#after all those years he still *wanted* that

[slvttyplum]

sukuna and valentine’s day—ever think you would see those three words together? sukuna didn’t get the whole point of valentine’s day but did it anyway just for you, still grumpy and groaning while picking out your favorite things from the store. “here, i got you the damn flowers and chocolates; now stop pestering me.” looking at your smile made his heart full; he couldn’t help but make you happy even if that meant spending money on a “holiday” he denied time and time again. of course, that was just the end result. smiling at you for a few seconds before he began to whine again. he did the same shit every year where the both of you would go back and forth about valentine’s day, and he would groan, saying he wasn’t getting you anything. “use your brain! this is what they want you to do; i’m not getting that damn bag.” then, in the next breath, he would ask how much the purse was—“just in case”—while saying there was only a five percent chance of that happening. sukuna didn’t know peace; he always found a way to put his two cents in when it was time to celebrate something. after finally getting to valentine’s day and admiring how beautiful you looked, his eyes full of love, he just couldn’t let you have the last word. it was foreign to him. he had to let you know every thought that was going through his head; it was only fair since he went ahead and spoiled you, right? “you’re spoiled rotten. i still think this is a load of bull.” a fight all over again, the fight eventually leading to the pretty decorated bedroom he tried his hardest to set up, but it didn’t go to waste, nor did it stop the argument. sukuna’s hands on your hips as he slammed into you, grunting, he tried to talk and spit out more points, but he was consumed by pleasure. he had a fucking loose screw because he was still arguing with you while he stretched you out. “fuck… i just think you need to be appreciative.” while you squeezed around him, sukuna was still trying to prove his point, but he couldn’t think when his cum was dripping out of you. even having the audacity to have you ride him because his leg cramped up, just to keep running his filthy ass mouth. it was all worth it at the end of the day, at least for you; he still found something to complain about, but neither of you would have it any other way. “… you’re not getting anything next year; i’m serious.” until next time. ;)

[bunny-jpeg]

bunny heat

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, hybrid au, bunny!simon, wolf!reader, size difference/kink, breeding kink, mating press, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy & babies

a/n: i am rekindling my affection for call of duty fan fiction by making self indulgent nonsense - enjoy

the common assumption was that bunny hybrids were small and fragile. with blunt teeth and long bunny ears. they were meant to be dressed up and adored. they were sweet little things, harmless. prey.

the other assumption was that wolf hybrids were large and imposing. if folklore were correct, they were near feral with large teeth and pointed ears. the possessed great physical power and could overtake anything that got in their way. predator.

your wolf-like ears twitched as you tried to grab the box of cereal off the shelf. you tried to get up on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf. but to no avail you could get it. you huffed with your hands at your hips and turned to your mate, almost a foot taller that you. you said sweetly, "bun-bun, can you get that for me?"

the imposing blond with the rabbit ears and medical mask on, turned away from the other shelf to help you. one large hand on your hip while he easily plucked the box from the shelf and handed it to you, "glad ya didn't scale the shelves like last time." and he reached to you to rub the top of your head lovingly.

common assumption were rarely right.

your eye glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. you finished buttering the toast and then slid the two fried eggs on the plate. already on it was some vegetarian bacon and sausage. with everything on the plate, you headed towards the attic to find simon.

the worst part about spring wasn't snow that melted to slush or the allergies. it was simon's breeding season. poor guy, while he was in the military he was given shots to keep it at bay. but once he retired it felt like it hit two-fold after years of suppression.

"simon." you cooed as you went up the stairs. the smell was overwhelming when you got into the attic. it smelt like heavy bonfire except without all the smoke. regardless you still squinted as if there was smoke in your eyes. you brought the food to him and found him laid out in his nest.

he was in a white tank top and loose boxers. his blond hair a mess and he was sweaty, but at the very least, his breathing was heavy. poor thing had a one track mind right now. to fuck.

and while for more bunny hybrids that meant accepting whatever cock they could get. simon wanted to fill someone up with his hot cum and let his bunnies grow inside another hybrid. you got down to your lover's nest and gave him the plate.

"eat, my love. c'mon, you need the energy." you cooed as you cupped his sweaty face. you watched simon sit up against the pile of pillows. you cooed at him softly as he ate a little bit.

except he used very little of the fork and knife you gave him. using his hands and licking his hands free of butter, grease and egg yolks. you kissed his face softly as your feverish simon ate greedily.

"amazin'." he purred, "taste good. my good made." he loudly ate and leaned in for a messy kiss that got breakfast on your face before he went back to eating. he said, "get your clothes off, need the proper scent in the nest."

you slowly got undressed while he finished eating. he licked his fingers before he got he strong arm around you. his cottontail wiggled as he rubbed himself up against you. he stuck his nose in your hair and heavily exhaled.

"feel good." he said. simon was probably the largest bunny hybrid you've ever seen. man stood close to 6'5, he was a military man covered in scars and tattoos. he was scary even with those perked blond bunny ears and white cottontail. he leaned in and gave you a sloppy kiss.

his tongue was quickly in your mouth and you moaned. you clutched onto him and he groaned as you sharp nails dug into his shoulders. when he pulled away his tongue was out, panting. his cock strained his sweaty boxers and he needed you. he needed that release.

you were naked. known as a predator animal, you were under him without a single stitch on you. all curves for him. he got his hard cock out of his briefs and there was a feral look in his eye. you swallowed and said, "simon."

he gave you a wide grin, "like what ya see, my little wolf? i bet you were thinkin' about while you were cookin' for me." he licked his lips, even bunnies desired flesh, "could smell ya under all that cookin'. kept strokin' myself, knowin' you were playin' wife for me."

you swallowed and shifted a little, "fuck, simon... take me." and your eyes went wide when simon used his strength to hike your knees to your ears and expose your pussy to him. he sank into you quickly and you let out a small gasp as you became accustomed to his length.

he probably had the biggest cock you've ever seen.

he planted his hands on either side of your head and moved against you. his cock nudged against all the right places. it wasn't even like he was going particularly fast. he may be a fast little rabbit, but he wanted to consume you. he wanted to feel all of you, every inch of you.

you were his mate, bonded till the end. your souls were intertwined together if you wanted to understand it in a metaphysical way. the wolf and the bunny, except the bunny was the scary one and the wolf was the more harmless one. you weren't a push over, but you weren't the imposing one in the relationship. not that you minded, you enjoyed how protective simon could be.

he laid wet kisses on you as you laid in his nest. his protected space with all the items a bunny hybrid like him could need. that included his mate. he fucked you into the covers, the soft quilts and even the throw pillows from the couch. it was a safe place for him to have you all to himself. and you happily let have you, all of you.

you wrapped your arms around him and the two of you moved together. there was something so tender between the two of you, even if there was an under current of intense sexual want. a neediness that your simon had for you as he rutted against you. he was only thinking with his cock, but he still had enough restraint to not harm you.

he'd never harm you.

"gonna breed ya. gonna give you some bunnies to take care of." he purred, "ya'd love that, wouldn't ya, love. carryin' my little bunnies around in your perfect womb." he licked his lips. he felt more predator than his animal traits led on. he was hungry the way a wolf was, not a rabbit.

"wanna give me babies?"

"ya, all of 'em. keep ya locked away all of my heat so i can ruin that pussy of yours and give ya a bunch of bunnies to be a good mama too. maybe we'll end up with a few wolf pups, but i wanna see ya haulin' around my babes like a good den mother." his thrusts grew in strength. his words were coated in a heavy lust.

"fuck." you exhaled deeply. his words were erotic.

"you feel amazing, my mate." he purred, "you feel so good around me. this fucking pussy is amazing, only thing i want during this time. how could i not want you? you're my mate, we're bonded and i love you more than words can describe. ya know that, right, my little wolf." he continued to move against you. he could feel the pleasure in his body, he could feel the leap of want in his core.

"please, simon. holy fuck." you shakily exhaled as you held onto his strong shoulders tighter. your loving bunny mate, he looked lovely on top. those dark features that scared most, but lured you in. he was by every definition the worst bunny hybrid, but you loved it. everything from the resting scowl on his face, to the scarring, to those soft bunny ears and how he could easily wrap you up in his arms.

he was the ideal partner for you.

you kissed once more. your knees knocked against your cheeks as he pressed further into you. the kisses were hungry as you knew you both weren't going to last much longer. the pleasure left you out of breath and a slight fuzziness in your head. you held on tightly for support as he worked your body against his. he wanted to make love to you, he yearned for you deeply. there was something so carnal about your love making that it left a flutter of lust in your gut as your mate fucked you.

"all mine." he purred as he held onto the covers a little tightly. he pressed himself as far as he could go, he wanted to make sure you felt every inch of his hefty cock. you whined in response.

you two shared one more heated kiss, you whined your love for him against his lips as he continued to thrust. a few more heavy thrusts and he finished inside of you. he shoved his entire length into you and made sure that his cum hit right against your cervix. it would be the only thing that would sate the sexual desire in his body. to breed his loving mate.

you exhaled shakily as he came inside of you. you panted heavily and felt the euphoria through you as he continued to thrust inside of you. he continued his movements. he wanted to make you feel good to as his still hard cock pushed his cum as deep as it would go. but he couldn't help himself, he came a second time very quickly. only to slip his cum all the way to the back of your pussy.

he felt lucid and now worked solely on hormones. you whined and your eyes fluttered as you felt the wanted in your heated core. you whined as you felt the stimulation in your body from your mate push you over the sexual edge. you let out such a beautiful moan and came around his cock.

"good, good." he mused, "fuck, that's it, my little wolf." he said, the edge had been taken off and he could relax. he pulled out and flopped down next to you on the mattress. you reeked of his aroused scent and before you could drop your legs down to the bed. he had you curled up in his arms.

his lips on your neck as he said sweet nothings to you. promises of pups and bunnies and being forever mates.

-

you didn't have your heat that spring, all it took was a weekend of simon's cycle to impregnate you. now it was summer and you were cuddled up with your much larger mate. his hand on your swollen middle as you got comfortable next to him.

you were carrying two babies; two pups, two bunnies, who knew. wouldn't know until they were born by fall. your swell was impressive and your dear simon loved it.

it wasn't common for a wolf to be impregnated by a bunny, but you had to admit. the pregnancy looked better on you anyway, and simon would agree as he contorted himself to kiss your swollen middle.

[goldsbitch]

Home is where Dad's car is

One of Lando's twins dramatically announces she's running away from home. This turns his afternoon into a Monaco rescue mission.

this is inspired by a comment from @ynbutbetter on the Blink Once story and me completely misreading it

warning: none, domestic, light-hearted stand alone part of Norris Family Polaroids

Jumping back into work again has been a relief and burden at the same time. The ten-year-old twins are relentless and Y/N, with all the help she had due to Lando's comfortable financial situation, wanted to be part of both motherhood and career as much as she could.

She's received a lot of strange emails in her life. This one is about to rule them all.

From: Olivia Norris To: Mom & Dad CC: (no one, because traitors exist)

Subject: I Am Leaving. Do Not Try to Stop Me.

Dear Mother and Father,

by the time you read this, I will be gone. Away forevr. Please do not be sad (I know this will be difficult).

I have thought long and hard about this decision—at least ten whole minutes—and I have realized that I can no longer stay. I love you both (most of the time but Dad you really made me sad this time) but I have to follow my own path now

Do not try to find me.

Tell Maya that she is now the oldest child. This is a great responsibility. I hope she is ready.

Stay strong in my absence. -Olivia

Speed dial - Lando - and then two times more, since the Husband of the Year can't seem to pick up his phone. A text pops up after Lando reclines the call.

We're streaming, is it urgent?

Y/N knows this automatic message all too damn well. No matter how many years him and Max F. managed to pile up, streaming video games time stayed like a sacred constant. It's great when the husband has a hobby. It's not so great when it ends up in him losing one of the kids in the meantime.

She texts him back. Headache. That's what being a mother of two kids and married to an overgrown child is on a typical Wednesday afternoon is.

//

Lando is having a great time. Snack in front of him, controller in hand, headset on—he's in his zone. He's been carrying Max Fewtrell through a game for the past hour, and despite his teammate's absolute lack of skill, it's been a solid session. A nice off season afternoon.

"Bro, you're literally throwing," Max groans through the headset as his in-game character spectacularly fails to complete a simple task.

Lando snickers, eyes glued to the screen. "Nah, mate, you're just bad. Hold on, I gotta—oh, for f—" His phone vibrates on the table, lighting up with Y/N’s name.

He glances at it, sees the call, and immediately ignores it. Another call. Decline.

Third time. Decline again.

He hits the automatic reply. Y/N's reply is instant. CHECK YOUR EMAIL NOW

Lando frowns. What could possibly be so urgent that it requires an email check? His brain cycles through possibilities:

-Y/N booked them another family trip he forgot about. -She ordered something expensive and wants to justify it. -The school sent one of those "Just letting you know" emails about how the twins "express themselves too boldly" (which, in Lando’s opinion, is code for being just like him).

Still, an email? Seems excessive. Whatever. He'll check it.

"Oi, Max, gimme a sec," Lando muttera and opens his inbox app. He scrolls past junk mail, a McLaren PR update, some random sponsorship inquiry—ah, there.

Subject: I Am Leaving. Do Not Try to Stop Me.

Lando snorts. Classic Olivia. Then he reads the first line.

By the time you read this, I will be gone. Away forevr.

…Okay. He keeps reading. His eyebrows start to furrow.

I love you both (most of the time, but Dad, you really made me sad this time), but I have to follow my own path now

His stomach drops.

Wait. What?

Do not try to find me.

Lando launches forward in his chair, suddenly wide awake. Is this for real? He just saw her few minutes ago in their bedroom. Well, might have been like an hour at this point.

Panic is setting rent free in his brain. "Oi, Max—stream's over," he blurts out, shutting the game down.

"Huh? What? We're in the middle of a match!" is the last he hears of him. Lando kills the stream without another word. Email...His daughter has reached the point of sending him emails now. Parenting, it never stops surprising him. His hands fly over his phone as he immediately calls Y/N. She picks up before the first ring even finishes.

"Lando," she says, already exasperated.

"Remember when I said the girls are too young for emails?" he starts, trying to wrap his head around this.

"Lando, they need one for school, this is not up for discussion. But don't get sidetracked - any clue where she is right now?"

He's already on his way to the kids bedroom, wishing they'd bought a smaller apartment. "I'm checking now," he blurts out, trying to keep as much of his anxiety locked in. It's fine, probably nothing.

"I though you brought them home directly after school?" his wife asks and Lando is grateful that there is not a single drop of blame directed towards him. Team players. It was part of their vows and one of the most important aspects of their relationship.

"I did, we just made a quick stop at the mall to get some sweets and then we were off. No spoiling!" he retortes before Y/N has a chance to go on her usual don't-buy-them-things-just-because-they-ask rant. The fact that his wife does not laugh or comment suggests she's had enough time to bury herself in doubts about Olivia already.

Finally, he's at the girl's door, which eerily half-open. A rare instance since the time the twins managed to win over the right to owning a key to their own bedroom few months ago.

He steps in, carefully, phone still at his ear. "Maya?" The objectively calmer and less hot-headed daughter is sitting on her bed, unbothered and uninterested.

"What?" she replies without looking away from her game. It makes Lando bit infuriated, but he knows he's hardly the one to say anything about this topic.

"Maya, where is your sister?" he asks, loudly enough so that Y/N can also hear him.

Not even a glance. "Dunno."

Lando stares at her. "What do you mean, dunno?"

"She said she was running away." Tap, tap, swipe. Maya shrugs. "So I let her."

"You LET HER?!"

Maya finally looks up, confused and surprised by the change of tone. "Yeah? She was being dramatic. Again."

Lando runs fingers through his hair. "Maya, you’re supposed to STOP her from doing stuff like this!"

Maya shrugs. "She was really committed. Packed a bag and everything."

Lando’s brain short-circuits. His ten-year-old daughter ran away. And he didn’t even notice. He hears Y/N sigh heavily over the phone. "I’ll start calling around. You start looking for our child."

Lando, still in mild shock: "Right. Yes. Good plan."

First, he searches the whole apartment, every cabinet, every spot he remembers the kids using during their plays of hide and seek. He's not sure whether he's more mad at Liv, for bolting, or at Maya for being so chill about it. After few minutes, it's obvious, Olivia is not home. He calls the concierge. Nothing. How could they possibly miss a child strolling around with packed bag?

He retraces their steps back. Pick up at the school—short ride over to the small mall—they stopped at a bakery, looked in few shop windows, Lando had them give their opinions on few bracelet designs (The plan is to get everyone in the family one with a different stone color. It's a surprise for Y/N and the girls know it. A family gift, so technically not spoiling anyone.)—then they got home and Lando started streaming. What exactly made Liv run away? Flash of guilt washes him over. Did he say something mean? Maybe he should have called off the stream today. Is he being a bad father? Well, he is, he figures. His child ran away and sent an email specifically mentioning his name. Oh, god. Suddenly, he's regretting being the one to shut down the idea of having their kid's location on at all times. At the time, he argued since they're in Monaco, there wasn't a big probability of anything bad happening to them. Everyone knows everyone. He forgot to count in the fact his kids might one day have a mind of their own. He just wanted to give them some form of freedom.

Lando grabs his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts, heart pounding. Okay. Where would Olivia go? Who enables her nonsense? Who has snacks?

Who would let her rant dramatically without asking too many questions? He dials the first name that makes sense.

Max Verstappen pick up immediately. "Nope, she's not here, Y/N already called. Nice one though, how can you lose a child that loud?" Lando groans, this being the second time he's been beaten by one his family members today. "I didn't lose her, she left."

"Ah, so you’ve been out-parented by a ten-year-old?" he comments, like it's no big deal at all.

"Thanks Max, helpful as always. Let me know if you see her."

"Of course." Lando hangs up immediately.

He hopes he's the first one to call Oscar.

"Hey, Lando. What's up?" he's welcomed with moderately disinterested tone.

"Have you seen Olivia?" Lando blurts out, fighting the passage of time.

"Um. No? Not lately? Should I have?"

He figures that if she's been sitting on his couch right now, Oscar would probably not even notice. "Nah...She sort of ran away few minutes ago. She can't be far, but like..."

"Yeah, that's not good."

Lando thinks about finding new friends. "Excellent observation. Well, let me know if she shows up at your doorstep."

"Will do. Check the school? Maybe she went back?"

If Lando knows one thing, it's that wherever his daughter, his carbon copy, is, it's not back at school.

"Thanks. Once she shows up, I’m grounding her forever."

"Might not be the best way to convince her to come home, mate."

Lando hangs up after the unsolicited advice. He's getting desperate, so he starts dialing random people who are in Monaco. Carlos - does not pick up. His usual contacts end up being either completely useless or actively making the situation worse.

At this point, he's calling anyone in Monaco who might have even the slightest clue where Olivia could be.

And then - a message. Text from Carlos. Mate, drop everything and come by.

Eyes still glued to the text, his brain short-circuiting over Carlos’ cryptic message, and then the phone rings again. Y/N. He barely has time to process before he picks up.

"Tell me you found her." No greeting, no buildup—just straight to business. Lando rubs a hand down his face. "No. But Carlos just texted me. Told me to come over."

A pause. Then, suspicion. "Why?" "I don’t know." Lando waves a hand at the message like she can see it. "He just said ‘it's important.’"

There’s a beat of silence. He can practically hear Y/N narrowing her eyes. "That’s weird," she mutters. "I just called the school again—nothing. Also checked a few cafés, just in case."

Lando starts pacing the living room, running through possibilities. "And?"

"Guess twice." He hears her sigh. "She's not at her friends' houses either. At this point, unless she's living in the canals like some kind of feral child, I have no idea where she'd go."

Lando groans, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm going to Carlos'."

Another pause. Then, firmly: "Okay. But if Carlos doesn't have her, we're calling the police. What if...." She does not dare to finish the thought and it's just then when Lando starts properly getting worried. Many crazy people are obsessed with him and in extension, his family. He does not dare to even imagine what could happen.

Lando exhales. "Yeah. Agreed." They hang up.

He stares at his phone for half a second longer, then grabs his keys and rushes for the door.

//

He's putting his shoes on when Maya's voice cut through the hallways, her tone all shy and contrasting her previous sassy responses. "Is she going to be alright?" Lando turns around to see the image of pure innocence, worried little ten-year-old, who looks a little too small for this world. A smile forms on his face, even though it does not match his current mood at all.

"Come here, honey," he gestures and waits for Maya to run over to his embrace. She hugs his legs and in return, he pats her head. "Of course. We will find her and it will all be fine."

"I'm sorry I let her go..." she apologizes and Lando is surprised that there are no tears in her eyes, given the sorrow expressed in her voice.

"I'm happy you're saying that," he replies, grateful to be spared of one parent lecture today. "Do you have any idea where she might be?" He searches for any hint of a clue in her face, but it's all blank as she shakes he head.

"She said she's going home. And then left."

Even though this does not help him at all, he nods understandingly, slowly letting go of Maya and reaching for his jacket. "And do you know why?" Guilt must be written all over his face. He had been too reckless, too focused on other things and neglecting his kids.

Maya's soft voice provides an answer, that opens up more questions. "She was upset about the bracelet. Said it was too much."

This stops his actions. "What?" Lando frowns, trying to wrap his head around whether his daughter entering some sort of preteen leftist phase. Aren't kids suppose to like things? Maya simply shrugs her shoulders, her face mimicking her father's. "You know how she is sometimes..."

Yes, he knows. Stubborn, hot-headed and in a world of her own. Once again, like a sarcastic mirror he has to look at everyday, to get reminded of his own mishaps. Maya, the somewhat more innocent, less conniving one, stares at him, as if he has all the answers. He just grabs his keys, reassures her once more and orders her to protect the house. It's an old trick that still seems to be working on her. It's clear though his kids are growing up faster and faster. More complex tactics will be needed. In order to prevent future runaway moments.

//

He's making sure to scan every street he passes by on the way to his ex-teammate's house. It would make sense for Olivia to be at his place, since out of all their family friends, Carlos lives the closest. And, Maya mentioned she's going home. So, unless she's on her way all the way back to visit grandma in England, this seems like the next best thing.

Lando is on edge and the elevator is being annoyingly slow. His daughter is missing, his brain is on fire, and he has exactly zero leads.

And yet—Carlos Sainz opens the door like Lando just showed up for a casual chat session.

"Finally," Carlos says, grabbing Lando by the sleeve and pulling him inside without a single question. "I need your help with something."

Lando blinks. "Carlos, what—"

Carlos does not wait. He marches toward the kitchen, muttering to himself while swiping through something on his phone.

"This is serious. I've been trying to decide this all morning," Carlos continues, completely unaware of Lando's rapidly declining mental state. "I need an outside perspective."

Lando follows, confused, frustrated, and five seconds away from yelling. "Carlos, I don't have time—"

Carlos spins around dramatically. "Should I grow a beard?"

Lando stares. "What?" Carlos gestures at his own face. "A beard. Do I grow one? Or will it look stupid?"

Lando rubs a hand down his face. "Carlos, I do not have time for this right now—" "But it's an important decision!" Carlos argues, like his life depends on it. "A beard changes a man, Lando. I need to know before I commit! I've been craving some change lately and this seems like a good step.“

Lando lets out a deep, slow breath. "Carlos." He almost makes it sound like a threat.  Carlos finally notices something is off. His brow furrows. "What's wrong with you?" "My child ran away,“ Lando deadpans and crosses his arms. 

Carlos blinks. "Oh."

There’s a pause. Then, his eyes widen. "Oh!"

"Yes!" Lando gestures wildly. "That’s why I’m here! I thought maybe she came to you—" Carlos gasps, like he’s just uncovered a great conspiracy.

"She’s on a boat."

"...What?" Carlos nods, suddenly deep in thought. "Sí. It makes sense." Lando shakes his head. "No. It does not."

Carlos, ignoring him entirely: "When I was a small child, I often ran away when I was unhappy with my parents. I would go to the sea. The sea is mysterious. The sea is freedom. And Olivia knows that, I remember telling her.“ Lando pinches the bridge of his nose. Why, pray tell, would his friends instruct his children to ran away from home. "Well, thank you for that. Carlos, the sea is also full of very real dangers." Carlos waves him off. "Oh wait no - it was Maya," he says, like that solves the problem. "So, never mind."

"You do realize the girls talk to each other, constantly sharing bad ideas, right?" Lando snaps, unable to comprehend how quickly his calm afternoon had turned so sour. "Please, refrain from giving them bad ideas from now on, thank you." "Ay, cabron, come on. She’s just probably sitting on a yacht somewhere. You know how many boats there are in Monaco?"

Lando does, unfortunately, know. Too many. Way too many.

Carlos is nodding to himself now, fully convinced. "Come on. We go to the harbor, check a few docks. Maybe yell her name a few times—"

"I am not yelling my daughter’s name across Monaco like a lunatic—"

Carlos grins. "I will do it."

Lando groans. "We are not going to the harbor." Carlos tilts his head. "You sure? Because I think—" Lando’s phone buzzes, saving him from this tragedy of a conversation. He glances at the screen. His manager. Since he does not have a time for a lecture on not missing meetings just because they're on Zoom–just like he is missing one right now–he hits decline and puts this on future Lando to deal with.

Then—a text.

Lando. We found your daughter.

He freezes. Carlos immediately notices. "What? What happened?" Lando, staring at his phone in disbelief, exhales sharply. "They found her." Carlos claps his hands together, triumphant. "On a boat!" Lando glares. "Not on a boat!" Carlos snaps his fingers, looking genuinely disappointed. "Damn. That would’ve been so good."

Lando ignores him, already texting Y/N. Because wherever Olivia is, she’s about to get the lecture of a lifetime.

And if Carlos mentions boats one more time, Lando is never speaking to him again. One intrusive thought enters his brain before he gets to dialing his manager. A beard–there is probably nothing worse Carlos could do to destroy his look so quickly and efficiently. Lando turns towards him. "I think a beard is an excellent idea. You should do it," he says, pretending to take this seriously. A small revenge for his best friend feeding his kids ideas about running away from home. A wide smile grows on the Spaniard's face and he squeezes Lando's shoulder. "Knew it. Thanks, mate!" Lando nods a little too enthusiastically.

//

Home is where the heart is. Some say home is where your story begins. Others say it’s not a place, but a person. For Olivia Norris apparently, for her, it's a place where they sell luxury cars, keep a an endless stock of hoodies with her father's name and probably walk around her on eggshells. Because while most kids would run away to a friend’s house or a secret fort in the woods, Lando's child—his stubborn, dramatic, terrifyingly smart child—ran away to the McLaren showroom.

And honestly? He would have never seen that coming.

He's used to people rushing to take selfies with him whenever he's on the main streets of Monaco, so it's not much of a surprise that when he parks in front of the McLaren showroom, he's circled by enthusiastic fans immediately. Honestly, right now, when he's searching for his runaway child, having visual proof of this afternoon is the last thing he needs. Sadly, he understands that making a scene and refusing would bring even more attention online. Five photos later, he finally gets to enter inside.

It's not like Lando goes around to roam around McLaren stores on his free days, unless PR obligations order him too. His presence would raise eyebrows and freeze employees even on a regular day, without his daughter taking a refuge there. It's obvious from the moment he steps in - all the staff members are on edge, holding their phones like weapons to use to call supervisors and doing a bad job at pretending everything is fine. He walks in and awkwardly waits for the frontman to approach him.

"Mr. Norris," he speaks, barely hiding his nervousness. "I believe you'd want to speak to the manager?" Lando just nods and gives him one angry smile. If there is one thing he's not in the mood for, it's speaking in corporate codes.

"Sure," he says and swiftly walks away.

The front desk employee looks like he’s preparing for battle. Lando watches as the poor guy takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders, and puts on his best customer service smile before cautiously approaching. "Mr. Norris," the man greets, voice a little too high-pitched. Lando tilts his head. "Let me guess," he says, folding his arms. "You have a small, dramatic, ten-year-old hiding somewhere in here?" The employee lets out a nervous chuckle. "Well… we wouldn't say hiding, exactly."

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"She, uh…" The man glances at his coworkers for support, but they all pretend to be very busy. He clears his throat. "She told us she works here now. Said that Zak Brown himself approved it.“

Lando closes his eyes for a moment. Has this person never talked to a lying child before? 

Of course she did.

"And you… just let her?"

The employee start looking scared. "Um, well, we were not sure how to proceed. She was very convincing."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose. "Where is she?"

The man gestures toward the back of the store, where the more exclusive merch is displayed. "She, uh… had us set up a 'desk.'" This is a new level, even for her. "She what?" The employee nods gravely. "Sir, she brought a clipboard." That actually stuns him into silence for a second. Then, before he can even process it, he hears it—

A tiny but authoritative voice from behind the display racks. "Excuse me, sir! Can I interest you in our new McLaren papaya collection?" Lando whips his head around. And there, seated behind a neatly arranged stack of McLaren hoodies, holding a clipboard and looking entirely unbothered…

Is Olivia.

His runaway daughter.

His child.

He watches her talking to a grown man, ignoring his minor confusion and doing what could be only described as skillfully pitching this specific line of merch. No shame or hesitance. Just as she almost has this man trying on a bright orange hoodie, Lando decides to step in and intervene. 

"This shade of papaya," she says smoothly, flipping a page on her clipboard for dramatic effect, "It is the best color, because it’s the brightest one. It will make you stand out like no one else."

The man, who clearly only came in for a casual browse, now looks deeply invested. He nods thoughtfully, holding the hoodie up to his chest. "You think it suits me?"

Olivia tilts her head, analyzing him like she’s Zak Brown finalizing a sponsorship deal. "Absolutely. You give off McLaren energy." The man looks genuinely touched. And that is when Lando decides enough is enough. "Olivia Norris," he calls out, voice firm, authoritative, and 100% Dad Mode. His daughter freezes mid-sale. Her eyes go wide. The poor customer looks between them, clearly confused. A second later, he’s got the star-struck face on, probably finally recognizing Lando, who steps forward, hands on his hips. Glances apologetically at the man and gives his full attention to his daughter. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Olivia plasters on a casual smile, like she wasn't just caught selling merch to a stranger in an attempt to start a new life.

"Uh, working?" she tries, tucking the clipboard against her chest like that makes it official.

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

She nods, fully committing. "Mhm. First day on the job. Big things happening for me." "Liv,“ he speaks a warning, the fact they’re out in public with interested witnesses working in her favor.  She holds up a finger, turning back to the man. "One second, sir, my old manager's here." Lando nearly chokes. "I'm your father." "Same thing," she shrugs. Lando blinks at her. Then, at the clipboard. Then, back at her. "Pack it up," he says, gesturing toward the exit. "Your shift is over." Olivia sighs dramatically. "Does this mean I don’t get paid?"

"Olivia."

"Fine," she huffs, setting the clipboard down like this is a tragic career-ending moment. Lando turns to the man, who still looks entirely too amused. "Sorry about that," he sighs. The man chuckles. "No worries. She’s good." He pauses, then holds up the hoodie. "I am gonna buy this, though." Lando groans. Of course she made a sale. As Olivia grins proudly, clearly aware she's the winner this afternoon, Lando grabs her by the shoulders and steers her toward the door, preparing for the conversation of a lifetime. He waves apologetically at the store employees, who are all trying very hard to pretend like they're not watching them.

They walk out from the store, calmly and collected. He's carrying the bag she must have packed and questions her planning skills, as the bag seems to be full of dresses and random selection of snacks. After all, even with the stunt he's just seen, ultimately. he is grateful that authorities didn't need to get involved in this. He guides Olivia to his car, opens the door and makes sure she’s locked in before he starts the car. 

He’s driving home smoothly, monitoring her face in all the mirrors available. Dark sunglasses she put on probably to prove a point hide her eyes, but the body language betrays her. She's upset and while he does share her emotion and has to fight his urge to start his lecture about safety, fans and most importantly, not running away from home, he decides to do the adult thing and sets his goal on figuring out the cause of this all. 

"So. Running away from home, huh?" he asks and tries to keep his tone as casual as possible. No reaction. Fine. "Your mom and I were really worried. Maya too, by the way," he tries to play it on the more emotional side. It's only when he mentions Maya, that Olivia shifts uncomfortably. Lando notices the slight movement immediately. A tiny shrug in her shoulders, like the weight of what she did is finally sinking in.

Good. She should feel a little guilty.

Still, she says nothing, arms crossed tightly over her chest, the ridiculous slightly oversized sunglasses making her look far too dramatic for a ten-year-old.

Lando sighs, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

"She thought you might be gone forever, you know," he adds, throwing a quick glance at Olivia through the rearview mirror. "She even got promoted to ‘oldest child.’ Big responsibility."

That gets him something—a twitch at the corner of her mouth. He presses on. "And I don't know if you realize this," he continues, keeping his voice light yet firm, "but your ‘home’ today was a McLaren store. Not even the factory, Liv. A store."

Olivia adjusts her sunglasses like a celebrity avoiding paparazzi. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

She shrugs. "Well. You always say that McLaren is your home. And if it's yours, why could it not be mine?“ 

Lando’s heart sinks and he’s not sure whether he's proud to know Olivia listens to what he says or if he's terrified of the strange, most likely unhealthy, relationship his kid is developing towards a global corporation. "I do say that, you're right. But there is a difference between a job and a home. It’s a...Different kind of home,"  he says it and wonders if anyone had ever told him that when he was young. 

Olivia seems to be deeply in her own thoughts. "I'm sure some of the employees would take me in."

Lando scoffs. "Oh, well, in that case—fantastic life decision."

A small huff. "Better than where I was gonna go."

Lando narrows his eyes. "And where exactly was that?"

Silence. If she says "a boat", Lando's going to convince Carlos to also shave his hair off. He waits, watching her in the mirror, not pushing—just letting the silence do the work. And after a few moments, Olivia finally caves, shifting in her seat.

Surprisingly, she ignores his question entirely. "You and Mom were gonna put braces on me so you could tell me and Maya apart."

Lando almost swerves into the wrong lane. "Wait, what?!" He glances at her, then back at the road. "Braces?"

Olivia nods solemnly. "I heard you. In the store. You said it will be easier," she says, sounding genuinely disturbed. Then, her childlike anger builds up. "But, I don’t even have all my adult teeth in! It sounds dangerous, dad! Also - why would you and mom need them too? Do you realize everyone is going to laugh at our family?"

Lando stares straight ahead, completely dumbfounded. For a second, his brain refuses to process this level of nonsense.

Braces. BRACES?!

Of all the things she could've misheard, this is what led to her dramatic escape?

"Olivia." He exhales, shaking his head. "I said bracelets. I was getting us bracelets. Matching ones, with different colors, so that other people won’t mix you and Maya up so much, I know how you hate it."

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Olivia slowly lowers her sunglasses. "...Bracelets?"

"Bracelets," Lando confirms, dead serious.

More silence.

Then—a quiet, barely-there mutter:

"...Oh."

Lando lets out the loudest, most exhausted sigh of his life. "Oh?" he repeats, glancing at her in disbelief. "OH?! You ran away because of a bracelet misunderstanding?!"

Olivia slouches further into her seat. "I was not going to let that happen to me."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose. "Liv. If you just asked—"

"You said not to tell mom!“ she interrupts, as if this is somehow his fault.

Lando groans. "That's not the point!"

"I panicked!"

"You panicked? So instead of clarifying, you packed a bag full of dresses and snacks and started a career in retail?!"

Olivia crosses her arms again, defensive. "It was a solid plan."

Lando lets out a short, incredulous laugh. "Liv, it was the worst plan."

She pouts. "It worked for a while."

Lando tilts his head. "Did it?"

"...No."

"Exactly."

A long pause.

Then, softly: "Maya really thought I was leaving forever?"

Lando nods. "Yeah. She acted all chill about it, but I could tell she was worried."

Olivia twists the hem of her hoodie, suddenly looking much smaller than before. "...I didn't mean to scare her."

Lando softens.

"I know," he says, glancing at her in the mirror again. "And I know you like being independent, but Liv—" He sighs. "You don’t need to run away over stuff like this. Just talk to me, okay?"

She nods slowly, still fiddling with her hoodie. "...Okay."

"And maybe next time, instead of running away, just... go to your room dramatically like a normal ten-year-old?"

Olivia snorts. "No promises." Lando chuckles, shaking his head.

This kid.

They pull into the driveway, and Olivia takes off her sunglasses, letting out a deep breath.

"Hey, Dad?" Lando raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?" She smirks. "Did you bring my clipboard?" Lando laughs, unlocking the car. "You're grounded."

//

"So, you're telling me Liv ran away because of no reason?" Y/N asks for the third time, as she sits across from her husband and two suspiciously quiet children.

Lando's got his PR smile on, it's clear as a day. When and how he managed to teach both of the girls the same is the real mystery. Y/N cut her day at work short to rush home. Even with the news of Olivia being back at home, she found it hard to focus on anything else. She expected to walk into a battlefield, at least one of the girls crying and flustered Lando. But no—one would never have even guessed anything strange had happened that day. They're all sitting there, like some sort of picturesque scene from a school issued guidance book.

"Mom," Olivia speaks up slowly, accidentally looking at Y/N like she is stupid for repeating the question. "It was a bad decision on my part. I accept being grounded for a week. We will be able to explain everything in few weeks," Olivia says confidently at first, but still turns towards her father, as if for confirmation she said all the right words. It's hard to believe a single word she says. Still, he gives her a small, but proud, nod.

"We have a surprise for you and if we tell you everything, it will be ruined!" Maya's comment is cheerfully enthusiastic, like she's telling Y/N the best thing that has ever happened.

Without a clue on what to say, Y/N turns to Lando for any hint of answers. He looks at her like he's some divine angel. "It's a funny story, but we can't tell you now."

Y/N hands fly up at the weird logic of this all. "What?"

"Patience, love. It's a virtue," Lando says simply and it's clear none of them are going to spill anything about today.

Maya follows the lead with a comment dripping with excitement. "Yes, mom. Patience!"

Y/N exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. She stares at the three of them—her clearly rehearsed, suspiciously well-behaved family—then lets out a dry laugh.

"You know what?" she says, standing up. "Fine. But when this ‘surprise’ inevitably turns into another disaster, I am not the one handling it."

She grabs her bag and heads toward the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

Behind her, Lando leans closer to his kids and ruffles both their hair. "That went well. Good job, she's going to love the bracelets."

Olivia, smirking proudly, follow his lead. "Told you we could sell it. I have experience now."

[luvergirl-866]

i don’t see what anyone could see in anyone else (but you)

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 6.0k

c/w - fluff, they’re both annoying and sassy, p has adhd highkey (twin)

a/n - inspired by the let’s be honest p annoying a video. i just love the girlfriends but best friends first dynamic iykwim 😣. also took a lot of inspo from some tiktok lives 🩷 anyway yeah this is stupid and late for v day but better than nothing!!

It has been a good week.

On Sunday, Azzi made it a point to spend the day getting ahead on schoolwork as much as she could. Coach had been hinting at a grueling upcoming practice week and Azzi knows herself well enough to know she’d end up putting school on the back burner anyway. And that’s exactly what happened, because come Monday, every time she left a class with homework it would end up in her desk, left there to rot until basketball wasn’t her main priority anymore.

Coach hadn’t been lying—he never is about those things. Practice was torture, often running hours into the night as the girls were made to play again and again until they were good enough in Geno’s eyes. But Azzi had been one of the few on the team who loved it, feeling just as renewed as she was drained after each practice. The more exhausted she got, the longer practice went on, the better she performed. It was unusual for her and it struck up a certain confidence, creating a subtle pep in her step everywhere she went.

The only downside to the week was the lack of Paige Time. It’s been like that for quite some time now—really, ever since basketball season started. After the long summer spent basically attached at the hip, the school year was a rude awakening for them and November was even ruder. They were juggling basketball, school, marketing, and their own personal endeavors—especially Paige’s as she prepares to declare. On top of all that, finding time to love on each other has been difficult, if not impossible. Besides for a few kisses in passing and minor flirting in practice, they really only see each other at bedtime and briefly in the mornings.

Which is why, when Azzi wakes up in her girlfriend’s room, she can’t help but smile a little to herself before she’s even really awake. Because it’s Saturday, and the sun is shining through the curtains, and most importantly, they have nowhere to be today.

She can feel Paige’s presence behind her, and can hear the TikToks playing on her phone, signaling she’s already awake. Actually, TikTok might’ve been what woke Azzi in the first place. Now that she’s really waking up, she realizes that Paige has her phone speakers turned up way too high, and a pang of sleepy irritability goes through her. “Babe,” she mumbles into her pillow, “turn that down.”

Thankfully, the tinny noises stop, but they’re quickly replaced by the familiar teasing tone in her girlfriend’s voice. “Look who’s finally awake.”

“What time is it?” Azzi yawns, eyes still closed.

“9:30,” Paige replies.

At that, Azzi snuggles further into the blankets, the scent of Paige enveloping her. “Not even that early,” she says. “Might go back to sleep.”

“Can I wake you up at ten?” Paige asks. “I’m bored.”

“Yes,” Azzi concedes, used to Paige’s neediness, “you can wake me up at ten.”

“Aight,” Paige says, sounding pleased with herself.

Azzi shifts, feeling a little lonely what with Paige all the way on her side of the bed. They’ve had a whole conversation at this point, yet she’s still yet to receive a good morning kiss. It’s off-putting, to be honest. She expects Paige, ever the affectionate one in their relationship, to sidle up beside her now that she’s semi-awake.

Instead, to her shock, the TikTok sounds start back up again. And they’re just as loud as before.

“Paige,” Azzi exclaims, finally cracking her eyes open, turning over her shoulder to find Paige propped up against the headboard, staring calmly at her.

“Hm?” she asks.

Azzi sighs. She hates having to ask for the things she wants. Usually, Paige just magically knows and provides it for her. She must be too busy on stupid TikTok to remember she has a girlfriend who needs attending to.

In lieu of asking straight-up, Azzi reaches back, grasping for Paige’s thigh and looking up at her with big brown eyes.

Immediately, Paige tosses her phone to the side, chuckling. “Mm. Sorry, princess.” Sliding down under the covers, she situates herself closer until she’s hovering above her, close enough to drop a chaste kiss on her lips. “You wanna cuddle?”

“Obviously,” Azzi mutters, reaching up for one more kiss before turning back over, sighing when Paige snuggles up behind her.

“You gotta little attitude this morning,” Paige helpfully observes, nuzzling into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi closes her eyes, trying to let sleep call to her as it was just a minute ago. “Just miss you,” she says, a little vulnerable in the way she says it—and maybe that’s also due to the minimal clothes they’re wearing, the skin-on-skin contact always making her feel safe and comforted and exposed all at once.

Paige tuts sympathetically, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I know, baby.” There’s a beat of silence as they shift, Paige’s hand running over her stomach, trailing up to one of her breasts. “Missed you, too.”

As much as the touch turns Azzi on, it’s less the sexuality of it and more the sheer domesticity; the way they know each other’s bodies well enough to be comfortable with wandering hands that aren’t meant to lead anywhere. She breathes deep as Paige holds her gently, then clasps a hand over her’s, keeping her in place.

It’s only another minute before she’s drifting off again, Paige’s even breaths in her ear lulling her to sleep.

It’s peaceful—maybe the most relaxed she’s been all week. But as she lays there, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, Paige’s breathing changes just a split second before she’s speaking too loudly in Azzi’s ear, “I’m hungry.”

Azzi startles a little at the sudden interruption. Her eyes fly open, though only to shoot a glare at her girlfriend. “Paige!”

“What? I am.” Paige frowns, pulling away to sit up and rub her stomach forlornly. “You took too long to wake up.”

Azzi sighs, rolling over onto her back. “I thought you were gonna let me sleep until ten.”

Paige shrugs at that, making big puppy eyes at her, and Azzi resigns to the fact that she will not be getting any more sleep this morning.

“Fine,” she grumbles, sitting up with some effort. “But I’m gonna shower first.”

She stands up, Paige’s eyes tracking her from where she sits on the bed. She whistles lowly as Azzi makes her way to the closet, likely due to the fact that she’s only wearing a pair of sheer panties. Azzi rolls her eyes, pulling on a pair of clothes for the walk down the hall.

Paige, of course, trails her to the bathroom, situating herself on the floor while Azzi starts the water. She watches intently as Azzi undresses, and Azzi catches her pout just as she’s stepping inside.

“What?” Azzi asks when she sees her expression.

“Can I come in with you?” Paige asks.

The offer is tempting, but Azzi is still sore from last night and in all honestly, she’s not in the mood after Paige rudely woke her this morning. “No. I’m only gonna be like five minutes.”

“I can help you.”

“I think I got it,” Azzi laughs, pouring soap onto her washcloth—something she is perfectly capable of doing by herself.

Paige stands up, walking over to Azzi’s phone on the counter. “Okay, then lemme play your music.”

Azzi doesn’t really have time to protest before Bossman Dlow is blasting far too loud over the speakers, and Paige picks up a hairbrush, admiring herself in the mirror as she sings. Azzi rolls her eyes, refocusing her efforts on cleaning up.

Paige looks over and catches the unamused look on her face. “Oh, sorry,” she says sincerely, picking up another hairbrush and holding it out. “You wanted a mic too?”

Azzi sighs. She gets the feeling she’ll be doing a lot of that today.

————————————

It’s not until awhile later that they finally get to the kitchen—mostly due to the fact that Paige kept showing her videos and making commentary while she tried to do her hair, causing the whole endeavor to take a lot longer than it should’ve. Ironically, Paige is the one whining about this by the time they’re finally ready.

“Bro, now I’m really hungry,” she says, continuing to rub her belly a bit like a pregnant lady—which makes Azzi giggle—as she heads to the fridge.

“What should we have, mama?” she asks. Then, as Azzi’s thinking about it, she says, “You’re right, pancakes sound good.”

Azzi hefts herself onto the counter. “Never said that.”

“You took too long to answer,” Paige replies simply. She roots through the fridge for another minute before sighing, turning around to face her. “Do we need milk to make pancakes?”

“Do you have pancake mix?”

“Um…” Paige walks to the pantry at this, taking another minute to search that before once again sighing dramatically. “No.”

“Then, yes. We need milk.”

“Why, though?” Paige asks, frowning. “Shouldn’t water work the same?”

Azzi scrunches her nose up at the thought of water pancakes. “Ew. No.”

Paige shakes her head at her. “Okay, Miss Picky.”

“I know you’re not talking.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Azzi hops off the counter, patting Paige’s chest as she walks past her to the entryway, searching for Paige’s keys. “C’mon, we can go grab some real quick.”

Azzi finds the keys and holds them out expectantly, unsurprised when Paige takes them without hesitation. “I guess. But no fucking around.”

They leave the apartment, and Azzi raises a brow as she watches Paige lock up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Paige says, taking her hand and beginning to walk, “we get in, get the milk, and go.”

Azzi swings their hands mindlessly between them. “If I’m remembering right, you’re the one who’s currently unmedicated.”

“Yeah, and I’m chill,” Paige says, pressing the button for the elevator. “My doctors just want my money or sum’, I’m fine without that dumb shit.”

“Paige, you woke me up five times last night because you had things to tell me and didn’t wanna forget.”

“Valid reason to wake you up.” Paige shoves Azzi inside the elevator, and once she follows, Azzi pushes her right back.

“I’m just saying. You’re easily distracted.”

“Nah.”

“We were making out for like an hour yesterday and you interrupted it to tell me a story.”

“It was a funny story,” Paige explains, taking her hand once again when the elevator doors open and dragging her out.

“Debatable,” Azzi quips, even though it was kinda a good story.

“And it’s not like we didn’t continue kissing after that. I just gave us a lil intermission.”

“You never needed intermissions while you were on your meds.”

They’re in the parking lot now, and Paige unlocks her car, nudging Azzi towards it. “Just get in the car.”

“Bossy,” Azzi mumbles.

Believe it or not, the two of them do have days where they don’t fight, argue, or even sass each other. Those days, however, come far and few between—making fun of each other is their love language and thus little spats happen more often than not. And with today being the first day in awhile that they’ve spent together—not to mention Paige’s apparent decision to be more irritating than usual—it’s no surprise that they spend the car ride fighting over music.

By the time they get to the grocery store, Paige is hyperfocused on making sure Azzi stays on track. When Azzi falls behind to smell a candle, she sighs and tugs her away by the wrist: “Bro, why are we going at grandma pace.”

Ironically, Paige, like the hypocrite she is, also finds an abandoned cart in the refrigerated section. Azzi is grabbing milk when Paige bumps her with the cart, getting her attention. When Azzi looks at her, Paige simply says, “Babe, watch,” and proceeds to hop on the cart and ride it down the aisle with the vigor of a small child.

Once the milk is secured, Azzi decides she deserves some remuneration for the taxing work of going out in public with her girlfriend. Stopping Paige on their way to checkout, Azzi looks up at her with big, brown eyes and says, “Can we stop in the books? Just really quick.”

Paige avoids her gaze. “Nah, I wanna leave.”

“Aw,” Azzi coos, running a hand down Paige’s arm somewhat seductively, “please, Paigey? I need new books.”

Still, Paige refuses to make eye contact as she says, “Aren’t you working on, like, two right now?”

Azzi doesn’t usually get this much pushback from her. She wonders exactly why Paige woke up and decided to annoy her today. Still, she knows Paige can’t say no to her. Placing her hand on Paige’s cheek, she turns her face, forcing her to look at her: the slight pout of her lips, the way her eyes widen enough to be convincing. “C’mon, baby,” she says. “I promise I’ll be fast.”

That’s the breaking point. With a sigh, Paige nods, allowing herself to be excitedly led to the book section.

Azzi decides that she’s no longer annoyed with Paige as she searches through the books, reading over the synopses of every one that looks interesting. She’s desperate for something new, even though Paige is right—she already has plenty.

Paige stays miraculously quiet for a solid five minutes, allowing Azzi to take her time and even browsing through a few books of her own.

Those five minutes, however, are as long as she gets before she happens to pick up a romance novel. Paige glances at her in that moment and she barely has time to hide the cover before Paige is gagging, most likely at the straight couple pictured embracing on the front of it. “That’s so gross.”

Azzi puts the book back on the shelf. “It’s no different than when we kiss.”

“Lowkey super offensive thing to say,” Paige replies. Azzi rolls her eyes, watching as Paige reaches down to grab a large book with colorful dragons on the cover. “This looks way cooler.”

Azzi takes a few steps closer to read the bold lettering on the cover, and then snorts. “Paige, that is a coloring book.”

By the time they get back home, Azzi has officially rescinded her earlier decision—she is definitely still annoyed with Paige.

—————————————

When they return to the dorms, despite Azzi’s oddly low patience for Paige’s annoying nature today, she still wants nothing more than to cozy up in bed with her and read her new book. They make the pancakes first, Paige doing nothing to help her case by arguing about how exactly to make pancakes. Once the two of them—plus half the team, who heard from Jana in the group chat that there would be pancakes—are fed, Azzi is ready to retreat back into Paige’s room.

However, most of the team is still there, and Paige’s oblivious ass is refusing to take Azzi’s hints, too busy chatting with their friends.

She’s tried everything: muttering to Paige that she’s tired (“I see a lil’ napski in our future,” is what Paige responds with), sitting herself on Paige’s lap in an unusual display of affection (“We run out of chairs or sum’?” Paige asks), and even aggressively cleaning everybody’s dishes (“I can do that, mama, you go hang,” Paige says, taking over).

At this point, it’s all she can do not to just yell at her girlfriend. She sits on the couch, listening a little sleepily as KK tells her some crazy story. The team is far too raucous for noon on a Saturday, probably in part to the ridiculous amounts of whipped cream and syrup they all used on their pancakes. In the kitchen, Aubrey and Paige start wrestling, and KK stops yapping to go join them. She jumps on Paige’s back, knocking her over and losing her balance in the process until they’re a heap on the floor. Aubrey steps on their backs, flexing, and the girls cheer rowdily.

Azzi is overstimulated.

Refraining from covering her ears, Azzi stands, giving up on the Paige aspect of her afternoon plans. She’s not sure she even wants Paige—who is hysterically laughing as she gets up from the floor—to be with her anymore. It’d be like forcing a hyper dog to cuddle. She’d probably end up getting bitten.

She’s hoping nobody will notice her slipping away, but Kayla does, tugging on a curl as she heads to the hallway. “Where ya going, babe?”

“Paige’s room,” Azzi says simply.

“She’s gonna notice you’re gone.”

Azzi glances at the scene behind them. Someone’s turned on ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ and Ice has now joined the kitchen boxing match. Paige just barely ducks a fist to the face before barreling into Ice’s stomach, once again ending up on the floor, giggling deliriously. The other girls have mostly lost interest at this point, which is fair—this isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Azzi turns back to Kayla. “I doubt it.”

“Give her five minutes,” Kayla insists.

“She’s too busy being a little boy.” Azzi rolls her eyes, patting Kayla affectionately as she walks past.

In Paige’s room, she breathes a sigh of relief, the closed door offering some solace from the noise outside. Even better, Paige’s airpods sit on her bedside table; Azzi takes them and connects them to her phone, turning on the noise-cancelling setting. Pleased with the results, she settles into her side of the bed, picking up her book and beginning to read.

She gets maybe two pages in before a tap on the shoulder scares the shit out of her.

Jumping, she whirls around, to find Paige standing beside the bed with a sheepish smile on her face.

Azzi takes out an airpod. “Paige, what?”

Her tone comes out more exasperated than she means to and feels a little guilty about the confused look she gets in return. “I noticed you left. Kay told me you were in here.”

“Yeah, just reading.”

“I see,” Paige replies. She hovers awkwardly, then says, “why didn’t you bring me with you?”

Despite her irritability, affection blossoms in Azzi’s chest at her girlfriend’s clinginess, her need to be around her 24/7 if they’re together. And Azzi reminds herself that this is the first day they’ve really had with each other in a while, and Paige is missing her too. Gently, she says, “I tried, but it seemed like you were having too much fun.”

“I mean, I was having fun,” Paige says. “But I’d rather hang out with you than fuck around with those dumbasses.”

“You’re as much of a dumbass as they are,” Azzi quips. “Actually, they probably learned it from you.”

“Like father, like sons,” Paige nods solemnly. Then, unceremoniously, she throws herself on top of Azzi, nearly knocking the wind out of her and crushing her book between them.

“Ow, Paige!” she says, freeing her hands and book as Paige wriggles like a happy little worm on top of her.

“I missed you,” Paige mumbles into her neck.

“We’ve been together all day.”

“You left me alone out there.”

“I’ve been in here for like five minutes.”

Paige lifts her head to pout at her. “Five minutes too long.”

Unable to help herself, she leans forward, kissing the pout off Paige’s lips. When she pulls back, Paige chases after her, trying to deepen the kiss, but Azzi pushes at her chest. “I still wanna read my book.”

“Okay,” Paige says.

“I wanna snuggle with you,” Azzi continues. “But only if you let me read.“

“Okay,” she repeats. She’s staring at Azzi’s lips, though, which doesn’t spark a lot of confidence that she’s actually listening.

“Which means,” Azzi emphasizes, getting Paige’s eyes to snap back up to her’s, “no talking, no showing me TikToks. And no distracting me with sex.”

Paige pouts again at that, batting her eyelashes stupidly. “What, you mean I can’t eat you out while you’re reading?” Azzi flicks her forehead, and she snickers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Joking. I’ll be good, don’t worry.”

Azzi actually believes her, crazy enough. It’s mostly due to the fact that she and Paige have been together for nearly seven years, so she has her pretty house-trained at this point.

Satisfied, she flashes a smile, picking her book back up. Paige scoots down the length of her body until she’s settled between Azzi’s legs, head resting comfortably on the soft expanse of her tummy. Once they’re situated, Azzi frees up a hand to scratch Paige’s scalp, which’ll keep her happy for a while.

They sit like that for around thirty minutes. The noise of their teammates has died down enough to know that some of them have left, though it’s obvious by the extra chatter that a handful is still hanging around. Paige actually falls asleep within the first ten minutes, which Azzi guesses is probably why she gets so much quiet time.

It still doesn’t feel like enough, though, when a knock sounds at the door. “Y’all decent?”

Azzi glances down at Paige—still fast asleep—and quietly calls out, “We’re good.”

The door swings open and Jana steps inside, followed closely by Ayanna. “We’re going to Chick-Fil-A,” Yanna says, “you wanna come?”

“No, that’s okay.” Azzi pats Paige’s head in a silent explanation. “I’m nap-trapped.”

“Aww, parents.” Jana pulls her phone out, taking a hilariously unflattering close-up of Paige practically drooling on Azzi’s stomach. Azzi giggles as Jana shows her the picture, and she’s distracted enough that there’s nothing she can do when Yanna approaches and jostles Paige awake.

“No, wait—!” Azzi exclaims, reaching out to try and stop her, but it’s too late: the damage is already done. Paige cracks her eyes open with a little groan.

Ayanna scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. Azzi glares at her, then strokes Paige’s hair, trying to coax her back to sleep. “It’s ok, P.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, lifting her head to blink sleepily at them. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“My bad,” Yanna says guiltily. “We just thought you might wanna get Chick-Fil-A with us.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Paige nuzzles back into Azzi’s tummy, surprisingly chill considering she hates being woken from her naps. “Thanks though.”

“Uh-huh,” Jana replies, already heading out the room while she smiles at her phone—Azzi assumes she’s uploading that picture to her close friends.

“Sorry,” Yanna says once again, more to Azzi than anything, before following.

Paige yawns, her warm breath fanning over Azzi’s stomach. As she cuddles back in, Azzi thinks maybe she’ll go back to sleep. She holds onto that hope and resumes her book, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair gently.

This time, it doesn’t work. Which is evident based on the way she lifts herself up on her elbows, giving herself just enough room to press a few kisses around Azzi’s stomach. At first, Azzi tries to ignore it, hoping maybe it’s a casual gesture.

But it’s not long before the kisses slow down as she takes more time on each one, mouth opening so that it leaves the skin of her tummy just a little wet. Of course, it’s out of Azzi’s control the way her thighs tense up, blood rushing straight to her core as her body reacts to her girlfriend’s touch.

Paige curls her fingers around the hem of her top, lips following her hands as they bunch the fabric up to give herself more space, stopping underneath her breasts. She looks up at Azzi, whose gaze is now focused intently on the top of her girlfriend’s head, and flashes a devious little smile before licking a stripe between her ribcage.

Azzi tosses the book to the side, not even bothering to mark her page, freeing her hands so she can use them to pull her girlfriend up by the shoulders, meeting her in the middle for a kiss that’s nowhere near chaste.

Paige is still lying heavily atop her, their chests pressed close together, but it’s still second nature the way Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s waist in an attempt to get her closer. Paige grins against her mouth at the feeling, their hips coming flush together which makes Azzi gasp despite herself.

“Mm,” Paige hums, beginning a slow, wet trail of kisses down her jawline. “Missed you, baby.”

Azzi can’t help but laugh at that. “We just had sex last night.”

“‘S been way too long since then,” Paige mutters into the crook of her neck. Her teeth graze gently over the sensitive skin and Azzi grips her tighter, thinking she might actually agree with Paige for the first time today.

Paige is obviously building her up, apparently horny after her power nap, and Azzi doesn’t plan on stopping her. This is usually how it goes, anyway, Paige being the initiator nine out of ten times. As Paige pushes her top up above her tits, she knows she has no problem with that.

Her hands are a little cold against Azzi’s warm flesh, nipples pebbled from the temperature change mixed with her arousal. Paige just begins to tweak one of them, making Azzi moan softly—her nipples have always been sensitive—when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

The two of them groan, Paige’s forehead falling against her shoulder.

“Y’all decent?” It is, once again, Jana.

Paige lifts her head, pausing to glance down at her hands where they palm Azzi’s bare tits, and keeping her gaze there as she says, “Not really.”

“Already?” Jana calls, sounding somewhere between amused and disgusted. “You’ve been alone for like five minutes!”

“What do you want, Jana?” Azzi asks before Paige can let out the cocky response she definitely wants to say. Her voice is a little breathy, thanks to Paige absentmindedly rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and she hopes Jana doesn’t notice.

“We’re not going out anymore. Too much work. I was gonna ask if you wanna watch a movie with us, but…”

“No,” Paige and Azzi yell at the same time.

“Okay, damn,” Jana sighs. “Just being polite. Don’t get pregnant in there.”

Her footsteps trail off, and they make eye contact and laugh, Paige leaning forward to press an amused kiss to her lips. “We have trifling teammates.”

“Don’t talk about our kids like that,” Azzi says.

“They’re some bad ass kids.” Paige gives her another kiss. This time, it’s Azzi who gives chase when she pulls away, but Paige sighs, and to Azzi’s disappointment, pulls her shirt back down.

Azzi pouts, arms traveling up to loop around the back of her neck. “Why’d you stop?”

“They’re still here,” Paige replies. “I’on want them to hear us.”

“They won’t,” Azzi insists. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, you won’t,” Paige snorts. She kisses Azzi tenderly on the cheek. “Sorry, mama.”

As Paige scoots back down to her original spot, Azzi crosses her arms, feeling a little like a defiant child as she says, “You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I know, baby.” Paige nuzzles against Azzi’s navel, doing nothing to help the heat between her legs. “When Jana and Allie are asleep tonight, I’ll get you right, I promise.”

Azzi huffs.

Paige chuckles softly at her, only making her more annoyed. “Thought you wanted to read your book, hm?”

“That was before you touched my tits,” Azzi replies.

Paige lays her head down. “Poor Azzi-Wazzi,” she tuts with faux sympathy.

“You’re a dick,” Azzi mumbles, picking up her book more out of spite than anything, sure she won’t be able to focus on it. She tries valiantly, though.

Her efforts are interrupted at the feeling of fingers dancing across her stomach.

Peering over her book, Azzi sees Paige walking her pointer and middle finger across the length of her tummy, an amused smile on her face as she watches herself. “‘I’m Azzi Fudd’,” she says, voice quiet and high-pitched, “‘and I have a big ol’ head’.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath to calm herself, Azzi returns to her book, pointedly ignoring her.

“‘Babe, do these pants make me look big?’” Paige continues, jumping her hand-Azzi around dramatically as she badly impersonates her.

“No, you look good,” she replies in her normal voice.

“‘You’re supposed to say that,’” Hand-Azzi whines. “‘Tell me for real’.”

“I’m not lying, I love those pants.”

“‘Babe, stop lying to me!’”

Paige sighs dramatically, as if she were actually arguing with somebody else. “I’m not.”

“‘Yes you are. And you’re probably cheating too.’”

“Baby, you know I’d never—“

Slamming her book down, Azzi grabs Paige’s hand, stilling her excessive finger movements. “Paige!”

Paige laughs, probably at herself, sitting up and stretching out. “What?”

“You are stupid,” Azzi replies a little vehemently. With Paige no longer on top of her, she gathers her things and gets out of bed, officially done.

“Where you goin’, mami?” Paige asks, getting up to follow.

Azzi holds a hand up. “I’m going to sit on the couch, so I can read.”

“You’ve been reading for so long,” Paige groans.

Azzi rolls her eyes, turning away and leaving the room.

Paige trails behind her. “They’re watching a movie in there.”

“Okay, then I’ll watch with them.”

“Cool. Wanna sit with me?”

“No,” Azzi says.

Paige grabs her by the waist, holding her against her front, leaning around to kiss her cheek. “C’mon, baby, you know I was just playin’.”

“Okay, and I don’t wanna be played with.” Azzi pulls out of her grasp, shooting a glare over her shoulder.

Paige raises an eyebrow. “Aight, sassy.”

Azzi doesn’t dignify that with a response. She just heads to the living room, flopping down beside Ice to join the movie. She’s relieved (and maybe a little disappointed) when Paige doesn’t follow her.

—————————————

Paige has left her alone for a good amount of time, maybe an hour. Azzi has KK to thank for that: the two of them have been fucking around, playing Fort, and making TiKToks while Azzi enjoys her peace and quiet. She stays in Paige’s apartment, knowing she’s still going to bed with her tonight. Just as long as Paige continues to keep her distance for awhile.

She’s lying on the couch, book held above her, glasses perched over her nose as she reads. The movie ended a while ago, and Morgan and Sarah still linger around, hanging with Jana, and Allie’s in her room. She sort of hopes they don’t hang around too long. As much as she loves her kids, they’re a lot.

Still, it’s manageable. That is, until Paige and KK come barreling into the room, laughing their asses off. Azzi squeezes her eyes shut, hoping they’re going to pass her, but to her dismay, they stop right in front of the couch.

“Babe,” Paige says.

“Yes,” Azzi monotones.

“We need your opinion.” KK cackles as Paige promptly turns around before starting to twerk—or at least, something that looks like it could be twerking—right in front of Azzi’s poor face. “It’s moving, right? There’s motion?”

On any other day, Azzi might sugarcoat it to be nice, but today she just says, “There is absolutely not motion.”

KK clutches her stomach, laughing so hard she almost wheezes.

Paige whips around, hands on her chest. If there were pearls there, she’d be clutching them. “Babe!”

“I told you!” KK yells, pushing Paige out of the way. Azzi groans as she, too, turns around and begins shaking ass. It is admittedly better than Paige’s attempt. “What about me?”

“Mm, it’s a little better.”

“You gotta teach us,” KK says, tugging at Azzi’s hand.

“Ooh, yeah, teach us,” Paige agrees, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m a visual learner, by the way.”

Azzi scoffs. As if. She pulls herself free from KK’s grasp, then stands. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” they both frown.

“Because I’m trying to relax and y’all are being weird,” she quips.

“Why don’t you come hang with us?” Paige offers, a little more gently, obviously realizing Azzi is actually a little annoyed.

“No, thanks,” Azzi says. “I’m already overstimulated enough just from listening to you guys.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows. “Where you going, then?”

Azzi sighs, glancing at the door, then to her girlfriend, then back again. “I think I’m gonna head to my room, Paige.”

KK gasps. “Oh, mom and dad fighting?”

“We are not,” Paige insists. Then she turns to Azzi with an exaggerated sad face. “Are we?”

“No,” Azzi says, which is true. They’re not fighting; she just needs a break. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Why’re you leaving?” Paige asks, stepping toward her.

“I just…I’m a little grumpy today. Not as patient as usual. I need a few minutes.”

Paige frowns, but KK, never one to read a social situation, laughs. “She really said she has a low Paige threshold,” she giggles, pushing Paige’s shoulder.

“We barely saw each other this week,” Paige says, ignoring KK as she reaches out to hold Azzi’s hands. “We’ve already been apart today.”

“I know, honey,” Azzi says. She decides against pointing out that all in all, they’ve only been apart for around an hour total this entire day. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“Like, soon, right?” Paige says, giving her big puppy eyes that she’s never been able to resist.

“Yes, soon,” she promises. She leans forward for a kiss, KK averting her gaze with an eye roll. “Play Fort with KK or something. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t,” Paige insists, sounding genuinely worried.

“You will. We have tomorrow, too, remember?” With one last kiss, Azzi releases her hands, grabbing her things to go downstairs. She just barely catches KK making fun of Paige for being a simp before she gets out the door.

————————————

“Open the doooor.”

“Az, c’mon, bro, lemme in!”

“Bitch, you’ve had plenty alone time, pleaseeee.”

Azzi stands by the door, laughing silently at her girlfriend’s pleading—which has been going on, unanswered on her part, for about five minutes now—until her face drops at the last sentence. “What did you just call me?”

There’s a distinctly panicked silence before Paige starts backtracking. “I mean, my beautiful wife who I love and respect. For real, let me in. We can be alone together!”

“Very poetic,” Azzi remarks.

Paige groans, and there’s a thunk that sounds a lot like a forehead hitting a door. “Dawg.”

Once again, Azzi goes quiet, and she can tell the exact moment Paige realizes this because there’s another thunk.

“Azzi, please, babe.”

Still, she doesn’t respond, and that’s when the singing starts.

“Pleaseeee, open the dooorrr,” she sings quite horribly. Azzi quiets her giggle behind a hand.

“Pleaseeee,” she continues, completely off-key. Sza level, my ass.

“No, Paige.”

“Baby, please! It’s almost dinner time.”

“For who? It’s barely four.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then, “Azzi, I’m gonna cry. Please.”

Obviously, Paige is bullshitting her. She’s not going to cry. But still, Azzi’s never been able to be stern with Paige. (And Paige calling her her wife earlier certainly helped matters.)

As soon as she cracks the door open, Paige is trying to barge through, but Azzi stops her with a foot in the door. “Hold on.”

Paige, obediently, stops.

“I’m still a little grumpy,” Azzi admits.

Paige nods. “Okay.”

“So…be gentle, okay? I don’t like being mad at you.”

“I don’t like you being at me,” Paige agrees.

“We’re in agreement, then.”

“A hundred percent.” Paige pushes at the door. “Now, can I come in, please?”

Azzi opens the door all the way, allowing herself to be tackled onto the bed in a very non-gentle way, but still, she laughs. Even when she needs space from Paige, even when she chooses it—she still just ends up missing her the whole time.

“Hey,” Paige says once she’s effectively pinned her to the bed. “Noticed your dorm’s empty.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I can finish what I started earlier,” Paige offers, suggestive smile on her face before she says, “unless you don’t want that, obviously.”

Azzi’s pulling her down before she can finish her sentence.

(“We’re getting a sweet treat later,” she says a little while later.

“Okay, princess,” Paige says, situating herself between her legs. “Whatever you want.” And then, she drops a kiss on the inside of her thigh before spreading her open, dipping her head down, and going beautifully quiet for the first time all day. They stay in bed for quite some time.)

When Azzi starts her period the next day, she proudly says to herself, “I knew I wasn’t going crazy.”

[akutasoda]

all for you

synopsis - they'll always love you so dearly

includes - mydei, anaxagoras, phainon

warnings - gn!reader, maybe ooc, fluff, slight crack, wc - 1.5k

a/n: what is this? i couldn't tell you- at best it's a silly little piece i thought of the other day ;;

mydei ★↷

mydei stared you down with a scowl.

all you could do was ignore his scowling and continue on with your task, which was easier said than done as even after all this time, mydei still had a glare that still could affect you - at most it gave you a slightly discomfited feeling but you could always dismiss it.

it wasn't uncommon knowledge that mydei often put himself in uncertain situations, always with a confidence that made it seem like nothing to him. whether that was a result of his own curse or the years of experience he had with those same scenarios was an equal guess.

regardless of which, namely the former, mydei occasionally faced some particularly tricky situations which would result in your worrying.

it was hard not to, even if you were well aware of his curse, the idea of him getting hurt was still enough to bubble some concerns of yours to the surface. mydei always insisted he was fine but that was never enough to soothe your worries.

you continued to make an effort to check for any outstanding injuries that he still may have sustained, none of any potentials would've been fatal but you still wanted to make sure there was absolutely nothing.

if anything, it was almost routine at this point. mydei would get into some kind of altercation and immediately seek you out afterwards. no matter how much he acted like it was a bother or claimed it was unnecessary, he always sought out comfort in your embrace, entrusting you with seeing him at his lowest.

“you worry about me too much” mydei's scowl barely wavered, his eyes still constantly looking at you and only you

you fought back a scoff, “if you're aware then you should watch that heedlessness of yours”

mydei studied your face, taking note on the seriousness you portrayed. he'd be lying if he didn't think your concern for him was endearing, even throughout the constant reminders to you, he found it somewhat charming that you still bothered to care for him in that sense.

there was a few moments of silence before mydei broke the standoff. it was his turn to scoff at you as he abruptly pulled you into a hug with little resistance on your end, “fine, but no promises”

you knew that was the best that you would get from him in words.

anaxagoras ★↷

a long sigh was drawn out from you as your eyes flicked over to observe what anaxagoras was doing - it didn't shock you to see that he was doing exactly the same as what he was doing the last time you checked.

you couldn't exactly recall how long it had been since you'd idly sat beside him. originally your plan was to simply pay anaxagoras a visit as you were passing by, but while you dropped by he had informed you that he was finishing up soon so he'd leave with you. so you saw no harm in complying and waiting around for him.

although, looking back, you realise how foolish of a decision it was. whether it was anaxagoras having a different concept of what “soon” meant, or it was a case of him getting too engrossed back into his work, you weren't too sure. but whatever it was, it was now the cause of your boredom as you waited.

you'd waited too long for him by now to simply turn away and leave without him - you'd made a much earlier attempt but anaxagoras had stopped you, reassuring you he'd be finished some time soon, another case where more insistence on your end would've saved you from waiting longer.

in complete honesty, you never understood anaxagoras.

he always struck as the type of person who much preferred his own company rather than others and it certainly stood true in quite a few cases. anaxagoras also always made it very clear that he had little tolerance for those who held little competence and broke the rules he always went on about.

perhaps it was the fact that you never broke any of those rules that was the reason why he didn't mind you hanging around.

“if you have time to stare, then you have time to talk” anaxagoras's voice snapped you out your daze “speak what's on your mind”

it took a moment to formulate a response on your end after being abruptly caught off guard, although all you managed to get across was a short response claiming it was nothing major - something that was met by a glower on the scholar's end.

anaxagoras soon followed up by announcing that he was finally finished, making a vague signal for the two of you to leave and you joined him. you filled the spot beside him but for some reason, your previous train of thought was still occupying your mind.

after a brief moment you decided there was no harm in asking, which led to you poising the question about why he insisted on you waiting around for him.

he paused for a moment, looking over to you and stopping in his tracks, something you mimicked in turn,

“that's because you're more favourable to me, a preferable appearance in my life”

you looked at him in disbelief, while it certainly was a conclusion that you did entertain on occasion, the idea that anaxagoras did see you as a potential friend, but you always assumed that was too far fetched so being an acquaintance of his was enough for you.

he looked at you, a quizzical almost judgemental look reflected upon his features,

“i thought it was common knowledge for you”

all you could do was stare vacantly at him still, his words still barely processing in your mind as you watched him leave - the rare, sincere smile that fixed its way onto his face going completely unnoticed by anyone.

phainon ★↷

you'd been assisting aglaea throughout the day, a few jobs here and then that needed to be done but nothing too major.

more frequently as the day progressed however, you caught aglaea stopping occasionally, almost as if she was checking for something but anytime you asked if everything was alright she would brush it off and continue on as normal.

you believed her at first as you had no reason to doubt her but soon you found yourself feeling a pair of eyes on you sometimes, coinciding with aglaea stopping in her duties. it happened too frequently to be a pure coincidence but you still attempted to brush it off as you doubted it was anything of concern considering how aglaea kept brushing it off as well.

but eventually you caught her smiling a bit, a smile that felt more knowing than you would've liked - almost as if she knew something you didn't.

you soon observed aglaea delighting in your apparent obliviousness as she began making audible comments to you ranging from “did you see that?” to “do you really have no clue?”

in some sense, it was starting to creep you out as each time left you more questions and unease than answers. thankfully, eventually, aglaea decided to ease your worries with the next time she sensed it, she stopped and so did you, aglaea moved closer to you before talking in a hush,

“he's looking at you again”

arguably that creeped you out more but your gaze followed the direction she was pointing in and suddenly it all became clear again.

not too far from where you were, phainon was watching you. as soon as you locked eyes with him, phainon gave you a sincere smile and waved quickly before looking away and walking off.

you looked back to aglaea, “has he been doing that the whole time i've been with you?”

she hummed slightly in agreement, “most likely, he probably just wants to check up on you without interrupting” aglaea paused for a moment, “besides he has his own tasks to attend too”

you looked back to where he was a moment ago, the spot now vacant, now you were determined to catch him again.

a task that proved to be rather easy now that you knew what was going on as not too long after you caught him again, phainon then giving the same response as before before disappearing again. in a way it was sweet, the idea that he was watching to make sure everything was okay with you and presumably wanting to see you throughout the day without interfering.

after all, phainon always cherished being by your side, complete infatuated with your presence.

additionally it became very clear that phainon was mainly doing so because he clearly missed your presence, which was confirmed from the moment you departed from aglaea for the day and phainon took the moment to show up again. taking your hand in his with the biggest smile he'd shown all day.

[scruffycatdaddy]

There he is. The bastard on the bride’s side of the chapel. I can’t believe that my most devout follower would fall in love with His most devout follower. If it wouldn’t cause a war in the heaven’s id hunt down whichever god twisted the fates to make this happen. Dumber wars were fought for less reason…(those Olympians are so vain…)

“Sulking because your ex is here?”

The cackling voice I knew so well.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Olympian sorceress! I hope you aren’t whom I have to blame for this comedy of errors?”

Hecate cackles “I know better than to garner the ire of a god of revelry. Your piscean nature is not worth the trouble.”

I could always trust Hecate. She understood the chaos of my mind and could easily overpower me. But instead she chose friendship and respects me. The mother of my devout prays to her so it’s natural she would come to give her blessings and behalf of his mother. This family is very blessed with the eclectic pantheon assembled.

“You still miss him?”

“I can’t hide my feelings from you so no point in me denying it.”

“It doesn’t take sorcery to read your face my friend. Revelry misses the Bounty.”

He is a god of Bounty. Many revere him as an autumnal lord of the harvest. But as revelry takes many forms, so does harvest.

“There are rumors of a war coming. Perhaps that is why fate has brought these two together?”

“The fates bring together two commoners to get me back with my Ex? That’s insanity.”

“You two were the ‘it’ couple. And together on the same side again-“

“I have shirked that mantle. It is what drove us apart and destroyed what we had.”

“And yet it was what you did best. Who knew a god of revelry and a god of harvest together would be the most dangerous war gods seen in millennia!?”

“Hecate, please the ceremony is starting.”

The minister was quite a clever man. To weave a ceremony together to honor each of us here was no small feat. He does not have to worry about offending me. I am not a jealous god. Well…except when it came to him.

“If there is anyone here who does not believe these two shall marry, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

All eyes were on me and him. We locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes still radiate the warmth I knew all those years ago. Even now hardened by the trials we had been through, I could feel his love for me as I’m sure he felt mine for him. Maybe…maybe after all the time we could find something…even just friendship. It would be nice to spend time with him again.

Suddenly, a loud explosion and I was knocked out.

As I came to I saw lightning crawling across the sky and my devout lays lifeless next to his bride. Rage. Carnage. Destruction. This was a deliberate attack against me and I would not let this go unanswered!

I gather myself and look to the sky. That Olympian bastard. We settled the score a long time ago. What cruel long game was he playing here?

“This gathering is heresy! The mixing of pantheons has been forbidden and you gods have done nothing to prevent this! For your crimes against divinity, I have destroyed this bloodline and will destroy your followers!”

I see Hecate protecting as many as she can from the lightning strikes. The other gods are doing their part. But this gathering is a peaceful one. There is only myself and him who can stop this. I look and see He is standing by his devout and blessing her with funeral rites. I walk to him.

“For her sake, not mine, bless him and the others here so they can move on.”

“I am petty, but not so petty that you have to petition on your own’s behalf using my devout’s name.”

“Listen. I just-“

“Shut up you timid prick. To be a war god, you sure are nonconfrontational.”

I had no words to say. He was right. I wanted to speak to him time and time again but I wouldn’t.

“I miss you.” That was all I could mustard out of my lips.

“…I miss you too. But right now I am furious and an elder god to fight. Do you still have some fight left in you?”

His form shifted. From the opulence of harvest golds and shades of autumn, he became enshrouded with a simple black cloak and his sickle became crude yet sharp.

I locked eyes with him again as fire burns from my eyes. My form shifting to that of a warrior with one hundred weapons at his disposal.

“For you my love? Always. Let’s make him regret bringing us back together.”

You are a god whose most devout follower is marrying your rival God’s follower. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem except you both are asked to bless the union, and for that both of you must attend.

[seat-safety-switch]

Where I live, it's hard to go out for a run in the middle of a bitterly cold winter. You still need to getyoursteps though. Or you'll die. Two kinds of people emerge from this necessity: treadmill people, and mall people. Unfortunately, the habitat for the latter types is quickly becoming extinct, and the remaining malls are bursting at the seams with joggers, walkers, strollers, and stroller-pushers. That's why the government hired me.

My project? To design the ultimate mall for people who were only at the mall in order to gettheirsteps. As a species, we've evolved past the requirement to go to a retail store and interact with another human being in order to buy things. So instantly we thought: just make a giant loop, put some furnaces in it, and good to go. No. The mind, it turns out, craves the artifice of a shopping mall.

There's precedent for this. One of the interns dug up this picture from the 4th century where a bunch of peasant children had drawn in the dirt a very realistic floorplan of the Mall of America, despite it not actually being built for nearly a couple thousand years. Come to think of it, it's a little weird there's a photograph of this. Maybe we'll have to talk to the boys down in Time Dilation Central. It's a good walk to that office. I can getmysteps.

Anyway, the project evolved at that point. We installed a bunch of mall stores selling tchotchkes that nobody would ever want. Sixteen cell phone stores. Three different places selling memory-foam mattresses. At one point, we even added a food court, but this made the health department really upset. Explaining to them that this was all artifice didn't dissuade them. Don't they know we're trying to make a place where we can getoursteps and don't have time to satisfy every little requirement about a "vent hood?" Nobody would be stupid enough to actually eat at any of these places if they were trying to stay healthy. Turns out, our first week, some dude rolled up to the New York Fries and bought a poutine for after his walk. When our scientists (in disguise: wearing hoodies over their lab coats) asked him about it, he said simply that he was "bulking."

Now, we all know what happened near the end of the project. When they heard that we had a viable place for legal human experimentation, these guys from the CIA moved right in. Started all these crazy experiments, like giving monkeys a pedometer to see if they'd want to gettheirsteps too. Adding a button where you could shock people who were walking too slowly in front of you. Turning the loop into a figure-eight so you had to dodge incoming joggers while you were trying to jog. I'd deny any responsibility for it, except those spy bastards hit a vein of gold. The Great Plains Mall is now the most successful indoor running track in history. They're gonna have the Olympics there next week. And I'll be there, getting my steps.

[moonlightwritingf1]

At His Mercy | LN4

🌸 summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N try handcuffs and blindfolds in the bedroom.

🌸 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🌸 word count ━━━━━━━ 6.5k

🌸 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, teasing, handcuffs, blindfolded

Based on this request.

“Do you trust me?” Lando’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he leaned closer to her, his breath warm against her ear.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to read his expression. “What are you up to, Norris?” she asked, her tone laced with both suspicion and amusement.

He smirked, that signature Lando smirk that always seemed to both infuriate and intrigue her. “Come on,” he said, his voice teasing, “just a little something I’ve been thinking about. Nothing too crazy. Unless you’re scared, of course.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile despite herself. “Scared? Of you? Don’t flatter yourself.”

Lando chuckled, his fingers lightly grazing her arm as he leaned back, those bright blue eyes of his sparkling with mischief. “Good. Because I was thinking… maybe we could try something new. Blindfold, maybe some handcuffs. You know, just to… spice things up a bit.”

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushing as she processed his words. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh, slap him, or kiss him. “Handcuffs? Really, Lando? What’s next, a whip and a chair?”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and she couldn’t help but smile. “No whips, I promise,” he said, his tone softening. “Just… trust me. I want to make you feel good. And I think you’d like it. But only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

She hesitated, her mind racing. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—after a year together, she knew he’d never push her too far. But the idea of being so… vulnerable with him was both thrilling and terrifying. Still, the way he was looking at her, his expression so open and sincere, made her heart flutter.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the nervous excitement bubbling inside her. “But if I don’t like it, we’re never doing it again.”

Lando grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Deal.”

---

The apartment in Monaco was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the silence. Y/n sat on the couch, her legs curled under her, as Lando poured them both a glass of wine. They had spent the day exploring the city, and while Y/n had initially been nervous about being in such a luxurious setting, Lando’s easy-going nature had quickly put her at ease.

As he handed her the glass, their fingers brushed, and she felt a familiar warmth spread through her. No matter how many times they touched, it always felt electric, like the first time all over again.

“So,” she said, taking a sip of the wine, “handcuffs, huh? Where did that come from?”

Lando shrugged, his smile sheepish. “I don’t know. I just… I want to try new things with you. I want to make sure you’re always happy, always satisfied.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “And you think handcuffs are the way to do that?”

He laughed, setting his glass down on the table. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like the idea of having you all to myself. No distractions, just… us.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed again, and she looked down at her glass, her fingers tracing the rim. “You’re such a romantic,” she teased, though her voice was soft.

“Only for you,” he said, his tone sincere.

---

The air in the bathroom steamed, the scent of her jasmine body wash lingering as Y/N stepped out, towel wrapped snugly around her dripping body. The soft thud of her feet on the tiled floor echoed in the quiet apartment. She ran her fingers through her wet hair, the water droplets cascading down her shoulders and onto the towel. Her reflection in the fogged-up mirror caught her eye, and she felt a twist of nervous excitement in her stomach. Lando was somewhere in the apartment, waiting. She could feel his presence like a current pulling her toward him. She tightened the towel around her, the fabric rough against her damp skin, and padded out of the bathroom, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Lando was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her. His eyes traveled slowly, deliberately, down the length of her body, stopping where the towel clung to her curves. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. Y/N rolled her eyes, though her cheeks were already warm. “Shut up, Norris. You’re the one who insisted on showering together but then bailed.” He chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and closing the distance between them. His fingers brushed against her arm, sending a shiver down her spine despite the warmth radiating from her skin. “Trust me, if I’d stayed in there with you, we’d still be in there now.” She shot him a look, though her lips curved into a smile. “You’re impossible.” Lando’s grin widened, his hand moving to tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “And yet, here you are.” She didn’t have a retort for that. Instead, she let herself be led into his bedroom, the air cooler now, the soft sheets beckoning. Lando left her standing there for a moment as he crossed the room to the nightstand, his movements fluid and unhurried. Her heart began to race, the towel suddenly feeling too loose, too revealing, as she watched him pull out a small, unassuming box. “So,” she said, her voice steadier than she expected, “this is the big surprise?” He turned to face her, the box in his hand, his gaze finding hers in the dim light. “Trust me,” he said again, his voice a promise. “You’re gonna love it.”

He opened it, revealing a pair of soft, silk blindfolds and a set of handcuffs. Y/n’s eyes widened as she took them in, her stomach twisting with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“You’re serious,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando nodded, his expression serious now. “Only if you want to.”

She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he reached out to gently take her hand. “Trust me,” he said again, his voice steady.

“I do,” she replied, her heart fluttering.

Lando moved slowly, his movements deliberate as he tied the blindfold around her eyes, the soft silk brushing against her skin. She gasped softly as the world went dark, her other senses immediately heightening.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice close, his breath warm against her neck.

She nodded, her lips curving into a smile. “Yeah. Just… different.”

“Good different?” he teased, his fingers lightly trailing down her arm.

“We’ll see,” she replied, her voice breathless.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. Then she felt the cool metal of the handcuffs as he gently secured her wrists, the sensation both thrilling and slightly unnerving.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice tinged with both excitement and uncertainty.

“Trust me,” he murmured again, his lips brushing against her ear. “I’ve got you.”

And then he was kissing her, his lips hot and demanding against hers, and all her worries melted away. She moaned softly into his mouth, her body arching towards him as his hands roamed her body, teasing and exploring.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

She shivered, her body responding to every touch, every word. “Show me,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid down her arms, fingertips brushing over her damp skin until he reached the edge of the towel. His touch was light, deliberate, teasing as he hooked a finger into the fabric, letting it loosen just enough to make her breath hitch. She felt the cool air of the room against her skin as the towel threatened to slip, her body instinctively arching toward him for warmth—or maybe to close the distance. His lips grazed her neck, his breath warm and uneven against her ear. “You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver through her. His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her hips, his fingers dipping just beneath the towel’s edge as if testing the boundaries of her resolve. She gasped, her pulse racing under his touch, her body responding with a heat that made her forget everything but him. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, a mix of need and anticipation. “Trust me,” he repeated, his lips brushing against her jawline, his hands firm yet gentle as they teased her, drawing out every sensation until she was trembling in his arms.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hips bucking instinctively.

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “We’re just getting started.”

And as he continued to tease her, drawing out her pleasure with every touch, every kiss, Y/n knew one thing for certain—she was completely and utterly his.

Lando’s hands lingered on her hips for a moment, his fingers digging slightly into the softness of her skin before he gently pushed her back onto the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight, and she let out a soft exhale as her body sank into the plush duvet. Her hands, still cuffed, instinctively moved to her sides, but Lando was quick to intervene. He reached for her wrists, lifting them above her head with a quiet firmness that made her pulse quicken.

“Keep them there,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. His lips brushed against her ear as he leaned in, his breath warm and uneven. “Don’t move them. Not unless I tell you to.”

Y/n swallowed, her heart racing as she nodded. The blindfold was still securely in place, blocking her vision, amplifying her other senses. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, even though she couldn’t see it. His hands began to explore her body, starting with her arms, tracing the delicate lines of her shoulders, down to the curve of her biceps. His touch was deliberate, unhurried, and it sent shivers cascading down her spine.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his voice filled with an awe that made her stomach flutter. “Every inch of you.”

His hands moved lower, skimming over her ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She tensed, a soft gasp escaping her lips as his touch lingered there, teasing her, drawing out the sensation until she was squirming beneath him.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

“Shh,” he hushed her, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake. “Let me take my time with you.”

His hands continued their exploration, moving lower, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist, dipping into the dip of her hips. His touch was feather-light, almost torturously slow, and she could feel the heat pooling between her legs, her body responding to him in ways that made her head spin.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His hands moved to her thighs, his fingers digging into the supple flesh, his touch firm yet gentle. She could feel the heat of his breath against her skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the inside of her thigh. “And you smell so good.”

“Lando—” her voice cracked, her hips bucking involuntarily as his lips pressed against her skin, his kisses growing more insistent, more heated. “Please.”

“Please what?” he teased, his lips curling into a smirk against her thigh. “You have to be specific, love.”

She could hear the amusement in his voice, the playful tone that made her cheeks burn. “Don’t make me beg,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Oh, but I think I will,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. His hands moved to her hips, his fingers gripping her firmly as he positioned himself between her legs. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against her, the hardness of him making her ache with need. “I want to hear you beg for me.”

His lips brushed against her inner thigh again, his kisses trailing higher, closer to where she needed him most. She could feel her breath hitching, her heart pounding in her chest as he teased her, his touch maddeningly slow.

“Lando, please,” she whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking his touch. “I need you.”

“You need me, huh?” he teased, his lips brushing against her core, his breath hot against her skin. “What do you need, love?”

“You,” she gasped, her back arching as his lips finally made contact with her, his tongue darting out to taste her, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. “God, Lando, please.”

“Please what?” he murmured, his tongue teasing her, lapping at her with slow, deliberate strokes that made her moan. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” she sobbed, her hands tugging against the cuffs, desperate to touch him, to pull him closer. “I want you inside me.”

“Good girl,” he purred, his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place as he continued to tease her with his tongue, his movements slow, deliberate, driving her wild. “But not yet.”

She let out a frustrated whine, her hips bucking against him, but he held her firmly, his tongue lapping at her with agonizing slowness. She could feel the pleasure building, her body trembling beneath him, but he wasn’t letting her go, wasn’t letting her fall.

“Lando, please,” she begged, her voice breaking as his tongue circled her clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. “I can’t—I can’t take it anymore.”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark promise. “You can take it, love. You’re so fucking strong for me.”

His words sent a shiver through her, her body responding to the praise in ways that made her head spin. She could feel the pleasure cresting, her body teetering on the edge, but he wasn’t letting her fall, wasn’t letting her go.

“Lando, please,” she sobbed, her voice trembling with desperation as her hands tugged at the cuffs, her wrists straining against the cold metal. Her hips writhed beneath him, seeking more, needing more. Her thighs quivered, her body taut with tension. “I need it. Please, let me—” “Not yet.” His voice was a low growl, thick with amusement and something darker, hungrier. His tongue dragged against her in a long, searing stroke, dipping between her folds to taste her fully, teasing the sensitive ridge of her clit. She could feel the heat of his breath against her slick flesh, the slow, deliberate rhythm of his movements sending electric shocks of pleasure pulsing through her. He lingered there, his tongue circling her clit with maddening precision, each taunting flick coaxing a whimper from her lips. “I want to hear you beg for it.” Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her body quivered beneath him. The blindfold intensified everything—the way his tongue felt as it lapped at her, slow and deliberate, the way his breath fanned over her sensitive skin, the way his hands gripped her thighs to keep her spread open for him. She could feel every flick, every press, every lick as if her nerves were made of fire. “Please, Lando,” she begged, her voice breaking, raw with need. The sound of her own desperation echoed in her ears, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Please, let me come.” He hummed against her, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. His tongue slid lower, exploring her entrance, teasing her with shallow dips that made her hips jerk. He lapped at her with agonizing slowness, savoring her taste, his tongue circling her clit again in tight, rapid circles that had her crying out. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dark and commanding, and she could hear the smirk in his tone. “Now come for me.” The moment he gave her permission, her body surrendered. Her back arched off the bed as the first wave of pleasure crashed over her, dragging a sharp, keening moan from her lips. Her legs trembled violently, her hands pulling against the cuffs as if they could anchor her to reality. His tongue didn’t relent, working her through the orgasm with relentless precision, each flick of his tongue sending another wave of ecstasy rippling through her. She felt weightless, her mind hazy with pleasure, every nerve in her body alight with sensation. And as the last tremors of her release faded, she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving, her body limp and utterly spent.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

She could feel his lips pressing soft kisses against her thigh, his hands soothingly stroking her hips as she rode out the waves of pleasure. Her body was still trembling, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to calm herself down.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Every inch of you.”

She could feel him shifting, his body moving over hers, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, the thought making her cheeks burn.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low, possessive. “All mine.”

Lando pulled away from Y/n’s lips, his breath warm against her skin as he shifted his weight off her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body still humming from the intensity of their connection. She could hear the rustle of fabric as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, the sound sending a fresh wave of anticipation coursing through her. The blindfold heightened her senses, making every sound, every touch, every movement feel magnified.

She felt the mattress dip as he knelt between her legs, his fingers skimming up her thighs. She gasped softly, her body instinctively arching toward him. His hands found her hips, his grip firm but gentle, anchoring her in place. The air between them felt charged, electric, and Y/n’s pulse quickened as she waited for his next move.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Lando murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Completely at my mercy.”

Y/n shivered at his words, her breath hitching as she felt the soft brush of his fingers against her inner thighs. She was already so sensitive, her body still tingling from her earlier climax, and the slightest touch sent sparks shooting through her.

Then she felt it—the hot, velvety tip of his cock pressing against her, teasing her entrance. She whimpered softly, her hips instinctively trying to move toward him, but his hands held her firmly in place.

“Uh-uh,” he chided, his tone playful yet commanding. “You’re not in control here, love. I am.”

Y/n let out a frustrated moan, her body trembling with need. She could feel how wet she was, her arousal slick and warm between her thighs, and the knowledge that he could see her like this—completely exposed, completely his—only made her burn hotter.

Lando chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “You’re soaked for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice dripping with amusement and desire. “God, I love how responsive you are. Every little thing I do to you turns you into a fucking mess.”

She whimpered again, her hands tugging uselessly at the handcuffs above her head. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling with desperation.

“Please what?” he teased, his tone light and teasing. “You’re going to have to be more specific, darling.”

“Please…just…” she trailed off, her words dissolving into another soft moan as he pressed the tip of his cock against her clit, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

“Just what?” he prompted, his voice low and teasing. “You want me to fuck you? Is that it?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her hips instinctively trying to move toward him again.

But Lando held her firmly in place, his grip unyielding. “Not yet,” he said, his voice a soft growl. “You’re going to wait until I say so.”

Y/n let out a frustrated whimper, her body aching with need. The blindfold made everything feel so much more intense—every brush of his skin against hers, every hot breath against her neck, every whispered word sent her senses into overdrive. She could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock as he dragged the tip through her folds, the sensation maddening.

Lando’s fingers traced a feather-light path down her inner thighs, his touch deliberate and unhurried. He paused just short of where she needed him most, his breath warm against her neck as he chuckled softly. “Patience, love,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing purr. “You’ll get what you want when I decide you’ve earned it.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, her hips involuntarily lifting toward him, but his hands pressed down firmly, holding her in place. The blindfold heightened everything—his voice, the heat of his skin, the weight of his presence. She could hear the slick sound his fingers made as they brushed through her folds, already soaked and aching for him.

“Look at you,” he said, his tone thick with amusement. “So fucking wet for me. Do you even realize how much you’re dripping? I bet I could slide inside you right now, and you’d take every inch without a second thought.”

She whimpered, her thighs trembling as he trailed the tip of his cock along her slit, slow and deliberate. The sensation was maddening—hot velvet against the most sensitive part of her, teasing but never quite enough. Her body throbbed with need, every inch of her desperate for him to fill her, to stop this unbearable torment.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please. I need you.”

His laughter was soft, dark, and full of intent. “What do you need, darling? You’ll have to be specific.”

“I need...” Her words faltered, swallowed by a moan as he dragged the tip of his cock over her clit, the pressure just enough to make her legs jerk. “I need you inside me. Now.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating through her as he leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. “You’ve got to do better than that. Beg for it. Tell me how much you want me.”

Her breath hitched, the humiliation only intensifying her arousal. “Please, Lando. I want you so bad. I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait anymore.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. But instead of giving her what she begged for, he pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance, just enough to make her gasp. He held it there, his grip on her hips unyielding as she tried to push against him.

“Uh-uh,” he chided, his tone firm yet playful. “You’ll take it when I say so. Not a second before.”

She let out a frustrated whimper, her body trembling with the effort of staying still. The blindfold made everything feel ten times more intense—the slip of his precum against her, the way her pulse raced as he teased her, the way her nerves screamed for release. She could feel every ridge of his cock as he slowly dragged it back and forth along her soaked folds, the friction driving her wild.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me so hard I’ll forget my own name.”

She moaned, her back arching as he circled her clit with the tip, the pressure just enough to make her toes curl. “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Oh, you can,” he teased, his voice low and taunting. “You’ll take it because I’m the one in control. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her body on the edge of breaking. “Yes, Lando. You’re in control.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance again, this time sinking just an inch inside before pulling back, leaving her clutching at emptiness.

“Lando!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

“Patience, darling,” he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. “I’m not done playing with you yet.”

She could feel the way her body clenched around nothing, desperate for him to fill her. The blindfold made every sensation sharper, every touch magnified, every sound louder. She could hear the way her breath hitched, the way her pulse pounded in her ears, the way his soft laughter stirred something deep inside her.

He teased her clit with the tip of his cock again, the pressure just enough to make her gasp. “You’re so fucking desperate for me, aren’t you?” he taunted, his voice low and dark. “Begging me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are.”

Her cheeks burned, but the humiliation only drove her need higher. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “I need you so bad. I can’t wait anymore.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice full of promise. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll give you exactly what you need. But first, you’re going to wait. You’re going to be patient and let me take my time. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, her body trembling with the effort of staying still. Every nerve in her body was alive, every touch amplified, every word a spark that set her ablaze. She was completely at his mercy, and the knowledge only made her burn hotter.

“Good,” he said, his voice softening. “Now, let’s see how long you can last.”

Lando’s breath was hot against her ear as he leaned in, his lips brushing her skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I can feel it—every single drop. You’re dripping for me, love.”

Y/n whimpered, her hips instinctively arching toward him, desperate for more. But Lando was in no rush. He dragged the tip of his cock through her folds, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she quivered beneath him. The sensation was maddening—just enough to tease, but not enough to satisfy.

“Lando, please,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I need you.”

He chuckled softly, the sound dark and delicious, and she felt him shift slightly, adjusting his position. “You need me, do you?” he teased, his lips brushing her neck. “What exactly do you need, darling? Tell me.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to form the words. But before she could answer, Lando moved again, rubbing the length of his cock through her folds, the motion slow and deliberate. The sensation was overwhelming, and she couldn’t help but moan, her head falling back against the pillows.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Let me hear you, love. Let me hear how much you want this.”

Her body was on fire, every touch sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She was completely at his mercy, and the knowledge only made her burn hotter. “I need you inside me,” she finally managed to say, her voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Lando. I can’t take it anymore.”

He smiled against her skin, his breath warm and steady. “Oh, I know you can’t,” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence. “But I’m not done yet. I want to feel every inch of you before I give you what you need.”

With that, he adjusted his position again, this time angling himself so that the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. He didn’t push in—not yet. Instead, he rubbed the tip against her, the motion slow and teasing, just enough to drive her wild.

Y/n let out another whimper, her hips arching toward him again, desperate for more. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice breaking with need. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing her neck again. “Oh, I think you can,” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing. “You’re stronger than you think, love. And you’re going to wait for me. You’re going to be patient and let me take my time.”

She let out a frustrated groan, her body trembling with the effort of staying still. But Lando was relentless. He continued to tease her, alternating between rubbing the length of his cock through her folds and pressing the tip against her entrance. Every touch was agonizingly slow, every motion calculated to drive her wild.

By now, his cock was completely soaked in her wetness, and Lando couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “God, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “I love seeing you like this—completely undone, completely at my mercy. You’re perfect, love.”

She whimpered again, her hips instinctively arching toward him. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling with desperation. “I need you inside me. Please, just—just fuck me.”

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing her neck again. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his voice dark and delicious. “But not yet baby. I told you, you’re going to wait for me. You’re going to be patient and let me take my time.”

He pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance, slick with her wetness, teasing her with shallow, maddening movements. Just the tip, gliding back and forth, barely breaching her. Y/n’s hips bucked instinctively, trying to force him deeper, but Lando’s hands clamped down hard on her hips, pinning her in place. 

“Behave,” he growled, his voice thick with authority. “You move when I tell you to move.”

“Lando, please,” she whimpered, her voice trembling almost to the point of breaking. Her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending hypersensitive, every sensation amplified by the darkness surrounding her. The silk blindfold heightened everything—his touch felt electric, the heat of his breath on her neck unbearable, the ache between her legs consuming. She could feel every ridge, every throb of his cock as he teased her, and it made her mind unravel. It felt bigger inside her, harder, more insistent, and the anticipation of him filling her completely had her hovering on the edge. 

“You sound desperate,” he murmured, a low chuckle vibrating through her skin. His lips brushed her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “So fucking wet for me. I can feel it—every drop. You’re soaked, love. But I’m still not done playing.” 

She whined, her hips straining against his grip. “Please, Lando, I need you. I can’t—I can’t wait anymore.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch between them, letting her desperation build until she was practically writhing beneath him. Then, without warning, he slowly pushed into her, inch by agonizing inch, the stretch overwhelming in the best way. The blindfold made it feel even more intense; she couldn’t see what was coming, couldn’t anticipate the way he’d fill her so completely. Her breath hitched, a moan tearing from her throat as he seated himself fully inside her. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “So tight, love. So perfect.” His hands shifted to her hips, pulling her closer as he began to move, slow and deliberate, each stroke dragging against her sensitive walls.

Y/n arched into him, her body trembling with pleasure. Every thrust felt deeper, harder, more consuming than usual. The darkness intensified every sensation—the scrape of his chest against her nipples, the way his hands gripped her tighter as she moved with him. She could feel every pulse of his cock, every sharp intake of his breath, every muffled groan that escaped his lips.

“You’re mine,” Lando growled, his voice low and commanding, shattering the silence of the room. His hands gripped her hips firmly, fingers digging into her skin as he thrust into her deeply with a hunger she’d never felt from him before. Every inch of him filled her completely, stretching, claiming. The curve of his cock pressed perfectly against that spot inside her that made her see stars.

Her breath hitched. “Lando— fuck,” she managed through staggered gasps, her body writhing beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his words dark and laced with raw desire. His gaze raked over her bound wrists above her head, the way her chest heaved, and the flush spreading across her skin. Underneath the blindfold, her pupils would be blown wide, her lips parted in helpless gasps. Just the thought made pleasure shoot through him.

He pulled out slowly, savoring the sticky drag of his cock moving through her slick walls; she whimpered frantically. Her thighs trembled as if begging for more, desperate not to lose him.

“Do you feel how tight you are?” He snapped his hips forward again without warning — she cried out sharply. Lando groaned behind clenched teeth as her inner muscles clenched around him repeatedly, so velvety soft yet searing hot. It felt almost too intense, every nerve of her squeezing him tautly mid-thrust, coating him entirely until all self-control slipped further away.

His arms trembled on either side of her, sweat dripping off his forehead as his pace quickened. The slap of skin against skin echoed through the room, punctuated by her ragged breaths and his low groans. Each stroke felt deeper, harder, impossibly more consuming. She tightened around him like a vice, her legs trembling and her fingers pulling at the handcuffs uselessly.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he choked out, one hand moving down to grip her thigh, driving himself even deeper. “How did I get so lucky? How do you always feel even better than my dreams?”

She whimpered.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice dark and possessive. “All mine. And look at you—completely undone. Begging for me. Needing me just as much as I need you.” He leaned down, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear before he added, “Come for me, Y/N. Let me feel you.”

Her orgasm crashed over her in waves, her body clamping around him as pleasure rolled through her. Lando didn’t let up, driving her higher with every thrust, every deep, unrelenting stroke. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “God, you’re so wet. So fucking perfect.”

Her pussy clenched around him, a vicious, deliberate squeeze that ripped a guttural groan from his throat. Lando’s hips stuttered as his control shattered completely. His fingers dug into her thighs, anchoring himself as his release surged deep inside her, hot and pulsing, flooding her with every throb of his cock.

“Fuck,” he hissed against the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her skin in desperate, muffled gasps. “Y/N—fucking hell.” The intensity of it had him shuddering, his body coiled tight before collapsing into hers, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

She smiled faintly beneath the blindfold, a hint of satisfaction curling her mouth as she deliberately tightened around him again. The sensation made him hiss through clenched teeth, his hips jerking involuntarily, drawing another wave of pleasure from her. It was mutual—his cum filled her achingly warm, the steady pulses making her shiver as her own climax rolled through her again, drawn out by the way he throbbed inside her.

“You’re going to kill me,” Lando muttered hoarsely, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead against her shoulder. His voice was wrecked, almost unrecognizable, but she could hear the grin in it, the pure, unbridled satisfaction.

She didn’t answer, couldn’t, not when every nerve in her body still fizzed with leftover sparks. Instead, she arched slightly into him, savoring how full she felt, how impossibly close they were even now. His skin was fever-hot against hers, his breaths slowly evening out, but hers still came unevenly, little tremors chasing each other down her spine.

He kissed her neck softly, almost reverently, as if all that intensity hadn’t just cracked between them moments ago. “You’re...” He trailed off, words failing him—but she knew. She could feel it in the way his hand slid up to tangle with hers above her head, their fingers intertwining tightly, like he needed to anchor himself to her somehow. And she let him because right then, nothing else mattered but them.

“You okay?” Lando murmured, his fingers brushing the blindfold gently, his voice laced with concern.

She tilted her head toward the sound of his voice, the silken darkness still wrapped around her, and let out a breath that was part laugh, part sigh. “More than okay.”

His laughter was soft, warm, and she could feel the way his chest moved against hers, his body still hovering over her, their skin still connected in the most intimate way. “How’d it feel?” His words were a whisper, grazing her ear, sending a fresh shiver down her spine.

“Different,” she admitted, her voice thick and slow, still catching her breath. “So different. I couldn’t—I couldn’t see you, couldn’t touch you. That was... maddening. But... everything else—” She broke off with a shaky exhale, her hips shifting slightly beneath him, drawing out the feeling of him still inside her, still pulsing. “Everything else felt... incredible. Like I could focus on nothing but you.” Her fingers flexed against the handcuffs, and she gave a small, playful tug. “Hated these, though. Not being able to touch you at all... drove me crazy.”

Lando chuckled, the sound low and rough, his lips pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Good. I like you a little crazy for me.” He unhooked the cuffs from the headboard, freeing her wrists, and she immediately reached up, her fingers brushing against his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone.

He leaned into her touch, his breath hitching as her fingers smoothed over his skin. “Missed this,” he said, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “Missed your hands on me.”

“Me too.” Furrowing her brow, she vocalized her insecurities. “You’re so handsome. It’s really unfair sometimes.” She slid her palm against his cheek, brushing her thumb across his lower lip.

His reply was immediate, almost annoyed. “Stop that. Don’t talk about yourself like that.” A frown creased his face as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. 

He then reached up to gently pull the blindfold off, and her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light. The way he was looking at her—intense, almost awestruck—made her stomach flip. “Better?” he asked, his voice still rough, still carrying that edge of possession, but mixed with something tender now.

“Better,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “But don’t think this means I’m letting you off easy next time. I want my hands on you from start to finish.”

He grinned, that cocky, confident grin she loved and hated in equal measure. “Next time? Already planning the next time?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to it, just warmth and something she didn’t want to name yet. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Norris.” Still, she couldn’t stop her smile as she pulled him down for a kiss, slow and deep and full of something that felt like more.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Huge thanks to hattiemagix for commissioning this!

Doey & motherly fem reader

★ When Doey first met the reader, he was immediately wary of her. Her kind nature was unfamiliar and he couldn't tell if it was an act or not, it made him suspicious. Even though he liked it when you were around he tried to keep his distance. Can you really blame him? He’s met a lot of people who’ve pretended to be nice, only for them to end up hurting him. 

★ Doey tested the reader's boundaries to see if her kindness was genuine. Slowly challenging her patience. "Let's see how long she can keep this up," he thought, observing her reactions closely. Shurely she would slip and show her true colors. 

★ Even though it was a tad annoying, you were still patient with him. You never raised your voice or showed anger, even when he was acting difficult. Whether it was explaining something for the hundredth time or dealing with his defensive attitude, you remained steadfast in your kindness. 

★ He started to realize that the reader genuinely cared for his well-being. Something he’s not at all used to. Doey never expected to meet someone, an ex-employee no less, who would try so hard to make him feel safe. He misses having someone to look after him, it's been so long, he almost forgot what it's like to be cared for. 

★ After that he quickly got used to you, your presence became a comfort. As the days in the factory slowly passed he grew even closer to you. Soon enough he started seeing you as an adoptive mother. But he decided to keep that to himself, for now at least, he wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.  

★ If anything were to happen to you, he would be devastated. If you need to leave the Safe Haven, Doey becomes visibly anxious. He begins clinging to you, reluctant to let you go. He asks you to make a promise to stay safe and be careful. The thought of losing you fills him with dread."Promise me you'll be careful, okay? I need to know you'll come back safe” 

★ After defeating the Doctor and the Prototype you bring him, and many of the other toys, home with you. Because of course you had to bring Kissy, Poppy and those who called the Safe Haven home out of the factory where they were starving. 

★ Doey feels a mix of emotions—relief, uncertainty, and a bit of excitement—as he steps into the reader's home "This is... home?" he asks, looking at the various objects you have hung up and strewn about. “Of course” you declare, looking at him as he turns his head. Doey’s expression unreadable, “that is, If you want it to be.” you quickly add. 

★ And of course he stays with you! Where else would he go? He's so attached to you he couldn't imagine living anywhere else. By this point, it was clear as day that he needed you around. The way he beams when you compliment him or how he always lingers by you gave it away.

★ After spending the past 10 years in the abandoned shell of a factory, Doey is very eager to make up for lost time. He's really excited to try something new. You take the opportunity to teach him various domestic skills. His new favorite thing is baking with you!

★ He still has nightmares about the factory. When Doey wakes up from a nightmare he's immediately disoriented and filled with fear, the trauma of the factory still lingering in his mind. His breathing is heavy and a sense of panic is overwhelming him. His panicked cries always wake you up.  

★ You’re quick to comfort him, rushing to his side and hugging him close "It was just a bad dream. You're okay, and nothing can hurt you here." your gentle touch helped to ground him, "It's okay, Doey. I'm here. You're safe now." it's working, because now his cries have dissolved into a quieter whimper.

★ To help Doey calm down, the reader reaches for his favorite book, "The Adventures of Word Wizard." She knows how much the story means to him and starts reading aloud, her voice steady and comforting. As she continues, doey feels his eyelids grow heavy. 

★ Just before he falls asleep, Doey murmurs softly, "Goodnight, Mom." The reader smiles softly, her heart melting from Doey's words. For the rest of the night, he sleeps soundly, knowing he's safe and cared for.

[thevibraniumveterans]

Bucky did have a point though. Let’s revisit what he said to Sam.

“He gave you that shield not because you’re the strongest, but because you’re you.”

Sam is a good man. We know this. We’ve seen this. There’s more than enough evidence to prove this. Here’s the thing — way back when, in The First Avenger, Erskine told Steve: “Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man.” Steve stayed a good man, and after meeting Sam, knew that Sam was a good man too. Steve recognized the great qualities that made Sam, Sam, and decided that those qualities were worth handing the shield to Sam for.

“You think if you had that serum, you’d be able to protect all the people you care about. Steve had it, and he couldn’t.”

Steve couldn’t even save Bucky when he fell off that train, couldn’t even save Peggy, couldn’t even save Natasha, couldn’t even save Tony. Couldn’t save half his friends that he lost when Thanos snapped his fingers. Again, Steve is not perfect. He did have the serum and couldn’t even save the people he truly cared about. Steve doesn’t have godlike qualities, he’s only human, but a super-powered human at that. That still didn’t help him, did it, other than making him stronger? Steve’s morals didn’t once change, but again, his morals didn’t save his friends.

“You’re a human being and you’re doing your best.”

True, Sam is doing his best in everything that he does, but sometimes in the eyes of certain other people, best isn’t good enough. There’s so much about Sam being a Black man wearing the Stars and Stripes (as he pointed out in TFATWS), that everything he does has to be twice as good, only to get half as far, so to even be as good, he has to do four times better than anyone else. Someone has said elsewhere that Sam was struggling to fill Steve’s shoes, to live up to the legacy he left behind, but — and spoiler (what isn’t spoiled by now anyway) — Joaquin is struggling to fill Sam’s shoes.

“Steve gave people something to believe in, but you… you give them something to aspire to.”

And speaking of Joaquin. First, Steve. Steve represented and symbolized the ideals upon which the USA was founded, but never once really symbolized the USA itself (evident in the comics, the MCU, and what Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie have said). Steve’s morals were something that people could look up to, being pure of heart, having your best interests in mind, and all that. Sam, in doing all that he can do, as an Avenger and now Captain America, really gave people something to aspire to. Which brings Joaquin into the equation. Throughout TFATWS (admittedly during which Joaquin doesn’t make that many appearances) and CA:BNW, Joaquin is excited to be working alongside his hero Sam Wilson. Joaquin is a little goofy at times but only because he’s Sam’s #1 fan. He’s trying to do his best to meet or even exceed Sam’s nigh-impossible standards, because he looked up to Sam for years. Joaquin even told Sam he wanted to be (like) him, be the Falcon that Sam once was. What must’ve been like for Sam to get told by his protégé, no less, that he’d set a very good example of the type of person to be? What Joaquin told Sam was basically that he hadn’t failed, that Sam was just being himself, doing his best, and inadvertently instilling hope in the younger generation. That is the highest compliment Sam ever needs.

earlier:

now:

Captain America: Brave New World

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Sorry, it's me again! I't just that I really, really love your writing and I forgot to mention "Alley boyfriends" and "Alfred's Boy". If you could update either of those I would be very grateful <3 <3 <3

The first sign that something is wrong is finding Damian with a bow and arrow in the tallest room at Wayne Manor. Or, more specifically, seeing the boy aiming the arrow out the window in the direction of Dick and Danny cuddling in a backyard hammock.

Thankfully, he had been fast enough to snatch the arrow from the air before it went anywhere near the cuddling duo. Damian insisted he wasn't aiming for either of them- just the strings holding the hammock up.

The reason? Dick had gone over the agreed-upon cuddle time, and Damian wanted to make him stop. Bruce knew it was just because he was jealous.

Bruce had seen his youngest making doe eyes at Danny earlier that morning while the boy was doing his daily chores. He's been more energetic since Wes left and was willing to share his half-human status with the Wayne household after a talk with Alfred.

All of his children took the news well. They had many teammates who weren't human, but Bruce could tell Danny was still afraid to tell them the truth. Despite the many times Danny provided support in the Batcave and knew of said teammates, he still feared that he would be the exception to their acceptance.

It seemed his parents had left more prominent scars than Danny had been willing to show.

After a brief but vague- Alfred made it a point that his contact did not want Danny stating what he was until it was safe to do so- the Waynes got the gist that Danny needed cuddles.

Almost all his youngest had quickly offered their services, but Alfred and Bruce stopped it. The two men created a cuddling schedule, like a meal plan, to help Danny regain a healthier state, along with the few older ones, excluding Jason.

His second eldest had been highly offended to not be on the schedule, but Alfred calmed him with a whisper. "Think about how hilarious this will be to watch?" Jason had returned to his romance novel, cackling like a loon.

He was easy to manipulate.

Alfred forbade Bruce from telling Jason about Danny's slight crush. The reason was that Clockwork had already spoken to Alfred about it being a passing fancy, and it was safer for Danny's kind to not be rejected until later. Bruce burned with many questions, but he would never dare investigate Alfred or his affairs.

He respected him too much.

Now, if only his kids would behave.

"Damian Wayne, we do not shoot arrows at our siblings." Bruce scolds, wagging a finger at the boy's pouting face.

"But you let Drake throw a spoon at Girl Row!" Damian whines, crossing his arms. In moments like this, Bruce is violently reminded that for all his advanced vocabulary and intelligence, his son is still a fourteen-year-old teenager who could act childish.

"I did not let Tim do anything. He's ground for throwing things at Harper." Bruce sighs, rubbing his right temple. A pounding headache was starting to build up there. "Just because she came to watch Danny's cooking lesson with Tim and Cullen and chose to give Danny a quick snack with her hug does not mean Tim had a right to throw utensils."

"It wasn't even aimed at her head," Tim mutters from the hallway. His punishment for his behavior was that he was to stay within the six feet radius of Bruce. It was the only surefire way to ensure Tim wasn't up to something, like working on case work or plotting to overthrow a small government.

Bruce would break out the kid's leash if he tried to run again.

It was hilarious when Tim was thirteen, and the kid leash still had the same threat level at seventeen as it did then.

"That's another week," Bruce tells him.

"What!? I didn't even do anything!"

"Two weeks."

"Come on!"

"Three weeks." Bruce drawls, which causes Damian to smile until his father looks him in the eye. "I don't know why you seem too amused. You're grown for two weeks as well, young man."

Damian throws his arms up, wisely keeping his mouth shut as he steps with Tim. Now Bruce had two kids he couldn't let out of his sight, and they did something crazy. He marches them out of the room towards his office, where he plans on getting some work done and putting them both to do some extra class studying.

They pass by Jason, who looks like the cat that got the cream at their obvious grounding. He waves a couple of tickets in the air. "It seems like you brats are grounded. Too bad, I was about to invite you to show at the planetarium."

"Why would I waste my time there?" Damian scoffs as Tim glares. Bruce feels his headache growing stronger as Jason smugly proclaims.

"Danny is a huge star nerd. He was excited to finally see the show now that he was feeling better. He wanted us all to go together, but you'll have to miss it since you're still getting grounded at your age." Jason mocks, walking away while shaking his head. Bruce has only a few seconds to wonder why his second is like this, and then Tim and Damian explode with pleas to let them join the rest of the children.

He stays firm in their punishment, but he honestly doesn't feel safe by the way the two, right in front of him, start putting their difference aside and communicate with mere glances a plan of escape. Bruce wishes their corporation wouldn't come at the expense of his sanity.

He glances out the window, watching Dick and Danny talk, and it hits him suddenly that Dick is making that face he usually reserves for staring at baby ducks and baby elephants. His eldest was forming a deeper bond with the boy, which could mean several things, but the center of it all was what made him such a good leader.

Dick was breaching the walls Danny had built so strongly around him.

By tonight, Bruce would not be surprised if Dick started calling Danny his little brother. Coupled with the effort Jason put in to get Danny out of the house and around more people, the boy was healing in a way he so desperately needed.

He was so proud of them. Bruce is so glad the kids allowed him into their lives in moments like these. They saved him more times than he counted, and he does not, meanwhile, being Batman.

The kids saved Bruce Wayne, and he hopes they will save Danny Fenton similarly if the younger boy allows it. Not just because he's Alfred's boy but because he is a Wayne in a different shade.

Danny's face lights up with a smile, looking far more alive than ever before, and Bruce's eyes soften. Then they harden when he spots Steph creeping closer to the hammock from behind some bushes, a garden hose in her hand.

"No! No, no!" He shouts, running down the hallway with Tim and Damian behind. "Don't even think about it, young lady!"

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

a long drag of a cigarette. 

smoke floods his lungs, in sticky streams, glides into his throat and burns the back of it with a scorpion's sting. nicotine kisses his gums. he exhales, watches as the toxins form a cloud of gray, polluting the air. keeps the cigarette poised between his fingers as the bottom end crumbles to ash. the orange spark left by his lighter has all but faded, he can’t taste anything but slow, sweet decay — tender rot in his lungs.

suguru watches you, out of the corner of his eye.

it’s rare for him to have company, at this time of day. with such awful weather, to boot. that’s why his eyes can’t help but wander, to your figure, your vacant expression. the sight of it makes his bones twitch. you’ve been sitting there since he arrived, barely moving. you look young, scrawny, clothes too big for your body. there’s mud on your shoes and the cuffs of your jeans; their edges frayed and damaged, like you’ve been walking down concrete and puddles all day. your skin glistens with leftover dewdrops.

the air smells of rain. he likes it, despite his frizzy black locks, likes the contrast between the sting of the smoke and the life in the air, a summer soon to pass him by. he tastes it when he parts his lips and allows himself a tender inhale, earth and leaves and ripened clusters of honeydew being split into halves. when he looks down at the ground, he finds his own reflection; a silhouette in the puddle at his feet, ripples tearing his face in half. he looks weary. lilac smudges underneath his eyes, hair raised into an unkempt bun, the silver sliver of piercings on his bottom lip and helix catching the dim light of the lamp overhead. they gleam, in the humid air.

(he got them on a whim. a tattoo would be the next step, but he has no idea what design to choose.

mostly, he just wants to feel the sting.)

a choked out sound. it snaps him back into reality, plants roots and vines around his feet. suguru watches you, with eyes of burning cedar, tastes the visage of your image on his teeth and on his tongue.

for a moment, your gaze overlaps with his own. fickle eyes. you’re covering your mouth, staring at the cigarette only centimeters from their mark —

and he understands the issue. can see your eyes water from the smoke. it’s only you and him here, no one else who can complain or chew him out, just you and him outside the tiny konbini, by an alley littered with trash bags and hungry strays; cats, ravens.

you.

”… sorry,” he hums, vocal cords roughed up, lacking their usual luster. he doesn’t like the way it sounds. ”i’ll put it out.”

he crushes the cigarette under his boot. it falls on the concrete without making any noise, pliant as he makes it crumble apart, dissolve into black soot. dirty rainwater swallows what remains.

he should really quit, soon. 

with a rustle of fabric, he digs through the plastic bag hanging off his arm — searching for a bottle of water to moisten his dry throat, uncapping the lid and relishing as it flows against tender flesh. it feels nice, to have this routine. to come here every day, and have himself a silent smoke. suguru enjoys the structure. enjoys what little semblance of control he can get, after leaving his old life behind.

(after crushing his potential under the heel of his boot. his ears still ring with gunshots at night, but the silent death has strayed its course.

buddha, he thinks, lips twitching with a withheld smile. look at what a spectacle i’ve become.)

no words from you grace his ears. you duck your head, as if scared of the sudden attention, of his voice. he belatedly regrets his lack of consideration — wishes he had twisted it into a softer shape for the fickle creature to his left. but you aren’t coughing anymore, only sitting there with your legs dangling off the edge of the bench. with those lifeless eyes, a fish about to be gutted, just as weary as his.

like you’re about to fade into slumber. fade out of existence. 

even after all these years, even without sorcery — suguru can sense death. his instincts are forever honed. what he smells on you is decay, the same as the ache in his rotting lungs. you look famished, trembling fingers finding purchase in your lap, picking at a piece of lint on your jeans.

the sight makes his heart ache. breaks it apart, like an unripened fruit, splits and tears down the middle. you look so small, so weak. so very, very vulnerable.

a moment’s hesitation. 

suguru’s hand slips back into the bag, ghosts against a styrofoam cup and pack of wakaba cigarettes, before his fingers finally settle and curl around a soft, triangular object. wrapped up in neat sheets of plastic, still slightly warm to the touch. perfect.

he gives you a glance, and finds you’re already looking at him. eyes droopy with fatigue, but moving down his fingers, almost curiously. watching him pull out the cheap onigiri and cradle it in his palm. 

ah, now you’re looking away. skittish — he tastes the word on his tongue, allows his eyes to run from the bridge of your nose to the tips of your fingers. you’re coiled in on yourself, almost as if waiting for a blow. and oh, it hurts him, even though he isn’t sure why. even though he can’t recall the last time his heart felt this wet with pity. he feeds the cats around here, sometimes, but they never look so sad. 

”are you hungry?”

the words have left his mouth long before he can regret them. and suguru is pleased, to notice his voice has peeled itself of the rasp, invited smooth, silky vowels. he sounds kind, he thinks. hopes.

but you still look uncomfortable. he must appear intimidating, to you. tall, pierced, long hair and sleepless eyes. a handsome face does no good when you don’t even have the courage to look at it properly. you shift in your seat, not meeting his eyes. 

no response.

that’s just fine. 

”here.” he takes a seat on the bench, at the very edge, careful not to come too close. you jolt, but stay, as he unfurls his palm. ”you can have it.”

cautious eyes meet his own. still just for a moment, a flicker of light when you tip your head a certain way. then it’s gone, and your eyes are just lifeless again. he’s seen it before, in mirrors. he’s all too familiar with the act of drowning on land.

”go on.”

he tries his hand at a smile. voice a low lull, coaxing you forward, still patiently holding out the onigiri. 

a growl of your stomach. it’s barely audible, but he picks up on it, watches the way you clutch at your abdomen as if to muffle the noise. ducking your head, again, a bit of colour blooming in your cheeks. 

finally, a feeble hand reaches for his own. 

so you do have it in you.

”… thank you,” comes a murmur, a little scratchy. but soft, just rusty. how polite. he watches as your shaky fingers curl around the plastic, bring it to your lap.

suguru takes notice of your body language. still skittish, your shoe tapping at the concrete as if restless, eager to get away. but you’re more relaxed than when he first spoke to you. it feels good.

feels right.

(feels like something he’d forgotten.)

”how old are you?” he asks, uncapping the lid of his water bottle, just to place it next to you. hand reaching into his pocket, to pull out his lighter, her lighter, worn with age. ”if you don’t mind me asking.”

no response. you fumble with the plastic wrapping, having difficulty getting it off. the nori tears, he can tell from the way you mouth a wince. without thinking, he’s taking it from off your hands — practiced, as he unfurls it, peels the plastic and fishes out the rice ball. while he does, you finally speak, in a voice just barely raised above a whisper. 

”… ’m in college.”

a quirk of his brow. ”… are you?”

you nod. suguru gives back the snack, watches as you take a bite, listens to the crunch of seaweed and the quiet hum you let out as you chew. softly, slowly, as if savouring the taste. he isn’t sure whether to believe you or not. you’re younger than him, that much he’s certain of. ”… sure you’re not a runaway?”

it’s half a joke, half a question. he’s smiling, but your brows furrow together, face set into tense lines.

”… i just don’t have anywhere to go, right now.” 

another bite. crunch, chew, swallow. he watches your throat bob, waits for the quiet gulp. 

”that’s all.”

…

”i see.” he taps his fingers against the hood of the lighter, snaps it open and shut, a gaping mousetrap. ”that’s unfortunate. and your college can’t help?”

this time, he gets no response. you must already feel uncomfortable, sharing your troubles with a stranger. he understands, but an itch still gnaws at his bones. 

trust is a fickle thing. 

suguru watches you eat, and tries to calm the rising desire in his chest. warmth spreads throughout his stomach, at the sight, creeps into his veins. a coo on the tip of his tongue that he has to swallow down. he feels no need to have anything of his own, no real desire to fill his empty stomach. he only wants to watch, watch, watch, as you feast on what he brings you. he wants to watch you eat forever. it’s a sudden thought; his stomach twists with ill-content. 

a deep, aching pit. 

sometimes, he can still feel them. wriggling around in his womb, fighting for space as they crawl up his esophagus. all the curses they had him vomit up. 

he thinks he must have lost something, back then. thrown up more than he should have. a lung, maybe. his heart, his human heart.

no running soothes the longing. it’s a losing battle, to struggle against it, to not be swallowed underwater when he keeps his eyes shut for too long and finds he no longer remembers how to suffocate the urge. when he realizes life still feels like dragging mud into whatever house will keep him. there is a burning hole inside him, something left it there, a hollow space that only ever deepens, sinks a blade into his chest. 

what could fill it? 

who could fill it? 

(you, you, you, his gut supplies.

you, and your fragile bones.)

a shiver travels down his spine. it’s gone as soon as it came, because now you’re licking the grains of rice from off your fingers, like a cat lapping at the white bones of a grilled fish. he thinks it’s cute, thinks you look perfect after a little meal. eating so well for him, out of his hand. you look less fatigued, less droopy, and suguru feels more alive than he can remember.

for a moment, ill-chosen, he pictures you in his home. seated at his kitchen table, legs dangling underneath it, your fingers guiding warm stew and freshly made bread into your waiting mouth. pictures you soaking in his bathtub, napping on the couch while the tv flickers on and off, wrapped up in blankets and resting on silken sheets, waiting for him… he plays with the idea, for a while. isn’t sure where it came from, just knows he wants it. 

and god, how long has it been since he felt desire?

”was it good?” he asks, suddenly, a smile playing at his lips, branches blooming with wisteria. ”tasty?”

a nod. he takes what he can get; dares not be greedy, when you’re already letting him so close. he wants you to trust him more than anything, right now, in this moment, more than he wants to breathe. more than he wants to ruin himself. you’re small, unsteady on your feet, all alone in the world. and you just happened to end up at the konbini he frequents.

suguru geto does not believe in fate.

he does believe in meaning. 

(the word sears a burning gap into his tongue.)

”i’m glad,” he says, the hum of a buzzing dragonfly, slipping the lighter back into his pocket. he stands up, to his full height, breathes in the humid summer air and lets it stifle his lungs. he ponders, ponders, ponders. figures he can let himself be a little selfish, after all the years he spent eating himself alive. the gift of a bleeding heart left on the counter to cool.

just this once, suguru doesn’t look to the rotting innards in his stomach for guidance — he takes. 

and the rainy day surrenders to the longing in his lungs.

”i know this is sudden, but would you like to come with me?”

his voice is silky, clusters of jasmine buds and honey, deep and warm and rumbling through his chest. you look up at him with big eyes. surprise, he wonders, or just caution? it’s good to be on edge, either way. 

just not with him. 

”i’m a social worker, of sorts,” a little white lie, just to get your guard down, just to soften the lining. ”if you have nowhere to go, you could come with me. just until you get back on your feet. of course, i don’t expect you to trust a man you just met, but…”

he eyes your clothes, your face, the decay sticking itself to your soul. 

(it seems to me like you’re out of safe choices.)

”i’d like to help you, if possible.”

suguru tilts his head. you meet his low-lidded eyes — a look of bewilderment crossing your features. eyeing him, warily, as if expecting him to pull the rug from under your feet, pull a dagger out of his coat. his bangs sway like dying ravens hung out to dry.

trust is a fickle thing. he doesn’t mind. it’ll take you some time to adjust to his presence, he’s well aware. 

”… what do you get out of it?”

your voice cuts into the air, the sharp edge of a blade. something like a hiss, but not quite; he senses the fear there, the trepidation. you’re guarded, that’s all.

it’s a good question.

company. duty. something to fill the pit in his chest.

meaning, meaning, meaning. 

”… like i said,” he exhales, wearing a smile, eyes narrowed into slits. ”i just want to help. that’s all.”

and it’s true. he does want to help. wants to water your roots, watch you flourish before him. how long has it been since he felt responsible for anything other than himself? he remembers satoru and shoko and a myriad of dying plants. he wants to keep you tucked under his wing, safe and secure, where he can make sure no more harm befalls you. the world has already run you ragged — he knows, he can tell, you’re one and the same. the world has soiled you too. he knows, he knows, but you’re safe now.

ask a dying man what he wants, and you will get only one answer. but suguru has always been greedy.

he wants to make breakfast for two, and sleep with his chest to your back. but can’t tell you that. has to coax you into it, slowly, treat you with the caution you’d use to bandage a fawn’s broken leg. he thinks you’d feel right at home, with him. his apartment is on the smaller side, but he could adjust to your needs. he has more blood money than he knows what to do with. as long as you feel welcomed.

”i don’t need anything in return.”

tobacco lingers in the air, melts into the heavy scent of wet asphalt and rain, hugs his skin. suguru watches you, watches you, watches you. from the twitch of your pinkie to the tap of your shoe against concrete to the flicker in your eyes when you realize he’s being serious, when you fall into the half-truth. 

trust is a fickle thing. it sweeps you in when your guard is down. leaves just as quickly. 

(but a human being at their lowest will always want a hand to guide them.)

”… where do you work?”

suguru eyes ripen. a smile tugs his lips into a crescent moon, a silent victory.

”i’ll tell you.” he reaches his hand out, hungry for contact, lets his open palm hang in the air. ”but first… what would you say to a warm dinner?”

he watches your pupils waver. ripples along water, a dirty puddle in the street. he can almost see his own silhouette, a looming figure, gazing down at you with piercing golden eyes. he could fit you in his pocket, he thinks. you’d feel right at home in his lap. 

ugly, ugly thoughts. the phantom curses in his stomach twist with glee, and suguru ignores their taunting. he thinks of neither god nor buddha.

(free of rot, but just as filthy.) 

a smaller hand approaches his. 

[cutehoons02]

Strawberry with chocolate

Valentine's Day with Jungwon

*pairing: loser Jungwon x fem reader

*trope: cat energy vs black cat energy

*synopsis: February 14th was nothing special for you but for Jungwon, instead, it’s just another perfect excuse to tease you: You and Jungwon weren’t together but you had something that neither of us could understand but when he shows up at your door after training, with still wet hair and a mysterious package in their hands, their evening might take an unexpected turn. Between jokes and stolen touches, the evening turns into a game of strawberries and chocolate, started for fun but has become more and more dangerous,+18

*tags: A lot of funny,love to tease each other, Jungwon is seriously lost for the protagonist, tension, the protagonist pretends to be shy and not want to deal with Jungwon, perverts, possession, chocolate games on the body, kisses, sucking, masturbation (f. receives) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) pet names (noona,blondie girl,good girl) (wonie) fluffy moments, love statement,have 1/2 year difference

(English is not my native language)

6.5k (🍓🍫)

It was Valentine’s Day, and you were staring at your phone for the umpteenth time, biting the inside of your cheek. You weren’t together, not officially at least, and yet Jungwon insisted on coming to see you that night; Jungwon made you go crazy from the first time you met him 6 months ago and every time he saw you, he always had that nice little boy mixed up with someone who was causing trouble.

Is it just another one of his provocations? You thought aloud and put your hand through your blond hair, trying to distract yourself, but the anxiety was gripping your stomach.

You were prepared with light makeup because you did not want to show Jungwon that you wanted to impress him and you wore comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt with a zip that you wrapped perfectly the curves of your body, not that you cared to make a good figure with him. Just... a little.

The doorbell rang suddenly, making you jump. With a deep breath, you approached the door and opened it, ready to say something or tell one of your jokes, but you did not have time.

A hot body crashed into you, two strong arms wrapped around you without hesitation, and a head scented with vanilla shampoo and moist locks of hair stuck in your neck.

"Jungwon," You said laughing but also slightly puzzled by those attentions. He knew you were slightly cold to the physical touch, but Jungwon didn’t seem to care.

«Mm.» His voice sounded kneaded against your skin. He squeezed even more as if he wanted to melt it with himself. His wet hair was sticking to his forehead, leaving little drops on his sweatshirt and you felt his strong arms holding you even closer to his warm body.

"You’re all wet." You tried to move away, but Jungwon made a disgruntled sound and squeezed you even more.

«Noona...» he called you in a sweet tone, then just stopped to look at you with a clever smirk. «I missed you?»

You raised an eyebrow. "Why would I miss you? I saw you at work less than two hours ago!"

He stared at you for a second before laughing quietly. «You are so mean to me. Yet» he paused dramatically «you always let me hug you.» You snorted and you said in a low voice: "If you tried to run, you’d still get me."

Jungwon tilted his head, with that smug cat look. «Exactly.»

You sighed, pretending to surrender against his arms. "Why are you here, Won?" you said against his chest.

«Because it’s Valentine’s Day.»

"So what?" You looked up because you hated that day

He smiled, caressing your hair distractedly. «And so... I came to claim my Blondie Girl.»

Your heart lost a beat to his words. "I am not yours," you said, inspiring the sweet scent that emanated from the boy in front of you, Jungwon looked at you with a challenging flash in his eyes and then, with a quick move, grabbed your chin and brought his face so close to hers that his breath touched your lips.

«For a little longer,» he said, winking at you, you brought him in, and as soon as he crossed the threshold you noticed that behind him there was a parcel. It was not huge, but big enough to arouse curiosity and you tried to ignore your curiosity, but your gaze lingered on it for a few seconds too long and Jungwon, of course, noticed it immediately.

«Why don’t you ask me what’s inside?» asked with his usual funny smile, he knew you were as curious as he was but saw you move away from him and enter the room. " It’s not important," you said, pretending not to be curious.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed. «Aren’t you curious?»

"Not at all."

He burst out laughing and you didn’t want to admit it but you loved that laugh from the first moment you heard it for the first time and you wanted to hear it forever, especially for yourself. «Noona, you are terrible.»

Jungwon threw himself on the couch without much ceremony as if it were his home and sank into the pillows; you watched him shake his still-wet hair, leaving a few drops on the fabric of the sofa and he noticed that you were watching him and gave you a mischievous look.

«Where are your roommates?» He asked, stretching out like a lazy cat you saw the shirt slightly rise and you saw the ridges of his muscles but you looked away immediately.

"Valentine’s Day." you simply replied, sitting on the armrest of the sofa. "Some are celebrating with their boyfriends in some fancy restaurant and others are partying and getting drunk."

Jungwon nodded slowly, then turned to you with a thinkingly thoughtful look. «You should find yourself a boyfriend too, then.» He said smiling and rolling your eyes. "Oh, stop it."

He smiled amused, then reached out a hand and gently grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you towards him with a steady movement, and before you could protest, you found yourself sitting on his legs, his arms wrapped around the waist of your body and his face approached your neck, and he breathed slowly, with a satisfied sigh. He looked like a kitten cuddling in his favorite place.

«I like your perfume,» he murmured, his voice a little lower than usual and you flashed your eyes, trying to ignore the fast beat in your chest.

"Jungwon," you said with a whisper of voice.

«Open the gift.» He interrupted you, just squeezing you and you leaned back slightly to look at his face: His smile was always there, but in his eyes today there was something different, something more serious.

«It’s for you,» he repeated, you felt a little embarrassed by the position and tried to slip away and sit next to him on the couch,

But Jungwon slightly tightened the grip on your crop’s waist.

«On my legs,» he ordered in a whimsical tone, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and you puffed softly, but did not insist. You knew that, if you tried to run away, he would simply catch you with his satisfied grin and feel his fingers touch your side and tremble slightly, but you forced yourself to concentrate on the package in your hands.

Carefully, you untied the tape and lifted the lid. As soon as you saw the contents, a smile instinctively formed on your lips.

They were LEGO flowers to build together, to be precise. You sunflower towards Jungwon, surprise, but he came even closer, his warm breath on your ear.

«I didn’t make it in time to go and get some real flowers...» he whispered, with a hint of displeasure in his voice. «So I thought we could put them together. And they would be yours forever.»

You remained silent for a few seconds, holding the package in your hands, and then, without thinking too much, you hugged him and felt his body relax against yours and, after a moment, his low laugh tickled your ear.

«Noona...» he muttered in a funny voice. «I didn’t think that gifts were enough to get free hugs.»

You leaned slightly to look at his face. His eyes shone with sincere joy, and the smile he gave you was the most beautiful you had seen that night. Then, with an air of sneaky, he added: «I will fill you with gifts from now on!»

You burst out laughing and hit him softly on the shoulder. «Stop it, Wonie. I don’t need to be filled with gifts to hug you»

He bowed his head, looking at you with that piercing look. «Then give me another hug and maybe I’ll think about it.» You looked at him suspiciously, but in the end, you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck again.

«Good girl»

You were sitting on the living room carpet, and you and Jungwon were immersed in building your own LEGO flowers. Or rather, you tried to build with precision, while he found every possible excuse to distract you.

"Jungwon, stop it!" you slammed for the third time, giving him a small push on his shoulder.

«What have I done now?» asked the innocent one, but with that clever little smile on his lips you struck him with your gaze. "You tried to put a rose on my head instead of sticking it to the stem."

«I was just checking to see if it looked good on you.»

"You were just looking for an excuse to touch me."

He chuckled, resting his chin on one hand as he looked at me. «What if it were so?»

You focused on the instructions, trying to ignore them, but the truth was that you too were distracted more than necessary. Now and then you found yourself staring at his hands, large and tapered, which with surprising precision wedged the bricks. Or did you notice his biceps, which-holy heavens-were growing bigger and bigger? When did he put on all those muscles?

Focus, focus, Y/n! You told me mentally.

After about forty minutes, when the composition was finally taking shape, you suddenly got up.

«Ok, now it’s my turn to give you a little gift but it will never be like this of the roses.» you declare.

Jungwon looked at you with curiosity, trying to get up too.

"No." you stopped him immediately, pointing a finger at him. "You stay here."

He tilted his head, amused. «And if I don’t want?»

"Then you won’t have my surprise."

That detail seemed to convince him, even if his eyes were lit with curiosity. You walked away to the kitchen, trying to move fast, but you knew very well that it would only be a matter of time before... right?

You felt his footsteps behind you and, a moment later, Jungwon leaned on your back, putting his head on your shoulder.

«Noona...» muttered languidly, her warm breath upon your skin.

"You really can’t stand still, huh?" you sighed, even though a smile had escaped you.

But he no longer listened to you because his eyes were fixed on the bowl of strawberries and melted chocolate that I had prepared.

He remained silent for a few seconds, then breathed an almost ecstatic sigh.

«Noona,» he repeated in a completely different, almost revealing tone. «Do you have any idea what you are preparing?»

You hold back a laugh. "Should I?"

He barely stepped aside, looking at me with shining eyes. «Strawberries and chocolate are my greatest passion.» You turned slightly towards him, enjoy. "I know." Jungwon stared at you for a moment, then slowly held out his hand towards the bowl and you slapped him on the back before he could grab anything. "Wait a minute."

«But noona!» he complained, sulking.

You burst out laughing. "You’re such a spoiled kitten." He did not deny it, but his eyes were glued to the chocolate as if it was the most precious thing in the world and at that point, you realized that you had no hope: everything would end up in his hands in a few minutes.

Jungwon enthusiastically took the bowls of melted chocolate and strawberries and brought them to the table in front of the sofa, with the same excitement as a child who had just given his favorite sweet.

You sat next to him, but you did not make time to relax you heard him snort slowly and you turned towards him, finding him with the theatrical expression of an offended cat.

"What now?" you asked, pretending not to understand.

He crossed his arms. «Why didn’t you sit on my legs?» You raised your eyes to the sky. "Because I can feel fine sitting here too."

Jungwon sighed as if you had just broken his heart, but instead of complaining further, he came even closer, until he stuck to my side.

«Then I will stay here.» he declared, with a satisfied smirk, and shook his head laughing and took a strawberry, dipping it in chocolate.

He did the same, but after the first bite, his gaze turned to you with a mischievous flash and stared at your lips and you already knew it was going to tease you.

«Noona, have you ever wondered why strawberries with chocolate are considered the perfect food for Valentine’s Day?»

You looked at him suspiciously. "I don’t know, maybe because they’re sweet and romantic?"

He shook his head, biting another strawberry. «No, it’s because they are sensual.» You almost choked on my piece of strawberry and watched it with your mouth open, God knew that it was not innocent but not even at this level of audacity..."Excuse me?!"

Jungwon chuckled, pleased with your reaction. «Think of how they are eaten. They dip slowly into the chocolate...» He took a strawberry and did it, exaggerating with the gesture. «They are brought to the mouth with delicacy...» and bit it slowly, looking at you with a much too amused expression.

You cover your face with one hand. "You’re impossible."

He laughed, putting his chin on your shoulder. «Come on, admit that I am adorable,» he said

"Adorable? Annoying, rather," you said crossing your arms

«Yet you are still here.» You couldn’t fight back and finally smiled and shook your head, returning to eat but then, while you were distracted picking another strawberry, Jungwon suddenly stopped staring at you with glowing eyes.

«Noona...» he said softly.

"Hm?" you said looking at him as you ate your strawberry, he tilted his head, squinting as if he was considering something. «You got dirty.» You raised an eyebrow. "Where?" you said with a finger on his lips but he approached slowly, his hand lifted towards your face and his finger just touched the corner of your lower lip, and for a moment you thought it was going to clean you but instead... You felt the warmth of his lips on your skin.

A soft and unexpected touch, followed by something even bolder___his tongue just touched the corner of your mouth, picking up chocolate and your heart jumped a beat because his eyes would not stop bursting your lips and you did not react in time that Jungwon moved a few millimeters, watching you with a dangerously charming smile.

«Mh... good.» whispered to the top of your lips and your breath stuck in your throat then, without even giving you time to process, came closer again, this time taking completely your lips with hers.

The kiss was slow, sweet at first, almost a taste, as if it wanted to give you time to get used to the contact but then, feeling that you did not go away became more sure. His fingers went up your cheek, and his lips moved with natural confidence, without haste, but with an intensity that made you tremble slightly and feel him smile against your mouth as if he had gotten exactly what he wanted. His hands leaned on your hips and pushed you slightly on the couch, your back leaned completely and he began to kiss you this time more passionately and when it broke off, his eyes shone with fun mixed with something else, something deeper than that.

«Blondie Girl...» he murmured, his thumb touching your lower lip. «I’ve been thinking of nothing but kissing you since I came in.» you were speechless, your heart pounding in my chest and Jungwon bowed his head with a smug smirk. «So? Want another?»

You didn’t answer. But, this time you were the one who approached him, hearing his words and seeing that brazen smile on his lips, something inside of you lit up, so you took him by the collar of the shirt and drew him towards you, opening your lips to kiss him again.

This time, the kiss was no longer shy or hesitant. It was deeper, more sensual, charged with an energy that seemed to pulsate between you.

His lips moved against yours with overwhelming confidence, and the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with the slightly sour note of strawberry, created something intoxicating, something that made you want to stick together.

You felt his hands hold your waist, pulling you even closer, and a shiver crossed your back as the kiss became more intense, almost possessive. Jungwon wasn’t just kissing you-he seemed to want to claim you.

When you finally took your breath away, he stood a few inches from you, his warm breath against your lips, and his eyes were darker, veiled by something you had never seen before.

Then, in a low and husky voice, I muttered: «Noona... do you trust me?»

His question made your eyes slightly open. Trust? It wasn’t that you were doubting him, but his tone, the way he looked at you, let you know he was going to do something that would change the atmosphere between you.

Swallowing, but in the end, you nodded slowly and that was all he needed.

In an instant, Jungwon made you lie on the big couch with almost disconcerting ease, and your breath stopped for surprise. His hands slipped down your hips as he settled you comfortably, and then, with a slow and deliberate gesture, slid the zip of your sweatshirt down, leaving the skin on your neck and collarbones exposed for him alone.

«The perfect...» he whispered, peering at the exposed part of your neck with an intent-filled gaze and saw him reach out a hand towards the still-warm chocolate bowl, and your body twitched slightly as you noticed what he was about to do.

"Jungwon," you said whispering.

Before you could finish the sentence, you felt the liquid heat of some chocolate drops slipping on your skin and a shiver passed through your back and bit your lip in an attempt to hold back a reaction and not moan.

Jungwon tilted his head, looking at me with a satisfied smile.

«Did you shudder, noona? You’re so adorable when you try to resist me, but I know you can’t,» he murmured, his silky voice charged with mischief and opened your mouth to answer, but before you could say anything, you felt his lips touch your skin just where the chocolate had settled.

The first kiss was light, almost innocent but then you felt his tongue picking up the chocolate with a slow and studied movement at the base of your lobe and your breath became shorter.

«You taste sweet...» he whispered against your skin, leaving you another kiss a little further down. «But I already knew that.»

His warm breath mixed with the contrast of the chocolate cooling on your skin, creating a feeling that gave you goosebumps.

«You know, Blondie Girl...» he continued, leaving another kiss on your neck. «I wondered for a while how you would taste.»

Your heart skipped a beat, God what had you been thinking of preparing those strawberries with that melted chocolate?

"Jungwon!" you rebuked him, but your voice had no conviction.

He chuckled softly, lifting his head slightly to look you in the eye.

«What’s the matter?» he asked, pretending to be innocent. «I’m just doing my cat duty...» He bent down again and left you another kiss, this time longer and more marked. «If you get dirty, I have to lick the chocolate off, don’t I?»

Closed your eyes, trying not to succumb to the sensations of those soft lips on your skin.

«Mh... noona, you taste dangerous.» He whispered, leaving you one last kiss on the collarbone before rising and positioning himself again above you.

His eyes were gleaming with fun, but also something deeper, he could not take his eyes off you and maybe you already knew that it would ruin you soon.

«I should get you dirty more often,» he concluded, biting his lip with a smug smirk. Jungwon looked at you from above, his eyes dark and bright, his chest rising and falling slightly for the accelerated breath. There was no trace of his usual mischievous boy there was something deeper in his features, something that made you tremble almost more than the warmth you still felt on your skin.

He lowered himself slowly, his face a few inches from yours. Then, with that voice that always made you shiver and ge murmured against your lips:

«Can I... do it anywhere, please noona?»

Your stomach squeezed. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but instead of looking away, you lost yourself in his eyes. There was something in the way he looked at you, a kind of adoration mixed with pure desire that made you feel safer than you ever imagined. Swallowing and yearling slowly, almost without noticing it Jungwon smiled, a smile more sweet than usual, but with that spark of mischief that never missed.

«Good girl.» whispered, and the tone with which he said it gave you goosebumps before you could say anything his hands slipped slowly on your waist, and in a fluid gesture took off your sweatshirt, leaving you alone with your bra and he stopped for a moment, looking at you with a look that made me hold my breath.

«Wow... all for me» he murmured, almost for himself.

You felt yourself blushing. «Stop looking at me like that.» You protested in a low voice. He smiled, tilting his head as his fingers gently touched your skin. «I can’t help it,» he said, his voice full of sincerity. «You are beautiful.»

He looked down at you and then nibbled on his lip. «I would say perfect.» His finger slid along your side, slowly. «Made just for me.»

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and before I could answer, he took the bowl with the chocolate still hot and just lifted it.

"Jungwon, what"

You felt the heat of the chocolate gliding slowly over your skin, starting from the neck, going down the collarbone to the center of your chest, reaching your breast, and drawing a warm line that made you shiver and whisper slightly at contact, and you felt it laugh softly.

«So reactive...» he muttered, stooping down immediately afterward to touch you with his lips.

The first kiss was gentle, almost innocent, as he picked up with his tongue a drop that had fallen just below the collarbone, then left another one, this time a little more marked, followed by a slight pressure of the teeth on your skin. You whispered again, and he smiled at me.

«I like this part of you,» he said, leaving another kiss along your breast. «The one that you miss for me.»

You felt more drops slip on the skin, lower this time near your breast

"Jungwon, I..." Whispering as you felt him lick you and tease the bud of your breast and pulled his hair still wet and he looked up slightly. «Tell me, Blondie Girl.»

The nickname sounded even more intimate at that time.

«You’re... you’re overdoing it.» You murmured, even though your body seemed to say otherwise and he bowed his head, the usual dangerous smirk on his lips.

«Really? It doesn’t seem like your body is telling me to stop, and your nipples are hard and I bet you’re excited down there!»

He didn’t even give you time to answer before lowering himself again, continuing to trace a path with his mouth along your body, picking up the chocolate that he had poured just before, But this time he went down closer and closer to your navel and groaned his name because it was all too much.

Now and then he would stop to chew you softly, to whisper a few comments in my ear.

«You are even sweeter so...»

«You know I could do this all night, right?»

«Who knows if chocolate would have the same effect on me...»

Every word, every kiss, every touch made you feel more and more lost, more and more his.

When he reached his navel and left a last light kiss on the skin, he lifted again, her face a few inches from yours.

«You know, Blondie Girl...» he murmured, brushing your lip with her thumb. «The more time passes, the more I realize something.»

Swallowing, trying to calm the heartbeat. "what?" you said with innocent action and he smiled even more.

«The more I try to play with you... the more you drive me crazy.» Jungwon looked at you with those bright eyes, full of desire but also fun, his chest rising and lowering slightly as he took a breath. Until that moment, it had always been him to lead the game, to provoke you, to make you lose control but this time it was you who wanted to drive him crazy, and with a decisive movement, you pushed him back, making him lie on the couch below you.

«Oh...» he said, surprised. «Noona is taking the lead?»

You ignored him, hands already on his shirt. You pulled it up slowly, discovering the warm skin and, the tense muscles under it. When you finally took it off completely, you stopped for a moment to observe him.

Jungwon leaned on his elbows, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

«Do you like what you see, Blondie Girl?»

Bite your lower lip, and have fun. He knew perfectly well that his body was perfect, that every line of his sculpted abs looked like it had been made to be admired. But you would never have given him that satisfaction so easily.

"Mh... you’re cute," you said in a deliberately uncaring tone, taking a strawberry from the tray next to us.

«Cute?!» he repeated, pretending to be offended.

You did not answer and slowly approached, holding the strawberry between your fingers, and with a gentle gesture you brought it to his lips and he raised an eyebrow but did not hesitate to open his mouth.

While he bit, his lips touched for a moment your fingers, and a shiver passed through your back, waiting for him to swallow before you lowered yourself and kissed him softly, your lips touching each other gently, still steeped in the sweet and slightly tart taste of strawberry and when you broke off, whispered against her lips:

«You were right... the contrast between strawberry and chocolate is deadly.»

He smiled his warm breath against my skin. «Especially on your lips.»

You were a little soft on those words, but you couldn’t let him take control so easily.

«Let’s see how long you last, Jungwon.» You murmured, taking the chocolate bowl and lifting it over him and his eyes widened slightly.

«Noona... wait a minute.»

You ignored his warning and slowly slipped a few drops along the sculpted line of his abs. The contrast between his warm skin and warm chocolate made him release a little involuntary moan, and you saw his muscles twitch under you and smile satisfied.

"Oh? Our little Wonie is sensitive?» you mocked him, tilting his head as your fingers brushed the chocolate on his skin.

He squinted and puffed. «Tsk... don’t think you’re in control, Blondie Girl.»

You lowered your head and kissed him right in the middle of your chest, picking up the chocolate with your lips. His breath became heavier, and when you came down with another kiss, he twitched slightly and you chuckled softly, barely lifting your eyes.

«You are moving too much.» you rebuked him softly.

Jungwon gave you a defiant look. «It’s not my fault that you decided to torture me.»

"Torture? Isn’t that what you just did to me?" you repeated, pretending to be surprised. "I thought you were fine."

«I’m too well, and that’s the problem,» he murmured, biting his lip.

You felt his abdomen twitch again beneath you as you left another kiss trail down her skin.

«Mh... Noona.» he did, his voice slightly hoarse.

You stopped and looked at him innocently. "Yes?"

Jungwon closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to maintain control, then opened them again and looked at you with a provocative grin.

«You’re driving me crazy,» he whispered. You approached his face, your noses almost touching each other. "Perfect," you said softly and Jungwon stood up slowly, then lifted slightly, sliding his hands down your hips but you gave him a stern look and took his hands into the couch and you climbed over his body again and started kissing them, Bite and torture from the crests of his muscles to get under his navel and saw a slight trail of small hairs and you couldn’t wait to hear and see what that boy was hiding. You licked and tortured that area and heard your name moaning and Jungwon said

«You are dangerous.» you started to laugh and you looked at him a moment with your hands close to the edge of his joggers and he nodded to let you know that you could take them off and when you did it you saw his V-line and his boxers brand and his dick covered that was already hard only thanks to you, you tried to put your hands in the edge of his boxers but with ease, Jungwon put you under him.

«Y/n, I would go crazy if you sucked my dick but today is Valentine’s Day and you girls are the center of attention so let me make you feel good, there will be other opportunities» You lured him to you for a brief kiss and after a while, he slipped your pants and a perverted smile formed on his lips.

«Fuck noona, you were so shy but you have a fucking outfit of Victoria's Secret matched and the only one who came to your house today was me»

You saw Jungwon lick her lips and your cheeks turned red as you saw how she looked at you.

"it’s just a coincidence," Jungwon started laughing and pinched your hips «Don’t lie to me Y/n, you can even admit that you were worried about making a good impression with me!» You raised your eyes to the sky and you felt shivering when you heard that her middle finger was poking at your soaked panties where there was your clitoris still covered.

«God, you’re already so wet» Jungwon took off your panties and with his wandering hand moved towards your core, using two of his long fingers to open you up, gaining more access before moving against your hole. The moan you let out didn’t go unnoticed by Jungwon, it exerted more pressure on your clitoris and one of his fingers started pumping inside you, reaching the depth of your knuckles as he started pushing in and out.

"Oh, God, Won, just like that," You said as you felt the boy almost crouching to give you pleasure, you felt his tufts of hair make you slightly sunny and pulled them out and from all that stimulation, You didn’t realize he’d added a second finger until he started stretching you even further, pumping your fingers ever thicker. Jungwon felt as if it could come simply from the feeling of your walls that were squeezing around him and when he saw you almost coming he lowered his head, brushing your folds with his tongue to lick your entrance like a kitten, Burying his face in your pussy while sucking hear you blatering.

"Jungwon, I’m coming..." he teases you and licks all your slimy cum out of his fingers and your core.

«Fuck, I think the top 3 things they love are: chocolate in your body, the flavor mixed between strawberries and chocolate in our languages, and the taste of your excitement» he laughed putting his hands on your face because it was too cheeky at that moment, Jungwon took your hands and removed them from your face and gave you a little kiss on the forehead.

"So at the beginning of the evening, you said that I would be yours, you still want me to be your Jungwon."

«God you are a temptation to all the effects noona, sure of wanting to become mine because I could become very much territorial with you»

"I like territorial boys, Jungwon!" You undressed his boxer shorts and holy shit his dick was nicer than any you had ever seen, the tip slightly red from the blood flowing. Jungwon sucked it up a bit and before entering gave you a little lip kiss «Ready noona?» Yearning to hear it around you, his lips met yours as he slowly pushed against your narrow walls, swallowing all the sweet sounds you made. A choked thrill came out of your open lips when it hit bottom, «I can not yet move noona strong.» Jungwon moaned as you huddled around him, your blurry eyes trying their best to focus on him and his ruffled hair, but every little movement of his hips made you feel like heaven.

However, the fact that he remained motionless only made your burning need worse and you needed him to move. Moving your hips, a choked moan came out of your lips as your hand wrapped around his biceps.

"Move. God, please move Jungwon. I need you" Suffocated, head falling backwards against the pillows as he kissed your neck.

«So impatient, but who am I to deny all this? I have been dreaming of this moment for months» He chuckled before pushing himself inside you.

The first shot of his cock against your walls was like paradise, but when he saw that you were able to take it more and more his rhythm became anything but delicate; at each push, its tip kissed your cervix, leaving you a wretched mess.

"Wonie!" You shouted his name when he moved just enough to touch your weak point, leaving that small tears to come down your face. Your nails stuck in his biceps as you tried to root, but it was useless; he was just fucking you too well.

«Fuck noona, look how deep they are. After tonight, you won’t be satisfied with anything but me» He moaned as he freed your side to grab your wrist before pressing it against your lower abdomen.

You felt the outline of his cock against your stomach, but when he pressed, a choking groan ripped from your lips. The pressure made you feel even more him as he fucked you and you didn’t understand anything anymore, it was all too much but Jungwon seemed to know very well what to do with your body and moved his hand down until his thumb pressed against your clitoris, Thrusting your hips in his grip.

A series of groans and broken tears came out of your lips as his rhythm increased.

"W-Won, fuck! I’m close, Jungwon!" You screamed, the hand wrapped around his wrist as you felt that spiral in the pit of your stomach tighten.

«Come for me, darling. Mess with my cock.» His words were the last drop before the edges of your sight became white and your body contracted under his.

«That’s it, give me everything.» He spoke but was interrupted by a groan when you clenched around him like a vice.

His breaths began to come out with difficulty as he fucked you through your orgasm and closer to his. The grip of his hand on your hips would certainly have left marks, but neither of you cared at that time.

«Fuck noona, I’m sick!» he chanted, his whole body trembling as he came, painting your walls white with his seed. Slowing to a halt, he lay down against you, face buried in your neck as you both came down from your heights and he embraced you.

Jungwon held you close to him, his chest warm against your back, while his fingers drew slow circles on my side. Now and then he’d give you a little tap, just to make you shudder.

"Will you stop tormenting me?" you protested, trying to move.

«NO,» he answered immediately, squeezing even more, you snorted, but could not help smiling. His breath was slightly irregular, indicating that he too was still a little shaken by everything that had happened. But of course, as a good Jungwon, he would never admit it.

Stand like that for a few seconds, in that relaxing silence, until you feel him breathing deeply, as if he was going to say something important.

«Noona...» he murmured.

"Mh?" you replied distractedly, still with your eyes closed. He came a little closer to your ear, the voice so low and sweet that it almost gave you shivers.

«Would you like to be my girlfriend?» You froze for a second, then burst out laughing.

«What’s so funny?» he moaned. You turned slightly to look at him, finding his dark and careful eyes pointed at you. "Jungwon, but do you realize how cliché it is to ask me on Valentine’s Day?"

He bowed his head, pretending to be confused. «So?»

"So no!" you said, laughing again. "Too obvious, too romantic, too movie-like."

«Ah, I understand.» he nodded, pretending to think. «If I ask you today it’s not okay. And if I ask you tomorrow?»

"Mh... much better." Jungwon stood up quietly and pinched your side. «Then it’s decided: on February 15th and tomorrow you will become my official girlfriend.»

"Oh? Who said I would say yes?» He looked at you with an offended expression. «Noona, after all that we went through tonight do you still have doubts about me?»

"Mh... maybe I’m just keeping your attention level up," you replied with a mischievous smile.

He stared at you for a moment, then came even closer, his lips barely touching my cheek. «Don’t worry, blonde girl,» he whispered. «You have my full attention.»

You leaned back slightly, trying not to blush too much. «That’s it.»

Jungwon smiled satisfied and gave you a slight bite on the shoulder. «Then let’s make things clear: on February 15 you become mine. End of discussion.»

"But how end of the discussion?" you burst out laughing. "Where is my right to speak?"

«You lost it when you decided to drive me crazy all the time and ask me before you make mine,» he replied with a dangerous smirk.

You looked at him as if you were indignant. "You know that you are just unbearable?" He nodded as if it was the greatest compliment. «It is. But you like me that way.»

You snorted, but you both knew that you would never deny that truth.

You remained silent for a few seconds, then he murmured: «You know what it means, right?»

"What?"

«That our anniversary will be the day after Valentine’s Day.»

You thought about it for a moment, then sighed. "Fantastic... we’ll be condemned to double dinners, double gifts, and double sweetness every year."

Jungwon laughs. «Exactly. Do you like my genius? And don’t forget my birthday!»

You stared at him for a second, then let yourself go in a smile. "Yes... I have to admit that this time you had a good idea."

He lit up. «So you agree to make the 15th of February our day?»

You sighed theatrically. "All right, all right. But only because I don’t want to be engaged on a day like today." Jungwon squeezed you even more, making a little satisfied noise, like a cat that has just been cuddled.

«Noona... you are a rare case.»

"And you are impossible."

«I know it.»

You smiled at each other, no need to say more. Because even if you didn’t say it openly, you both knew what you felt for each other.

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[takes1]

Been thinking about Kyotani stealing Oikawa’s ex girlfriend after Oikawa is being an egotistical douche

are we interlinked or something? what the fffffuck i had this idea in the shower two days before this request came in? i'm trippin

accidentally falling for kyoutani (maddog)

warnings. nsfw to follow, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / angsty, smutty / jealous!oikawa / possessive!maddog / loneliness theme / pervy!maddog / light?coercion / popular x loser trope / 1.4k words / reply to be added for smutty part two.

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests open

It was the first time you had seen Tooru since he ditched you.

Three days, compared to one year of dating, wasn't enough for you to be ready to see his pretty face, his perfect hair, to hear his laugh ringing off the buildings outside, down the corridor.

You weren't wearing any make up, you had opted for your loose uniform sweater, and chose the ugliest, comfiest shoes possible this morning when you rolled out of bed. The desire to become invisible was fiction to start and fading regardless.

He would have to see how far you had fallen, if you didn't come up with an idea right away.

The Perfect Opportunity sat to your left, by himself, as usual. He was reading a book, an arm relaxed over open spot next to him.

Kyoutani was a bomb that needed to be handled carefully -- everybody knew that. This time you had to risk it.

You slid into that spot, right under his arm, faked the most genuine giggle you possibly could, pulled his hand in yours and leaned onto his chest to 'read' with him.

Your ex's reaction would have to remain a mystery, because you didn't look away from Kyoutani, in an effort to make this look truly genuine.

When you figured he was gone, completely out of earshot, you glanced away to watch his little group disappear around the corner.

"What are you doing."

You thought you'd be prepared for whatever -inevitably- negative reaction Kyoutani threw at you. But his interrogative tone alone was enough for you to jerk your hand back into the safety of your own lap.

Then the unhinged stare, a step under something you might find on a wild hyena, sent enough adrenaline through you to scoot away.

"I'm--," You swallowed your voice crack down, heat all over the back of your neck, "It's not personal. Promise."

You weren't faultless. It was a form of bullying.

After going to enough of those games, you judged him, too. Dating Tooru had been the pinnacle of social immunity as far as your class structure went.

In fact, dating that boy made you into a worse person. But his attention? It was a drug. And you felt like an addict, coming down, burning bridges to get back to that feeling again.

This bridge though- you didn't care much about it. Kyoutani was one of those guys you didn't spare your breath on; he was weird, and alone, and everybody shared a mutual understanding to not test him. Pointing it out or making fun of him was useless. A little dangerous, too.

His fury was all over his face. You lit the fuse, and now he was tick, tick, ticking if you didn't tread lightly.

"Then get the fuck off of me."

Even though Tooru ranted plenty of times about his anger issues, his explosive habits, and frustrating team-destroying temperament, you were still not expecting him to be so mean. Lonely people were usually nice to pretty girls, at least.

You tried to explain the whole break-up in as few words as you could, but realized part of the way through that he was the first person you told, so you naturally started rambling about how sad you were. Most of your friends sided with Oikawa, so you dumped it all on this stranger in a slew of emotional rationale and stutter-y, half-correct memory. It was a natural loss of inhibition, being this profoundly sad.

He rolled his deep-set eyes with a groan that almost made you scoff. He stood up to leave you by yourself, not even wanting to share the bench at a distance. You had nobody else to sit with. Nobody to talk to.

"Sounds like the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

You clutched your uniform, spiraling, emptier than ever. It was staggering how much worse you could possibly feel, even after the shock wore off.

A desperate, thankfully quiet, tone left your mouth: "Please."

Kyoutani stood over you, bag in his clenched fist, searching. You were broken, and needy; a far cry from your bitchy, entitled snickering he caught countless times from across the gym, or class. He liked this new groveling-look on you. It fit surprisingly well. It made him feel big.

"Please help me."

He shoved a hand in his pocket, head cocked at your begging.

Prissy-Little-Miss-Oikawa, now widowed, all alone? The thought was enough to make a degenerate like him hesitate.

A grumbly, 'disinterested' question, "'nd what's in it for me?"

Just entertaining the idea had you looking up at him with those big, glossy eyes. Tears looked so good with your natural complexion.

"Anything- I'll literally do anything--," You wiped the stubborn tears from your eyes before they could fall and stood with a sniffle, "Whatever, as long as it makes him jealous."

-

The bench became your 'spot' during breaks. Being in Kyoutani's class was helpful, because you were never really separated. Tooru came around for the first few days, on his usual stroll with his giant group of friends, but started to become unreliable once he spotted who you were there for.

Today you caught the last of his double-take. It was perfect. The longing in his eyes, the slack in his jaw as he finally saw your body cuddling up to his least-favorite person in the world. You were lost in the implication for a good, quiet minute.

"Ow-!" You wrenched your hand back from a hydraulic-press-like squeeze.

It throbbed, as you rubbed it.

"He's gone." He spat.

That was true, Tooru was well and far away by now. You cleared your throat and got off of him, adjusting your uniform, as you put enough 'normal' distance between you again.

"There's no need to be so rough-," You squeezed and splayed your aching fingers a few times with a huff.

Kyoutani relaxed on the back of the bench, chin tilted up, but staring at the curve in your spine, how you sat on the edge.

He mumbled and watched you fix your hair, "What? You not into that?"

"No," You spat, arms crossed, defensive at his weird tone.

If anything, you liked when he was more reserved. Quiet. He couldn't freak you out if he didn't speak.

He caught onto your little maneuver and decided to remind you, for the third time today, that you made a pretty embarrassing deal with him. You were no longer a Queen. Just a pawn, like him.

Now, under the current conversation, you pieced together his suggestion. "You said anything, didn't ya?"

"Oh my gosh!" You were warm, caught off-guard by his dirty intentions all out in the open. You twisted to look at him, but he was just checking you out. It looked like he was proud of making you blush, too. You went to scold him, but turned to face forward and bit it back with a sigh.

"What's wrong, Princess?" He teased, "Old Tooru wasn't givin' it to ya right?"

Your hand clasped over your mouth, the other gripped the hem of your skirt. He loved when you got all quiet, like that- now he was voluntarily putting his heavy arm around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing against the outline of your bra strap.

His face was close to your own. You struggled to meet his eyes, but managed.

"You're lonely, aren't you? That's why you're like that?"

His breath stalled. Surprise took over, his expression lighter, as he looked around your face. He was kind of cute, if he could stay like that.

It, of course, fell, and he was all grumpy, dissatisfied, again.

His arms fell off of you, crossed lazily over his chest, and he leaned back onto the bench, muttering to himself like the crazy, angry, loner he was, "Fuckin'... whatever... stupid... fuckin'- prude..."

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[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── · 

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Where the TKATB men ache for you with an intensity that borders on obsession, while the men remain oblivious to the fact that you’ve been 'the one' all along. 

I wanted to share something sweet for Valentine's Day—a little glimpse into love and longing to celebrate the occasion. But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my full-length fanfic! I’m still working on it, and there’s plenty more to come. Consider this a small treat while the main course is still in the works.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

Fluff & Smut Teasing, Possessive!Sol, Neck Biting, Slight Dom! Sol, Tension & Anticipation, Overwhelming Desire, Rough Hands, Soft Kisses, “Say it Again” Trope, Passionate & Intense Moments Smug Reader, Completely Ruined Sol, Sol Trying (and Failing) to Hold Back, Lightly Spicy, Heavy on the Feels.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

For over two years and counting, Crowe has been haunted by the memory of your touch.

Crowe would never deny that he enjoys having you around. But if you don’t see him that way—if you never do—he’ll live with it. He’ll push it down, bury it deep, because losing you entirely is something he refuses to accept. If friendship is all you can offer, then he’ll take it, no matter how much it eats at him.  

After all, it was him that day. The day those bullies cornered you, their words sharp and cruel, their intentions worse. He was the one who stepped in without hesitation, who made it clear that they’d have to go through him first. He didn’t do it for gratitude or recognition. He did it because it was you.  

It’s always been about you.  

He doesn’t just want you in his life—he needs you there. He wants you around his friends, wants you to feel safe, to feel at home wherever he is. He wants to see you smile, wants to be the reason for it, even if you never look at him the way he looks at you. It doesn’t matter. Because Crowe loves everything about you.  

The way your laughter sounds—effortless, bright, like something he could get addicted to. The way you wsolkle your nose when you’re annoyed, the way your eyes soften when you talk about something you love. The way your presence alone makes everything feel a little less heavy.  

And it scares him. 

The way he aches for you. 

The way he yearns for more.  

But if being close to you means keeping his feelings locked away, then he’ll do it. He’ll endure it. He’ll hold himself back, bite his tongue, force himself to be content with whatever piece of you he’s allowed to have. Because even if it’s not everything he wants, at least it’s something. At least it’s you.

Crowe lets out a slow breath, stasolg at the pile of papers in front of him, but his mind is elsewhere.  

You’re sprawled across the floor, cross-legged among scattered documents, your back against a pile of pillows as you skim through a paper in your hands. The soft glow of the evening light filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over you, making you look almost unreal. He should be focused—should be sorting through the paperwork like he said he would. Instead, all he can focus on is you.  

You—who insisted on helping despite him telling you he could handle it.  

You—who sits there with that small, content smile, completely unaware of how you consume him.  

“Crowe, you need to file these by date,” you murmur, tapping a few papers into a neat stack. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”  

He huffs, running a hand through his loose braid. “I never asked for help.”  

“You never ask for help, period,” you counter easily, throwing him a glance before looking back at the papers. “Besides, I don’t mind. This way, you won’t end up buried under a mess of your own making.”  

He watches as you shift, your knee bumping against his, and his whole body tenses. It’s nothing. Just a touch. But his mind lingers on it, the warmth spreading, sinking into his skin like ink on paper. He clenches his jaw, flipping through the stack in his hands without really reading anything.  

“Crowe?”  

Your voice snaps him back, and he blinks at you.  

“You okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.  

He exhales through his nose, forcing a smirk. “Yeah. Just wondering why you’re still here when you could be doing something better with your time.”  

You roll your eyes, shifting again—brushing against him again. “And miss watching you suffer through basic organization? Never.”  

He scoffs, shaking his head, but his grip on the papers tightens. It’s not fair. How easily you get under his skin, how effortlessly you settle into his space, into his life. He wonders if you even realize it—how much of him you consume, how much he aches for you in ways he has no right to.  

Crowe doesn’t know when it started, this need, this craving that’s carved itself into his ribs. But he knows it’s always been you. The realization sits heavy in his chest, like a secret too dangerous to let slip.  

His fingers twitch as he watches you. He wants to touch you, to reach out, to thread his fingers through your hair and trace the curve of your jaw. To pull you closer, to feel the warmth of you against him.  

But you’re his friend. Closest Friend.

And if that’s all you’ll ever be—if that’s all you can give—then he’ll endure it.  

Even if it kills him.

The silence between you stretches, filled only with the occasional rustle of paper and the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. Crowe exhales, a slow and controlled breath, as if that alone will steady the wildfire spreading in his chest. It doesn’t.  

You’re still here, still close enough that he can feel the faint heat radiating off your skin, and he can’t focus—not on the papers, not on anything other than the phantom sensation of your touch line side on his jaw. His resolve is slipping, unraveling thread by thread, and it’s all your fault.  

He tells himself to let it go. 

To push it down, bury it deep where it belongs.  

But then you shift, stretching your arms above your head with a quiet sigh, before letting yourself fall back against the pillows behind you. “I think we deserve a break,” you say, staring up at the ceiling. “Your filing system is a disaster, by the way.”  

Crowe lets out a breathy chuckle. “I don’t have a system.”  

“Exactly.”  

You turn your head to look at him, that lazy, contented smile still playing on your lips, and something inside him caves.  

Without thinking, he moves, shifting onto his side until he’s lying next to you. The papers don’t matter. The mess on the floor doesn’t matter. Nothing does—except this moment.  

You don’t react, at least not in the way he expects. There’s no teasing remark, no raised brow questioning why he’s suddenly this close. Instead, you just glance at him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.  

“I thought you didn’t take breaks,” you murmur.  

“Maybe you’re a bad influence.” His voice is quieter now, softer.  

You gsol, amused. “Maybe.”  

Crowe watches as your fingers absently play with the hem of your sleeve, and he wants to reach out. Wants to take your hand in his, wants to thread his fingers between yours just to see how it feels. The temptation is maddening.  

“Do you ever get tired of this?” he asks suddenly.  

You blink, tilting your head. “Tired of what?”  

His throat is dry. He swallows, pretending that the words aren’t sticking in his chest. “Of… being around me all the time.”  

It’s a stupid question. He doesn’t know why he asked it. Maybe he just needs reassurance—something to hold onto before he completely loses himself to this feeling that he refuses to name.  

Your expression softens. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”  

The answer should be enough. It should satisfy him and quiet the restlessness inside him.  

It doesn’t.  

Because there’s something about the way you say it—so effortlessly, like it’s obvious. Like, it’s simple. And for you, maybe it is. Maybe you don’t see the weight behind it, the way your words settle into his bones, warm and suffocating all at once, like they were always meant to be there.  

Crowe barely has a second to react before you move—quick, decisive, and utterly reckless with his personal space. His body tenses, muscles coiled tight, but he doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t even try.  

One moment, you’re standing beside him, your usual teasing lilt laced in your voice. The next, he’s flat on his back, breath knocked from his lungs as you press him into the floor. His pulse jumps, sharp and immediate, but it has nothing to do with the impact.  

Your legs cage around his waist, your hands planted firmly against his chest, pinning him in place. And worst of all? You look amused. Like this isn’t something that should have him gripping at the last shreds of his self-control.  

His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to do something—grab your hips, push you off, pull you closer—but he forces himself to stay still. His chest rises and falls beneath your touch, each breath shallower than the last as his mind races to catch up with what the hell just happened.  

Crowe narrows his eyes, lips parting like he’s about to throw out some sharp remark, something cool and dismissive, to mask the way his body reacts to you. But when he meets your gaze—playful, expectant, entirely unbothered—his words die before they even form.  

And that’s when it hits him.  

You know. 

You know exactly what you’re doing. 

And worse? 

You’re enjoying this.

“What the—?!” He instinctively tries to push himself up, but you’re already pressing your palms into his shoulders, effectively trapping him.  

“Oh, relax,” you huff, gazing down at him. “You looked like you were spiraling. I had to do something before you started brooding so hard you set the house on fire.”  

Crowe glares. “I don’t brood.”  

“You totally brood.”  

“I don’t.”  

You raise a brow. “You’re literally doing it right now.”  

Crowe opens his mouth, then closes it, then just scowls. He hates that you might be right. He hates even more that you’re looking at him like this, all smug and unbothered, completely unaware of the absolute chaos you’re causing in his head.  

This is normal to you, isn’t it? Sitting on top of him like it’s no big deal, pinning him down like you aren’t single-handedly wrecking his sanity.  

Crowe groans, throwing his head back against the pillows. “You’re actually gonna kill me one day.”  

“You’re being dramatic.”  

“Oh, am I?” His voice is dry, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath it—something dangerously close to unsteady. His hands slide onto your hips, firm yet hesitant, like he’s caught between pushing you away and pulling you closer. His fingers press just enough to make you aware of his grip, of the fact that you could move away if you wanted to.  

Not that you would.  

“Because last I checked, you’re literally on top of me right now,” he continues, a sharp exhale leaving his lips, “and I’m pretty sure I’m experiencing cardiac arrest.”  

You snort, unfazed. “Please. If I wanted to kill you, I’d at least make it more interesting.”  

His deep blue eyes flick up to yours, something flickering behind them—amusement and frustration—but before he can bite back with some witty retort, you lean in closer.  

Your weight shifts slightly, pressing down in a way that makes his fingers tighten on your hips, his knuckles paling for just a second. The movement knocks a few strands of his long brown hair over his forehead, but he doesn’t dare lift a hand to fix it. Not when you’re this close.  

“Y’know…” Your voice is softer now, teasing, thoughtful, like you’re genuinely contemplating something. “You’re weirdly warm.”  

Crowe stiffens when your hands leave his shoulders, fingers trailing up the column of his neck, slow and deliberate. His pulse betrays him, hammering beneath your touch.  

Then your palms frame his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and he knows he’s done for.  

He swallows hard, his throat bobbing beneath your fingers. His breath stutters, his mind screaming at him to say something—anything—before you realizes the effect you have on him. But his mouth refuses to work, completely useless as you study him like you’ve just uncovered something interesting. 

Your grin barely has a second to register in Crowe’s mind before he moves.

With a swift, effortless motion, your world flips—air rushing past you as your back meets the ground, cool earth pressing against your skin. A startled gasp barely escapes your lips before you feel it—him.

Crowe’s body cages yours, his knees planted firmly between your legs, his hands pinning yours above your head. His long brown hair falls forward, strands grazing your face like a ghost of a touch, teasing and torturous all at once. His deep blue eyes lock onto yours; the corner of his lips twitches. “Not so funny now, is it?”  

Your breath catches, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. “Oh? Did I strike a nerve?”  

His grip on your wrists tightens—not painful, just *commanding.* Enough to remind you of the sudden shift in power between you.  

Then, without warning, he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice drops to something low, almost *gravelly.*  

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”  

A shiver bolts down your spine, but you refuse to react, refuse to let him see how much his proximity affects you. *Two can play this game.*  

“Oh, I know when to quit,” you whisper back, tilting your head ever so slightly, your lips just inches from his. “I just don’t want to.”  

And then it happens—so fast, so unexpected—you barely have time to process.  

Crowe’s lips crash against yours, hot and unrelenting, stealing the very breath from your lungs. It’s not slow, not gentle—it’s every bit as competitive as the both of you, as if he’s trying to prove something.  

Your fingers twitch in his grasp, the need to grab him, to pull him even closer overwhelming every thought in your head. But he keeps you pinned, controlling the moment, teasing you with the maddening way his lips move against yours.  

Then, just as quickly as he kissed you, he pulls back, hovering above you, his breath warm against your swollen lips. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—they’re gleaming with something smug, something victorious.  

“Still think this is fun?”  

You blink, still reeling, heart hammering so hard it might burst out of your chest.  

And then, in the most infuriatingly casual voice, you breathe out, “...Kinda,”  

Crowe groans, head dropping to your shoulder as he mutters, “You’re actually going to kill me.” he mutters, barely audible.

And that’s the real problem, isn’t it?

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol says three months. Honestly, it’s like one week. Every moment of it, you’re there.

Understand that Sol has always been the quiet one, the guy who blends into the background until he doesn’t. He’s the type that hardly stands out, sitting at the back of the room, hidden behind his own little world. It’s easy for people to forget he’s even there, especially when he doesn’t really give them a reason to look. He’s cold, distant, and usually wrapped up in the space between the pages of a book or the strokes of a paintbrush. A lone figure in the corner, always studying, always creating, always alone.  

But then… you came along.  

He remembers the first time he saw you, your laugh like a melody that somehow cut through the haze of his own isolation. You didn’t ask him anything, didn’t try to crack his shell like everyone else did. You didn’t even seem to notice the way his eyes followed you, the way his heart skipped a beat every time you came near. Instead, you just *were*—existing in the same space, offering him something different: peace.  

And, slowly, things began to change.  

Sol became more aware of the way your smile lit up the room. The way your laughter stuck with him long after it had faded. He started paying attention to you in a way he never did anyone else. Your presence seemed to be magnetic, drawing him in like a force he couldn’t resist. And with every passing day, the intensity of his thoughts about you only grew. 

It wasn’t just your smile, though—no. It was the way you interacted with him. The way your eyes lingered on his work, the way you’d ask him about his day as if it mattered. And when you spoke to him, there was a warmth in your voice, an unspoken invitation to be more than the quiet kid at the back of the room. It made him feel something, something deep in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain.  

That’s when the obsession started.

Every time Sol closed his eyes, you were there. His mind wouldn’t let him rest, and no matter how hard he tried to push you away, you kept slipping in. You were there in the sketches he couldn’t stop drawing, the paintings that came to life in ways he didn’t intend. You were the muse behind every piece, every stroke, every line. He found himself lost in the idea of you, consumed by the thought of you.  

And then, it hit him like a wave. 

You had become his art. You were the subject that filled his pages, the image he couldn’t get enough of. The way you moved, the way you smiled, the way you lingered in his thoughts long after he’d seen you. Every brushstroke he made in his art book brought you to life, even if just for a moment. He painted you in every way—your hands, your eyes, the soft curve of your smile—all the details that stayed with him, making his heart race and his hands tremble as he worked.

You were in every sketch. He couldn’t escape you, not even on paper. You had taken over his mind completely, and now, you were becoming a part of his creations. The more he drew you, the more real you felt. The more your presence seeped into his soul, until there was nothing else that mattered. 

And as he sat there, pencil in hand, gaze focused intently on the page in front of him, he found himself lost again. He wasn’t just sketching anymore. He was memorizing every little detail of you—every little thing he hadn’t quite captured yet, like the way your hair would fall when you tilted your head or the way your fingers would idly trace along the edges of the paper when you were distracted. It wasn’t just art now—it was obsession.

The thought of you lingered even as he set his pencil down, staring at the half-finished drawing of you, and he could hear your voice in his mind. A voice, soft and warm, saying, “I knew you could do it.”

And just like that, it didn’t matter how tired he was, how much he wanted to just collapse from exhaustion. The only thing that made his heart race now was the idea of you—you in his world. 

You in his art. And even though he couldn’t quite reach you yet, he was determined to make you his, on paper if nowhere else. 

Because of this feeling? 

This feeling of wanting you, craving you? 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever stop.

Sol likes to think of himself as someone who takes his time—someone slow and deliberate when it comes to relationships. He’s not the type to let someone in easily, to open up to someone so quickly. After all, he’s spent years building up a wall around his heart, carefully maintaining a distance to protect himself from the potential sting of rejection or loss. It’s worked for him. He’s always been cautious, weighing every connection with a cool, measured approach.

You, who had slipped past his defenses in ways he never expected. You, who made everything feel real. And despite his doubts—his constant questioning of whether this would last, whether you’d want to stick around—Sol found himself unable to ignore the way you made him feel. The way you looked at him, the way you cared so easily, so genuinely. He couldn't deny that he’d been falling for you for months now.

It had been three months since you’d entered his life, but it felt like a lifetime in all the best ways. You were always there—patient, kind, steady in a way that soothed the nervous parts of him that he’d hidden for so long. But still, he told himself it was too soon. He couldn’t be this vulnerable.  

Until that one moment.  

The words slipped out so casually, so innocently.  

“You’re so good at this; I’m so proud of you, Sol.”  

It felt like the ground beneath him had shifted. The world suddenly tilted off its axis. Those words—those words, coming from you—sent a shockwave through him, rattling something deep inside him he hadn’t realized was there. The way you said it, with such sincerity, the way your eyes held his, soft and full of admiration—it changed everything.

He tried to brush it off. He told himself it was nothing. He’d been complimented before, praised by others countless times. It was just a simple phrase. Nothing special.

But it was different. It was you.

You made it feel special. Your words were like a thread that wove into the very fabric of his being, pulling him closer to you, to this feeling that he couldn’t name but knew was consuming him.  

Now, nothing else felt as important. Those praises from others? They didn’t matter. They were just words, empty and shallow. They didn’t stir something in him the way your words did. 

He wanted more of it. He needed more of it.  

He had spent months convincing himself that he was just inspired by you—yeah, that was it. You were his muse, his favorite subject, the reason his sketchbooks were filled to the brim with your face. It wasn’t that deep.  

And then, one day, as he stood in his studio apartment, paint staining his fingers, a half-finished portrait of you staring back at him from the canvas, he realized something terrifying.  

He wasn’t just painting you. He was worshiping you.  

The way your lips curled when you teased him, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him like he was worth something—it was all captured in every brushstroke, every tiny detail. He wasn’t just an artist anymore. He was a man possessed.  

And before he could stop himself, he was standing in front of you.  

Before you could process what was happening, Sol was already moving. His strong hands found your waist, and in one swift motion, he pulled you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. The half-dried paint on his fingers smeared against your skin, marking you as his, but he didn’t seem to care.  

His grip was firm, almost possessive, keeping you locked in place as he gazed up at you, eyes dark and unreadable. His chest rose and fell heavily, the intensity in his expression making your breath hitch.  

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, voice rough, like he was holding himself back from something reckless. His fingers flexed against your hips, grounding himself—or maybe keeping you from getting away. 

Sol’s fingers dug into your waist, his grip firm but not enough to hurt—just enough to make sure you weren’t going anywhere. His chest rose and fell against yours, breaths uneven, like he was trying to hold himself back—Trying, but failing miserably.  

Your hands pressed into his shoulders instinctively, steadying yourself, but that only made it worse—made him want you *closer*, made him crave the feeling of you melting against him. His fingers flexed, sliding up your back, slow and deliberate, his warmth seeping through your clothes, leaving a burning trail in its wake.  

“Please,” he murmured, his voice rough, dangerously low, his lips hovering just beneath your ear. “Say it again.”

It wasn’t a request.  

You shivered, your heartbeat hammering, knowing exactly what you were doing when you leaned in just a little, your breath teasing against his skin, close enough that your lips nearly brushed his.  

“…You’re so good, Sol.” 

His breath hitched, a sharp inhale like your words had physically hit him. His jaw tensed, his fingers tightening their hold as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip right through his grasp.  

And then—he broke.  

His mouth was on your throat in an instant, teeth grazing your skin before he bit down—not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make you gasp, enough to leave his mark. His other hand tangled into your hair, tilting your head just so, giving him more access, more you. 

A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest when he felt you shudder against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt. He soothed the bite with a slow, open-mouthed kiss, his lips lingering, savoring.  

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice strained, almost helpless. His nose brushed along your jaw as he exhaled, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.  

His hands tightened around you, possessive, like he was trying to pull you into him, like *having you* in his lap wasn’t enough.  

“Again,” he whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.  “Please.”

And this time, it wasn’t a plea. 

It was a demand.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Lastly, for Geo, it took about a year and some months; he doesn’t really all that time, starting at you.

Geo was never meant for this to happen. He didn’t plan on it, didn’t think it was even possible. He wasn’t the type to fall for people—let alone someone like you. 

His life had always been straightforward, filled with precision, discipline, and control. Best in archery with enough wealth to make people respect him without having to ask. That’s how things worked for him. No one dared to challenge him. No one dared to get too close. 

Except, somehow, you. 

You were Crowe's friend. It had started innocently enough—nothing more than tolerating your presence because Crowe trusted you and because you seemed to enjoy spending time with him. But the more time passed, the harder it was for Geo to ignore you. 

Your laughter, your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke. It wasn’t anything spectacular—he tried to convince himself—but it was... enough to make him curious. 

He liked to think of it as curiosity. 

But the more he tried to convince himself of that, the more it became something else entirely. It wasn’t just curiosity, and it wasn’t just the way you seemed to blend seamlessly into his life, leaving an imprint without even trying. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t explain, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

It was the way you wore that soft lip with that shiny gloss. That was the first thing he noticed. You probably never realized how you applied it, but to Geo, it became the only thing he could focus on whenever you were nearby. How it caught the light, the way the gloss made your lips look fuller, more inviting. 

He hated how distracted he got by it, but he couldn't help himself. He'd watch as you smiled and delicately applied the gloss, not realizing that each time you did, his eyes would flicker to your lips, unable to look away.

It wasn’t just about the gloss—he hated to admit it, but it was the way your lips moved, the way they curved up when you spoke to him. Every smile felt like an invitation, and it made his heart race every time he saw it.

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

His mind ran wild, imagining what it would be like to kiss you, to taste that gloss. Would it be sweet? Fruity? Would it be like strawberry or maybe something more decadent, like cake? Geo didn’t know, but the mere thought drove him crazy.

Yet, every time you caught him staring, you would smile, the same playful glint in your eyes, and then push away from him. It was maddening. 

“It was nice talking to you,” you’d say, and just like that, you were gone, leaving him standing there with the weight of his thoughts.

It wasn’t the way you left that bothered him—it was how you left him wanting more. 

He couldn’t help but wonder, when you left, if you knew how much power you had over him. Did you know how much he craved the taste of you, how much he longed to be the one you smiled at like that? And every time you walked away, it felt like you were pulling something from him, something he couldn't get back. 

Geo wasn’t used to feeling like this—unsure, obsessed, craving something that was just out of reach. He never thought he’d be the type of person to feel like this, but here he was, and it made him desperate. 

He couldn't keep pretending he didn't want you, even though he knew better. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted to be the one to kiss you, to taste the sweetness you wore on your lips. But you’d never give him that satisfaction. 

And that, more than anything, pulled him in even deeper.

Even during one of his archery competitions, it was all background noise. His eyes, always sharp and calculating, found you almost immediately—despite the sea of people around, despite the chaos of the competition unfolding before him. There you were, standing off to the side, caught up in the frenzy, but somehow, your presence always felt like it anchored him. 

Geo’s focus sharpened, his usual stone-cold expression becoming intense, almost feral, the moment he locked eyes with you. His heart skipped in a way he couldn't explain, and for the briefest second, the noise of the crowd, the frantic cheers, the tension in the air—all of it seemed to fade into nothing. 

There was something in the way you looked at him, that same fire in your eyes. It sent a shock of electricity through his veins, tightening his chest. It wasn’t just admiration. No, it was something deeper. Something possessive. Geo didn't want to admit it, but the way you looked at him, unwavering, made his ego swell in a way he had never known. 

The satisfaction of knowing you were watching him, that you were his to look at, made his body hum with need.

It was this feeling that had him doing something uncharacteristic for him: walking over to you before the competition even started, pushing through the crowd as if he had a claim on you. His movements were deliberate, as though the world had momentarily paused just for him to take that step toward you.

And as the competition wore on, Geo found his gaze kept darting to where you stood at the edge, just beyond their reach. When he wasn’t actively participating, his attention would always wander back to you. 

It was like an anchor, something he couldn’t shake off. 

Geo had never been one to linger—at least, not without reason. He was efficient, calculated, and never one to waste time where it wasn’t necessary. And yet, here he was, standing just a little behind his group, hovering just enough to be near them but not quite *with* them.  

And then you appeared.  

“What are you doing here, all by your lonesome?”  

Your voice was light, teasing, and when he turned his gaze downward, there you were, standing just slightly apart from the others—just like him.  

Geo had always found idle conversation tedious, a waste of time. But with you? It never felt like that. Even when you were talking his ear off, rambling about things he barely understood or had no real interest in, he listened. 

Normally, he would’ve found it grating. Normally, he would have shut it down with a deadpan stare and a clipped response.  

But with you…  

His ever-present frown softened, the tension in his shoulders easing in a way he didn’t quite notice. He wasn’t even irritated that you were talking. If anything, he found himself waiting for the next thing you’d say, some stupid remark or observation that would somehow make him want to keep this—whatever this was—going.  

“They’re loud,” he muttered, nodding toward his friends.   

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with exaggerated flair. “And you’ve decided to, what? Hide in the shadows, all broody and mysterious? Go, girl, give us nothing.”  

A breath of a laugh—not quite full, not quite deliberate—escaped his lips before he could stop it. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t obvious, but it was there.  

When his gaze flicked back to yours, you were already smiling, your eyes alight with something effortless. Effervescent.

Geo’s stomach twisted, but not unpleasantly. It was unfamiliar, unsettling in its quiet intensity. He didn’t yearn for people—he never had. He never needed anyone. But then why did his pulse kick up when you tilted your head at him like that? Why did his body seem to lean ever so slightly toward you, like some invisible force was tugging him closer?  

He swallowed, barely aware of the way his fingers twitched at his sides.  

It was ridiculous. 

You were ridiculous.  

Geo wasn’t one for impulse—he was sharp, calculated, always in control. But with you? That control slipped too easily, unraveling before he even realized what was happening.  

Your teasing words hung in the air between you, your smile playful, taunting. “You know I can see you always looking at me, right?”  

His jaw tightened, his mind already preparing a sarcastic reply—something to keep the moment light, to keep his defenses up. But before he could think twice, his body moved on instinct.  

“Yeah.”

The single word left his lips smoother than he expected, like it belonged there. But then he took it a step further, voice dropping just slightly—just enough to make your breath hitch.  

“I love it.”

Your expression shifted instantly, amusement flickering into something softer, something unsure. Your lips parted, a small, stunned noise escaping before you stumbled over your words. “What—huh?”  

Geo smirked, watching the blush creep up your neck, your wide eyes blinking up at him in disbelief. And damn it, the sight sent a rush of satisfaction straight through him, settling deep in his chest.  

Before you could think of backing away, before he could second-guess himself, he reached out. His fingers wrapped around your wrist—gentle, firm—as he tugged you toward him in one smooth pull.  

The space between you disappeared in an instant, your breath mixing with his as you steadied yourself against his chest. His other hand ghosted along your waist, his touch featherlight but possessive, like he wasn’t willing to let go just yet.  

“Wha—?” The protest barely left your lips before he leaned in, lowering his head, his breath hot against your skin as his lips brushed against your forehead—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.  

You froze.  

He felt it—the way your breath caught, the way your fingers curled ever so slightly against his shirt like you were trying to ground yourself.  

Geo smirked against your skin before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze again. His aquamarine eyes burned into yours, filled with something unreadable, something dangerous.  

“You were saying?” His voice was smooth, teasing, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath it—the quiet claim, the unspoken you’re mine.

And just like that, he let his fingers slip away, leaving you standing there, flushed and breathless.  

His smirk deepened.  

Yeah.  

He definitely loved it.

·───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆───────·

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

family relations | 18+ mdni

everyone knew that where fred went, george was right behind him; even if nobody could tell them apart half the time, two identical ginger boys always signaled trouble. 

when you showed up–someone with a stark difference in look to the two boys–it immediately raised an eyebrow. while not rare to see the two twins apart, it was a sight to see them accompanied by someone other than another member of their family, often at least. 

with the amount of nosy students at hogwarts it didn’t take long until someone got curious. 

“she’s just a part of the family,” george would say. 

“she’s like a sister to us, really,” fred would add not long after. 

— 

holidays with the weasley family were always chaotic to say the least. it seemed every year a new person stayed for christmas in the burrow, most notably in recent years harry and hermione joining their best friend ron–this year, the family home saw you as its new addition. 

the weasley family home had been filled to the brim since the birth of ginny, and the addition of companions only brightened it with more love. 

on christmas morning, everyone who didn’t own one already (or miraculously lost their original) received their first of molly’s many knitted sweaters, all personalized with their first initial. you’d never forget the first christmas you reunited with the twins wearing their own sweaters. 

“did mrs. weasley make those so she could remember which of you is which?” you asked. 

“mother says she could never forget who is who, which i guess is why i’m wearing his sweater, and he’s wearing mine,” fred would reply. 

when the day came for you to receive your own, the twins had visibly outgrown the jumpers you first saw them in, instead adorning new pairs to fit their growing builds. 

“molly, it’s beautiful! i dreamed of the day i’d get my own,” you said, running your fingers along the woollen fabric. 

“i’m glad you like it dear- and look, now you match freddie and georgie.” 

your head whipped in the direction of the two boys to confirm her words, and she was right. you matched fred and george from the overall blue color to the yellow letter. 

the way they looked at you then, you knew you could get used to matching sweaters. 

— 

you were purely friends with the twins up until your shared sixth year when they went to the yule ball with angelina johnson and katie bell. sure, the way they looked at you for the past year and a half had you questioning everything you felt for them. and sure, having them next to you at every given moment–closely, at that–made you think things friends wouldn’t dare say out loud- but this was a whole new level. 

molly had sent all the hogwarts attending weasley children outfits to wear to the ball; ginny a bright pink and mint gown, ron a very explicit hand me down likely of bill or percy’s, and the twins looked dashing in their matching suits. but you knew they could look even better, each hanging off one of your arms. 

instead you had the pleasure of watching both fred and george dance multiple rounds with their dates, while you sat next to harry and ron, also bummed out by how terrible the evening had gone. 

“they wanted to go with you, you know.” 

you jumped, turning your head to hermione who seemed to be itching to escape the crowd. 

“don’t be silly hermione, we’re just friends.” you muttered as you chewed on your lips, effectively removing them of any color you stained them with. “besides, you saw how eager they were when they asked angelina and katie in potions.” 

“or they were just trying to tease ron, you know how brothers are.” hermione looked at you with pity, as if there was someone she had hoped would ask her to the ball as well. 

the moment you decided to guess who she’d hoped would have asked her, your eyes scanned the crowd for either fred or george. it was futile for a second, until on either side of the floor you noticed both twins sneaking a glance back at you, both still occupied in dances with their dates. 

“hermione,” you began, tone laced with shyness despite how loud the music drowned your words out, “how would i know if my feelings surpassed friendly?” 

— 

it only took a day for feelings to be admitted by all three parties, only taking half of another for you to find yourself sandwiched in bed by both of the twins. robes had been discarded by the door, and you weren’t even sure you’d be able to find your scarf considering how long it had been gone. 

the boys sat knee to knee with you straddling both their laps, george to your front and fred to your back. they worked together to pull your hair off your neck, and then to unleash your tie from its collar, effectively exposing your bare skin to them. 

it didn’t feel real when the warmth of fred’s lips ghosted your skin, not even a semblance of it when they finally latched on. the amount of times you dreamt of them touching you intimately could not have prepared you for the feeling. 

“does it feel good when he kisses you like that?” george teased knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath in time to reply. 

“yes georgie- fuck,” you moaned as fred bit down and sucked like a man tasked with marking you as his own. “freddie, people will see..” 

“let them love, they’d put the pieces together soon anyways.” he bit down again only a couple inches away from the first love bite, effectively securing the notion of nosy onlookers creating their own story to tell off. 

and tell off they would when every week new patches would show on your neck. the twins took turns marking you in places just indecent enough to turn heads, but not enough to solidify any real narrative about the three of you. 

a couple of weeks of people swearing they saw you snogging both twins at once in the gryffindor common room had at least one person becoming bold enough to ask you how you really felt about fred and george:

“they’re like my brothers, really.” 

— 

happy valentines day <3