroy the things that they are carrying until either Tucker or Tim find them and explain everything.

The everlasting Trio gets invited over for dinner (mostly because Bruce is a paranoid bastard and dislikes thst one of his employees is dateing/ is partners with an ex-LoA member) and it's a bit of just pointing at each other and shit

Sam, slamming her hands down on the table as she stands: Kindly Mr Wanye, Shut the fuck up, I know your batman, we all fucking know it so if you are going to try and interrogate us at least do it properly!

Danny, sipping his wine: I mean...I-I didn't know but I um...haven't been paying much attention to the bat dude...Rag man is cooler.

Sam, glaring:And you! Fucking Ragman? You can do so much better.

Danny, offended for his hero: Oi! He does good work!

Bruce, frowning as this night has gotten away from him: He kills people.

Sam, waving over at Bruce: Exactly!

Danny, rolling his eyes: Exactly she says, while having a kill count that's still growing, Exactly she says when she was the one that pushed that oil tycoon off the 50th floor.

Sam wincing,: Maybe not in front of batman babe?

Danny, looking over to Bruce that is looking ready to fight: Shit...imma call Tuck and tell him to start packing...

[katie5000]

I wonder if he's got the same thing Kanye West has - bipolar disorder. Like, nobody talks about Kanye now, but I remember as his mental health declined how hard to the right he went. (Twitter didn't help at all - it was radicalizing people even before Musk bought it.)

But yeah, IIRC it seemed like it was the launch of the Cybertruck that marked the point at which it became obvious that something was wrong with Elon, and I think it's only gotten worse. Despite his impulsive and erratic behavior, he is an example of "high-functioning" mental illness - not so debilitating as to disable him completely from doing everyday things, but bad enough to be a serious problem for anyone he has relationships with on any level.

And I think being cushioned by all that wealth harms him rather than helps him. Like yeah, he'd have no trouble paying for treatment if he wanted it, but who around him is ever going to risk telling him that he needs to get it? Who will make the effort to really push to get him out of denial? Anyone who could is either afraid of his power or they're benefitting too much from his current position to sabotage it.

And that's the tragedy. He'll go on living in denial while breaking everything he touches as he spirals down toward an undignified death.

I think that Elon Musk is an object lesson in moral philosophy.

Like, he's the epitome of self-interest; the closest thing real life can produce to a Randian hero. And by any reasonable standard, he's won at life! He's the richest man ever to live, and he's getting richer; he controls the channels of information and communication; the government of what remains the world's only superpower waits on his command. If capitalism had a victory condition, he would surely have achieved it. And yet...

He's empty. He's an absolute sucking void of neediness. His own children hate his guts. He pays professional gamers to run up impossibly high scores in every game under the sun because the pale glow of being praised by epic bacon chuds online is the closest thing that he can feel to love.

Like. I can't tell you what a soul is, but I think you neglect it at your peril.

[mafiadad5]

Rent a boyfriend 20.0 [lmk]

♪ Now playing- 200, MARK LEE

♪ music major!mark lee x f!reader (ft. Jaemin and Chenle)

♪ summary- You’re tired of the teasing—you get it, everyone’s in a relationship. And with the Valentine’s Party around the corner the taunts were getting even more unbearable. You didn’t mean to drag Mark into this…you really didn’t, but then he made an offer you couldn’t refuse: Help him get an A on his project, and in return he’ll be your date to the party—your boyfriend. It’s just a simple deal, no strings attached. No way this could get complicated… right?

♪ genre/warnings- fluff, slight angst, mutual pining, fake dating, misunderstanding, university au, kissing under the influence of alcohol, drinking, y/n’s friend group is kinda mean, mentions of sex.

♪ W/c- 14k+

a/n- hey guys! So wanted to drop a valentines fic.. hope you enjoy!

You sat at the table, surrounded by your friends, the only one who had no one to hold. You didn't mind being single, you honestly didn't, but it was moments like these when everyone paired off, giggling and leaning into each other that made it just a bit unbearable. Somehow there was something worse than the PDA though—the teasing. Anytime someone brought up relationships, all eyes would land on you, and an offhand comment about how single you were would always come up. Today was no different. The group had decided to plan a cute Valentines party, for some reason. 

"But how's that gonna work when not everyone in the group is in a relationship?" Jaemin said with a smirk. Immediately, every head turned toward you. You shrugged, trying to keep your face neutral, and picked up your phone, scrolling, trying to look unbothered.

"Y/n... Can you like- just get cuffed for Valentine's Day or something?" One of your friends teased, laughing as if the idea was ridiculous. You rolled your eyes and kept scrolling on Instagram, trying to ignore it. 

"She would never... Y/n could never get into a relationship." Chenle spoke, his tone light, but it still stung a bit.

Your fingers froze mid scroll. You were so tired of being the target of their jokes. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"Actually... I do have a boyfriend!"

Everyone's laughter stopped as they stared at you, clearly stunned.

"Oh really?" Jaemin asked, his eyebrow arching skeptically. "What's his name?"

Your heart raced as panic set in your body. You glanced down at your phone, searching for any kind of savior. Your thumb hovered over a random Instagram post, the username catching your eye: onyourm__ark. The name felt a little familiar, that could work.

"Mark." You said, looking up at them with a forced smile. "His name is Mark."

Jaemin tilted his head, his suspicion very apparent. "Mark?"

"Yeah." You replied, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"That's funny." Jaemin said, leaning back in his chair. "Why haven't I heard of this Mark character before?"

You froze again, you didn't really think this through before you spoke. Jaemin wasn't just anyone in the group, he was one of your closest friends. He knew almost everything about your life, and all of a sudden you have a boyfriend?

"I wanted to keep it a secret." You said quickly, scrambling for a believable excuse. "I didn't even know if he liked me back at first."

"Oh? So how'd you two meet?" Jaemin asked, clearly enjoying the way you got nervous from his questioning. It felt less like a conversation and more like an interrogation.

"In English." You answered, "We used to be in the same class, but we kept in touch after."

Jaemin narrowed his eyes, but then to your surprise, he nodded slowly. "You did mention a guy from your English class a while ago... I remember."

He did? You didn't remember saying anything remotely like that, but you weren't about to question it. "See? Told you." You said, forcing a laugh and rolling your eyes.

"Well, I'd love to meet him." Jaemin said, his tone still laced with suspicion. "Why don't you bring Mark to the next hangout?"

Your stomach dropped. "Okay, if that'll shut you up." You said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your hands tightened around your phone as Jaemin leaned back, a sly smile on his face. 

Internally, you were spiraling. You didn't have a boyfriend named Mark—or a boyfriend at all for that matter. What were you thinking? Now, you only had a week to figure out how to fix this mess before your lie caught up with you.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You sat on your bed, phone in hand, trying to figure out what to do. You could always say that Mark couldn't make it to the hangout or that you had came down with the flu, but you knew your friends would see right through it. If they found out you were lying, you'd never hear the end of it.

Your thumb hovered over your phone screen as an idea struck you... Mark. Your freshman English class, Mark Lee, the guy you'd been paired with for a group project that lasted maybe a week. That was forever ago. You hadn't spoken to him in over a year, and you weren't even friends back then—just acquaintances. It would be so weird to reach out to him now, especially with such a weird request, but then again... what other choice did you have?

Your mind raced as you scrolled to his Instagram page, the username onyourm__ark staring back at you. You hesitated, typing out a message, deleting it, and typing it again. It had to be casual, like you weren't about to ask for the strangest favor of his life. Finally, you settled on something simple.

"Hey Mark, long time no speak. I don't know if you remember me, but we were in English together freshman year."

You hit send, your heart pounding. Seconds turned into minutes, and soon an hour had passed. Maybe this was a stupid idea. No, it was a stupid idea. You were already bracing yourself for the relentless teasing that awaited you when suddenly your phone buzzed.

"Hey Y/n, I remember you. How have you been? 🙂"

You nearly dropped your phone. Relief flooded through you as you scrambled to type back.

"I've been pretty good! What about you?"

His reply came almost instantly.

"I've been good as well. Is there any reason in particular that you're texting me? Lol, not in a rude way btw."

Your stomach flipped. He didn't sound rude, but the question made your request feel ten times more ridiculous. You stared at the screen, second guessing everything, but you were in too deep to back out now.

"Yeah... I'm sorry, but I have to ask you for a HUGE favor 😭🙏. Please hear me out."

"I'm all ears." He replied.

You hesitated again, biting your lip. This was beyond embarrassing, but then you thought about your friend's laughter and the endless teasing you would endure if this didn't work out. You had to at least try.

"So... my friends make fun of me because I'm the only single one in the group, and I got tired of it. I sort of... told them I had a boyfriend. Your post was on my feed, so I accidentally told them it was you. Now they don't believe me and want to meet you..."

You cringed as you hit send, practically feeling the embarrassment radiate off your phone screen.

Moments later, a new message appeared.

"LOL. Y/n this is crazy 😂. So, what? You need me to meet them and act like your boyfriend?"

"Yeah... that would be very, very awesome." You replied, your face burning with embarrassment.

"What do I get out of this? 🧐"

You stared at the message, trying to think of something. You were so desperate, you'd probably agree to anything at this point.

"What do you want...?"

"You have to pay for me at the hangout 🫡”

Ok, that wasn't bad. You could manage that.

"Deal." You replied.

"And you have to write my essay. I remember you're good at stuff like this."

You groaned. Yes you were good, but you hated doing it.

"🥲... Fine." You wrote back.

Before you could relax, another message came through.

"Wait, before I agree, can we at least meet in person first? Just to talk a little and figure things out."

He had a point. You couldn't exactly walk into this without a plan.

"Yes, of course." You responded quickly. 

"Are you free tomorrow... and do I have to pay for you then too?"

"I'm free tomorrow, and no, you don't have to pay for me tomorrow 😂." He replied.

You felt a small wave of relief.

"Ok, let's grab a coffee tomorrow at noon." You typed.

"Sounds good. I'll see you then."

You exhaled, setting your phone down. It wasn't a guarantee, but at least there was a chance this might work. Now, all you had to do was convince your friends.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The next day, you strolled into the café, your bag slung over one shoulder as you rushed inside. You spotted Mark sitting at a small table by the window, his beanie low over his head as he sipped from a coffee cup. He glanced up and smiled when he saw you, raising a hand in a wave.

"Sorry I'm late!" You said as you dropped into the chair across from him, setting your bag down with a thud. "Traffic."

"No problem, I just got here anyway." He said, giving you a lighthearted grin.

"Thanks for meeting me. I swear this isn't as crazy as it probably sounded over text."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "You told me you accidentally named me as your boyfriend to your entire friend group. That's... kind of crazy."

"Ok fine, maybe it's a little crazy." You admitted, leaning back in your chair. "They've been driving me nuts Mark. Every time we hang out it's like, 'Oh Y/n's still single? Maybe one day you'll find someone.' Ugh, I couldn't take it anymore."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "So your solution was to drag me into this?"

"Look, I panicked. Your Instagram post popped up on my feed, and I just blurted out your name, but now they want to meet you, and if I back out, they'll never let me live it down." You said, throwing up your hands.

Mark stared at you for a moment, but then he sighed, setting his coffee cup down. "You really hate losing, huh?"

"More than anything." You said, leaning forward.

He laughed, the sound genuine. "Alright, I get it. So what's the plan? Are we rehearsing some elaborate backstory or something?"

You waved him off. "Nah, that's too much work. We'll just wing it. They don't need the whole story of how we 'fell in love.' You're Mark, my boyfriend. We met in English, we reconnected, end of story."

"Wing it?" He repeated, his brows lifting in slight disbelief.

"Yep." You said confidently, sipping the coffee you ordered on your way in. "Is that okay with you?" 

Mark studied you for a moment, his gaze steady. "You're really something Y/n."

"What!?" You asked, shrugging with a grin on your face.

He shook his head, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. "You realize this could backfire, right? If they catch on..."

"Yeah, wait. You're right. We may have to come up with a plan." You interrupted, tapping your fingers on the side of your cup.

"Tell me about this group of yours." Mark said, leaning forward with interest.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking of how best to describe them. "Well, there's Jaemin one of my closest friends...he's the one who's been grilling me the most. He's super observant, so we really need to be convincing around him. Then there's Chenle. He's a little less... eccentric than Jaemin, but he's the one who made a comment, so... yeah, he's a problem too."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a fun crowd."

"They're not that bad." You said quickly, though you weren't sure if you believed it yourself. "The rest of them are less skeptical, but they'll still ask a million questions."

Mark nodded. "Okay. How long have we been 'dating' ?"

You paused. "Uh... let's say a month? Long enough to make it seem legit, but not so long that it's weird you're just meeting them now."

"Smart." He said. "And how did we meet?"

"Freshman English obviously." You said.

"Oh...right. What do I do for fun? If they ask, I don't want to say something totally weird."

You thought for a moment. "Well, what do you do for fun?"

Mark laughed. "Play guitar, hang out with friends, binge watch random shows. Pretty standard stuff."

"Ok, stick with that." You said, jotting it down in your phone's notes. "What about me? Do you remember anything about me?"

Mark tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "You were pretty quiet, right? I remember you always had your notes super organized though and had little drawings. You're good at writing and photography too."

"Wow, thrilling personality." You said dryly, but you couldn't help smiling.

"Hey, I like organized people." Mark said, flashing a grin.

You both laughed, for the first time since this whole mess started, you felt like maybe, just maybe, this could actually work.

Mark leaned back in his chair, his eyes playful. "So, when's the big hangout?"

"Next Saturday." You said. 

Mark paused for a second, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. "You're sure this is what you want to do?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I just need them off my back for one day. Then I'll tell them we broke up or something, and it'll all blow over."

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair beneath the beanie. 

"Alright...I'm in."

"You are?"

"I mean, how many people get to say they were someone's fake boyfriend? It's a good story, but— you're paying, and doing my essay." He spoke, raising his eyebrow. 

"Yeah— yes of course." 

"Then deal." He smiled, reaching his hand across the table. 

A bright smile painted your face as you reached across the table to shake his hand. "Thank you. You're officially the best."

"Don't thank me yet." He said with a laugh. "This could still go horribly wrong."

"Shh, shh." You said, waving him off. "Now, are you ready to charm the pants off my friends next Saturday?"

His eyes went wide as a nervous smile crept on his face. "I don't think that's part of the deal..." He joked.

"Mark." You laughed, grabbing your bag as you stood up. "We'll convince them." 

Mark shook his head, but the smile on his face lingered as he stood up as well. "Let's hope you're right."

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The cafe where your friends had decided to meet was full of chatter. You walked in with Mark by your side, your heart racing, though you'd never admit it. He looked surprisingly calm hands stuffed into his pockets as your arm was linked around his, beanie pulled low over his hair, a casual smile on his face.

"There they are." You muttered under your breath as you spotted your friends gathered at a large table near the back.

Mark glanced at you, his tone teasing. "You ready... babe girl?"

You stopped dead in your tracks, turning to glare at him. "Babe girl? Really?"

He smirked. "What? I thought it sounded cute."

"It sounds ridiculous." You said, but you couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. "Corny and ridiculous."

"Guess it's our thing now." He said, a quirky smile on his face.

"Absolutely not." 

As you approached the table, the chatter stopped, and all eyes turned to you. Jaemin leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. "Look who finally decided to show up, and with a plus one!"

"Hi." Mark said with an easy smile, lifting a hand in a small wave. "Nice to meet you all."

"Mark huh?" Chenle said, giving him a suspicious look from head to toe "So you're real."

"Very real." Mark said, his grin never falling.

"Well, don't just stand there. Sit down, we've got questions." Jaemin said, motioning you both to the empty chairs.

Mark glanced at you, eyebrows raised. "Interrogation already?"

"Oh, absolutely." You said, plopping into a seat. "Good luck."

He laughed and took the chair beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table.

"So..." Jaemin began, leaning forward. "How'd you two meet again?"

"English class." You answered quickly.

Mark nodded, picking up without missing a beat. "Yeah, freshman year. She was the only person in the class who didn't make me feel like an idiot during group projects."

You shot him a look, trying not to break character. "That's because you weren't an idiot."

Jaemin squinted, clearly searching for holes in the story. "How long have you been... together?"

"A month." Mark said smoothly.

"Uh huh..." Jaemin said, dragging out the syllables. "So that means you're okay with coming to the couples Valentine's party next month, right?"

Mark blinked, glancing at you. "The what now?"

Jaemin's grin widened, sensing an opportunity. "The party, didn't Y/n tell you? It's just for couples in the group, which is all of us, right? It'll be fun— cookie decorating, gift exchanges, all that good stuff."

You felt your stomach drop. Of course he'd pull something like this.

"Who even wants to spend Valentine's Day with a group of people when you're dating someone? That doesn't even make sense." You turned to Mark, hoping he'd follow your lead. "Right Mark? Wouldn't you only want to spend time with just me on... that... Valentine's Day?"

Mark hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah, right. I would want to spend it alone with my girlfriend, not in a group you know? Really though, I appreciate the invitation." He shot you a glance before looking back at Jaemin.

Jaemin, still grinning leaned in. "I mean, the party isn't all day, only a few hours at night. You two can spend it together alone pretty much."

"I mean... well. That's really when I want to be alone with her... at night." Mark said, his ears turning red as the group collectively reacted. Jaemin's eyebrows shot up, his smirk widening and Chenle let out a low whistle.

"We can move the party earlier since you two lovebirds want the night alone." Jaemin teased. "We really want you guys there."

"Jaemin, just drop it." You said, rolling your eyes.

"I was talking to Mark, Y/n." He replied, dismissing you.

Mark's easygoing demeanor stiffened slightly as he shot Jaemin a look. "Don't talk to her like that dude." Then after a quick glance at you he continued. "Look man, I really appreciate it and everything, but she wants to spend Valentine's alone, so we're gonna do that... all day." His said, his voice softening.

"Well damn," Chenle muttered into the awkward silence. "and we thought Y/n accepted the invitation."

Your patience finally snapped. "Okay! We'll go, goodness me." You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.

"We will?" Mark asked, blinking at you and scratching the back of his head.

"Yes, we will." You answered quickly, shooting a glare at Jaemin, who looked far too pleased with himself.

"That's great." Jaemin said, his smugness radiating off him.

You exhaled sharply before turning to Mark. "Now babe... Mark, can we please leave?" Your voice dripped with frustration.

Mark bit back a laugh. "Sure thing... babe girl." He sucked in his breath slightly, bracing for your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes, but couldn't stop the small giggle that slipped out. "Ridiculous." You said, shaking your head. 

Mark stood, offering the group a small wave. "It was nice meeting you guys."

"Nice meeting you too Mark." Jaemin said, clearly entertained. "Hope we can all get together before the Valentine's party."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Bye guys." You added, throwing one last glance at Jaemin before turning and walking out, Mark right beside you.

As soon as you stepped outside you let out a deep sigh. "Mark, I'm seriously so sorry. They're typically not like this."

He laughed, hands in his pockets. "Nah it's okay, I swear. I'm just more worried about how we're gonna show up to this Valentine's party."

Your stomach dropped. "Oh fuck Mark. I panicked—I didn't even realize."

He smirked. "Yeah, I noticed."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "It's fine, I'll just tell them we broke up or something."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good to me."

A brief silence passed before he glanced at you. "Now, if you don't mind or anything... do you wanna grab a real lunch?"

You blinked at him before breaking into a smile. "Yeah that sounds good... like our break up hangout." You giggled.

He chuckled. "Yeah, something like that."

You paused. "I'm not paying for you." You looked at him with squinted eyes. 

Mark scoffed. "I guess not." 

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The two of you sat at the table, the world outside fading as you talked and ate, lost in conversation. There was something surprisingly natural about it—like you'd been friends forever.

You swirled your drink absentmindedly before slipping in a question. "So, like... what do you do?"

Mark blinked, then grinned. "Oh... I'm a music major. So... make music, I guess?"

"Oh that's sick. So you just write music for class? That sounds fun... and easy." You teased, raising an eyebrow.

Mark scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not actually. Right now, we're starting a project where we have to tie music and cinematography together. It's due in like a month.

You tilted your head, thinking. "So, February 7th? That's such a long time."

"Mhm, that's not even enough time." He said, nodding seriously.

"You'll be fine, it's easy." You waved him off.

"And it's summer." He shot back.

"What?" You asked, furrowing your brows.

"Oh, I thought we were lying about things." He said with a cheeky smile.

"Mark, please." You giggled, shooting him a playful glare.

Still smirking, he leaned back. "Alright, since my major is so 'easy', what's yours?"

"Digital Art and Media." You replied.

Mark's eyebrows lifted. "That's why it's easy for you, you do photography and digital art."

"I only took one photography class, relax bud. I'm not an expert." You said, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Yeah, whatever. More experience than me." He said, playfully rolling his eyes right back.

"Yeah, yeah."

Time slipped away unnoticed. What was meant to be a quick lunch turned into two hours of laughter, and playful conversation. You hadn't even realized how long you'd been sitting there until you glanced at the time and your stomach sank.

"I'm so sorry Mark, but I have an assignment due that I have to do." You said, frowning.

He gasped dramatically. "Wow, you need better time management."

You scoffed. "Yeah? Well, I guess time passes when you're having fun with someone."

The words left your lips before you could process them. The moment hung between you for a split second too long before Mark's grin widened, his cheeks rounding.

"Yeah... that's true."

You cleared your throat, shaking the moment off. "We should definitely do this again... but, you know, as regular friends." You shot him a bright grin as you stood up.

Mark nodded quickly, standing up beside you. "Yeah, no, yeah... totally." He smiled, but there was something in his expression.

"Well, I had fun. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, see you later." His gaze lingered as you waved and walked away, feeling lighter than before.

Hours later, you were deep in your assignment, tackling it with as much focus as you could. The only problem? You'd made the grave mistake of leaving your phone off Do Not Disturb.

It buzzed. Once... twice, a few unimportant messages. Then, one caught your eye, a familiar username.

@onyourm__ark

Your fingers hovered over your phone. You needed no distractions, but the message was simple.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Curiosity won.

"Yeah, what's up?" You typed back.

His response came almost immediately.

"Do you like... actually need me to go to this Valentine's party thing?"

You bit your lip, considering. "Would you? What would you want in return?"

The three little dots popped up. Then:

"Well... your major is like really really cool... and exactly what I need for my project. So, could you help me with the project over the month? If I get an A, then I'll go with you."

You tapped your fingers against your desk, thinking. 

"Hmmm... that's a good deal actually."

Before Mark could even finish typing a response, you sent another.

"Eh, that's too much work though. Look, I'm currently working on something right now... my classes are hard this semester."

His reply was immediate.

"Oh... I thought it was so 'easy.' 😂"

You groaned, shaking your head. 

"Yeah, when that's your only class. I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I'll just tell them we broke up lol."

"Ok ok... good luck with them."

"I'll manage.🫡"

You put your phone down, determined to get back to work, but your mind kept drifting. You didn't even know what the project fully was, you could at least hear him out... right?

With a sigh, you hesitated before unlocking your phone again, opening your messages with Mark.

"So like... what's the project? What do you have to do?"

This time, the response came instantly. Almost like he had been waiting for you to ask.

"I have to make a song and record a music video for it."

Your eyes flicked over the message. 

"So just videography, and text work?"

"Not even... the song doesn't have any lyrics, so just videography."

You chewed your lip.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"It sounds like someone's changing their mind👀... I hope."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. 

"Perchance."

"Say yes, say yes, say yes."

You sat there, staring at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You weren't actually considering this, were you?

...Maybe you were.

"Ok, fine."

His response was immediate.

"YESSIR!"

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Let's meet up sometime next week and get started, if that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, that's perfect."

You locked your phone and leaned back in your chair, exhaling.

This was going to be... interesting.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

It was the next week, and you two finally met up at the park.

"Y/n!" Mark called out, waving you over with a bright grin.

"Mark!" You waved back, jogging slightly to meet him.

The two of you sat on a wooden bench, its surface worn smooth from the weather. The cold seeped through your clothes, but the excitement of finally starting the project kept you warm.

"So, what's the plan for this music video?" You asked, tucking your hands into your pockets.

Mark exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air. "Well, I want it to be naturally focused—kind of like me being out and about. Then I also want to show my process—like me writing and recording the music, you know?" His gaze flickered to you, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold.

You nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, that sounds sweet. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yep! I even brought the camera with me." He reached into his bag and pulled out a silver camcorder, a Spider-Man keychain dangling from the side.

You couldn't help but smile. "Oh, that's cute."

Mark chuckled, spinning the keychain between his fingers. "I haven't used this thing in ages though... let me make sure it's working." He flicked it on, the lens whirring softly as it adjusted. Without warning, he turned it toward you.

"Say hi Y/n." He prompted.

You straightened up, flashing a peace sign at the camera. "Hi hi, hello!"

Mark grinned behind the camera. "We're here with the super duper awesome Y/n."

"In the flesh." You responded, throwing up two rock hand signs.

Mark laughed. "In the flesh?" He turned the camera toward himself, raising an eyebrow.

You smirked. "We have a hater here guys." You motioned for him to hand over the camera, and he did so with an amused expression.

You turned the camera around, focusing on him. "Look at this hater. Super duper hater Mark."

"In the flesh." He said expressionless, before glancing at you to catch your reaction.

You scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes as you turned the camera to frame both of you in the shot. "Alright, and with that... this test video is over." You smiled, locking eyes with Mark for a beat before looking back at the lens.

After stopping the recording, you both huddled together to watch the clip, laughing.

"Is this the type of video you're looking for?" You asked, glancing at him.

"Yeah, basically. This is awesome." His smile was wide and genuine.

"Great." You mirrored his smile, the warmth between you two making the cold a little more bearable.

A gust of wind rustled through the trees, and Mark tucked his hands into his sleeves before glancing at you. "Do you want to grab some lunch or something? It's on me."

You raised an eyebrow. "Free lunch? Why would I pass on that?"

Mark laughed, standing up and stretching before leading the way. The two of you walked to the familiar cafe where you always met, slipping into your usual routine without much thought. After ordering you found yourselves at your regular table, the conversation flowing as effortlessly as ever.

You set your cup down and leaned forward. "Wait, this would be a great shot." You reached for the camera, and Mark passed it to you without hesitation.

You turned it on, panning it toward him as he casually picked up his cup, taking a slow sip.

A giggle escaped you from behind the camera, and Mark's gaze flickered up. He smirked, trying, and failing, not to laugh.

"Wait, wait." He said, holding out his hand. "Let me capture my POV."

You handed the camera back, and he immediately started recording. First, he zoomed in on his cup, then moved to some of the food on the table, narrating dramatically.

"Here we have... a masterpiece." He slowly panned upward, the lens landing on you.

A small smile played on his lips as he held the camera steady. "Working on the project. This is the same day as the test recording, but who cares?"

You made an awkward face at the camera before sticking your tongue out playfully. "Documenting history." You teased.

Mark chuckled, lowering the camera slightly. "I think this might actually turn out great." He admitted, glancing at you.

You met his gaze, something lingering between the two of you.

You agreed softly. "Yeah, I think so too."

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You had been recording with Mark for about two weeks now, always keeping the shoots outdoors, but today was different. Mark said it was time to capture one of the final stages—him recording it. For that, he invited you over to his apartment.

You of course agreed. It was part of the project anyway, but what surprised you was realizing that his apartment was only about a ten minute walk from yours.

Taking advantage of the convenience, you decided to walk there, stopping by a store on the way to grab some supplies for a separate project you needed to work on while Mark was busy. As you waited at the checkout, a small Spider-Man figurine caught your eye. Something about it reminded you of Mark—probably that old keychain hanging from his camera. With a small smile, you grabbed it and added it to your purchase.

Soon, you were standing outside his door, a small brown paper bag in hand. You knocked, shifting on your feet as you waited.

The door swung open, and Mark greeted you with a bright smile. "Hey Y/n!"

"Hey Mark." You smiled back, stepping inside and slipping off your coat and shoes.

His apartment was cozy, a subtle scent of coffee and something faintly citrusy in the air.

"This place is nice." You commented as he led you toward his studio room.

"Aw, it's nothing." He said calmly, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

You stepped into the music room, immediately noticing how it felt both chaotic and comforting. Wires across the floor, tangled yet somehow purposeful. Instruments leaned against the walls, and scattered notebooks were filled with what you assumed were unfinished lyrics. It wasn't pristine, but it felt real—lived in.

"Sorry for the mess." He said sheepishly, tidying up a few papers.

"No, it's cute. I like it."

He paused at that, looking at you for a moment longer than necessary, a small genuine smile tugged at his lips as he let out a soft giggle. "Thanks..."

You cleared your throat, settling in. "So, you have some finishing touches to do?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I just need to tweak a few things, then record. You can work on your project while I do that—I'll just set up the camera to capture everything, if that's cool?"

"Of course, do your thing." You assured him.

Mark adjusted the camera on its stand, making sure it had a good angle before grabbing his guitar and plopping down on the couch.

"I hope the noise isn't too distracting." He said, glancing at you.

"No, you're good." You gave him a reassuring smile before pulling out your supplies.

As you sorted through the contents of the bag, you came across the Spider-Man figurine. You hesitated for a second before looking up.

"Oh uh, Mark?"

He immediately looked over, giving you his full attention.

"I got you a little something. I saw it at the store and thought of you." You pulled out the figurine and held it up, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes widened slightly before a grin broke across his face. "Oh my god!" He took it from your hands, examining it like it was the coolest thing in the world. "This is literally my favorite... thank you so much."

You laughed at his enthusiasm. "Yeah, yeah, you're welcome."

Mark immediately ran over to the camera, crouching in front of it with the figurine. "Look at this super cool gift Y/n gave me. Isn't it epic?" He held it up proudly, his smile contagious.

You shook your head, watching him with amusement.

"Everyone say 'Thank you Y/n.'" He continued, turning the camera toward you.

"Thank you Y/n." He said in a lighter voice. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but smiled. "You're welcome guys."

Mark turned the camera back to himself. "But wait, what is Y/n working on? We've been stuck on me when we have a hardworking creative genius over here."

You lifted the almost finished postcard you had been making. "Well guys, I just have to make some postcards."

"Ooo, pretty." He said in his high pitched voice again.

You smirked. "Wait—me or the postcard?" It was meant to be a lighthearted joke, but Mark answered instantly.

"Both."

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off, but he just grinned at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Clearing your throat, you turned the postcard over in your hands. "You know, why am I even making this? My major is digital design."

"Crazy wonders of the world." Mark said, raising an eyebrow dramatically.

"I know right?" You giggled.

"Wait, hold up the postcard." He said suddenly.

You obliged, holding up the small card that was a sunset over the city skyline.

Mark placed the Spider-Man figurine in front of it, adjusting the camera's angle. "Spider-Man Mark in Y/n's pretty city." He moved the figure as if it were walking.

"Pretty Spider-Man Mark in Y/n's regular city." You corrected teasingly.

"Ah, that's not true. It's not regular, nothing you do is regular."

You turned to him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Mark immediately panned the camera toward you, catching your reaction.

"Guys, did you hear that?" You asked, smiling.

"I think they did... uh oh. I've been caught." He said dramatically.

Laughing, you shook your head. "Alright, alright, let's get back to filming."

Mark sighed, setting the figurine aside. "Okay, I'll finish recording my song. Back to boring me."

"No, I should be recording this part." You insisted, spinning around in his desk chair. "That's literally the point of the project."

"It's fine—"

"Nope." You stood up, grabbing the camera and plopping onto the bean bag in front of him. "Alright, let's hear it."

Mark adjusted himself on the couch, strumming a few simple notes at first as you zoomed in slightly.

"We want to hear the song!" You said in a high pitched voice behind the camera.

Mark looked up, straight into the lens. "Guys, you have no say in this."

"Hey! Don't talk to them like that. We all want to hear the song... you must oblige."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, all of you?"

"Yes." You nodded, keeping the camera steady.

"Well... I guess that means I have no choice." He sighed, dramatically adjusting his posture. Then his expression softened. "Alright. Here goes."

As he began playing his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the melody. The notes filled the room, smooth and rhythmic, but when he opened his eyes again, they didn't go to the camera— they went straight to you. Suddenly, he stumbled. "Wait—I'm nervous when you're looking at me play... turn the other way."

"What? How am I supposed to turn away? I'm literally filming. If you suck, just say that." You teased.

Mark groaned. "That's not fair."

"Fine, fine, I'll close my eyes." You smirked. "You're lucky I'm talented and can record with my eyes closed."

You heard him chuckle before he started playing again and this time, he didn't stop. The music wrapped around you, soothing you into a quiet rhythm as you swayed slightly.

When you finally opened your eyes you smiled. "Wow... you're good."

He set the guitar down. "Me? Nah."

"You're definitely better than me." You admitted.

"Wait—you play?"

"Barely."

"Give it a try."

"Oh no, no, no—"

"Oh yes, yes, yes."

And before you could argue, he was handing you the guitar and taking the guitar from you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You hesitated, staring at the guitar now resting in your lap as you glanced up at Mark, who was grinning.

"Mark, no. I can't." You said, shaking your head.

"Yes, you can." He countered, adjusting the camera to make sure it was still recording. "If you guys want Y/n to play say, 'Play Y/n.'" He turned back to you with a teasing smile.

"Play Y/n." He said in that high pitched voice again.

You groaned, pointing at the camera. "You guys are traitors."

Mark beamed. "You must listen. You must oblige, right?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight your own smile. "Fine, but I'm telling you I suck."

"It's okay, take your time." He reassured, watching you expectantly.

Taking a deep breath, you positioned your fingers awkwardly on the strings, recalling the few chords you knew. You strummed slowly, hesitant. The sound wasn't smooth—it was a little choppy, a little messy, but you pushed through, playing a simple tune you vaguely remembered.

As you focused on the guitar, you felt Mark's gaze lingering. When you glanced up, he was watching you with a small smile.

"Okay, I'm done." You announced quickly, placing the guitar back on your lap like it was some kind of dangerous weapon.

Mark clapped dramatically. "That was good!"

"Mark, do not lie to my face right now."

"I'm serious!" He leaned forward. "Better than some people in my classes, I swear."

"Right..." You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes.

"I'm not lying! It takes practice." He insisted. "You're the best in my eyes, okay?"

Before you could process his words, he gently took the guitar back from you and placed it across his lap.

"You'll get better, it's all about growth." He continued, casually strumming a few quick chords.

"Oh, now you're just showing off."

He grinned. "No I'm not, stop."

You shook your head, still smiling, before glancing at the clock. It was getting late.

Mark must've noticed too because his fingers slowed on the guitar. "You should probably head home soon, huh?"

You sighed. "Yeah... probably."

A beat of silence passed between you, filled only by the faint buzz of the camera still recording. Neither of you moved right away.

Then Mark stood up abruptly. "Wait, let me walk you home."

You blinked. "Mark, it's literally a ten minute walk."

"So?" He shrugged, grabbing his hoodie off the back of the chair. "It's dark out."

"I'll be fine." You reassured him, standing up and stretching.

"Still, I wanna make sure." He smiled at you.

You held his gaze for a moment before exhaling in defeat. "Fine, but if we get jumped you better be ready to fight for your life."

Mark laughed as he grabbed his keys. "Don't worry, Spider-Man got you."

As you both stepped outside into the cool night air, walking side by side under the streetlights, you found yourself stealing small glances at him.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The familiar ding of Mark's apartment buzzer echoed as you rocked back and forth on your heels, hands stuffed into the pockets of your hoodie. Moments later, the door swung open revealing Mark in a black hoodie and sweatpants, hair slightly tousled like he'd been running his hands through it.

"Y/n! My favorite editor has arrived." He said with a teasing smirk, stepping aside to let you in.

You rolled your eyes, stepping inside and kicking off your shoes. "Flattery will not make me do extra work Mark."

"Damn...worth a shot."

He led you into his workspace, where his laptop was already open, the editing software pulled up on the screen. A few loose papers and a notebook was scattered across the desk. You settled into the chair, rolling up your sleeves, ready to finish what had been weeks of filming and late night texts about clips and transitions.

As Mark settled onto the couch behind you, tuning his guitar absentmindedly, your eyes drifted to the notebook lying open beside the keyboard. The title at the top caught your attention.

200

Your brow furrowed as you skimmed the first few lines.

"Hey, what's this?" You asked, fingers brushing the edge of the page.

Before you could read any further Mark was suddenly there, reaching over your shoulder and snapping the notebook shut in one motion.

"Nothing—just a project for another class." He said quickly, his voice a little too casual.

You arched a brow, turning in your chair to look at him. "Oh yeah? What class?"

He blinked. "Uh—songwriting."

You smirked. "You're a bad liar."

"I am not lying." He countered, crossing his arms, but the way he avoided your gaze told you otherwise.

You let it slide—for now. "Fine Mr. Songwriter. Let's get back to the actual project before we run out of time."

He exhaled in relief, moving back to his spot on the couch as you clicked through the footage. The two of you worked, laughing over bloopers and trimming clips.

After a while, Mark leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "Hey, so... I wanna learn how to add text to videos."

You glanced at him. "Oh?"

"Yeah, like... just in case I ever need to make a music video by myself." He explained, his voice dipping slightly.

You smirked, already sensing where this was going. "You mean in case I'm not around to do it for you?"

He grinned, not even denying it. "Exactly."

You hummed, clicking through the editing software. "Alright, pay attention."

Mark pulled his chair up beside you, leaning in way too close as you navigated the program. You felt the heat of his gaze more than once, but you pretended not to notice—until you did.

"You're not even looking at the screen." You said, turning toward him.

"I am." He defended, but his smirk gave him away.

You huffed, placing your hand on the mouse. "Watch closely."

You leaned in to type and in the process, your knee brushed against his. Instead of moving away, Mark just smirked slightly, shifting even closer.

"So, you click here to add a text layer." You explained, voice steady despite the way your skin tingled. "Then you can choose the font, size, and animation style."

"Mmm, what if I want it to fade in all smooth and cool?"

"Then you'd go to transitions and—"

You clicked the wrong thing.

A bright pink, curly font popped up on the screen, reading: SUPER AWESOME Y/N IS THE BEST.

Mark burst into laughter. "Ohhh, I love that...perfect title."

You groaned trying to fix it, but he grabbed your wrist gently. "Wait, wait. Keep it."

"Mark, no."

"Mark, yes." He teased, his fingers still lingering on your wrist. "It's only fair, you are super awesome."

You shook your head, deleting the text despite his protests.

You both finished the editing, but before you could say you were done for the night, Mark stretched with an exaggerated groan.

"You know what? You should stay for dinner." He said casually.

You blinked. "What?"

"Stay for dinner." He repeated, standing up. "I'll cook."

You raised a suspicious brow. "You cook?"

He scoffed. "First of all, rude. Second, yes."

You crossed your arms, pretending to consider. "Mmm, free food... and potential food poisoning?"

Mark clutched his chest dramatically. "Wow, you wound me."

You laughed, standing up. "Fine, fine. I'll stay, but if I die I'm haunting you."

"Deal." He said, heading to the kitchen. "Now sit back, relax, and prepare to be amazed."

You settled onto a stool by the counter, watching as he pulled out ingredients. To your surprise, he actually seemed to know what he was doing, chopping vegetables with ease, humming under his breath as he worked.

"So, what is your specialty Chef Mark?" You teased, resting your chin in your palm.

He grinned. "Tonight? Stir-fry."

As he cooked, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about music, future plans, dumb childhood stories. At one point, Mark wiped his hands on a towel and reached over to poke your cheek.

"You always do that when you're focused." He pointed out.

"Do what?"

"That little frown." He mimicked, scrunching his brows.

You rolled your eyes, swatting his hand away. "I do not—"

"You do." He countered, turning back to the stove with a smug smile.

Dinner was surprisingly delicious. As you ate, the conversation slowed, settling into something quieter.

"You know." Mark started, twirling his fork. "I'm kinda sad this project's ending."

You glanced up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He met your eyes. "It was fun having you around. Working on something together."

You felt warmth spread through your chest. "Yeah... it was."

Mark hesitated before adding, "We should do it again sometime."

You smiled. "We should."

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You and Mark had finally decided to take a break from all the work, choosing a laid back hangout where you didn't have to worry about editing, filming, or anything productive. Not that it ever felt like work, anyway—not with him.

The two of you strolled down the sidewalk, warm coffees in hand. Laughter spilled from your lips as Mark animatedly told you some story, his voice light and his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold.

"Wait, wait... so you're telling me he actually tried to—"

"Y/n?" A familiar voice cut through your laughter, making you pause mid step.

You turned toward the sound and immediately spotted Jaemin approaching, his usual smug grin plastered across his face. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his coat, but his sharp eyes flickered between you and Mark, already scanning for... something.

"Jaemin... Hi!" You greeted, putting on your best casual smile.

Mark lifted his hand in a small wave. "Hey man."

Jaemin's smirk deepened as he reached you both, tilting his head slightly. "Feels like I haven't seen you in forever." He said, his gaze still shifting between you and Mark, clearly analyzing.

"I know right?" You chuckled, shifting on your feet. "I've just been, you know... busy with my boyfriend." You emphasized the word, nudging Mark slightly with your elbow. He played along instantly, nodding in agreement with a small smile.

"Ahh, right." Jaemin said, dragging the words out as if he were testing how it felt on his tongue. His expression remained unreadable, but the skepticism in his eyes was unmistakable. "You guys look... closer than ever."

"Well, yeah." You replied, flashing a polite smile. "That's sorta what happens when you date someone."

Mark let out a quiet chuckle beside you, sipping his coffee.

Jaemin squinted at the two of you, lips pressing together like he was trying to piece something together. The silence stretched just a little too long before he finally let out a small hum.

"Hmm. Yeah, you're right."

"Well." You started, eager to end the interaction before Jaemin could get any ideas. "We're gonna get going—"

"Wait."

Your heart sank just a little.

Jaemin grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "We miss you." He said, looking directly at you. "Why don't you and Mark stop by this Saturday? Hang out with everyone... you know, like the old times."

That smug expression on his face told you that declining wasn't going to be easy. You opened your mouth to politely decline, but before you could get a word out Mark beat you to it.

"That sounds fun, right babe?" He said smoothly, turning to you with a warm smile that almost looked genuine.

You blinked at him.

"Yeah, totally." You managed, forcing a smile back as you turned to Jaemin. "We'll be there."

Jaemin took a step back, satisfied. "Great! Just don't break up before then or anything."

Mark let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, we're good man."

Jaemin hummed again, still looking just a little too suspicious for your liking. "Kay... see you then."

With that, he finally walked away leaving you and Mark standing there in unison. You both let out a synchronized sigh.

"That was..." You trailed off.

Mark shook his head, smiling slightly. "I can see why you'd be scared to date someone...he's scary."

You laughed. "I'm not scared of him."

Mark raised a playful brow. "You sure? He had you real close to sweating back there."

You rolled your eyes. "I just think it's annoying."

Mark smiled, but then as if something weighed on him, his expression stiffened just a little. He glanced down at his coffee, rolling the cup slightly between his hands. "Seriously though... why don't you date anyone?"

You hesitated for a moment before exhaling through your nose. "I just don't want to." You shrugged. "I feel like relationships don't last. They start great, then fall apart."

Mark's gaze softened. "What makes you feel that way?"

You pressed your lips together for a moment before answering. "Just... a past relationship. It didn't work out, and honestly I don't think it's worth trying again. I'd rather just be by myself."

Mark didn't say anything right away, but you could tell something shifted in his demeanor. His usual playfulness dimmed just a little, like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he should.

Finally, he offered a small smile. "Well... I get it I guess. If you don't try again, you won't ever know though."

"Then I guess I'll never know." You replied simply.

Silence settled between you, not awkward, but thick.

Mark looked down at his phone, biting his lip. "I should probably head out."

"Oh, okay." You said, nodding as you adjusted your coat.

He hesitated for a second before flashing his usual easygoing smile. "I'll see you this weekend, yeah?"

"Yeah... see you then." You said, forcing a small smile back.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

When you arrived at the hangout together, arms casually brushing, laughter slipping easily between you, no one batted an eye. You were affectionate without forcing it, leaning into each other, whispering small things that made no sense to anyone else, it felt effortless.

As the night wore on someone suggested a drinking game—Truth or Dare, with shots.

The group quickly agreed, the buzz of alcohol already making everyone a little looser, a little bolder.

"Drinking Truth or Dare?" Mark asked, raising a curious brow as he turned to you.

"Yeah, we do it all the time." You replied, already a bit tipsy, your tongue a little looser than it should be. "You don't have to if you don't want."

Mark smirked. "No, I want to."

And with that, the game began.

The first round started with a collective shot to get things going. The group quickly fell into a rhythm—questions growing more personal, dares becoming more ridiculous.

Then it was your turn, and your gaze flickered over to Jaemin.

"Jaemin." You said, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. "Truth or dare?"

He leaned back casually, but cocky. "Truth."

You twirled your shot glass between your fingers as a sinister thought grazed your mind. "Is it true you've been thinking about breaking up with your girlfriend?"

The air tensed. Jaemin's easygoing expression fell for just a second, his jaw clenched.

"Y/n, what the fuck? No." His voice was sharp as he reached for another shot and downed it in one go.

You shrugged, unfazed. "I was just curious. You always made fun of me for being single so... this is ironic, isn't it?"

Jaemin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Okay, I've got a truth for you then Y/n."

You raised a brow, taking a slow sip of your drink. "Fine, hit me."

His eyes darkened just a little, his smirk twisting into something sharper. "Is it true that the reason you took this long to get into a relationship is because of how shitty your ex treated you—that you tolerated for months?"

The table went quiet.

You felt your stomach twist, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, refusing to let the weight of his words show on your face. "Jaemin, please."

Jaemin shrugged like it was nothing, but the tension between you two was thick. This happened often, your tipsy back and forths, but tonight it was different.

"Okay Y/n. Truth or dare?" Chenle's voice cut through, attempting to redirect the conversation.

"What? I just went." You said, shooting him a look.

"Go again." Chenle pressed, his gaze locked on you.

You sighed, deciding it was better than letting Jaemin's words linger. "Fine, dare."

A slow grin spread across Chenle's face. "Alright, I dare you and Mark to do seven minutes in heaven."

You blinked. "What, are we teenagers? Seven minutes in heaven?"

Mark turned to you, his expression unreadable, but amused.

"You picked dare." Jaemin's voice cut in. "You have to do it."

"Jaemin, hush." Chenle muttered, shooting him a look.

You sighed dramatically before standing. "Fine, whatever. C'mon Mark."

Chenle led you to a small, dimly lit closet, shoving you both inside before closing the door behind you.

The space was tight—so tight that your knees brushed his, your shoulder pressed into his chest. A dim, flickering light illuminated the space, casting soft shadows on Mark's face.

"Wow, this is kinda snug." You murmured, shifting slightly.

Mark let out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah... sorry, my hand kinda hurts. Do you mind if I...?" He gestured vaguely, and you understood immediately.

"Go ahead." You said, letting him wrap his arm around you to ease the angle.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the sound of muffled voices outside the only thing filling the space, then Mark spoke.

"You know..." His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "You're more than what you've had in the past... no matter what Jaemin says."

You stilled, no one had ever said that to you before. You turned to him, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His expression was softer than usual. Without thinking, you reached forward and pulled him into a hug.

"I appreciate you so much Mark." You whispered, your arms tightening around him.

His breath hitched slightly before he returned the embrace. "I appreciate you too."

When you pulled back, you were still close—so close that your breaths mixed, your faces mere inches apart. Mark looked at you, his gaze flickering down to your lips. Before you could process it, he leaned in.

And you let him.

The kiss started slow, tentative, unsure—before something in both of you snapped. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him. The kiss deepened, your fingers tangling in his hair, his grip tightening just slightly as if afraid you'd pull away.

You made a soft noise against his lips, and it was all he needed to kiss you harder, more desperately.

He broke the kiss for a second, looking at you with glossy eyes as you both caught your breaths. Before you could lean in, there was a knock on the door.

You both froze, your lips slightly parted, your breaths uneven.

Chenle's voice came through. "Alright, time's up."

You swallowed, pulling away fully. Mark's ears were flushed pink, his chest rising and falling just as fast as yours. Without a word, you reached for the doorknob and stepped out.

As you both took your seats, the air between you had definitely shifted. You avoided looking at Mark, but every time your eyes accidentally met, you couldn't help but smile. It was stupid, but something about it made your whole body feel light. Jaemin, of course was the first to notice.

"What, did you guys fuck or something?" He asked, staring at the two of you.

"Cut it out." Chenle interjected. "If she's calm now, then you need to be— or do we need to send you to the closet?"

You let out a small giggle at that, shaking your head.

Jaemin scoffed but let it go, leaning back in his seat. "Whatever." He said "She knows I love her." He said, quietly.

Something in his tone made you pause for just a second, but before you could even unpack that your eyes flickered back to Mark, and just like that, the rest of the room faded.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

February 7th – The Day the Project Was Due

The moment you woke up, you grabbed your phone and texted Mark.

"It's the day!"

It didn't take long for him to reply.

"Yep."

You smiled, quickly typing out another message.

"Have you turned it in already?"

"Yep."

You paused for a moment, his short responses making your fingers hover over the keyboard. Maybe he was just busy... maybe you were reading too much into it.

"And you told me that everything should be graded by the 12th?"

"Mhm."

Your stomach twisted slightly, this wasn't like him. Usually Mark was more responsive, more animated. Right now, his texts felt distant, dry. You tried to shake the feeling.

"Well... good luck. I'm scared for you 😭."

"Thxs."

That was it... just thxs?

Something felt off, you couldn't quite put your finger on it—maybe it was the lack of emojis, or the way you were imagining his voice flat and indifferent.

You hesitated before typing:

"... Are you okay?"

"Yep, I'm cool."

You frowned.

"You sure?"

"Yep."

There it was again. The same short response.

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, but you decided not to push. If something was wrong, he'd tell you.

"Um... okay. Anyways, do you want to meet up for lunch today? I'm reallyyyy craving a sandwich right now."

A moment passed before his reply came in.

"I can't today... sorry."

Your stomach twisted again, but you forced yourself to brush it off.

"Oh... that's fine. I'll talk to you later."

You sat with your phone in your lap, waiting—hoping he'd text first like he usually did, but the hours passed, and there was nothing. No check-ins, no requests to hang out. Something didn't feel right. Just radio silence.

You sent a few more texts over the next few days, but his responses were slow and repetitive.

"Not today, sorry."

"I'm busy, maybe later."

"Sorry, can't."

Days blurred together, and before you knew it, it was February 12th. You grabbed your phone, barely able to contain your anticipation.

"Today's the day... I'm nervous... excited."

Mark's reply came a few minutes later.

"Lol yeah."

You hesitated. His texts still felt off, but you pushed the thought aside.

"Make sure to update me!"

This time he didn't even respond with words. He just liked the message. Your stomach sank slightly, but you told yourself it was fine... maybe he was just stressed.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, but the message didn't come until late—almost 11 p.m.

"So... I got a B."

You blinked at your screen, rereading the message. A B? After all the work you both put in?

"WHAT?" You typed back, your frustration evident.

"Yep."

You knew he had wanted an A. That was the whole deal, if he got an A, he'd go to the Valentine's Day party with you.

A small pang of disappointment settled in your chest as you hesitantly typed:

"Aw man, does that mean you won't go to the Valentine's party with me?"

A pause.

"Well... A deal's a deal. So no."

You frowned, staring at the screen. You knew it was silly to be upset—after all, this was fake and yet... it still kind of stung.

"Aw :("

"Sorry man."

You sighed.

"Nothing for you to be sorry about. We worked super hard... your professor will get knocked off their feet next time... swear."

"Yeah haha."

The conversation felt like it was ending, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"I hope you're okay?"

A moment passed before he replied.

"I'm fine."

You stared at his response for a moment before liking the message. That was that, The deal was off... no party, no fake date. Just like that, your arrangement was over. And maybe... maybe it was for the best.

Right?

You were half asleep when your phone buzzed again. Groggily, you reached for it, expecting it to be some random notification, but it wasn't.

It was Mark.

"I mean... are you still going to the party?"

Your eyes widened slightly. You sat up, rereading his message just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Your fingers moved quickly.

"Probably, so I at least won't be alone on Valentine's Day 😂."

A few moments passed before he replied.

"You don't have to tell them we broke up and all that... maybe just say I'm sick or something."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Then they're gonna be expecting you to go to future couple things. Might as well tell them we broke it off now."

A pause.

"Ah... yeah, right. Sorry."

You sighed.

"No need to be. This was bound to happen anyways. We can't fake it all our life."

The words felt wrong as you typed them.

"Yeah."

And that was that. The end of the story, at least... that's what you thought. Until the day of Valentine's Day, when your phone buzzed again.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You stared at the name on your screen. Mark.

A part of you had expected the conversation to end earlier, but here he was, still texting about it.

"Did you already tell your friends we broke up?" He asked.

"Well... yeah." You replied, faster than you intended.

There was a long pause. The three little dots popped up for a second, then disappeared. You swallowed, waiting for his next message.

"Damn it. My teacher just randomly curved my grade. So I'm at an A now."

The abrupt change of topic made you blink, but your fingers moved quickly across the screen.

"Omg, that's amazing. I'm proud of you. I know you wanted an A."

"Thank you, thank you—but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"I have to hold up my end of the bargain."

Before you could ask what he meant, another text came through.

"Is it too late to come to the party with you?"

You froze, rereading the words. Deep down, you were excited—excited to spend another moment with Mark, when lately the people around you felt a little unbearable. You knew you shouldn't be so eager, but still...

"I mean... I guess not. I do want to see the look on Jaemin's face when you walk in anyways. He's been taunting me and I haven't even seen him in person yet. You don't have to come though, I promise."

"A deal's a deal."

A small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips.

"Sounds great."

"Is there a dress code? Do you want to match or something?"

"I mean, that's up to you."

"I told you I was gonna be the best boyfriend they've ever seen... for that, you have to tell me how the best boyfriend is supposed to be."

"Just be you."

He saw it instantly. The typing bubbles appeared, then disappeared. You wondered what he was about to say but changed your mind on. Before he could reply, you sent another message.

"We have to meet up early so we can get each other gifts. "

"Yeah, for sure. I can come pick you up in about three hours, okay?"

"Sounds good to me."

You set your phone down, exhaling. Three hours.

Time slipped by faster than you expected, and before you knew it, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, Mark stood there with his usual bright grin.

"Long time no see." You greeted, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

"Long time no see." HE echoed, his eyes flickering over you before landing on your sweater.

You followed his gaze, then looked at him.

"Oh, we're matching?" You asked, noticing the way his red sweater mirrored yours.

Mark chuckled. "Yeah. Great minds think alike, I guess."

"So, are you ready to go?" You asked, slipping on your shoes and shutting the door behind you.

"Yep." He said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The drive to the store was filled with the usual back and forth, music playing softly in the background as Mark tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Every now and then, you caught him sneaking a glance at you, but he never said anything about it so you didn't either.

"Okay." You said as you walked inside the store together. "We pick out a gift in five minutes, and no peeking at each other's choice until the party."

Mark let out a small laugh. "You think you can find me something good in five minutes?"

"Obviously." You smirked. "But you? I don't know Mark. I feel like you'll panic buy the first thing you see."

"Wow." He placed a hand over his heart. "That's the faith you have in me?"

"Prove me wrong then."

His eyes held yours for a moment, something unreadable flickering in them before he exhaled and nodded. "Alright, five minutes. See you at the door."

You grinned before spinning on your heel, heading straight into the aisles.

Mark found himself standing in front of a shelf filled with different gift options—some fun, some practical, some completely ridiculous. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing over at where you were browsing on the other side of the store. You looked so at ease, so sure of yourself. Mark? Not so much.

It wasn't that he didn't want to get you something—he did. Maybe a little too much. That was the problem. How was he supposed to pick something casual when everything in him wanted to get you something that meant more?

Sighing, he grabbed some crochet flowers off the shelf, inspecting it. It had to be just enough. Not too much, not too little. Just enough, plus, he remembered you saying something about roses in the past.

At exactly five minutes, you both arrived at the door, each holding a gift bag.

"Done?" You asked, tilting your head.

"Done."

You squinted at his choice. "Did you panic buy?"

He scoffed. "No faith. Absolutely no faith in me."

As you both headed back to the car, the air between you felt lighter. The slight hesitation in Mark's eyes was still there, but he was smiling—really smiling—and it made something in your chest warm.

By the time you arrived at the party, the house was already buzzing with music and laughter. Groups of people were gathered in the living room, some sprawled across the couches, others standing with drinks in their hands.

All eyes turned when you and Mark walked in together.

You felt it instantly—the shift in the room, the way conversations paused, the way Jaemin's smirk deepened as he leaned back against the counter.

"Well, well." Jaemin drawled, crossing his arms. "Look who decided to show up together."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't start."

Mark, to your surprise, just smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder with ease. "What? We always keep people guessing, right?"

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but said nothing.

You turned your head slightly, looking at Mark. His hold on you was relaxed, casual—like it was nothing at all. His fingers lightly pressed against your shoulder, and when you glanced up at him, there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. Maybe tonight was going to be more interesting than you expected.

The night unfolded in a blur of laughter and chatter, the energy in the room buzzing as the party carried on. At first, it was subtle—the way you and Mark naturally gravitated toward each other, always within arm's reach, but then came the couple's games.

Someone had pulled out a deck of "Couple's Challenge" cards, a ridiculous party game daring pairs to complete tasks together.

"You two are playing." One of your friends declared, shoving the deck into your hands.

You barely had time to protest before Mark shrugged. "Might as well." He said, flashing you a playful grin.

Your heart stuttered for a second, but you rolled your eyes. "Fine, ut if we lose I'm blaming you."

The first challenge was simple—"Hand holding for the next three rounds." Mark didn't hesitate. His fingers slid between yours, warm and steady.

"Easy." He murmured, giving your hand the smallest squeeze. You told yourself it was just part of the game, but the way your pulse quickened said otherwise.

The next challenge was worse.

"Whisper something sweet in your partner's ear."

You barely had time to react before Mark leaned in, his breath warm against your skin.

"You look really pretty tonight." He whispered, low enough for only you to hear.

You froze, heat rising to your cheeks as your grip on his hand tightened.

"That's cheating." You muttered.

He only smirked. "You gonna call a ref?"

Before the next round could start, someone announced: "Cookie decorating time!" and everyone quickly moved toward the kitchen, where trays of plain sugar cookies and bowls of colorful icing were laid out.

You and Mark grabbed a spot at the counter, picking up two cookies.

"What's the plan?" You asked, squeezing a tube of red icing.

Mark tapped his chin, thinking. "I'll make yours, and you make mine."

You raised a brow. "So we're setting each other up for failure?"

"That's the spirit." He teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him before getting to work. Five minutes later, Mark burst out laughing. "What is this?" He asked, holding up his cookie—a lopsided mess of icing with a poorly drawn smiley face.

"It's you." You said proudly.

"This looks like a crime scene."

"You're ungrateful."

"Let's see yours then." He slid his cookie toward you, and to your surprise, it was... actually kind of cute. A small heart drawn in icing, a little crooked but undeniably sweet. You blinked at it, warmth creeping up your neck.

"Not bad." You admitted, trying to sound unaffected.

Jaemin, still lounging across the room, clapped his hands together. "Alright." He said, his smirk widening. "Since we're all feeling festive—why don't we open gifts?"

The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but your heart skipped. You turned your head slightly, meeting Mark's gaze. His hesitation was brief, just a flicker, before he nodded.

"Guess it's time." He murmured.

The room was filled with scattered wrapping paper and laughter as gifts were exchanged, the warm glow of the fairy lights adding to the cozy atmosphere. One by one, people unwrapped their presents, each reaction bringing a new wave of excitement.

Finally, Jaemin leaned forward, smirking. "Alright lovebirds, your turn."

"Alright, alright." You said, reaching for the small bag you had picked out earlier. You handed it to him with a teasing smile. "Here you go. Try not to cry."

Mark took the bag, holding it up dramatically. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness what is about to be the greatest gift ever given."

Laughter erupted around the room, but you just rolled your eyes. "Oh my God, just open it."

Mark finally stuck his hand in the bag, pulling out a sleek, keychain shaped like his favorite guitar.

His eyes widened slightly before he let out an impressed whistle. "No way." He said, running his fingers over it. "How did you even find this?"

You shrugged, grinning. "I have my ways."

He twirled the keychain between his fingers before nodding in approval. "Alright, I'll admit it—this is actually sick." He turned to the group. "Thanks, really." He murmured, and for a second, his voice was softer, more genuine.

You felt your heartbeat stutter.

"Okay, okay." Jaemin interrupted, smirking. "Now, what did you get for her Mark? Better be good."

Mark grinned, reaching behind him and pulling out a simple brown paper bag. "Alright, I went with something classic."

You took the bag from him, curiosity bubbling in your chest. As you opened it, your breath hitched.

Inside was the bouquet of crochet roses, your favorite flower.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. "Oh my God... you remembered?"

Mark's smile softened. "Of course I did."

A collective "Aww" echoed through the room as you stared down at the roses, warmth spreading through your chest. It was such a simple gift, but it meant more than words could express. Before you could say anything else, Mark clapped his hands together.

"Alright, I actually have one more surprise."

Your brows furrowed. "Wait—what?"

He stood up, brushing his hands off. "I'll be right back."

The group looked around with curiosity as Mark disappeared down the hallway. Moments later he returned, carrying his laptop.

"Uh... can I hook this up to the TV?" He asked, looking toward Jaemin.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Yeah, go ahead man."

Mark quickly connected the laptop, and after a few seconds, the screen flickered to life. Your stomach flipped when bold white letters appeared on the dark background.

"200, by Mark... for Y/N."

Your breath caught in your throat and then, music started playing.

“First, you crashed into my life and you just broke, my roof and my window, girl, you had me shook—”

Your eyes widened in shock. It was the song you had found in his notebook. The one he had been working on, the one he had never let you hear.

Your heart pounded as the video started and suddenly, you were on screen.

The footage was a collection of moments—the two of you laughing during late night study sessions, joking around between takes for the project, him catching you off guard with his camera and you playfully shoving him away. The edits were smooth, timed perfectly to the beat of the song. You felt mesmerized as you listened to the lyrics.

They were about you.

Every verse, every carefully chosen word—it was all about the moments you had shared, about the way you made him feel, about the way he saw you when you weren't looking.

You barely noticed the people around you reacting. You were completely lost in the song, in the video. When a clip of you making a ridiculous face appeared you let out a soft laugh, covering your mouth. When the video cut to Mark recording you while you weren't looking, glancing at you, your heart clenched.

And then all too soon, the song ended.

The screen faded to black, and for a moment silence filled the room.

Jaemin just shook his head, muttering, "Wow." as everyone broke into collective "Aw's"

You turned to Mark slowly, your eyes shining. "You really did this... for me?"

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little sheepish. "Yeah. I mean... yeah."

You could only look at Mark.

And he could only look at you.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

When you arrived at Mark's apartment after the party, it was quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the heater as you stepped inside.

"You really learned how to edit lyrics for this?" You asked, shaking your head slightly as you set the bouquet down on the counter. "Mark, that was so thoughtful... really."

He glanced at you with a small smile, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Learned from the best... for the best."

His words made your stomach flip, but you ignored the feeling and nudged his shoulder playfully. "You didn't have to do all that for me."

Mark raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "I told you I was gonna be the best boyfriend."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Well, you got a B, so you really went far and beyond."

For a split second, something flickered across his face—hesitation. His body stiffened slightly, and he averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well..." He trailed off, voice quieter. "She curved it... so I technically got an A."

You slowed your steps as you both entered his studio, brows furrowing. "Does your teacher provide feedback?" You asked, curiosity creeping in.

Without thinking he replied, "Yeah, of course."

Something about his tone made you pause. "What feedback did you get? I'm just wondering why you got a B in the first place. Not trying to toot my own horn, but the video was pretty nice... and the song—don't get me started, it was beautiful."

Mark let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh, yeah... haha. Sucks."

You narrowed your eyes. "Let me see it. I wanna read it."

Suddenly, he looked really nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Oh, uh—you wanna see it right now? My phone is dead, so we can't."

You turned your head toward the couch, where his phone was lying face up. Right on cue, the screen lit up with a notification.

Mark froze.

"You just got a notification." You pointed out, looking at him suspiciously.

His laugh was forced. "Oh, that's funny. Haha. Well, it's about to die..."

"Ah okay... but your computer's right there." You said, nodding towards his desk.

He followed your gaze, swallowing hard. His entire body tensed, and you could practically see the internal panic. Before he could come up with another excuse, you sat down in his desk chair and gestured at the laptop. "Just open it."

Mark hesitated. "Oh, I forgot my password."

You slowly turned back to him, deadpan. "Mark... What's wrong with you?"

He didn't respond.

"You're acting really weird, just open the computer."

His hands twitched at his sides before he finally moved forward, his fingers slightly shaky as he clicked onto the website to check grades.

"Log in." You said, watching him carefully.

Mark exhaled slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Are you sure you wanna see it?" He glanced at you briefly. "I just don't want your feelings to get hurt or anything."

"They're not." You said, glancing up at him.

He let out a dry laugh. "No, but they are."

You stared at him, your confusion growing. "Mark... just open it. I didn't sit here working on this project to not see what went wrong."

He nodded, pressing his lips together before finally typing in his username and password.

Incorrect password.

"Oops." He muttered.

You tilted your head. "Take your time."

He tried again. Incorrect.

And again. Incorrect.

"Mark." You said, your voice firmer now. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but then he suddenly stepped back, raking his hands through his hair in frustration.

You stared at him, concern creeping in. "Mark, what's wrong—"

"I lied." He blurted out.

"What?"

His jaw clenched. "I lied."

A heavy silence settled between you. You shook your head slightly, still trying to piece together what he was saying. "About what?"

He exhaled sharply, his hands still gripping his hair. "I lied about the feedback. I lied about the grade. I've lied about everything."

You felt your heart drop. "What are you talking about?"

His gaze finally met yours hesitantly. "I got a perfect score, okay?"

"Wait... why did you lie to me?" You asked, your voice was quieter now. "Did you not want to go with me or something? You know you could've just said that."

A flicker of panic crossed his face. "No, no—it's not that."

"Then why?" You pressed, your emotions starting to surface.

Mark swallowed hard, his usual easy confidence completely gone. He looked at you, his expression torn, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"Y/n, I can't."

Your chest tightened. "No, you can. You literally can. Are you playing with me right now?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, no—I swear I'm not. Please Y/n... I don't want to ruin anything."

Your lips parted slightly, hurt creeping into your voice. "You kinda already did." You turned to leave, your heart pounding, but before you could step out of the room—

"I like you."

You froze, your fingers curling slightly at your sides, your back still turned to him.

Mark swallowed hard before continuing, his voice softer now. "I've liked you this whole time... but this was all fake. And then you told me you didn't want a relationship, and I just—I didn't want to ruin anything."

Slowly, you turned to face him.

He looked wrecked.

"And then the kiss and everything was so... complicated." He went on, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know what to do, I was scared."

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

You exhaled shakily. "Do you know how unfair that is?"

Mark's brows furrowed. "What?"

You swallowed hard, your emotions rising to the surface. "I tried so hard to keep my feelings in check, to remind myself that this wasn't real. I told myself over and over again that I couldn't like you, but you... you were just lying to me the whole time?"

"Y/N—"

"What?" You said, a broken chuckle escaping your lips.

His gaze searched yours, uncertainty flickering across his face. "I—I didn't know you felt that way. You told me..." He trailed off, voice hesitant.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "I know what I told you, and I was so stupid for saying it."

Mark's eyes softened, studying you carefully, taking a step closer

"So... you do want a relationship?" He asked, his voice uncertain.

You hesitated, lips parting slightly. "I don't know." You admitted.

His face dropped slightly, just for a second—but before he could say anything you spoke again.

"Try asking."

Mark blinked, his frown fading as realization washed over him. Slowly, a smile tugged at his lips, cautious at first—then warm. He took another step forward, reaching for your hands, his fingers curling gently around yours. His touch was warm.

"Y/n." He murmured, voice softer now.

"Will you be my girlfriend? For real this time?"

Your heart swelled at the way he said it—so sincere, so hopeful. A slow smile spread across your face as you nodded.

"Yes. I will."

Before you could say anything else, Mark let out a breath of relief, grinning as he pulled you in—his hands slipping around your waist, yours resting on his shoulders, and then he kissed you.

It wasn't rushed or hesitant like before. His lips moved against yours with a mix of relief, excitement, and something deeper. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid to let go now that he finally had you.

You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair, smiling against his lips. When you finally pulled away, Mark rested his forehead against yours, breathless and grinning like an idiot.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, like, for real." He admitted.

"Well, now you can do it whenever you want."

His eyes gleamed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Mark hummed, brushing his nose against yours before pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

"Best. Valentines. Ever." He murmured against your mouth.

You laughed, pulling him closer. "Yeah. It really is.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The group hangout was going great—laughter, drinks, and playful chatter filling the air as everyone lounged around in Jaemin's living room. You were curled up next to Mark on the couch, his arm draped casually over the backrest behind you.

Jaemin squinted at the two of you, tilting his head. "Something feels... different between you two."

You glanced at Mark before turning back to Jaemin with a playful smile. "Well, we just hit our one month anniversary."

Mark's gaze flickered to yours, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He smiled softly, playing along.

Jaemin blinked. "Wait, what?" He leaned forward, looking genuinely confused. "Hasn't it been like... three months since you told me y'all got together?"

You and Mark just stared at each other, expressions blank as the realization sank in. Mark was the first to recover, turning back to Jaemin with the straightest face and shrugged.

"Yeah, whatever." He said smoothly. "Time is an illusion."

Jaemin shook his head, chuckling. "Y'all are so weird. I don't get paid enough to deal with you two."

"You don't get paid at all." Someone added from the other side of the room.

"Exactly."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you turned to Mark. He was already looking at you, his eyes warm.

"Time is an illusion?" You teased quietly.

Mark tilted his head, grinning. "Hey, it got us out of that conversation didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. "You're ridiculous."

"You like it." He shot back, bumping his knee against yours.

And yeah—you did.

Jaemin's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "I still think something's weird about you two."

"Maybe you're the weird one." Mark countered smoothly.

Laughter rippled through the group again, the conversation shifting to something else. But you and Mark? You stayed in your little bubble.

Maybe time was an illusion, or maybe for the first time, it was finally moving exactly the way it was supposed to.

── 🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸 ──

[moonlightwritingf1]

At Her Mercy | LN4

💋 summary ━━━━━━━ For the first time in her relationship with Lando, Y/N takes charge in the bedroom, and Lando becomes submissive.

💋 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

💋 word count ━━━━━━━ 5.9k

💋 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering?, submissive Lando, creampie, hand job, strip tease, teasing

💋 author's note ━━━━━━━ I don't really like how this one turned out, but I hope you enjoy it.

Based on this request.

Y/N’s fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the straps of her dress in the mirror. It was a simple black piece, not too revealing, but enough to make her feel confident—or as confident as she could muster. Her heart raced as she thought about what she was about to do. Tonight, she told herself, I’m taking control. It wasn’t just about the physical act; it was about proving something to herself, about breaking down the walls she had built so meticulously around her emotions.

She had been at Lando’s apartment in Monaco for the better part of the week. Their relationship was still new, fragile, and yet intense. Every touch, every glance, every word exchanged between them carried a weight she wasn’t sure she was ready to bear. But tonight, she was determined to push past her insecurities, to step into a role she had always shied away from.

Lando was in the living room, sprawled lazily on the couch, his attention half on the TV and half on his phone. He looked effortlessly handsome, as he always did, his boyish charm combined with a quiet confidence that both irritated and intrigued her. She took a deep breath, her pulse quickening as she approached him.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer than she intended.

He looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Hey yourself. You look… stunning.”

She ignored the flutter in her chest, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. Stay focused. “I’ve been thinking,” she began, her tone deliberate. “About us. About… tonight.”

His eyebrows lifted, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Oh? What about tonight?”

She stepped closer, her hands resting on her hips in a gesture she hoped looked confident rather than defensive. “I want to change things up. I want to be in control.”

Lando’s smirk widened, but there was a glimmer of something else in his expression—something deeper. “Is that so?” he drawled, leaning back against the couch cushions. “And what does that entail, exactly?”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but she refused to back down. She moved to stand in front of him, her knees brushing against his thighs. “It means,” she said slowly, her voice low but firm, “that I’m in charge. And you’re going to do exactly as I say.”

His breath hitched, and for the first time since she’d known him, Lando looked… uncertain. But intrigued. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual. “I’m all yours.”

She didn’t hesitate. Sinking onto his lap, she straddled him, her dress riding up slightly as she settled against him. His hands instinctively moved to her hips, but she caught his wrists, pinning them to his sides. “No,” she said firmly, her eyes locking with his. “I’m in control now.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before it melted into something darker, more primal. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his tone dripping with submission.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected it to be this easy, for him to surrender so completely. But there was a fire in his eyes, a silent challenge that made her pulse race. She shifted slightly, grinding against him, and a low groan escaped his lips.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that surprised even her. “You’re going to let me take what I want, aren’t you?”

His chest heaved, his hands twitching at his sides as if desperate to touch her. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice strained.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “And what if I want…” she paused, her breath warm against his skin, “…everything?”

His eyes fluttered shut, a shudder running through him. “Then take it.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as she pulled back slightly, studying his face. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made her chest ache. She had always seen him as the one in control, the one who called the shots. But now, with his hands restrained and his body tense with anticipation, he looked… fragile. And it terrified her.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto hers with an intensity that took her breath away. “Always,” he said without hesitation.

Her resolve wavered for a moment, but she pushed past it, her hands moving to the hem of his shirt. Slowly, she tugged it up and over his head, exposing his toned chest. She traced a finger down the center of his torso, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “Y/N…” he started, but she cut him off with a touch to his lips.

“Shh,” she whispered, her voice firm but gentle. “I’m in control, remember?”

He swallowed hard, nodding silently. She could see the conflict in his eyes—the need to take over, to reclaim the dominance he was so used to, warring with his desire to submit to her. And it thrilled her.

Sliding off his lap, she knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his thighs. “You’re going to let me take care of you,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Lando’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he didn’t move. “Whatever you want,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

She held his gaze as she reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers. His breathing quickened, his body tensing as she exposed him fully.

“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice a mix of awe and possessiveness. “All for me.”

His chest heaved, his eyes dark with desire. “Only for you,” he choked out.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his inner thigh, and he let out a strangled moan. “Shh,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

His body trembled beneath her touch, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. She could feel the tension in him, the way he was holding himself back, and it only fueled her determination.

“Relax,” she murmured, her lips trailing higher. “Let go.”

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve got you.”

And with that, she took him into her mouth, her hands gripping his hips to keep him still. His entire body tensed, a guttural moan escaping his lips as his head fell back against the couch.

“Fuck,” he choked out, his voice raw with desperation. “Y/N…”

She didn’t respond, her focus entirely on him, on the way his body responded to her touch, to her control. She could feel him trembling, hear the ragged breaths escaping his lips, and it only spurred her on.

“So good for me,” she murmured against his skin, her fingers tightening on his hips. “Just like that.”

His chest heaved, his hands gripping the couch so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Please,” he begged, his voice strained. “Don’t stop.”

She didn’t stop—not yet. Hovering above him, she took her time, savoring every inch of him, every flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Her hand wrapped around his length, torturously slow, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip before she leaned in, her lips parting to take him into her mouth. His hips jerked instinctively, but her free hand pressed firmly against his stomach, pinning him in place. “Don’t move,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding, the vibration of her words sending a shiver through him. “You’re mine tonight. Every part of you.”

Her tongue swirled around him, a deliberate, teasing motion that drew a ragged moan from his lips. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking him deeper, the warmth of her mouth contrasting with the cool air that brushed against his skin whenever she pulled back. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and the intensity in her gaze made him gasp. She wasn’t just doing this—she was owning it, owning him. Her lips traced a path along his shaft, her tongue lapping at the veins that throbbed beneath his skin, her every movement calculated to drive him closer to the edge.

Lando’s hands clawed at the couch, his knuckles whitening as he fought to stay still, to not buck into her. His breath came in short, desperate gasps, his chest heaving as he tried to hold himself together. “Y/N,” he choked out, his voice raw and broken, “please, I... I can’t...”

“Shh,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to let the cool air kiss his wet skin. Her fingers tightened around him, her thumb circling the sensitive head. “You’ll take what I give you. When I give it to you.”

He whimpered, his head falling back against the couch, his entire body trembling with the effort to keep still. His muscles coiled like springs, his hips twitching under her touch, but he didn’t dare break her rules. Not now, when she was in complete control. Her mouth returned to him with a deliberate slowness, her lips sealing around him as she sucked him deeper, her tongue teasing the underside of his shaft. His breath hitched, his body tightening as she pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

But just as he was about to tip over, she pulled away, her lips leaving him with a soft *pop*. His hips jerked, an involuntary whine escaping his lips as the sudden loss of contact left him aching. “Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained and desperate. “Please, I need... I’m so close...”

Her hand stilled, her fingers tightening around him just enough to hold him back. She leaned over him, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “I’m not done with you yet.” Her voice was low, commanding, sending a shiver down his spine. “You’ll come when I say you can. Not a moment sooner.”

He groaned, his head falling back against the couch, his body trembling with need. “You’re killing me,” he rasped, his chest heaving.

Her lips curved into a smirk as she leaned back, her eyes dark with possession. “Good.” Her fingers trailed up his thigh, the light touch a cruel tease. “You’re mine tonight, Lando. Every part of you. And I’ve got plans for you.”

His breath hitched, his eyes locking onto hers, and for a moment, she could see the conflict in his gaze. The need to take control, to reclaim his dominance, warred with the desire to surrender completely to her. But when her nails dug into his thigh, just enough to sting, his resistance crumbled. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Anything you want.”

Her smirk widened, her fingers trailing back to his length, her touch featherlight but deliberate. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that sent a jolt through him. “Now, let’s see how much you can take.”

She rose from her knees, her dress cascading down her thighs as she stood before him. Lando’s eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he watched her. His cock was hard, throbbing, and glistening with pre-cum, straining against his body as if begging for her touch. But she wasn’t going to give in—not yet. She was in control, and she was going to make him feel every second of it.

Her fingers slowly trailed along the hem of her dress, catching the fabric and lifting it inch by inch. She moved with deliberate slowness, her eyes locked onto his, watching the way his jaw tightened, his lips parting as he fought to keep still. The dress rose higher, revealing her thighs, her hips, the curve of her waist, and finally, the swell of her breasts. Lando’s hands twitched at his sides, his fingers curling into fists as he resisted the urge to reach for her.

She paused, the dress just barely covering her breasts, and tilted her head. “You’re not going to touch yourself, are you, Lando?” Her voice was soft, almost innocent, but the sharpness in her eyes betrayed her tone.

He shook his head, his breath hitching. “No. No, I won’t.”

“Good,” she purred, letting the dress fall from her fingers and pool at her feet. She stood before him, completely naked, her skin glowing in the dim light of the room. His eyes raked over her hungrily, his gaze lingering on the curve of her hips, the softness of her breasts, the way her body seemed to stretch out before him like a feast.

She stepped closer, her foot nudging his knees apart as she stood between them. His cock twitched, straining toward her, and she felt a surge of power rush through her. She loved this—loved the way he looked at her, loved the way he was completely at her mercy.

Her hands trailed down her body, her fingers brushing over her breasts, teasing the nipples into hard peaks as she watched his reaction. He groaned low in his throat, his hand twitching toward his cock, but she stopped him with a sharp look.

“I said don’t,” she warned, her voice firm. His hand froze mid-air, and he let it fall back to the couch, his fingers digging into the cushions.

She continued her slow descent, her hands sliding down her stomach, over her hips, and finally between her legs. She touched herself lightly, her fingers brushing over her folds, feeling the wetness that had already begun to gather there. His eyes were glued to her, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he watched her.

“You like watching me, don’t you?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Yes. God, yes.”

She smiled, a wicked curve of her lips, and stepped even closer, her knees brushing against his. “Then watch.”

She slid her fingers deeper, exploring herself, feeling the way her body responded to his gaze, to the way he was practically trembling with need. She teased herself, her fingers circling her clit slowly, deliberately, drawing out the sensation until she felt the first sparks of pleasure ripple through her.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “You’re so beautiful.”

She didn’t respond, her focus entirely on herself, on the way her body was responding to her touch, to the way he was watching her. She could feel her wetness coating her fingers, could hear the soft, wet sounds as she moved against herself. She leaned back slightly, arching her back, letting her breasts thrust forward as she continued to touch herself.

“Lando,” she said, her voice breathy, “suck my nipples.”

He didn’t hesitate, his mouth latching onto her breast, his tongue swirling around her nipple as he sucked it into his mouth. She moaned softly, her fingers moving faster against herself as he continued to lavish attention on her breasts. His hands twitched at his sides, but he didn’t move them, his entire focus on her, on the way she was falling apart in his hands, on the way she was completely in control.

She could feel her climax building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, but she forced herself to slow down, to draw it out. She wasn’t ready to let go yet—not when he was so completely at her mercy.

She pulled back slightly, her fingers stilling as she looked down at him. His eyes were dark with desire, his lips swollen from where he’d been sucking on her breast, and she felt a surge of power rush through her.

“You’re so good for me,” she murmured, her voice soft. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

She stepped back, her fingers trailing down her body, over her stomach, between her legs, and finally to her folds. She touched herself again, her fingers sliding into her wetness, feeling the way her body responded to her touch, to the way he was watching her.

She stepped back slightly, her fingers gliding out from her wetness, leaving a glistening trail. Lando’s eyes followed her hand, his mouth already softening, lips parting instinctively. She smirked, holding her damp fingers inches from his mouth. 

“Open,” she commanded, her voice low and firm. He obeyed without hesitation, his tongue flicking out to taste her before she even brought her fingers to his lips. She pressed them into his mouth, and he moaned hungrily, sucking eagerly, his tongue swirling around her fingers as if he could never get enough of her taste. His eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

“You’re so desperate,” she whispered, pulling her fingers away with a soft pop. His lips chased after them, a whine escaping his throat as she leaned back, leaving him wanting. 

She climbed onto his lap in one deliberate motion, her legs straddling him, her knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips. Her pussy hovered just above his cock, her wetness already slicking his length as she pressed down lightly, letting him feel the heat of her without letting him inside. 

His breath hitched, his hands twitching toward her hips, but she caught his wrists, placing them firmly on the couch cushions. “Don’t,” she growled, her voice firm, and he immediately stilled, his fingers curling into the fabric beneath them. 

She began to move, rocking her hips back and forth slowly, the length of his dick sliding against her, the wetness from her pussy coating him entirely. Her movements were deliberate, teasing, each stroke making him harder, more desperate. 

His cock twitched beneath her, and she smirked, pressing down a little harder, the friction sending shivers up her spine. “Touch yourself, I dare you,” she taunted, her voice dripping with dominance. 

He shook his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I-I won’t. I’ll behave.” "Good boy.” she purred, her hips grinding in a slow circle, her clit brushing against him with every movement. 

His eyes were glued to her, his gaze darting from her pussy to her breasts, her neck, her face, as if he couldn’t decide where to look, where to focus. “Y/N...” he whispered, his voice breaking. 

“Mine,” she said simply, leaning forward, her breasts brushing against his chest. She could see the way he trembled beneath her, the way his hands strained to touch her but stayed put. “You belong to me. Say it.” 

“Yours,” he choked out, his voice raw. “Only yours.” She moved faster, her hips rolling against him, the wetness between them creating a soft, obscene sound that only fueled her need. She was close, so close, the coil of pleasure tightening in her belly, her clit throbbing with each stroke against his cock.

 “Ah—” she gasped, her movements faltering as she felt her climax building, but she stopped herself, pulling back slightly. His hips jerked upward instinctively, trying to follow her, but she planted a hand on his chest, holding him still. 

“Patience,” she scolded, her voice cutting through his desperate whimper. She reached down, wrapping her hand around his cock, holding it steady as she positioned herself above him. He groaned, his head falling back against the couch, his hands gripping the cushions like a lifeline. She lowered herself slowly, inch by agonizing inch, the stretch of her pussy around his cock making her shudder. He was thick, filling her completely, the sensation overwhelming as she sank down onto him. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, her voice shaky as she paused, adjusting to him. His cock twitched inside her, and she smirked through the haze of pleasure, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “You’re so big, Lando.” 

He moaned, his hands twitching again, but he didn’t dare move them. “Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please what?” she teased, lifting her hips just enough to let the tip of his cock slide out before sinking down again. “Please... let me touch you.” She shook her head, her movements steadying as she began to ride him, her hips rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. 

“Not yet. You need to earn it.” He whimpered, his hips bucking slightly, trying to meet her rhythm, but she pressed a hand firmly against his chest, stopping him.

 “Behave,” she warned, her voice sharp, and he stilled immediately, his chest heaving with effort. “You’re so good for me,” she cooed, her voice softening as she picked up the pace, her hips grinding against him with every downward stroke. 

He felt incredible inside her, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her body. She could feel him twitching, hear the way his breath was coming in ragged gasps, and it only fueled her dominance. She leaned back, her hands on his thighs for leverage, her pussy gripping him tightly as she rode him harder, faster. His cock was hitting that perfect spot inside her, the sensation undeniable as she felt her climax building again. 

“Lando...” she gasped, her voice breaking as she leaned forward, her hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Yes,” he whispered, his hands finally moving, but only to cradle her hips gently, not daring to take control. “Please, Y/N, come for me.” 

She moaned, her rhythm faltering as she felt herself tipping over the edge, her body tightening around him as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her head fell back, her mouth open in a silent cry as she rode out her orgasm, each gasp, each tremor making him shudder beneath her. When she finally stilled, her body still trembling, she looked down at him, her eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice raw, and he nodded, his eyes glazed with want. 

But she wasn't done yet. Her hips rose and fell with purpose, each movement grinding him deeper into her. His cock pulsed, twitching inside her, and she could feel the tension in his body, the way he was fighting so hard not to thrust upward, to let her keep control. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest, her lips hovering just above his ear. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Her voice was low, smug, and she felt him shiver beneath her. He nodded, his chest heaving, his hands gripping the couch cushions like they were his anchor.

 “Yes,” he choked out, his voice strangled. “Please, Y/N...” 

“Please what?” She lifted herself slightly, letting just the tip of his cock slide out of her before sinking down again, slow and deliberate, watching his face twist in pleasure. 

“Please let me cum,” he whispered, his voice trembling, his eyes wide and desperate. His hands twitched, but he didn’t dare move them, didn’t dare try to touch her. 

She smirked, her hips rolling in a slow, torturous circle. “Ask properly.” He groaned, his head falling back against the couch, his jaw clenched as he fought for the words. 

“Please, Y/N... let me cum. I need it. I’m yours.” His voice broke on the last word, raw and unfiltered.

 “Good boy.” She leaned back, her hands resting on his thighs for leverage, and began to ride him harder, faster, her pussy gripping him tightly with every downward stroke. 

His cock hit just the right spot, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her, but she kept her focus on him, on the way his body was trembling beneath her, on the way he was completely at her mercy. His hips jerked upward, unable to stay still any longer, but she stopped him with a sharp look, her hand pressing firmly against his chest. 

“Don’t,” she warned, and he froze immediately, his breath hitching as he nodded. 

“S-sorry,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I’m trying, Y/N.” 

She smirked, leaning forward again, her lips brushing against his. “You’re doing so good for me,” she cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness. “But I think it’s time.” 

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she swallowed it with a kiss, her tongue sliding against his as she began to move again, her hips grinding against him with purpose. She could feel him unraveling beneath her, his cock twitching, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. 

“Let go, Lando,” she murmured against his lips, her voice firm but soft. “Cum inside me.” 

His hands finally moved, but only to grip her hips gently, holding her steady as his body shook with the force of his orgasm. He cried out, his head falling back, his eyes squeezing shut as he spilled into her, his release hot and intense, filling her completely. She moaned, her own body trembling with pleasure as she felt his cock pulse inside her, each wave of his orgasm sending shivers through her. She stayed on top of him, her hips still moving slowly, drawing out every last bit of his pleasure until he was completely spent, his body limp beneath her.

 “Good boy,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly, her fingers brushing the sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. 

“You did so well.” He blinked up at her, his eyes glazed but still filled with devotion. 

“Yours,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but sure. “Always yours.” 

She smiled, her own heart swelling with a strange mix of power and affection. “Always,” she murmured, her lips finding his again. And in that moment, she knew neither of them would have it any other way. 

“Always,” he breathed, and she leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss as she began to move again, her pussy still gripping him tightly. She wasn’t done with him, and he knew better than to object.

She stopped moving. Her body stilled on top of his, but the grip of her inner walls around his cock tightened, squeezing him with deliberate force. Lando groaned, his head tilting back against the couch, his hands instinctively gripping her thighs. But she didn’t let him take control—no, she was in charge now, and she would remind him of that.

“Ah—Y/N,” he choked out, his voice strained, his hips twitching beneath her as she held him captive inside her. She smirked, her lips curling into a small, satisfied smile as she leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest. Her hands slid up his shoulders, her nails lightly scraping his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“Do you like that, Lando?” she purred, her voice low and teasing. Her hips shifted ever so slightly, the pressure of her pussy around his cock increasing just enough to make him gasp. “Do you like feeling me squeeze you? Knowing I could ruin you if I wanted to?”

He nodded frantically, his jaw clenched tight, his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Yes, Y/N, I—I love it. I love you.”

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face, the way his pupils were blown wide with desire, the way his lips trembled as he struggled to hold himself together. “You’re so desperate,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with dominance. “So eager to please me.”

His hands trembled on her thighs, but he didn’t dare move them, didn’t dare try to take control. “I am,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything for you, Y/N. Anything.”

She smirked, her hands sliding down to his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. “Anything?” she repeated, her tone teasing. “Prove it.”

With that, she lifted herself off him, her pussy sliding off his cock with a soft, wet sound. His cum leaked out of her, trailing down her thighs as she stood before him, her body glistening with sweat and arousal. She stared down at him, her eyes dark with satisfaction, as she brought two fingers to her entrance, sliding them inside herself slowly, deliberately.

“Fuck,” Lando breathed, his eyes glued to her hand, to the way her fingers disappeared into her wetness, the way she moaned softly as she touched herself. His cock twitched, semi hard and aching, desperate for her again.

She pulled her fingers out of her pussy, her arousal mixed with his cum coating her skin. She brought her fingers to her mouth, her eyes locking with his as she sucked them clean, her tongue swirling around the digits with deliberate slowness. Lando moaned, his hips jerking upward instinctively, but she stepped back, just out of reach.

She paused, her lips parting slightly as she tasted the mix of herself and him on her fingers. The salty tang of his cum mingled with the sweetness of her arousal, and she let out a low, throaty hum, savoring it. Her eyes hooded, fiiled with hunger, locked onto his, unrelenting. “You taste so good,” she murmured, her voice dripping with intent, each word deliberate, each syllable laced with control. She slid her fingers back into her pussy, slow and deliberate, feeling the heat of her own slickness coat them once more. The sound was obscenely wet, echoing softly in the room, and his breath hitched at the sight—at the way her body welcomed her touch, at the way her thighs trembled ever so slightly from the effort to keep herself upright.

Her gaze never wavered from his as she brought her fingers to her mouth again. This time, she took her index finger between her lips, sucking it clean with agonizing slowness, her tongue swirling around the digit, her cheeks hollowing as though she were savoring every drop. A soft moan escaped her, muffled by her fingers, but it sent a shiver through him nonetheless. When she finally pulled her finger free, her lips glistened and parted as she exhaled a shaky breath. Then she turned and walked toward the bathroom, her hips swaying with deliberate slowness. “Come on, Lando,” she called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with dominance. “Let’s take a shower.”

He hesitated for a moment, his chest still heaving, his cock semi hard and aching again, but he knew better than to disobey. He stumbled to his feet, his legs shaky as he followed her into the bathroom, where she was already turning on the water, steam beginning to fill the room.

She stepped into the shower, her back to him, and he followed, his eyes tracing the curves of her body as the water cascaded over her skin. She turned to face him, her eyes dark with satisfaction as she reached for the soap, lathering it between her hands before running them over his chest.

“How did it feel, Lando?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with dominance. “How did it feel to be completely at my mercy?”

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought the urge to touch her. “It—it felt amazing, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I—I love it when you take control. When you make me yours.”

She smirked, her hands sliding down his chest, over his abs, and finally to his cock, her fingers wrapping around him with deliberate slowness. “Do you want me to take control again, Lando?” she purred, her eyes locking with his as her hand began to move, stroking him with measured precision.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling with need. “Please, Y/N, I need you. I’m yours. Always yours.”

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath hot and deliberate. “Good boy,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding. Her hand tightened around his cock, her grip firm yet teasing, her fingers sliding up and down his length with a slow, calculated rhythm. Her thumb circled his tip, smearing the bead of precum that had gathered there, her other hand cupping his balls, applying just enough pressure to make him shudder beneath her touch.

He groaned, his hips bucking slightly, but she held him in place with her free hand splayed across his chest, her nails digging lightly into his skin. “You’re doing so well, Lando,” she murmured, her lips trailing down his jaw to his neck, where she pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses, each one a spark of heat that made him tremble. Her hand moved faster now, her fingers twisting slightly at the base, her thumb brushing over his tip with every stroke, her grip on his balls tightening just enough to make him gasp.

“Ah—Y/N,” he choked out, his voice raw, his hands twitching at his sides. “Please,” he whispered, his chest heaving as he fought to hold himself together. She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his, and she saw the desperation there, the raw need that mirrored her own. She smirked, leaning in to capture his lips in a searing kiss, her tongue sliding against his, her hand never slowing its pace on his cock.

Their kiss was messy, hungry, filled with the friction of teeth and lips and tongues. Her free hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her hips grinding against his thigh as she deepened the kiss, her hand stroking him faster, harder, her grip on his balls tightening with each passing second.

"Touch me," she commanded, her lips breaking from his, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down his spine. His hands moved immediately, trembling slightly as they reached for her breasts, his fingers brushing over her nipples, already hardened with arousal. He groaned, his thumbs circling her sensitive peaks, his hands cupping her breasts with a reverence that made her arch into his touch.

She moaned softly, her hand still working his cock, her strokes quick and firm, her other hand still playing with his balls, her nails lightly scraping the sensitive skin. She kissed him again, her lips and tongue demanding, her breath mingling with his as she pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, “Cum for me, Lando.”

With a strangled cry, he obeyed, his release spilling over her hand, his body shaking with the force of his climax, his face buried in her neck as he whispered, broken and breathless, “Yours,” he gasped out, his body trembling as the last waves of his climax subsided, his lips pressing weakly against her skin. He pulled back slightly, his chest still heaving, his arms wrapped loosely around her. His eyes were heavy-lidded but gleamed with something new—something mischievous, something utterly him.

“You’re fucking terrifying when you’re like this, you know that?” The corner of his mouth twitched, his voice still rough but laced with teasing. His hands slid up her back, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over her skin, still slick with water from the shower.

Her eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at her lips as she stepped back slightly, her fingers trailing down his chest until they reached the base of his cock, still hard despite the release she’d just wrung out of him. “Terrifying?” she repeated, her voice low, her fingers tightening ever so slightly. “Is that a complaint, Lando?”

“No,” he breathed, his hips twitching involuntarily, his eyes darkening as she held him in her grasp. “It’s... god, it’s hot. You’re so fucking hot like this.” His voice trailed off, trembling slightly as he leaned into her, his forehead resting against hers. “But it’s not just that,” he whispered, his voice softer, more vulnerable now. “You’re everything. The way you take control, the way you *see* me—it’s like you’re the only one who’s ever really known me, known what I need.” His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “You’re not just hot, Y/N. You’re... you’re my forever.” His lips brushed hers, barely a touch, but it was enough to make her breath catch. “And I’m yours.”

[calypso-rt]

Your Favorite Dates...

With Rafe Cameron

-> Rafe x F!Reader

-> Pt. 1: When Rafe Realizes He's Falling for You

The Confession

The air between you was thick with something unspoken.

The two of you sat on the hood of Rafe’s truck, parked near the cliffs where the ocean stretched endlessly before you. The sunset painted everything in gold and pink, the last slivers of daylight dancing across his face.

It should’ve been peaceful.

It should’ve been easy.

But there was something pressing against your chest. Something you felt from him too.

You swung your legs, the metal warm beneath your palms. “You’re being quiet,” you murmured, stealing a glance at him. “That’s never a good sign.”

Rafe exhaled a short laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the sky like the words he was looking for might be written somewhere in the clouds.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said finally, voice quieter than usual.

Your stomach twisted at the serious edge in his tone. “That’s dangerous.”

That earned you a smirk, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. His fingers drummed against the hood, restless.

“Y/N,” he said, and when he turned to face you, something in his expression made your breath catch. It was raw. Honest.

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

He hesitated. Rafe Cameron, hesitating. That alone was enough to send your heart into a sprint. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling like he was about to step off a ledge.

“I think…” He stopped, shook his head, then tried again. “No. I know that I—” His jaw clenched, frustration flickering across his face. “Damn it, why is this so hard?”

You barely had time to process before he turned fully toward you, eyes locking onto yours in a way that made it impossible to look anywhere else.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words were simple. No grand speeches, no flowery declarations. Just quiet, steady truth.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Rafe…”

“I mean it.” His voice was firm now, certain. “It’s not just some passing thing. It’s not just because you’re the person I want to be around the most or because you’re the first person I think about when something good, or bad, happens. It’s not just because you make me laugh, or because being with you is the easiest thing in the world.”

You could barely breathe. He was still talking. Still laying himself bare.

“It’s because when you’re not around, I feel it. Like something’s missing. Like I don’t know what to do with myself.” He shook his head, letting out a breathy, almost disbelieving laugh. “I don’t know when it happened. But it’s you. It’s always been you.”

Your hands gripped the edge of the truck, grounding yourself. He was looking at you like this was it. Like he had nothing left to hide.

“I know I’m not the easiest person to be with,” he admitted. “I know I mess up. A lot. But I swear to you, I—” He exhaled sharply, voice softer now. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

The weight of his words settled over you, warm and overwhelming. He loved you.

And you?

You reached out before you even realized what you were doing, fingers curling around his. Rafe stiffened for half a second before his hand turned, gripping yours like he was afraid to let go.

“Say something,” he murmured, almost pleading.

You swallowed hard, heart lodged in your throat. “You’re an idiot.”

A laugh burst out of him, relief flickering across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “Because you just wasted all that time worrying when you could’ve just kissed me instead.”

His breath hitched. “Is that what you want?”

You didn’t answer with words. You just leaned in.

And Rafe?

He met you halfway.

First Date: Love on the Water

The sky stretched wide above youas Rafe’s boat glided over the calm water. The gentle rocking of the boat making everything feel light, like a dream neither of you wanted to wake up from.

Rafe, sitting across from you at the helm, looked completely at home: bare-chested, sun-kissed, his hair a little messy from the wind. But there was something different about him tonight, something softer in the way he looked at you, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you teased, grinning. “Got something to say, Cameron?”

His lips twitched up into a smirk, but it was gentle, not cocky. “Yeah,” he murmured, steering the boat one-handed as his free arm stretched out to rest along the back of your seat. “I was just thinking… you’re kinda ruining every other sunset for me.”

Your heart flipped at the tenderness in his voice. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned in slightly, his fingers brushing the back of your neck, absentmindedly tracing soft, lazy circles. “Because no matter how pretty they are, I’ll always wish you were in front of them.”

You groaned, nudging his chest with your foot. “Rafe, that was so cheesy.”

He caught your ankle before you could pull away, grinning as he pressed a feather light kiss to the inside of it. “Maybe, but it made you blush.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but you were blushing, and his knowing smirk said he definitely noticed.

Before you could retaliate, he tugged you forward, guiding you to sit between his legs as he leaned back against the cushioned seat. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’re so clingy,” you teased, even as you melted into him.

“You love it,” he murmured against your skin, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder.

You did. And he knew it.

The boat drifted lazily in the water, the only sounds being the soft lapping of the waves and the occasional sigh of contentment from one of you. Rafe’s fingers absentmindedly played with yours, tracing the delicate lines of your palm like he was memorizing them.

“You’re my favorite,” he whispered suddenly, so soft you almost missed it.

You turned slightly, surprised by the quiet sincerity in his voice. “Your favorite?”

He nodded, nudging his nose against your cheek before pressing a barely-there kiss to it. “Yeah. More than the water. More than my stupid boat. More than anything.”

Your chest ached in the best way possible. “That’s a pretty big deal for a guy who’s obsessed with the ocean.”

He grinned, his lips brushing your jaw. “What can I say? You’re the only thing that’s ever made me wanna stay on land.”

You tilted your head back, laughing softly. “Okay, now that was extra cheesy.”

“Yeah?” he murmured, shifting slightly so his lips hovered over yours. “You gonna stop me?”

You shook your head, smiling against his mouth as you finally, finally kissed him, the sea and the sky and the whole world disappearing until it was just him. Just this.

Rafe hummed against your lips, his arms tightening around you. “I should take you on a boat ride every night.”

You grinned. “You’d never get tired of it?”

His forehead rested against yours, eyes shining in the golden light. “Not as long as you’re here.”

…

Cooking (And Failing) Together

It had started with the best intentions.

Rafe had insisted—sworn—that he could follow a recipe. “It’s just instructions,” he’d said confidently, grinning as he rolled up his sleeves. “How hard can it be?”

Ten minutes later, there was flour on his face, something was definitely burning, and you were clutching the counter, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

“Okay, maybe we missed a step,” Rafe admitted, waving a dish towel in front of the smoking pan while you wiped tears from your eyes.

“Maybe?” you gasped between giggles. “Rafe, we set off the smoke alarm. Twice.”

He groaned dramatically, leaning against the counter. “I was trying to impress you.”

You softened, stepping closer and dusting some flour from his cheek. “Babe, you always impress me.”

His eyes flickered to yours, warm and sweet. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just maybe not in the kitchen.”

Rafe huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. “Alright, so we’re terrible cooks. But you know what we’re really good at?”

You tilted your head, amused. “What?”

He smirked, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the tip of your nose. “Ordering takeout.”

Twenty minutes later, you were sitting side by side on the kitchen counter, legs swinging as you ate straight from the containers. Rafe kept stealing bites off your plate, grinning every time you swatted at his hand.

“You have your own food, Cameron,” you scolded, laughing as he successfully swiped a piece of your sushi.

“Yeah, but yours tastes better,” he said with a wink, chewing happily.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face.

For a moment, you just looked at him: his hair slightly messy, his cheek still dusted with flour, his blue eyes full of something so soft and unguarded it made your heart ache in the best way.

“What?” he murmured, catching your stare.

You shook your head, nudging your forehead against his. “Just… I love you.”

Rafe froze for half a second before his whole face lit up, the most boyish, breathtaking grin spreading across his lips.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your thigh.

“Yeah,” you said softly.

He exhaled, like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear it. Then, without another word, he set his takeout container aside, cupped your face between his hands, and kissed you. Slow, sweet, like he had all the time in the world.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath still mingling with yours.

“I love you too,” he murmured, eyes shining. “Even if you’re a terrible cook.”

You swatted his chest, laughing. “We are terrible cooks.”

“Eh.” He smirked, nudging his nose against yours. “Guess we’ll just have to stick to takeout.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Surfing Lesson (a.k.a Rafe's Excuse to Hold You for an Hour Straight)

“You got this, baby.”

Rafe’s voice was warm, steady, as he floated beside you in the water. He had one hand resting on your board, keeping you balanced, the other brushing a reassuring touch along your arm.

“I really don’t,” you muttered, squinting at the rolling waves.

He smirked. “You just have to feel it out. Read the water. Be one with the ocean.”

You scoffed. “Are you a surfer or a fortune cookie?”

Rafe laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, but his hand on your board didn’t waver. “Alright, alright. Just trust me, okay?”

That was the thing, you did trust him. Maybe a little too much.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and tried again. The wave came, and for a split second, you were standing, wind in your hair, Rafe cheering in the background...

Before you wobbled, panicked, and crashed into the water.

By the time you resurfaced, Rafe was already there, arms wrapping around you before you could even get your bearings.

“Jesus, you okay?” he asked, pushing wet hair from your face.

“I think I swallowed half the ocean.”

His mouth twitched. “So what you’re saying is, you love surfing.”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek, his voice softer now. “You don’t.”

You didn’t.

After a dozen more wipeouts, Rafe finally called mercy, pulling you out of the water and draping his hoodie over your shoulders the second you hit the sand.

“You’re freezing,” he muttered, tugging the fabric tighter around you.

You rolled your eyes. “No way. It’s almost like I’ve been dunked in the ocean fifteen times.”

Rafe just smirked, taking your hand in his and pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it next time.”

You shot him a look. “You said that last time.”

“And I meant it.”

The two of you ended up at a little coffee stand, sitting side by side on the boardwalk, the scent of salt and espresso mingling in the cool morning air.

Rafe was unusually quiet, absentmindedly playing with your fingers as he stared out at the waves.

You nudged his shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”

He glanced at you, lips quirking up at the corners. “Just thinking about how good you looked out there.”

You snorted. “You mean when I faceplanted into the ocean?”

He shook his head, tightening his grip on your hand. “No. I mean when you got back up every single time.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest.

You stared at him, the boy who never let you fall without being right there to catch you. And suddenly, it didn’t matter that you’d failed miserably at surfing.

Because if Rafe Cameron was by your side, you’d try a thousand times over.

You squeezed his hand, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Next time,” you murmured.

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there for a moment.

“Next time,” he echoed.

And for once, you actually believed him.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting everything in soft gold and pink, Rafe stole a glance at you. You were laughing, sipping the last of your coffee, your nose scrunching up just a little: something he’d seen a hundred times before but would never, ever get tired of.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt lucky.

Lucky that you’d called him that night in the rain. Lucky that, somehow, you saw something in him worth holding on to. Lucky that he’d finally said it. That he hadn’t let his own fears stop him from having this.

Having you.

He squeezed your hand, bringing it up to press a kiss to your fingers, murmuring against them, “Best decision I ever made.”

You blinked, glancing up at him. “Huh?”

Rafe just smiled, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

But as you leaned into him, warmth seeping into every part of him, he knew it wasn’t nothing.

It was everything.

[maretinelli]

UNTIL YOU LOVE ME

Lando Norris X Piastri!fem!reader

Summary: When Y/n is Oscar's older sister, she works at McLaren in the media and still has a thing with Lando. But she starts avoiding him when she sees videos of him with another woman on Instagram.

Words: 3.7K+

Warnings: Swear words, LOTS of suggestive words, NO BETRAYAL (I didn't want to put more in summary so as not to spoil the plot of the story, relax, no betrayal. Because I hate that), Y/n is Oscar's older sister, mentions of other pilots and Lily being a very sweet, understanding sister-in-law and best friend to Y/n.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And as always, this story came from a song I was listening to while washing the dishes hahaha (??) ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

"Since when does your sister speak Spanish?" Lando asks, leaning against the garage counter with his arms crossed. His gaze was fixed on Y/n near the track, talking to Franco.

Oscar, who was next to his teammate, looks up from his cell phone and sees his older sister talking to Franco, laughing and speaking in Spanish to the Argentine.

"Oh, since she started college. She had to take an extracurricular subject and chose Spanish." Oscar shrugs, turning his attention back to his cell phone.

Lando was still beside him, still leaning on the counter, his eyes fixed on Franco. He had a frown on his forehead, heavy breathing and a look as if he would jump for the pilot's neck.

Piastri then sighs and puts his cell phone in his pocket, nudging his friend's shoulder, making Lando look at him.

"Stop looking at him like that. Soon you'll be able to make him levitate in the air with just a look."

Lando rolls his eyes and uncrosses his arms, resting one hand on the counter behind him.

"She's still not talking to you?" Oscar asks, looking at his older sister and then at Lando.

He shakes his head. "No..."

"What about you? Did you at least try to explain yourself to her?" Oscar raises his eyebrows, waiting for Lando to say something.

"Obviously!" Lando says a little loudly. "I've been trying to talk to her in person and sending her messages for about three races now. But she ignores everything, making the excuse that she needs to sort out some things with the team."

Oscar chuckles softly, knowing that when his older sister didn't want to talk, she knew very well how to find a good excuse to get out of the situation.

"Trust me, you need to explain your side of the story, because... I know exactly what hell is going to happen next." He holds back a laugh and Lando's eyes widen a bit, turning his gaze to Y/n. "You need to tell her that the woman in your car in Monaco was-"

"Oscar!"

Before Oscar could finish speaking, Lily appeared in the garage with a sweet smile.

The Australian driver starts to take a few steps out of the garage and looks at Lando. "You need to talk to her!"

Lando smiles and nods.

Piastri grabs the rest of his things and turns towards where his sister was. "Y/n!! LET'S GO!" He shouts smiling and Y/n immediately turns towards her brother.

"OK! Wait for me in the car, I'll be there in a few minutes!"

Oscar just nods and holds his girlfriend's hand, who is waiting for him in the garage. The Australian looks at Lando and gestures with his hand, encouraging him to explain himself to his older sister.

Lando laughs and they leave the garage.

Since joining McLaren's media team, Y/n has always been close to Lando. They had an easy friendship, full of teasing and laughter, with a natural complicity that made even the mechanics joke that the two worked better together than many driver pairings.

But everything changed six months ago, after a GP that Lando won. The celebration in the paddock was intense, but what really stood out that night was the unexpected kiss that happened between them.

It was something spontaneous, impulsive and perfect.

After that kiss, something changed. They started meeting up outside of racing, seeing each other more often, wanting each other's company in their downtime.

At first, neither of them knew exactly what they were doing, but one thing quickly became clear: this wasn't just a phase or a hobby. Lando and Y/n never explicitly said they were dating, but they promised they wouldn't date anyone else until they figured out what that feeling meant to them.

The truth, however, was that they both already knew the answer. They were in love. They were loving.

Over time, the secret meetings became routine. Lando would take Y/n to Quadrant events, the two would spend nights relaxing in each other's apartments, watching movies or simply enjoying each other's company. Or maybe, it was just the sex.

Everything was away from the eyes of the media, away from any rumors or gossip. Only Oscar and Lily knew what was really going on between them.

But it all fell apart a few weeks ago.

She was in her apartment in Monaco, enjoying a quiet evening, when she decided to browse the internet without any commitments. That's when a video appeared on the screen, posted by some fan.

In the video, Lando was leaving a restaurant accompanied by an unknown woman. They seemed to be talking normally, until she got into his car and he drove away.

The shock was immediate.

A few hours earlier, Lando had even texted Y/n saying he would spend the night with her. And now, here he was, leaving a restaurant with another woman and giving her a ride.

Y/n's mind began to spin, remembering his words, the promise they made not to be with anyone else. Had he lied to her? Betrayed her trust?

Anger and disappointment came together.

At that moment, she made a decision. She canceled all future dates, started avoiding him at GPs, and whenever she had to interact with him for work, she kept everything strictly professional. She ignored all his messages, refused all attempts to talk, and even blocked his number.

But what Y/n didn't know was that it was all just a misunderstanding.

Lando hadn't dated anyone but her. The promise they made was still real to him. He hadn't dated anyone since the day she was announced to work at McLaren. God, he knew from that day that the Australian was the woman of his life.

And the woman in the video wasn't what she seemed, and he desperately needed to tell Y/n the truth before it was too late.

After finishing the conversation with Franco, Y/n walked to the garage again to grab her bag and go to where her brother was waiting. Lando took advantage of the moment and tried to get closer to her, wanting to explain himself, because he knew exactly why she was like that.

"Y/n, can we talk?" He appears beside her as soon as she enters the garage.

Y/n rolls her eyes, noticing his arrival there, and just continues walking down the hallway, ignoring the deep look he had on her.

"Is this about some video for McLaren's media?" She asks, spotting her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

"hm, no..."

"Then we have nothing to talk about. Good night!" Y/n started walking again.

Lando sighs deeply, but smiles, biting his lower lip slightly, knowing that under different circumstances, back when they were together, she would just take her anger out on him in bed. The two of them. Messy sheets. And heavy breathing.

He quickly shakes those thoughts from his mind and runs after her, before she can fully exit the garage.

"So... Franco, huh?" Lando approaches her, whispering close to her neck. Y/n tries to suppress the shiver she felt, but it was unsuccessful, Lando smiled knowing that he had so much power over her.

"Maybe, who knows?" Finally her gaze falls on Lando, raising her eyebrows a little and putting on a corner of her mouth.

He smiles. Y/n Piastri is definitely very different from her brother. While the younger one was more reserved, made few jokes and always had a neutral expression on his face. The older one was a totally provocative person, made a thousand jokes a day and was extroverted.

And Lando knew how incredibly provocative she was in bed. Oh, how he knew.

"I didn't think he was paying you much attention!"

Y/n looks at him in disbelief. "I didn't know you cared so much." She continues walking. "And I also don't know why you're talking to me. You should be thinking about the actions you've been doing while I was in my apartment waiting for you."

Lando rolls his eyes a little amused at the situation he was in. Yet another sign that Norris could be quite the provocateur.

He leans closer to her ear, making her swallow hard and start walking slower.

"You know, I don't think he's your type..." He begins. "I don't think he's going to hold you in bed..." Lando smiles, watching Y/n lose the stability he had created around her lately. "Because... with him you try, but with me you come and sit!"

Y/n held a breath in her throat and looked at him, trying to keep a serious expression and a frown on her forehead.

"Are you still talking?" She sends him a menacing look, which for a moment, makes Lando regret his jokes and teasing.

Y/n continues walking through the paddock, quickly now, a little shaken by those words, but leaving Lando behind, staring at her silhouette that was getting further and further away.

Norris would do anything that weekend to have an explanatory conversation with Y/n, even if he had to use his flattering and provocative side.

•••••••••••••••••••••

The following day, the early sun was already painting the paddock lines orange during the Spanish Grand Prix. While the team moved with their usual pre-race haste and energy, Y/n remained secluded in her small McLaren media office, a simple space provided by the organization for the teams.

Ever since Lando's attempted conversation the previous afternoon, she had made a point of avoiding him, maintaining an emotional distance that reflected the confusion she felt and the provocations that had definitely gotten to her.

Sitting in a swivel chair, Y/n turned slowly, as if trying to find answers in the rotations of her own body. His eyes, lost in thought, followed the reflection of the lights that were beginning to twinkle through the window glass, while his hands, restless, gently touched the back of the chair.

Beside her, Lily was sitting in a smaller chair, positioned so that she could follow both the cell phone screen and the thoughts that, lightly, escaped Y/n's lips.

“I think I have the measles.” She says, blowing her nose into a tissue and Lily stifles a laugh, raising her eyebrows slightly. “I had a fever before I got on the flight and now I’m sneezing.”

"Couldn't this just be a cold?"

"I don't know..." Y/n sighs, resting her head on the back of the chair and turning around again. "I googled it and it told me it was measles or cancer... so I preferred measles."

Lily lets out a loud laugh. "Good thing you didn't choose a career in healthcare." Y/n turns to her and laughs too. "But the fever? I think it's love fever." She waggles her eyebrows. "Have you talked to Lando yet?"

Y/n rolls her eyes when she hears the pilot's name.

"Not me. I have nothing to talk to him about!"

"But he must have, right?" Lily said calmly, leaning forward a little to look at her sister-in-law. Lily shook her head with an amused smile, crossing her legs and resting her elbow on the arm of the chair. "You can pretend you don't care, but I know you still like him."

Y/n stopped spinning in her chair, sighing deeply.

"I like him, okay?" She admitted, looking down at her hands. "I'm still in love with him, and that's what makes me the most angry. Because if it were any other guy, I'd just move on. But it's Lando...and he's the best...I can't explain how in love I am...and I also can't believe he did this to me."

Lily watched her for a moment, biting her lip as if pondering her next words. She knew the truth. Lando had already told her and Oscar everything when Piastri confronted him, ready to defend his older sister.

But it wasn't Lily's place to reveal the truth. Y/n needed to hear it directly from Lando.

"Have you ever considered that it might have been a misunderstanding?" Lily suggested carefully.

Y/n snorted. "Yes. And at the same time, no. If he wanted to explain it to me, he had plenty of time to do so."

"That is if you would stop running away from him, right?" Lily raised an eyebrow. "He's already getting frustrated with how much you avoid him."

Y/n crossed her arms, not knowing how to respond. Maybe Lily had a point, but she still couldn't just forget what she saw.

Lily, noticing what her sister-in-law was thinking, decided to lighten up a bit. "And you know what? He's getting really jealous every time you talk to Franco. It's hilarious. He glares at the poor guy every time he sees you two talking."

Y/n rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. "Oh, great. Now he wants to play jealous?"

"Believe me, if his looks were lethal, Franco would already be in another dimension." She laughed.

Before Y/n could respond, they heard a knock on the door. Turning their heads in sync towards the noise.

"Come in!" Y/n said, still smiling slightly.

When the door opened, Lando appeared, leaning against the frame with a serious look, but with a small smile on his face.

"Lily, Oscar is looking for you." He informed, glancing quickly at Y/n before turning his eyes back to Lily.

Lily smiled, feeling that this was the perfect moment to leave the two alone. "Great!" She said, standing up. Before leaving, she lightly touched Y/n's shoulder. "Take the opportunity to talk to him."

Y/n shot her sister-in-law a death glare, but Lily just winked at her before leaving, smiling sympathetically as she walked past Lando.

Silence filled the room. Y/n looked away from the pilot and stood up, going to a table to get her camera.

"Can we talk?" He was still there, leaning against the doorframe.

"I have to work," she said, adjusting her gear. "Now is not a good time for conversation. You should be in the garage, too."

Lando sighed, and before she could move toward the door, he closed it, blocking the exit.

"Do you need to work or are you avoiding talking to me?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Or... do you just want to go talk to Franco? You guys seem pretty close, don't you?"

Y/n stopped in her tracks, narrowing her eyes at him. "Seriously? You want to go that way?"

Lando smirked. "I'm just asking."

Y/n approached the door, trying to open it, but he used his body to stop her.

"What's wrong, Y/n? Are you afraid to answer?"

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Oh, please, Norris. If I wanted to provoke you, I could do a much better job of it than just talking to Franco.”

Lando chuckled, leaning closer to her ear. "And what would you do, then?"

Y/n just rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the heat his gaze caused. She was still irritated, but at the same time, she knew she was about to give in.

She felt the heat of Lando's body so close to hers that she had to close her eyes for a moment, trying to control her rapid breathing. But it was useless. He was there, so close, and she felt electricity run through every part of her body.

Making her remember all the times they were the only ones in a room with kisses, sighs and touches all over their bodies.

Lando smiled as he noticed her gesture, his expression becoming even more teasing.

"Why don't you give me a chance to explain myself, huh? Afraid of finding out I was wrong?"

Y/n opened her eyes, her stubbornness returning with a vengeance. "I've seen enough, Lando. I don't need to hear lies."

The answer only made Lando move even closer. They were face to face now, their faces inches apart. His intense gaze bored into her eyes, and Y/n felt her legs give out a little as her breath hitched against his lips.

"So that's it? You'd rather believe a random video than me?"

He was so close that she could feel his words on her skin, like a warm breath. Without thinking, as if something greater than her stubbornness took over her, Y/n moved even closer. And Lando smiled before finally kissing her.

It was a hot, urgent kiss, full of longing and emotion. His hands held her waist firmly, pulling her close, while her fingers intertwined in his hair. Lando kissed her as if he was trying to prove, with every movement, that she belonged to him. Y/n gave in for a moment, feeling her heart hammering in her chest.

But before they could go any further, she suddenly pulled away and slapped his chest, her expression irritated.

"You're impossible, Lando! That was a low blow!"

Lando chuckled, licking his lips. "I'd say it was well deserved."

Y/n huffed, pushing him aside lightly. "You should be focusing on the race, not me."

"I haven't been able to concentrate since you started avoiding me." He smiled sideways and added, his voice lower and full of intent, "I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me."

Y/n rolled her eyes and opened the door, rushing out and slamming it shut behind her. That was it. If she didn't talk to Lando right away, he would continue to follow her like a relentless paparazzi.

As she walked through the paddock, Lando's taunts still echoed in her mind. Little by little, she began to doubt whether she had really seen the situation wrong.

Oscar had insisted that she talk to Lando, and if it really was a betrayal, his brother would never speak like that.

Y/n suddenly stopped in the middle of the paddock, lost in her thoughts, when someone bumped into her.

"Oops! Sorry, Y/n! Are you okay?"

She blinked a few times and smiled.

"Hi, Yes, I just... I need to speak to someone on the team."

Franco frowned suspiciously. "You look a little lost."

She just smiled.

But before she could say anything else, the Argentine pilot placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiled.

"Well, whatever. It's going to be okay," he comforted gently. "See you around!" He walked through the paddock, holding a thermos in his hands and his mate.

It was at that moment that she decided. She needed to talk to Lando.

Y/n ran back to McLaren HQ, rushing inside to get to the office. But before she could reach the door, she turned a corner and bumped into Lando head on.

"What's going on?" He held her, worried.

"You!" Y/n smiled determinedly.

Lando smiled back and she grabbed his hand, pulling him back into the room.

"I was too hasty and didn't let you speak. But now you can say everything. Even if it hurts." She said quickly, as she closed the door to the small office.

Lando held her face with both hands, caressing her cheeks as he looked deep into her teary eyes.

"Okay, you were angry. But, Y/n, the woman in the video was my sister, Flo. She came to visit me in Monaco and I took her around the city. I would never cheat on you. Ever. And you know..."

Y/n felt her heart race. She blinked in confusion, letting the tears fall.

"Your...your sister?"

Lando laughs and takes his cell phone out of his pocket, opening the photo gallery and showing a photo of him and his brothers. The girl next to him was identical to the one who appeared in the video.

Y/n laughs and puts her hands on her face, a little embarrassed now.

"It's your sister-in-law." Lando chuckles. "You know, I'm in love with you Y/n, I haven't dated anyone before you showed up at McLaren. I knew something big was coming, and it was you. You're the woman I want in my life. I love you, my Australian!" Lando says softly, calmly and romantically. Another version of him that made Y/n's heart melt.

Y/n felt her heart race. She blinked in confusion, letting the tears fall. "Do... do you love me?"

Lando laughed softly.

"And why wouldn't I? You're wonderful, stubborn, funny, kind, beautiful... warm. I love your Australian accent, your laugh when you find something really funny. I love how you bite the cap of your pen when you're concentrating. I love when you play the big sister and fight with Oscar in the garage in front of everyone, just out of protectiveness." She laughs and Lando tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "And I love... loving you."

Y/n's tears fell at once and, without thinking, she threw herself into his arms.

"I'm sorry. I was an idiot for not listening to you sooner. It's just... this relationship with a public figure still scares me."

Lando pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

"I will never hurt you. Nor do anything that would make you feel betrayed. Besides, if I did that, Oscar would hunt me to the ends of the earth."

Y/n laughed, pulling away a little and cupping his face.

"I love you, Lan!" She confessed. And how she loved that British man.

Lando's smile grew and he took her hands in his. "So, do you want to make it official? Do you want to date me?"

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "You're asking me out now?"

"Yes. And if you say no, I'll have to kiss you again until you change your mind."

"Yes, I do, love." She smiles.

Lando pulled her into another kiss, this time calmer, but full of affection and love. His hands framed her face, as if she were a rare and precious jewel. The Australian's hands ran to his light brown curls, twirling some of them around her fingers.

"The only problem is that I don't have the ring here. But as soon as we get to Monaco, I'll spend hours with you in bed and give you the ring that's already been bought." Lando says, as they walk away.

"Okay, I guess I can go a few days without the ring." She smiles, and then leans closer to his ear. "But now, the part about staying in bed... I can't promise to stay without it..."

"If you keep saying things like that, I won't even be able to run tomorrow."

She laughed and kissed him again, knowing that no matter what, they were finally where they were supposed to be.

Author: Now, a curiosity hahaha I live in the south of Brazil, practically next door to Franco haha, and here I drink a lot of "Mate" too, I'm addicted, but it's also called "chimarrão". My aunts who live in the countryside call it "Mate", I who am from the big city call it chimarrão hahahahaha, just a curiosity of mine and the south of Brazil.

[cupidbedsy]

🪻 for "I neglected you." "No, it's ok, you..." "No, it's not ok. I should have realized how lonely you felt." With pookie Quinn please?

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked lonely lavender 🪻 !

warnings: quinn neglecting reader, tired quinn, unresolved conflict

word count: 937

florist cupid: thank you so much for requesting lovie, i'm sorry it's taken me a while to write it! i hope you enjoy it, the ending is a bit rushed because i was running out of ideas and words to use 😭

you've known about quinn's tendencies to throw everything he has into hockey. every time you got home from work, he was rewatching old games or jotting down ideas in his notebook for practice the next day. it was one of your favorite things about him, how dedicated he was, but it quickly also became one of your least favorite things.

he did everything he could to make the team better, to make himself better, but at the same time, he was wearing himself thin. every time he'd come home from practice or a game, he'd look a little bit more tired than how he left. each loss cut into him and you couldn't recall the amount of nights he spent laying awake after one, recounting all the things they could've done differently.

eventually, you started seeing less of him, mentally at least. he was still there when you got home from a long day at work, he was still there to pull you into his arms in the middle of the night, but you can't remember the last time the two of you had sat down and had dinner together.

you didn't want to rant to him about the minor mishap that you had or that you lost one your favorite sweaters the other day, not when he he felt like he had the weight of the team on his shoulders, he had bigger things to worry about.

but deep down, you wanted him to focus on something other than the losses, other than the comments. each time you would offer to go out with him or watch a movie, he would shake his head and push you aside, claiming he had some stuff to work on. with each rejection, you grew annoyed and soon it became too much.

you got home and once again, quinn was sitting there scribbling something in that godforsaken notebook. you couldn't help the sigh (huff) that escaped you, alerting quinn to your presence.

he gave you a small smile before turning back to his page, "hi baby."

you raked a hand through your hair, making it more messy than it already was. you shrugged your coat off, hanging it up, kicked your shoes off, and made your way over to the couch, plopping down next to him.

he didn't say anything, just continued to write with the cutest furrow of his eyebrow as he concentrated and you frowned as it softened your annoyance.

"quinn can we talk?"

"mhm." he drew something, you couldn't tell what, but you could assume it was a play he had been curating up since you walked through the door.

"quinn."

"'m listening, y/n/n." but he wasn't, he kept his focus on the page, drawing random lines over it.

you sighed, taking the notebook away from him, "quinn."

finally he looked up, pushing his hair out of his face to look at you, "why'd you take it away? i was working on something."

he reached for it but he simply held it out of his reach, "because i want to talk to you and i can't do that when your head is somewhere else."

"i was listening."

"no you weren't."

you placed the notebook behind you, hands making quick work of moving to the hem of your shirt and fidgeting with it. you mulled over your thoughts in your head, trying to organize them as best as you could.

"what'd you want to talk about?"

"quinn, listen..." you started but were quickly cut off by his bewildered voice.

"you're not breaking up with me are you?"

"what? no, of course not. i just wanted to talk about something."

he let out a sigh of relief, nodding as he sank back into the couch. you took this as a sign to go forward, continuing to play with the hem of your shirt, "you know how much i love that you take everything to hear,t the criticism, the compliments, the suggestions, and how much you do to make the team better but recently."

you trailed off again, a wave of nervousness washing over you, "i feel like we haven't been us."

he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "what do you mean?"

"when's the last time we had dinner, quinn?"

your question hit him in the face like a cold glass of water. he recounted the past month in his head, trying to rack his brain for the last time you two had gone on a date or spent the night together besides cuddling in bed.

you were right, it had been a while since the two of you had done anything, the realization rushed through him, a feeling of guilt and sadness following it.

"i neglected you."

his soft words made you frown, you didn't mean to make him feel worse than he already was, you just wanted to bring it to his attention, you reached for his hand, tangling your fingers in his, "no, it's okay, you..."

you tried to explain but he shook his head, slipping his hand from yours and standing up, "no, it's not okay. i should've realized how lonely you felt."

you watched as he walked fast to the kitchen, slipping his shoes on. he needed time to think, time to make this right between the two of you. he had messed up, and it weighed him down more than anything on the team could've.

"quinn, honey, where are you going?" you went to follow after him but as soon as you stood up he closed the door to your apartment, leaving you more alone than you had felt in weeks.

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[ctimenefic]

The Definitive* Waist Ranking of the 2025 Grid

*not definitive at all but this did take literal hours of my life

Back markers:

Gabriel Bortoleto

The rookies are at a disadvantage because of the lack of photos, but everything about what I could find suggests this man was drawn with right angles only. Also, highly cursed image ahead, this is your only warning.

Pierre Gasly

Shaped like a Lego brick. Too many abs, not enough waist. Note the presence of an actual waist chasing him down. Nil point.

Isack Hadjar

This is again more for lack of evidence - the racing suit definitely wants me to think there's a nipped in waist there, but other shots leave me thinking he's real solid.

George Russell

Another victim of abs for days. This hurts me as much as it hurts you. The flare of hips is not enough to save him.

Oliver Bearman

Probably my first controversial ranking, but not the last. I know, you picture him and there's a tiny grabbable waist, right? Miniscule. But it's a lie perpetuated by his ridiculous Superman-shaped shoulders. I fear as he bulks up for a full time drive, we're going to lose what little waist we have.

Midfield

Nico Hulkenberg

Could use a little more dad in the dad bod, you know? Not a lot of curve, but a smidge of something to hold onto, keeping him clear of the back markers

Liam Lawson

Go girl, give us nothing! I think maybe, maybe, you could squeeze past him and tuck your palm to the slight suggestion of a curve there, but why would you? To be fair, he's suffering from comparisons to teammates past and present.

Fernando Alonso

We remember what we once had, and are gladdened by it. But those days are lost, under the shadow of night, as if they never were. Exceptional evidence of what once was provided by @lights-out-away-we-go

Lewis Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton is another case where the shoulders are doing a lot of work creating the illusion of a waist, and then slim hips are dispelling that. He does not have a very grabbable waist. This does not matter, because Lewis Hamilton could wear a sack and still draw the eye.

Lance Stroll

This one surprised me. I really thought the exceptional arse on this man would push him high up into the points. But... eh. It's fine? Probably better in the middle of the winter break when he softens up a bit.

Lando Norris

Initially a strong contender, but I actually think it's the grey panels of the fireproofs doing all the work here. Excellent illusion, but grabbable? Not particularly

Carlos Sainz

From the back, exceptional. From the front, almost nothing. This is baffling to me and scientists everywhere.

Alex Albon

I'm putting Alex in the points because even though I can't find good photographical evidence of the waist, I believe it is there. It's my Loch Ness Monster. Alex Albon has a grabbable waist and you won't convince me otherwise

Esteban Ocon

Now, this noodle does have a waist, but it's not the most grabbable. He's also getting an hourglass bonus from marginally wider hips and a decent bust (more on that advantage later). But that waist looks very solid, probably feels like pinching marble, no give. He is at least outscoring Pierre.

Kimi Antonelli

We unfortunately have strong evidence of Kimi's grababilty. This should be illegal. Until the FIA clarifies the regulations, though, he's high in the points.

[msfbgraves]

Hitler promised to annex land that "belonged" to Germany in his worldview. He did it with parts of the Czech Republic, Trump is doing it with Greenland, Canada, Panama.

Hitler promised to 'clean Germany up' taking out "undesirables." He went after political opponents, the disabled, and the queer community first. Trump has already vowed to jail Hillary Clinton, he's going after immigrants and trans people and he has taken away all federal protections for anyone not straight, white cis male - the DEI program.

Hitler wanted women out of the workforce and universities. Again, Trump has gone after the whole Department of Education, rescinded labor protections including, but not limited to, women. And you've all seen the tradwife bullshit. Abortion was illegal, but people he felt were not allowed to reproduce were sterilised. Trump has had Roe vs. Wade overturned, is coming after birth control. Keep an eye out for sterilisations!

Hitler had people put in detention camps as early as 1933 (Dachau). Trump has immigrants put in a detention camp (Gitmo).

Hitler established a new police force outside of the regular one. One of the things they were heavily involved in were raids to round up 'undesirables'. Hitler's was called the "Secret State Police", Gestapo for short. Trump's is called ICE.

All government officials who were not in the Nazi Party and therefore loyal to Hitler were sacked. This was called "Gleichschaltung", which means something like "Pulling a lever to put us all on the same track" (German words contain multitudes). Trump is urging federal government workers to voluntarily resign and threatening layoffs for those who do not. So he can replace them to those loyal to him.

Hitler put the Constitution out of practice by declaring a state of emergency. Trump has not disbanded Congress, but now, through Elon Musk, controls all the Federal money, which honestly amounts to the same thing. Hard for government to act without funds.

To my knowledge, Hitler did not halt cancer research because why tf would anyone do that? Trump did because all the nasty doctors told him people were dying everywhere and that drinking bleach was wrong. This Trump called "Fake News". Every fact that contradicted Hitler was declared to be the work of the "Lügenpresse", or "Lies' Press/Liars' press".

Hitler wrote it all down in a manifesto called "My struggle". Trump's is called "Project 2025". I would tell you to look Hitler's work up but I am not allowed to do that because the ideas and policies in there are said to be calling for crimes against humanity and may not be legally spread. You're not even allowed to read about all the things Trump is saying and doing before your very eyes because the thought of it constitutes a danger to humanity. So in lieu of that, and if you cannot find a heavily annotated official copy where every other sentence basically goes "this is wrong and a crime against humanity, don't do this, ffs", you could watch CNN. And read project 2025. Hitler meant every word and enacted policies to put everything into practice. There is no reason to assume Trump is any different with Project 2025.

"But Trump is not openly antisemitic!" No, but he is anti Muslim and a eugenicist. Trump is not socialist! No, indeed! Under Hitler, a lot of poor people actually got richer! (Those he didn't round up, detain or kill immediately.)

So all in all - in the very beginning, Hitler can even said to have been slightly better for the economy than Trump!

There is more - there's censorship (TikTok, Twitter) and banned books.

But yeah. Hitler did much the same as Trump, he just chose another scapegoat!

So yes, look it up, and look up how people resisted, and watch foreign news. You're lucky a lot of it is available in English. BBC, EuroNews, Austrialan state news, New Zealand state news, Canadian state news, Al Jazeera. Your own news can be affected by censorship from Trump. Those outlets are not.

Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???

So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"

But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????

[bubbleggum444]

— ❝𝘛HE LOᐯELY MᗩID❞

contents bruce wayne x fem!reader, maid!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc. synopsis bruce absolutely does not have a crush on his employee. nope. not at all. or at least… that’s what he keeps telling himself—over and over—whenever she smiles at him like that.

He's captivated. There's no other way to explain it.

Captivated by the sweet woman in front of him—the one serving dinner to his family and him. The same woman he originally hired to assist his aging butler, Alfred.

This was unlike him. Bruce Wayne, a 35-year-old billionaire, didn’t do crushes. Sure, he’d had his fair share of fleeting affections, even pursued a few women in his younger years. But that was before. Now, nearing forty, he had no business developing feelings—especially not for her.

"Mr. Wayne?"

"Huh?"His head jerks up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash, instantly focusing on the source of that soft, melodic voice.

The young maid blinks at his reaction, her brows lifting slightly before she smiles—polite, composed. She gestures toward his untouched plate.

"Your supper is getting cold, Mr. Wayne."

Oh dear heavens—or whatever’s up there—Her voice, her gestures, her kindness, her grace. Everything about her is just—And her smile! God—everything about her is—

"Stop ogling the maid, father. Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Damian’s voice cuts through his thoughts like a blade.

Bruce barely has time to register the words before his eyes find her again—this time, assisting Tim, carefully slicing a piece of bread for him.

The tenderness in her actions makes something tighten in his chest. He forces himself to breathe, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he finally picks up his fork and eats.

"Is the food to everyone's liking?" she asks, scanning the room.

The family responds with nods, murmured approvals, and a few hums of agreement. She turns back to Bruce then, and when their eyes meet—

ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum

His heartbeat stutters.Her expression is warm, her gaze unwavering. It’s as if the world slows for a moment, like she’s silently pulling him in, like—

"Mr. Wayne? All done? How was supper?"

"Huh—? Oh! Yeah, yeah, supper was amazing, doll—Dear! I mean dear... It was, uh—fantastic."

Stop talking. Stop rambling. Just smile, Bruce. Act normal.

She blushes. Just slightly. But it’s enough to make his heart hammer against his ribs. Was it because of the way he’d called her doll? Or was she just being polite?

He wants to believe the former. But doubt seeps in, as it always does. Because he could read people—always had, ever since childhood. He could pick apart a liar, a manipulator, a fraud, all with a single glance. But her?

She was a mystery. No matter how simple or complex her actions were, he couldn’t read her.

And that terrified him.

Because every time he thought, Maybe she likes me, too, logic would intervene, reminding him of the facts. Why would a woman like her ever look at me that way if I weren’t her employer?

"Mr. Wayne, I’d appreciate some help carrying the dishes to the sink."

Her voice yanks him from his thoughts, and he’s grateful for it.

He clears his throat, nodding as he stands. Without thinking, he starts stacking plates, piling them into an unstable tower.

He lifts it, wobbling slightly—

She reaches out to steady it.

"No, no—I got it all under control. T’his is all easy peasy lemon squeezy!"

What the hell did he just say?

Bruce cringes so hard he wants the earth to swallow him whole. He quickly turns, marching toward the kitchen before he embarrasses himself further.

Behind him, his four sons watch in varying degrees of amusement.

"Huh..." Jason mutters, raising an eyebrow as he plucks a toothpick from the table.

That alone is enough to make Dick snort, nodding in agreement.

"Is Bruce—"

"In love? Probably," Damian interjects flatly, wiping his hands with a sanitary wipe.

"Father’s behavior is completely illogical. That is the only reasonable explanation."

Tim doesn’t say much. He only shrugs—but there’s a knowing smile on his lips as he glances toward the archway, where Bruce and their maid have disappeared.

─────────────────── 𐀔

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

[aangelinakii]

BIRTHDAY WISHES.

— happy birthday, you better enjoy your present.

summary : it's your birthday and a crushing damian decides to gift you something. let's just hope he's not ratting himself out here.

requested !

breathe, damian, it's just a day; they're just a person.

he'd been saying it in the bathroom mirror this morning whilst splashing some water on his face and attempting to style his hair a little better today.

at one point, tim had attempted to come inside as he was staring at himself, knuckles white as he gripped the basin, and damian was quick to slam the door on his forehead, and attempt to ignore the shrieks of pain coming from the hallway.

damian had been crushing deep for you, which he'd realised one ap physics lesson as he sketched the profile of your face in his notebook. you were just friends, and of course he knew that, but there was something about you that made his heart pound, and, evidently, draw you on his pages.

he didn't want to risk spending any money on you, since he didn't carry cash and people would raise some eyebrows if he went around the manor asking for money; if he used his card, his father would see and ask what he's doing buying from that flowershop downtown.

and there was no chance he'd just skip over it and not get you anything — it wasn't that he was trying to impress you, a little bit but not really, it was more so just expressing himself. express, not impress.

the reason he was so nervous about giving to you what he'd made was definitely your reaction.

"what the hell is this? you're a weirdo, you're crazy, you're this, you're that."

despite knowing you weren't that type of person, damian was anxious to be shamed; but at least he'd be showing you his art, instead of hiding it away in his drawers for not another soul to see.

at lunch, the two of you sat at your usual bench in the courtyard, soaking up what sun gotham was offering today — not too mild, not too cold.

whilst you spoke about how your day had gone so far, damian found himself zoning out, your voice becoming a drone in the back of his mind. it wasn't personal — well, maybe it was, considering it was you he was so nervous about.

since realising that his feelings for you were more than platonic, each moment spent with you was like spent back with his mother; he was holding something back, but also doing everything he could. the only difference between here at gotham academy and the league of assassins was that he wasn't learning to kill anyone, just trying to muster up courage to reply to your question.

"what, sorry?" damian asked, finally looking away from his hands to you, where you seemed to be looking at him expectantly.

a light chuckle passed your lips, and a round of chills run up his forearms. "i asked how your day has been, though? since mine clearly can't get any worse."

"any worse? how? it's your birthday."

but damian had definitely had his fair share of horrid birthdays, even going to far to forbid his own one from being celebrated at the manor; the most he lets anyone do is give him a present if they have one and walk off immediately, he doesn't want any singing or stupid sayings.

you hesitated, and damian realised quickly that you had already done all the talking about your day, and stammered on his words to respond to your first question. "uh— yes, no, my day's been alright. i have criminology after lunch, which is quite good." he was trailing off task. "anyway! it's your birthday, right? i mean, of course it is, i just said that... i got you something."

he immediately dove into his backpack, intent in avoiding the stare he could feel boring into the side of his head.

when he found it, it was exactly where he'd carefully slotted it in that morning, tucked in his hardback criminology textbook so it wouldn't crease.

the moment he pulled it from his bag, he could sense your polite confusion from here. "aww, how cute, dames, you got me a crim textbook," he could imagine you thinking, but then when he found the page, your entire demeanor changed.

carefully, damian plucked the piece of paper from where it sat and passed it gingerly to you, closing back up the textbook.

"damian, it's..." the words brushed past your lips in a whisper, sending another wave of chills prickling along his skin. thank god for the navy blazer gotham academy forced them all to wear, or else the jig would be up.

silent, he waited in aching anticipation for your response, his knuckles aching now from cracking them so much in the gap of silence. it was something he did to soothe himself — this time it seemed not to be working as well.

fragile in your fingers, you stared down at your graphite features, wondering where he'd got this angle from; there wasn't any pictures of yourself that you knew of, facing you so head-on, so close and raw, yet so filled with love. in fact, you didn't even know your face could be shown so happy. and then the moment flashed like a billboard in your mind.

after school the other day, you and damian had made a stop-off at the library on the way home, where you'd been hoping to grab a book to aid you in one of your classes, but, inevitably, you'd been distracted by the children's section. how come their area got to be all colourful and filled with fun activities? how come the rest of the library was so drab and dull? well, it did its job, anyhow.

but, laughing away with one another, you'd tucked yourselves into the kiddie-sized reading nook, knees pulled up to chests, shoes mushed against one another, no doubt scuffing them, grins ever-green in the presence of the other.

well... if that was the case, you must've looked really good that day.

before he could have time to brace for impact, you leapt up and engulfed damian in a hug so tender he could feel his heart begin to hammer from behind the cage of his ribs.

"thank you, thank you, thank you!" you grinned into his ear, giving him one final squeeze, pulling away by the time damian could even think around raising an arm to reciprocate.

hot, hot fire ran up the back of his neck, and he brought warm fingertips to brush along it — hopefully it wasn't as red as it felt like it would be.

"this is... better than anything i could ever ask for." your voice went from excited to quiet, more real, and damian felt something swell in his chest.

it only caused damian to smile something soft, and wedge his hands beneath his bottom to hide their tremor from your eyes. "so you like it?"

"like it?" you repeated with a laugh. "damian, i love it."